You’ve got to hand it to the grand dame of film. Elizabeth Taylor, 78, is getting married for the ninth time to a man 30 years her junior. We could spend weeks speculating why she’s marrying again or why he is interested in a woman old enough to be his mom. But it matters not. They’re getting hitched.
I remember feeling bad for Elizabeth when her producer husband, Mike Todd, was killed in a plane crash in 1958 after only a year of marriage. I was 11 and I felt sad for her because she seemed like she was deeply in love. He was her third husband.
Maybe she’s been searching for another Mike her whole life. He was handsome, strong, smart and adored her, from all I’ve read. Actor Richard Burton (who she married twice) had many of the same traits, as Todd, but he was a volatile man. Her husband Larrry, who was a construction worker, was an odd partner, and singer Eddie Fisher was probably silly putty in her hands. Virginia senator, John Warner, seemed like a long-term mate but that ended after five years. Maybe he bored her.
Elizabeth is still beautiful and carries herself regally, even in a wheelchair. I saw her on Broadway in a revival of Lillian Hellman’s “The Little Foxes” in 1968, the night I became engaged. I’ve since gotten divorced, but Liz is eight husbands ahead of me.