Scandale du jour



A friend recently told me that he likes reading about old Hollywood scandals.


Me too! I said. Fatty Arbuckle? Thelma Todd? Wallace Reid?


He looked at me blankly. Rock Hudson, he said. Tab Hunter.


Okay. I acknowledge that Rock and Tab are “old Hollywood.” It’s only my advancing age that makes them seem – well, contemporary. It seems like just the other day when Doris and Rock were turning out fizzy romantic comedies, and Tab Hunter was big and blond and handsome, and we wanted so badly for both Tab and Rock to be gay. And then – guess what!


I discovered Kenneth Anger’s epochal scandal collection “Hollywood Babylon” a long time ago. I learned from his books how Lupe Velez really died, and why Charlie Chaplin had to leave the country, and how much Douglas Fairbanks loved cocaine.


Those scandals all happened before I was born, in the distant 1920s and 1930s and 1940s. They seemed quaint.


And then I realized that this is how Rock Hudson and Tab Hunter seem to my (much younger) friend. They seem old-fashioned. They seem quaint.


Ouch! And ouch! Again.


Gimme my specs and my walker. I’m outta here.








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