You can find Area 51 in the deserts of Nevada, just 83 miles northwest of Las Vegas. It’s located beside a dry lake known as Groom Lake. We don’t recommend that you get too close, however, for your own safety.

You might be wondering why it’s called “Area 51” and the answer might surprise you for how ordinary it is. It was derived from a grid reference that existed on an atomic energy commission map. What, were you expecting something a bit more sinister?

Although Area 51 is found in Nevada, its administrators are actually found in southern California. These administrators are the staff of Edwards Air Force Base.

Interestingly, Area 51 shares a border with the Nevada Test Sites’ Yucca Flat region. In case that name doesn’t mean anything, this region is where more than 700 nuclear tests were carried out by the United States Department of Energy. Does this mean that Godzilla might rise up from Groom Lake one of these days?

Although Area 51 is kept off-limits to anyone who doesn’t work there, the surrounding area has evolved into a popular tourist destination. The small town of Rachel, which is nearby Area 51, often entertains these tourists. Nevada has gone one step further by dubbing State Route 375, the nearby highway, as the “Extraterrestrial Highway.”

This was done both for the conspiracies around Area 51 and the repeated testimonies of people who claim to have witnessed UFO activity in the area.

Area 51’s original airfield was established during the Second World War, but only after the Americans entered the field in 1941. This airfield was known as Indian Springs Air Force Auxiliary Field. In a very humble origin story, the airfield consisted of just two runways that were each 5,000 feet long and unpaved.

Area 51 has gone by a number of names over the course of its existence. Some of the monikers which didn’t stand the test of time are “Paradise Ranch,” “Watertown,” and “Dreamland.” To be honest, we can see why people didn’t use the nicknames that sound more suitable for Peter Pan’s home than a top-secret military base!

Speaking of those other nicknames, we actually know the origins of one of them. Kelly Johnson was one of the designers who worked on Lockheed’s U-2 aircraft, which was the first of Area 51’s projects—more on that later. Johnson coined the term “Paradise Ranch” for the area as an attempt to encourage workers to move out there and help establish Area 51 in the first place.

Frankly, given the facility’s current reputation, all he’d have to do nowadays is confirm one of the many conspiracy theories about the place online!

The original layout of Area 51 during the 1950s was quite humble in comparison to what it’s become now. We already mentioned the unpaved runway, but there were also three hangars, a control tower, a number of shelters, and trailer homes, which housed the small crew of workers who lived there. To try and help stave off boredom, a volleyball court and cinema were also built in Area 51.

Interestingly, for all that this place is a place of such serious national security, nothing is blocking you from trying to approach it. You heard us right; there are no fences or walls around Area 51. What they did put up, however, were a number of warning signs (more on those later).

We’ll just get the subjective stuff out of the way. Over the decades, endless theories have been established as to what really goes on in Area 51. These theories have ranged from artificial weather control, the development of time travel, studying downed alien spacecraft, and programs conducted by a government which supposedly rules over the entire world.

Naturally, given its ominous presence in American society, Area 51 has been parodied in several films over the years. Some of the more well-known recent films that have featured locations similar to Area 51 or which have referenced the facility include Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, Fantastic Four (2015), and Paul.

During the Lockheed program in the 1950s, a number of personnel had to be flown in regularly from outside of Area 51, and this presented a problem for effective secrecy. The solution that was thought up was an unorthodox flying schedule. Personnel would fly very early in the morning on Mondays and left the facility late at night on Fridays.

Presumably, everyone would be too busy recovering from or preparing for the weekend to notice a bunch of guys coming and going from the Nevada desert!

In 1959, Project OXCART was first established at Area 51. Among the purposes of this project was the testing and training for the Lockheed A-12 aircraft. A year after the project was first launched, an 8,500-foot runway was completed to replace the original.

Speaking of renovations, 1961 witnessed a complete overhaul of Area 51’s original layout, replacing or repurposing the existing buildings. Among the new additions to the facility were three surplus Navy hangars, a reservoir pond with a perimeter of trees for privacy, and 130 Babbitt duplex housing units.

If you try to use Google Maps to find Area 51, you’ll notice that someone at Google has quite the sense of humor. Any time someone moves the mouse cursor over Area 51, the cursor turns into a little spaceship. And no, you can’t use that as proof that you’ve seen alien spacecraft at Area 51!

One of the lesser-known films which deals with Area 51 would have to be the 1997 TV movie Trucks. Based on a short story by Stephen King, the story features aliens arriving at Nevada, declaring war on us, and turning trucks into sentient beings which target and kill people. And yes, this film was inspired by the same short story which inspired King’s directorial debut, Maximum Overdrive. You can see why it’s not fondly remembered!

Along with new projects and programs, Area 51 has only expanded over the years. Expansions were carried out in 1983, 1995, and 2015.

Speaking of that expansion in 2015, that particular expansion was a seizure of land which had belonged to a Nevada family for nearly 140 years. Because the land overlooked the base, a federal judge deemed that it posed a risk to national security, and so signed an order which transferred the property ownership to the United States Air Force.

It should surprise nobody that the found-footage horror genre should tackle the subject of Area 51 in one of their films. In 2015, Area 51 was released by Paramount Insurge. The film follows a group of young people infiltrating the top-secret facility to get answers for what happened to their friend after he was abducted.

Three guesses whether they find extraterrestrials when they arrive!

One of the most recent ways that Area 51 has appeared in the zeitgeist is thanks to James Rolfe, best known to millions of fans as the Angry Video Game Nerd. At last count, his videos have been seen more than 1.5 billion times. When the Internet celebrity got the clout and finances to make a movie about his famous character, Rolfe created a story which involved aliens, Area 51, and the Angry Video Game Nerd.

Despite mixed reviews, Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie has achieved cult film status online.

In 1974, a CIA official whose name is lost to history sent a memo to William Colby, the then-director of the CIA. The memo reported photographs taken by astronauts onboard the Skylab space station. Specifically, the photographs were taken of a location which is clearly sensitive to the CIA, based on the language of the memo. It also resulted in a furious debate within the departments as to whether it was ethical to classify previously unclassified images in the name of national security.

Space historian Dwayne A. Day was one of the people particularly interested in the what is now known as the Skylab incident. He was convinced that the sensitive location was Area 51, and this was a time when the US government still didn’t even acknowledge that Area 51 was a thing. In 2006, Day published “Astronauts and Area 51: the Skylab Incident” in a free online publication known as The Space Review.

Long before Area 51 was established at Groom Lake, silver and lead were being mined around the aforementioned lake during the mid-19th century. In fact, the lake got its name from the English mining company called Groome Lead Mines Limited. It was this company which financed the establishment of the Conception Mines during the 1870s.

The mines around what would later be Area 51 stayed active for just under a century. Ownership of the mines did change during that time. Groome Lead Mines Limited relinquished their interests to J. B. Osborne and his partners. The mines were temporarily closed in 1918 but resumed production after the First World War was ended.

The mines closed for good in the 1950s, just as Area 51 itself was established instead.

One of the most famous portrayals of Area 51 in mainstream pop culture would have to be the 1996 sci-fi movie Independence Day. In it, the theory that aliens are being kept in that facility is taken to its “logical” conclusion by having it be the new base of operations for the good guys when the White House is destroyed by an alien invasion.

We’re suddenly wondering if that movie was ever screened at the real Area 51 just so everyone could have a laugh.

Speaking of Independence Day, a poster for the film appears in the TV series The X-Files, that classic show about shadowy conspiracies, paranormal activity, and everything in between. Surprisingly, Area 51 is only brought up in passing in the show. Frankly, we’d be sure that they’d spend at least a whole season there!

Believe it or not, Area 51 has been discussing the idea of drones and unmanned aircraft ever since 1960. This was spurred as a necessary goal due to the Soviets shooting down a U-2 aircraft with Greg Powers inside it. This resulted in a crisis which fueled hostilities and negative opinions during the Cold War.

Beginning in 1989, an American named Bob Lazar made a series of claims about Area 51 and the work which was done there. He not only claimed to have been a physicist who worked in Area 51, but he also claimed to have seen government documents which confirmed alien interactions with humans for over 10,000 years. Whether you believe him or not, Lazar’s stories were what really fuelled the general public’s interest in Area 51.

Regardless of whether you believe Bob Lazar’s claims, there’s no denying that he influenced pop culture in a big way by bringing public attention to Area 51 when the US government was still refusing to acknowledge the facility’s existence. In 2018, a documentary was released about Lazar titled Bob Lazar: Area 51 & Flying Saucers. On a side note, the documentary was narrated by actor Mickey Rourke.

The CIA only acknowledged the existence of Area 51 in 2013, in a 400-page history which was released to the public by the National Security Archive at George Washington University. Unfortunately for any conspiracy theorists out there, they didn’t make any mention of UFOs, aliens, or anything like that. But then again, would you really expect them to release that kind of information anyway?

In 2005, Midway Games released a video game focused entirely on the mysterious military facility, appropriately titled Area 51. The video game’s plot follows a small group of people facing off against mutants and aliens, of course! Developed by Midway Studios Austin, the game is actually inspired by an arcade game with the same name which first appeared in 1995.

Among the celebrities who provided voice work for the series were the late Powers Boothe, music legend Marilyn Manson, and X-Files star David Duchovny. Why are we not surprised by any of these people’s participation?

In case you consider walking past the warning signs of Area 51, be warned that you will be seen. Guards have been posted all over the area, and according to a man who used to work there as a guard, they have full authority to shoot or even kill any trespassers who ignore the warning signs. Frankly, we’d rather not try to dodge bullets just to go see some (alleged) aliens!

As many of you reading this have probably heard by now, Area 51 became a trending topic in a big way in July 2019, when a satirical proposal to storm the base became more popular than anyone could have imagined. Millions of people online voiced support for the push to invade Area 51, which was humorously titled “They Can’t Stop All of Us.”

The enthusiastic response was such that even the US military spoke up about it when they reinforced their position that “The US Air Force always stands ready to protect America and its assets.”

You might be wondering how the employees of such a restricted and heavily guarded area can access it. It turns out that any employees traveling to and from Area 51 don’t use cars, but a plane. Las Vegas’ McCarran International Airport has a restricted terminal, which is nicknamed the “Gold Coast.”

Speaking of that restricted terminal, even the planes which take employees to and from Area 51 are restricted! The planes are unmarked except for a red stripe along their bodies, and they belong to a classified airline which we only know as “Janet" (or "Just Another Non-Existent Terminal").

Area 51’s importance rose as the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union escalated. Soviet and other foreign aircraft which were captured by the US were transferred to Area 51 for extensive study. While these actions weren’t exclusive to Area 51, they took over from previous efforts as the years went on.

Area 51 was first established in 1955 by the CIA. It was here that the reconnaissance aircraft known as the Lockheed U-2 was designed, in part by Kelly Johnson. Due to the need for secrecy, Lockheed conducted flight tests and pilot training programs at Area 51 rather than at their own facilities. The climate and terrain were also extremely beneficial to flight tests.

In 1994, a lawsuit was filed against the US Air Force and the US Environmental Protection Agency. The plaintiffs were five contractors and the widows of two others. The contractors claimed that they had been exposed to unknown chemicals when they were at Area 51, leading to high levels of such toxins as dioxin and dibenzofuran in their body fat.

Liver, skin, and respiratory problems were also reported by the plaintiffs as consequences of their exposure to the chemicals.

The 1994 lawsuit demanded not only financial compensation for the injuries and deaths caused by the actions undertaken by Area 51 personnel, they also wanted information on the chemicals released so that treatment could respond accordingly. In response, the Air Force, who oversees Area 51, argued that declassifying such information would threaten national security.

Ultimately, the lawsuit by the contractors against the Air Force and the EPA was dismissed due to a lack of evidence. This was achieved by a determination by then-President Bill Clinton to exempt Area 51 from environmental disclosure laws. This exception is renewed yearly by the US president to this day.

As we mentioned before, the U-2 was being frequently flown around Area 51 during the 1950s. This type of aircraft was known to fly 60,000 feet above the ground, back when most military aircraft flew at 40,000 feet and civilian aircraft at 20,000. The extreme height of the U-2 led to the setting sun catching the aircraft’s metal wings.

This phenomenon has been used to explain away many of the supposed UFO sightings that people have reported witnessing in Nevada.

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Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

Grace Jones is pretty sure she was born in 1948, but somewhere along the way, sources started listing her birth year as 1952. It didn’t matter much to Jones, though—in her own words, “the world likes to know a person’s age for some reason, as if that number explains everything. I don’t care at all. I like to keep the mystery.” There are some things she is absolutely sure about though—such as the very real horrors of her childhood.

To say she had a rough childhood is the understatement of the century. As a child, her mother and father left for the United States to make a living, leaving her and her six siblings in the care of their grandmother and step-grandfather in Jamaica. Jones grew up under the thumb of her step-grandfather’s extreme, religious zeal… and Jones often found herself on the wrong side of that zeal.

Her step-grandfather, who she called “Mas P,” didn’t want children, and now he suddenly had seven of them dumped onto his lap. Resenting their presence, Mas P used a blend of religion and fear to keep all seven of them in line. Jones thought of him as a sadist, using his power as their guardian to beat them under the thinnest of pretenses—and the beatings happened frequently and brutally.

The children each had their own “personal” leather belt that they were beaten with, varying in weight and size, depending on their age. Savagely, Jones sometimes got hit with a heavier belt for transgressions deemed especially sinful. Beatings didn’t always happen after she did something wrong either—sometimes, she was beat simply because she “might” do something wrong. She reached out for help—and it backfired.

A young Jones tried to reach out to her parents to warn them of the ferocity of Mas P’s discipline, writing letters in the hopes that they would reach them. This was not to be, however—there was a devastating twist. It turned out that all letters coming in and out of the house went through Mas P before going to their intended recipient. No help was coming. Jones and her siblings had to learn how to defend themselves on their own.

To defend themselves against Mas P, Jones learned how to be tough from her four brothers. Although she should’ve been a quiet and demure little girl, her brothers brought out the tomboy in her, and she could be regularly found doing handstands in her dress, legs in the air, flashing her panties. Of course, her antics led to punishment, but they found other ways to keep each other safe.

As members of the Pentecostal faith, Jones and her siblings had strict orders to not mingle with the other non-religious kids on their street. However, Jones and her siblings secretly played with their neighbors when Mas P left the house, and developed a warning system in case he was returning. They took turns climbing a tall tree while the rest of them played, giving a sharp whistle if they noticed Mas P was coming home. This worked—for a while.

Inevitably, Jones and her siblings sometimes didn’t catch Mas P’s return in time, and they received beatings for mingling with the kids on their street. To reinforce his iron rule, Mas P made them watch each other’s beatings—but this only made them more determined to protect each other. “If one of us got caught,” said Jones, “the others would feel bad that we hadn’t protected each other.” Soon, Jones and her siblings fought back.

Mas P wasn’t the only one who kept a close eye on the children—members of their church did as well. In particular, a nun named Sister Leah frequently reported the kids’ “infractions” to their step-grandfather, which usually led to even more beatings. One day, the kids couldn't take it anymore, so they planned a brutal revenge. They jumped her all at once. Unfortunately, this didn’t go unpunished.

Mas P separated Jones and her sisters from her brothers. Technically, the girls shouldn’t be with the boys, even if they were siblings, according to their faith. While it didn’t stop them, Jones had to be more secretive about playing with her brothers. Hangouts became less frequent, and she became lonely. With barely any friends to call her own, Jones took out all her frustration on a new hobby.

Eventually, her great-aunt taught her something that took her mind off of the horrors around her—how to crochet. Jones loved to crochet, and “used to crochet until the skin came off [her] fingers, and then [she] would put on a bandage and keep going.” She found the work almost meditative, calling it “a form of praying.” This small hobby was just one of the few, but bright, rays of light in her life that kept her going.

Described by Jones as a “gentle soul,” her grandmother did her best to protect the children. During especially egregious episodes of Mas P’s punishments, her grandmother tried to stand in between him and the kids, blocking his path. Unfortunately, Mas P was just too strong—he pushed her aside every time she tried to stop him. Still, this small act of bravery stuck with Jones for years to come.

As if having a terrible home life wasn’t enough, the kids at school teased Jones relentlessly as well. Incredibly shy and quiet, the kids mocked her for her “skinny frame,” and she didn’t have many real friends. With few people to lean on, Jones turned to nature instead. She loved the signature lightning storms and floods of Jamaica—they took her mind off of the horrors around her. As a result, Jones soon became a force of nature herself.

When she reached the age of 13, her parents finally brought her, and all her siblings, over to the States and away from her step-grandfather. Her father had finally made his dream of establishing his own church in the States come true, and felt the family should stay together. While her parents weren’t quite so savage in their punishments, the strictness of their religious upbringing stayed the same—and this finally broke Jones.

Perhaps it’s a bit of a stereotype, but Jones ticked all the boxes of the teenage rebel trope. Having enough of the religion she grew up with, she turned away from the church and her parents. She started wearing makeup, drinking, and partying at clubs. Amazingly, she still kept up with school while doing all of this, graduating high school and enrolling into Onondaga Community College—where her new life officially began.

Halfway through college, a drama professor for a theater class she took changed the course of her life forever. The professor thought she had a good voice, even though Jones had never really considered herself much of a singer. Nonetheless, the drama professor left for Philadelphia to produce a play during Jones’s third year in college, and she left to work with him—then, things got really wild.

Upon arriving in Philadelphia, Grace Jones fell in love with the Counterculture movement that flourished there. She dived headfirst into the movement—she lived in hippie communes, made a living as a go-go dancer, and experimented with many types of illicit substances. Rebelling against “normal” society became, well, normal for Jones, which made her next move not at all surprising.

Jones didn’t stay in Philadelphia for long. Tired of the hippie scene in Philadelphia, Jones decided to leave, and hitched a ride with, unbelievably, a motorcycle gang. For a while, Jones stayed with the gang with no particular destination in mind, traveling aimlessly from city to city. However, Jones still wanted to act, and soon, she found one city that called out to her—New York City.

At 18, Grace Jones started looking for acting jobs, with little success. She auditioned for anything and everything New York City offered, but, as Jones recalled, “they all wanted a Black American sound, and I just didn’t have it.” What Jones did have, though, were her looks—her square shape and skinny frame struck a strange silhouette, which intrigued at least one modeling agency in the city.

With no acting jobs available, Jones turned to modeling. She didn’t find success there either—at least, not with conventional modeling agencies. Agencies barely gave her a glance, as they were disinterested in her strangely angular and androgynous look—and it didn’t help that she was also, well, Black. Instead, she turned to the Wilhelmina Modelling agency, who specialized in unusual looking models—and even they didn’t accept her right away.

Wilhelmina Cooper, one of the founders of the Wilhelmina Modelling agency, liked the strangeness of Jones’s look and signed her on, but sensed that Jones herself didn’t quite know what sort of model she wanted to be yet. She encouraged her to discover what sort of “look” she wanted to portray… Which led to Jones completely shaving her hair and eyebrows in her quest for self-discovery. Cooper. Was. Livid.

Cooper's reaction was devastating. She blew her top at Jones. She wanted Jones to discover herself, not make herself a completely unmarketable model! Without her hair and eyebrows, Jones looked “brutal” and “confrontational”—not exactly advertiser-friendly. Cooper gave Jones a strict order to grow her hair and eyebrows back. No more shaving—ever. In the meantime, Jones had to wear wigs for her shoots—which she absolutely hated.

The wigs made Grace Jones completely unrecognizable to herself in the mirror, and it became a sticking point in her working relationship with Cooper. She loved how her shaved head made people uncomfortable, how it would “provoke them into a reaction.” She didn’t look like a man nor a woman—not quite American, nor Jamaican—in fact, she barely looked human. And Jones loved it. This, along with one more problem, caused the modeling jobs to dry up. So, she decided to go to Paris.

In Paris, Jones roomed with Jerry Hall and Jessica Lange, models who also worked in the Paris fashion industry. Unfortunately, the three female models faced a terrifying dark side in the city. They were regularly harassed by men, and frequently had to eject unwanted intruders from their apartment. Unsurprisingly, Jones found herself having to fight back against the men who employed her as well—for that, she had a trick up her sleeve.

Jones had complete and total confidence that she could find a rich sugar daddy at any time she wanted. Whenever an agent or agency fought with her over a deal, she used this to her advantage, telling them, “I don’t need to do this. I could marry into millions in minutes.” Jones had no plans to do this, but it became her default position for the longest time—until she found another cause to fight for.

Grace Jones signed on with John Casablancas, founder of Elite Model Management, when she arrived in Paris. For days, a frustrated Jones received no assignments. She confronted Casablancas, and, after some hemming and hawing, he told her the truth: “Well, to be honest, selling a Black model in Paris is like trying to sell them an old car nobody wants to buy.” Jones did not take that well at all.

Jones had always had difficulty finding jobs because of her skin, but agencies never shoved it in her face quite the way that Casablancas did, and this motivated her like nothing else had. Jones leaned over his desk and screamed, “I’m going to make you EAT THOSE WORDS!!” and turned, leaving a stunned Casablancas behind her. Black or not, she was going to show the world what she had—with or without Casablancas.

Instead of downplaying her extreme features to make herself easier to hire, she leaned into them—hard. By now, her hair started to grow back in, so at midnight, she opened a window and screamed that she needed a haircut into the night air. Well, renowned hairstylist Christian Houtenbos, who was her neighbor, happened to hear her, and offered his services. He created her now-signature look, cutting her hair into a manly flat top. And she started getting jobs.

Casablancas turned out to be wrong about what the Paris fashion industry wanted, because Jones’s incredibly angular look—further accented by the extreme haircut—made her the darling of Paris fashion. Designers such as Yves St. Laruent, Kenzo Takada, and Azzedine Alaïa loved her dark skin and androgynous appearance. Soon, she even appeared on the covers of Elle and Vogue. Of course, Jones didn’t stop there—she kept pushing her limits.

During a shoot for lingerie company La Perla, the crew were shooting their swimwear line outside when the male models started suffering from sunburn. In a moment of spontaneity, Grace Jones offered to step in for the male models herself. Unbelievably, she pulled it off, saying, “You’d definitely think I was a man in those shots!” Jones’s unique style got her noticed—to the detriment of her father.

As Jones’s fame rose, a photograph of her, along with her family, started circulating in Ebony magazine, which members of her father’s church discovered. Given how strictly her father upheld their religious teachings, he should’ve cut her out of his life—but he didn’t. Instead, he simply said, “I don’t care, I support my daughter.” It held him back in his own career, but gave Grace Jones the confidence to keep pushing her forward.

Despite her success, modeling was more or less a fun side project for Jones, something that she did “just to pay the rent.” While searching for something that she actually wanted to do, a friend suggested that she try singing. That also wasn’t quite something she wanted to do, but she recorded a demo—and it landed her a record. In the course of her ensuing musical success, she ended up meeting a man that shaped the future of her career.

All great albums need a great album cover, and Jones’s album was no exception to this. Collaborating with famed French artist Jean-Paul Goude, the two created some of the most eye-popping pieces of album art in their time. His art exaggerated the Blackness of her skin and the ferocious brutality of her look, eliciting a confused, though intrigued, mainstream reaction. Their working relationship grew closer—and then, it escalated.

Goude intertwined himself deeply into all aspects of her career, including her acting career. Jones soon received the script for the film Blade Runner, and the production team offered her the role of Zhora. She turned it down on the advice of Goude, who warned her that the film was “too commercial” would make her a “sellout.” Later, she flipped through the script out of curiosity—and regretted her decision.

Jones was on a plane to Paris as she read through the script, and actually loved the part. Unfortunately, by the time the plane landed, the part had already been given to actress Joanna Cassidy. Blade Runner became an influential cult classic, even preserved in the Library of Congress for being “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” Thanks to Goude, Jones missed out big time—and their relationship got worse.

Goude loved the idea of having Jones as his muse. Unfortunately, he treated her more like a piece of art than as an actual human being, saying, “I became jealous and possessive of the character that, through her, I was able to create.” Somewhere in this unhealthy mess of a working relationship, the two ended up having a child together named Paulo, leading to a very strange request from Jones.

Jones and Goude split up after their relationship got too messy, but Jones really, really wanted a second child. So, she asked Goude if he could please give her some of his sperm, so that she could artificially inseminate herself in order to have a second child. Goude, uh, politely declined the request. Somehow, this didn’t stop other famous artists from cozying up to her.

In the 80s, Jones hired a young actor named Dolph Lundgren to be her bodyguard. Soon after, they began dating—but their relationship was far from ordinary. Lundgren confessed that Jones would often bring home up to five girlfriends at a time to share with him. This was all while he was working on the film that made him famous, Rocky IV. So he'd stay up all night with a bevy of beautiful women and then head to work with Sylvester Stallone the next morning. The 80s!!

Goude wasn’t the only one who found her a fascinating muse. Famed artist Andy Warhol also worked closely with Jones, creating several art pieces that featured her. The two soon became close friends. In fact, they became so close that, when they both received an invitation to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s wedding, they both went together—not that Jones asked for Warhol’s permission to be his date, of course.

Warhol didn’t expect Jones to be his date for the wedding, figuring she probably wouldn’t even show up. Imagine his surprise when he read in the newspapers that Jones planned to take him to Schwarzenegger’s wedding in her own private jet! Despite the fact that she didn’t, you know, ask him beforehand, he figured he had nothing to lose and attended the wedding with her. It ended up being an embarrassing day.

Grace Jones ended up sleeping in on the day of the ceremony, forcing her and Warhol to rush to the airport, an hour late. The two arrived at the church as the ceremony was well underway. Of course, the crowds recognized the two of them and immediately started screaming and cheering as the two entered the little church—just as Schwarzenegger and his bride were finishing their vows. Talk about stealing someone’s thunder!

Sure, she kind of ruined his wedding, but that didn’t mean Jones was shy about working with him. Jones eventually got a gig in the film Conan the Destroyer as Zula, a powerful female warrior, alongside Schwarzenegger, who played the titular character, Conan. Production wasn’t always smooth—Schwarzenegger actually described her as “too tough.” Outdoing the Terminator himself was definitely no small feat!

Throughout the years, Jones had many relationships, but she only ever married once. She met a Turkish man in Belgium named Atila Altaunbay, and, in 1996, the two eloped in Brazil while she was working. Her own father performed the actual marriage ceremony when she took him home to Syracuse. Altaunbay’s family never approved of her though, and the two ended the marriage… Well, sort of.

After the couple separated, Altaunbay went back to his family, but there was a bizarre twist. They never revealed to her where he went after his return. Having no clue where to look for him “to get the divorce sorted,” the two remained legally married. To top it all off, Jones figured out that he was actually just 24 years old—nearly 20 years her junior! With Jones though, this was probably the least strange thing about her, because things definitely get weirder.

As Grace Jones continued to stretch her career, others put limits on her that she had to fight against. Agencies wanted her to be more marketable and less extreme, especially in her music and concerts. Tired of “the whole corporate system,” Jones started paying for her own records so that she had more artistic freedom—which she used to throw some insane concerts.

Now free to do whatever she wanted, Jones’s concerts rocketed her to fame. In one concert, Jones pulled men from the audience onto the stage, demanding that they all take off their shirts. They did, and the description of Jones dancing along with a crowd of half-clothed men on stage made its way into Ebony magazine, causing both laughter and outrage from its readers in equal measure. This wasn’t her only crazy concert either.

Given her track record of less-than-family-friendly performances, Disney World probably should have known better than to invite Grace Jones to perform at one of their shows. But they did—and they paid the price. Jones ended up taking her shirt off, flashing her chest to everyone (including the kids), and then “proceeded to light up and smoke” some green while on stage. That earned her a lifetime ban from the happiest place on earth—and the admiration of fellow performers.

Jones’s on-stage shenanigans encouraged many to follow in her footsteps. In the early stages of her career, Lady Gaga reached out to Jones to collaborate. She said that Jones had inspired her music and sense of style. Jones' response was devastating. Uninspired by Lady Gaga’s work, Jones also pointed out that Gaga was still in the midst of crafting her own image, and wasn’t ready for collaboration. Her high demands extend beyond just her fellow artists though.

Grace Jones has a very specific demand for those who want her to throw a concert. Upon arrival at the concert hall, she must have 2 dozen oysters—either Colchester oysters or Fine de Claire oysters—waiting for her backstage on ice. Do not shuck her oysters though—Jones likes to shuck her own oysters, so they must provide an oyster knife as well. No oysters? No concert. Jones is a lady that knows what she wants!

Many popular pop artists of today cite Jones as an influence on their work. Lady Gaga, Rihanna, Solange, and Lorde are just some of the artists that take inspiration from her music and her style. From her beginning as a shy, quiet girl, Jones has come a long way. Pushing art, culture, and gender norms to their extreme, Jones will likely continue to influence future generations of artists to come.

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Paul Robeson was the youngest of four children born to a minister and his wife in 1898. Dad was William Drew Robeson, and had been a slave until he was a teenager. Robeson’s dad managed to escape slavery and land a job as a minister in a Princeton New Jersey church. Life looked good for Robeson and his family—until a simple disagreement turned their happy life into a living nightmare.

While Robeson’s father’s church was all Black, the money for the church came from the pockets of white financial supporters. When a disagreement arose between Robeson’s father and the funders, Robeson’s dad had to resign—even though he had the congregation's support. Once dad didn’t have a steady job, the Robeson family fell on very hard times.

And just when they thought things couldn’t get worse—they did.

After his resignation, Robeson’s father started working low-paying jobs and the family could barely make ends meet. At the same time, Robeson’s mother, Maria Louisa Bustill, was fighting a losing battle with cataracts. By the time Robeson was six years old, the worst happened: his mother became all but completely blind. Having a blind mother made an already difficult life even harder for the Robesons, but it would soon prove to be fatal.

In 1904, Robeson’s near-blind mother was cooking in their home. Back then, everyone did their cooking on a wood-burning stove, and a hot ember sparked from the stove and terrifyingly landed on Bustill’s clothes. With far from adequate eyesight, Bustill was unable to put the fire out, and more and more of her clothes lit on fire. The situation quickly escalated out of control.

They eventually were able to put out the fire—but the aftermath was brutal. Robeson’s mother had burned 80% of her body. She spent several days in hospital in incredible pain. It was on January 20, 1904, that Robeson’s mother finally died. The loss of Bustill devastated the family and made their financial issues even worse.

With little money and no prospects, the Robeson family was facing homelessness. Robeson’s father found an old attic above a store and they all moved in. This could have been the end of Robeson’s story, but some much-needed luck finally came their way.

In 1910, the Robeson family got a call that would change everything. There was a church that needed a minister and they wanted Robeson’s father. With a new steady job, the family was functioning again, and young Robeson got an unusual opportunity: filling in on occasion for his father. Robeson was barely a teenager when he took his father’s place behind the pulpit and began preaching. All this orating would serve him well later on…

Robeson may have been giving sermons, but he still hadn’t been to high school yet. He finally got his chance at Somerville High School, and he didn’t waste any time getting fully involved. He performed in two Shakespeare plays, sang in the choir, and then turned to sports. Robeson’s skill at track, baseball, basketball, and football made him stand out.

But something else was making Robeson stand out—and it was making his school life a nightmare. 

Robeson’s skin color was making life hard for him. Other students, perhaps jealous of his success, used his race to taunt Robeson. But Robeson had already faced too many hardships in his life to let a few high school boys get him down. He continued to excel in high school, and then something amazing happened: the very students that had ruthlessly taunted turned around and made him class valedictorian.

There was, however, something even better that came out of his time in high school.

Sure Robeson was class valedictorian, but that was nothing compared to what came later. Before he graduated, Robeson would win a scholarship to Rutgers—a top-notch university. While he wasn’t the first Black student to attend the prestigious university, he was one of only three—and the only Black person attending at the time.

Just like in high school, Robeson was soon excelling at pretty much everything he did—but there always were enemies waiting to try and stop him.

Robeson was eager to join the Rutgers Scarlet Knight football team, but he had to prove himself first—and he’d have to get through a nightmarish ordeal to do it. To make the team, Robeson, and other hopefuls, had to play with the existing team. It may have been that the team members didn’t want Robeson on board, because they singled out Robeson and played as rough as they could with him.

By the end of the game Robeson ended up in hospital—he had a broken nose and a dislocated collar bone. It looked like the end of Robeson’s college football career.

Robeson’s coach saw what the team had done to him, and made up his mind. Since Robeson had faced a merciless game—and lived to tell about it—the coach thought that showed great resolve. He gave Robeson a spot on the team. Robeson had won over the coach of the team, but how would the other teams feel about playing with a Black player?

In Robeson’s sophomore year, Rutgers was celebrating its 150th anniversary, and Robeson took to the field to play an important game as part of the festivities. The opposing team was watching from the sidelines when they saw Robeson run onto the field. For most of them, it was the first Black football player any of them had seen before, and it caused them to do something deplorable: they refused to get on the field.

And on top of what Robeson faced on the field, he was also having trouble at home.

Robeson continued studying at Rutgers and excelled at football, singing, and his academics. All was going well until he received a fateful call: his father was seriously ill. So, in addition to his studies and extracurriculars, Robeson was going back and forth between his father’s place and university in order to care for him.

Sadly, this difficult time for Robeson wouldn’t last long: his father soon died—but Robeson picked himself up and went back to school.

Paul Robeson filled his remaining years at Rutgers with accomplishments too numerous to mention. Highlights include his entry into Phi Beta Kappa and the elite honor society called Cap and Skull. Once again his fellow students elected him as class Valedictorian. It was in his speech that Robeson did something that would shape the man he would become.

He encouraged his classmates to do something that was unusual in the United States at this time: give equality to all Americans.

From Rutgers, Robeson made his way to Columbia Law School in 1920. He soon started dating Eslanda Goode, known as Essie to her friends. Goode appreciated all the talents that Robeson had, but saw something more: she wanted him to try professional acting. She convinced a reluctant Robeson and the result was a leading role in Simon of Cyrene.

Lawyer, singer, football player, actor: was there nothing this man couldn’t accomplish?

With his Columbia Law degree in his pocket, Robeson went out looking for a job. He managed to get employment at a lawyer’s office in New York, but an old but familiar enemy soon surfaced. As a lawyer, he had a stenographer who took dictation from him. The first time Robeson chose to use the stenographer's services, however, he got a shocking response.

The stenographer refused to take dictation from him because of his skin color. With so many other talents at his disposal, Robeson said good-bye to the law firm, and hello to show business.

While Paul Robeson had already shown great skill as an actor, what he wasn’t showing great skill in was self-promotion. Essie, who was now his wife and a successful researcher in Surgical Pathology, was willing to do something incredible: drop her high profile job and manage Robeson’s career. He climbed aboard his wife’s train to success. Unfortunately, the first stop was controversy.

Eugene O'Neill's All God’s Chillun Got Wings tells the story of a mixed-race couple. Now remember, this was back in the 1920s, and even the thought of this story hitting a stage was causing a storm of controversy. They delayed the play’s opening due to public outcry, and eventually, Robeson had to speak out about the plot. What he had to say didn’t do anything to quell the outcry.

When critics came to him to ask him about the plot of All God’s Chillun Got Wings, Robeson definitely had something to say. He gave his opinion on the play and ended it with these words: “the only true American culture was African-American”. Robeson’s comment certainly raised some eyebrows, but hang on to your hats, because he was just getting started.

While Paul Robeson had little interest in moving his career forward, his wife had the opposite opinion. She was soon pushing Robeson from the stage and onto the screen. His film debut was the 1925 silent picture Body and Soul where he plays identical twin brothers. The film took a direct, and not so subtle, shot at how the church exploits its power—not a popular stance in America at this time.

Robeson seemed unafraid to ruffle anyone’s feathers, and as we’ll see—this often got him into all kinds of trouble.

Robeson’s work as an actor took him to various places around the world, but he also had time for some fun. While he was holidaying in the French Riviera with author and intellectual Gertrude Stein, he got some surprising news: his wife was pregnant. But there was one heartbreaking detail that he didn’t know. His wife was in dire jeopardy due to her health.

It turns out Robeson’s wife didn’t want to ruin his world tour, so she kept her health problems to herself.

Robeson's wife didn’t want to alert her husband about her ill health, but that didn’t stop her mother. When mom sent a message to Robeson, he was on the next passage home. Robeson and Goode’s son—Paul Robeson Jr.—was born in November of 1927, and Goode had a complete recovery. The next year was a big one for Robeson. He was about to stun audiences with an iconic performance.

A year after becoming a father, Robeson got a part in a West End musical called Show Boat. While Robeson stunned audiences with his gorgeous rendition of the show-stopping song “Ol’ Man River,” Black critics were having none of it. They didn’t like the dialect that the writers had used for the Black characters. Robeson was once again in a place that must have felt familiar: at the center of a controversy. And it wasn’t the only one.

One day, Robeson—who was encountering so much acceptance in the UK—was after a meal at the distinguished Savoy Grille. When Robeson stepped up to the maitre d’, he couldn’t get a table—not because he lacked a reservation, but because he was Black. Robeson was used to this kind of treatment in America, but it horrified him that it could happen on British soil as well.

Robeson quickly dispatched a press release and started an incendiary debate about prejudice in the United Kingdom.

Around this same time, Robeson was appearing in Othello with British actor Peggy Ashcroft. It seemed that the onstage heat between the two actors became unbearable, and they had an affair. Robeson’s wife had known about some previous affairs and had turned a blind eye. For some reason, this one made her stop in her tracks. She just couldn’t let this one go, so she turned to Robeson and let him know how she felt.

Robeson received a request from his wife and it went something like this: “Please divorce me.” It may have been what Robeson was waiting for. His fling with Ashcroft was turning into something more serious. A divorce from Goode would make it easy to marry Ashcroft. But wait, maybe Robeson was forgetting about something—would it be that easy for a Black man to marry a white woman?

Robeson sought advice from one of his old coaches, who told him to stay with his wife: that it wouldn't be worth the controversy of marrying a white woman. Surprisingly, Robeson took the advice.

Robeson’s next film was Emperor Jones, and it was memorable for an impressive reason. It was the first time an actor in a starring role was African American. Robeson made the movie in the US when the segregation of Black people was in full force. Robeson made it his business to make sure that everyone on set treated him with equality and respect.

Sure he got respect on a movie set, but in real-world America, he was still a second class citizen.

Robeson was slowly becoming more and more political. He had friends who were British socialists, and he visited the Soviet Union with them. The experience was eye-opening. Robeson said that in the Soviet Union he was a human being for the first time in his life. He had never felt that much dignity when in the United States.

These positive feelings toward the Soviet Union would later become a threat to Robeson’s freedom.

Unrest in Europe was taking on an ominous tone, and WWII seemed inevitable. Robeson was still living in the UK, and the German threat was a constant fear. By now Robeson had made a lot of lists—including tenth on the most popular stars in British Cinema. As the Germans were preparing to invade the UK, they had a dangerous list of their own—and it included Robeson’s name. 

The list was called the Sonderfahndungsliste G.B., and it contained the names of men that the Germans wanted to arrest the moment they successfully occupied Britain.

With the fear of WWII becoming unbearable, Paul Robeson and his family moved back to the US. Robeson had left America to avoid the segregation so prevalent there, so when Robeson traveled back home, he must have felt like he was traveling back in time. On his visit to Los Angeles, only one hotel in the entire city would let him stay as a guest.

It was the Beverly Wilshire, and they did something awful. They charged him even more than what white guests paid. Luckily, Robeson could afford it, and he could also afford to teach the hotel a valuable lesson.

It was pretty obvious that the Beverley Wilshire didn’t want it to get around that they were allowing guests of color into their establishment—so Robeson did something scandalous. He sat in the lobby. It may not sound that radical, but for two hours every day, Robeson made a point of sitting in the lobby. This way, the other guests got a good look at him and got used to seeing a person of color at the luxury hotel.

Robeson’s next cause, however, was much more tragic than being excluded from a hotel.

In 1946, something appalling happened in Georgia. Vigilantes lynched four Black men. An outraged Robeson went directly to then-President Truman and demanded an end to the barbaric practice of lynching. When Truman hesitated, Robeson made a threat: End lynching now, or we will defend ourselves. Truman’s reaction was devastating.

The President abruptly ended the meeting, saying he could do nothing to help. Robeson went into attack mode and started the American Crusade Against Lynching.

Robeson’s next project was in support of trade unions. Some of Robeson’s toughest critics were noticing what they thought was a dangerous trend. Robeson supported both the Soviet Union and China, and he had a soft spot for unions. In their estimation, Robeson was a potential communist. Just then the Tenney Committee—a witch hunt group for so-called “Un-American activity”—called Robeson in for a meeting.

His meeting with the Tenney Committee didn’t go well and led to a more ominous meeting—one with the United States Committee on the Judiciary. The panel asked him one simple question: “Do you have affiliations with the Communist Party?” Robeson, risking a stint in prison, refused to answer the question. Even though he hadn’t said “yes,” the FBI made a disturbing decision. 

They declared that Robeson could no longer perform in America. This earned Robeson the nickname the “Kremlin’s Voice in America,” and made his popularity take a nosedive.

Because he couldn’t perform in the States, Robeson embarked on a tour of Europe. While touring, Robeson made a speech in Paris, which his enemies back in the US thought made him sympathetic to communism. The House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) wanted to bring Robeson down, but they knew that there was a certain population that still saw him as a hero.

That’s when they brought in Jackie Robinson.

If Black Americans still admired Robeson, HUAC was going to bring that to an end. They issued a subpoena to Jackie Robinson—the first African American to play major league baseball. The committee thought that some unkind words from Robinson, who Paul Robeson had supported, could turn Black America against Robeson. They asked Robinson what he thought of Robeson’s speech in Paris.

Robinson was in a tough spot: risk his reputation and support Robeson, or disparage a hero of Black Americans.

Robinson nervously addressed the committee and gave his carefully composed answer. He said that the statements made by Robeson, “if ‘accurately reported,’ were silly.” Questioning the authenticity of the speech was a smart move, as evidence existed that Robeson was misquoted. Calling Robeson’s ideas silly was Robinson probably trying to save his own skin—and can you blame him?

At least he didn’t throw Robeson completely under the bus. After Robinson’s statement, Robeson had a concert planned in New York state. Let’s just say it didn’t go well.

Robeson had subversive written all over him and members of the press didn’t like it—or him—one bit. Robeson was headlining a concert in Westchester County and some of his detractors, including Klu Klux Klan members, decided it was a good time for a good old-fashioned protest. When the protest went from peaceful to heated—they swung baseball bats at concert-goers—a full-on anti-Robeson riot broke out.

Those in charge of the concert had no choice but to cancel. Robeson survived the riot, but the repercussions were devastating. 

Following the riot outside his concert, Robeson experienced an attempt to remove him from history. NBC promptly canceled his appearance on Eleanor Roosevelt’s TV show. A 1950 book about college football eerily failed to mention that Robeson had ever played for Rutgers—even though Walter Camp had once called him the best end ever.

But there was something even worse—they took away his passport and issued what was called a “stop notice” at every port of entry. Life in the US was awful and dangerous for Robeson, and he had no way to get out.

Articles that called Robeson a communist appeared in newspapers across the country. Of course, these articles were the nail in the coffin for Robeson’s reputation in America. But it didn’t stop there. FBI head J. Edgar Hoover arranged to have the articles distributed in Africa. For what reason? Hoover wanted to squash any popularity Robeson had in countries that were prone to communist takeover.

However, it wasn’t only the FBI that was out to get Robeson. Robeson himself was making it almost impossible for the average American to sympathize with him.

As if the FBI wasn’t doing enough damage, Robeson seemed to be doing everything he could to destroy his own reputation. First, Robeson angered Americans by creating a petition where he charged the US with genocide regarding lynching. Then, in 1952, Robeson accepted an award called the International Stalin Prize. In case his connection to Stalin and communism wasn’t clear enough, Robeson wrote an ode to Stalin. The title was “To You My Beloved Comrade.”

Robeson seemed to be on a collision course with trouble. But where would it end?

America had clearly lost its love of Robeson. His reputation was so bad that it was difficult to find evidence he’d actually existed. They removed his recordings from shelves and his movies from theaters. Eerily, it was like he’d never been the superstar that he was. To make matters worse, he still couldn’t leave the country—so performing was impossible.

And that’s when an “evil genius” came up with a plan.

On May 26, 1957, Robeson’s deep, resonant voice filled a London auditorium. The concert had sold out in under an hour, and the crowd went wild. But how could this be? Wasn’t Robeson still under a travel ban? Well, an ingenious Brit had come up with a brilliant idea. He used the transatlantic telephone cable to transmit Robeson’s voice for a concert.

Robeson’s body was still stuck in the US, but his gorgeous voice was in England.

In 1958, the US government finally gave Robeson a passport, and he was free to travel again. He didn’t waste any time and was soon performing around Europe and even in Australia and New Zealand, where—in true Robeson form—he took up the cause of the aboriginal people there. Robeson was happy to be back on stage but still longed for his home country.

Robeson wanted to go home, but his wife thought his life would be in danger there. Instead, Robeson went to Moscow. Sadly, it turned out to be a terrible decision.

Back in the USSR, Robeson did something he rarely did. He had a wild party. In the middle of the party, however, Robeson disappeared. Guests eventually began to look for him—and that’s when they made a chilling discovery. They found him locked in his hotel bedroom. He was covered in blood. Robeson had apparently slit his own wrists.

He later told his son that he suffered from paranoia and depression. The possible cause of his paranoia, however, was right out of a spy novel.

Robeson’s son had a theory about why his father suffered from ill mental health—and it was seriously shocking. Paul Robeson Jr. believed that the CIA and Britain’s M15 were trying to “neutralize” his father. He even thought that the two spy organizations were messing with his father’s mind. While many thought this claim was far-fetched, one thing was clear. The almost constant harassment Robeson lived with every day was having destructive effects on Robeson’s health.

Obviously, Robeson needed medical help, but he turned to a strange place to find it.

Paul Robeson knew he was in trouble mentally, and decided to get treatment in the UK. A strange choice—wasn’t it the harassment from Britain’s M15 that got him in this state in the first place? In treatment, British doctors put Robeson through a grueling therapy of both prescribed medicine and electroconvulsive therapy.

But rather than get better, Robeson was getting worse. His friends and family saw what was happening and desperately wanted Robeson out of the care of UK doctors. At this point, Robeson took a drastic measure to get his health back.

Surprisingly (or maybe not) Robeson found more humane treatment in socialist East Germany. Sadly, doctors there said it was likely too late for him. The damage done by his physicians in the UK—especially with the electroconvulsive therapy—had done permanent damage. Robeson’s health did eventually improve, but he would never be totally himself again.

In 1963, a broken and still very ill Robeson left Europe and returned to the United States.

Paul Robeson spent his remaining years in the United States. Leaders of the civil rights movement asked Robeson several times to rejoin the fight, but his health prevented him from doing so. In 1965, his wife died and Robeson moved in with family members. With them, he spent the next 10 or so years in relative seclusion. In 1976, Robeson quietly passed away after suffering a stroke.

In spite of Robeson’s fall from grace, he received almost countless accolades after his passing. Rutgers College named several buildings in his honor, Penn State also used his name for a cultural center after a staff and student vote. You can also see Robeson's image on a US Postal Service stamp. The British Growers’ Association, displaying the characteristic British humor, named something unusual after Robeson: an heirloom tomato.

As you might have guessed, the tomato is, as they say of communists, red. If the insinuation is still a little unclear, check out the origin: The Robeson tomato is from the Soviet Union.

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Sammy Davis Jr was born to perform. Born to Elvera Sanchez, a chorus line dancer at the Apollo in Harlem, and Sammy Davis Sr, a lifetime dancer and vaudevillian, little Sammy hit the spotlight before he could walk.

His parents thrust him onto the Vaudeville stage when he was just a toddler. He could barely speak, but audiences loved it when he made faces. They were the ultimate show-business family—but they wouldn't remain a family for long.

Davis's parents divorced when he was just three years old. Sammy Sr went back to his old life on the road, traveling the Vaudeville circuit. Not wanting to lose his son, Sammy Sr took full custody of Sammy Jr and brought the boy with him.

Before he had turned four, Davis had already performed in 50 cities. Davis adored every minute of it—but only because his father shielded him from the painful truth.

Davis Jr and Sr traveled and performed with Will Mastin, and together they formed the Will Mastin Trio. They got steady work, but they couldn't escape reality: As three Black men (well, one just a boy), they received prejudice on nearly a daily basis. The adults, however, did everything in their power to keep Davis Jr from realizing it had anything to do with the color of their skin.

They mostly managed to play off any incidents as "jealousy"—but it wasn't long before the world taught Sammy Davis Jr the hard truth.

Sammy Davis Jr's number came up in the draft in 1944. Suddenly, the 18-year-old boy who'd never known anything but the stage found himself in the US Army's first-ever integrated infantry unit at the height of WWII. Davis must have been terrified. He had no idea just how bad it was going to be. White soldiers from the South tormented him constantly.

Barely 120 pounds, Davis Jr got into a fistfight nearly every single day. White soldiers broke his nose several times, giving him his trademark pancaked nose. But that was just the start of the abuse he endured.

When white soldiers weren't trying to beat Sammy Davis Jr up, they found more twisted ways to make his life miserable. In one incident, they forcibly painted his skin bone white. Another time, they tricked him into drinking a beer that one of them had peed in.

In the Army, Davis finally realized that his father and Will Mastin had been lying to him all these years. It wasn't jealousy after all.

In 1945, Sammy Davis Jr returned to show business a new man. He now knew what his father had hidden: The world was against him. Maybe this was the point where he chose between genius and madness, because he decided he was going to show the world he was a star, no matter what. He was born for this life, after all. No one was going to take it from him.

In 1951, the Will Mastin Trio took the stage at Ciro's in Hollywood. As the night's openers, their set was only supposed to last 20 minutes—but the crowd contained some of the biggest stars in Hollywood. Sammy Davis Jr could turn it on when he wanted to, and that night, he turned it up to 11.

Sammy launched into his impressions, and the celebrities in the crowd ate it up so enthusiastically that the Trio stayed on stage for nearly an hour. Davis Jr introduced himself to Hollywood in style—and his life would never be the same.

After his explosive LA debut at Ciro's, Davis's career skyrocketed. By 1953, ABC offered the recently-smalltime vaudevillian his own TV show. Unfortunately, the world hadn't yet caught up to Sammy Davis Jr

Though he filmed a pilot, no major advertisers would sponsor a show starring an unknown Black man. The series never ended up happening. It was a major blow for Davis's burgeoning career, but pretty soon, that would be the last thing on his mind. Far worse catastrophes were on the horizon.

While Davis's show didn't make it off the ground, things had never been better for the Will Mastin Trio. After decades of eking out a living on the road, it felt like they'd finally made it. They had a headlining gig at Vegas's New Frontier Casino that paid $7,500 a week.

Even better, the barriers that held them back for so long were finally starting to come down. For years, whenever they played at a white casino, they still had to stay in the Black part of town—but the New Frontier had offered them suites.

Things had never been better—of course, that's exactly when disaster struck.

Sammy Davis Sr and Will Mastin knew they had Sammy to thank for their success, and they wanted to show their appreciation. Not long after landing the New Frontiers gig, they surprised him with a brand-new Cadillac. They even painted his initials on the passenger side door. If the two older men had known what was coming, they'd probably have gone with a safer gift.

For Davis, business and pleasure were one and the same. So it's no surprise that he spent the day before a recording session in LA drinking, gambling, and performing in Las Vegas. The next morning, he hopped in his brand-new Caddy and sped off down Route 66.

His life had never been better. Then, a woman backed her car into Davis's lane to pull a U-turn. There was no time to react.

Davis's first thoughts after the terrible crash were of his assistant, Charley, who had been in the car with him. He pulled himself from the vehicle and stumbled over to Charley, who made for a disturbing sight. Charley's jaw had been brutally dislocated, so it hung slack as blood poured down his face.

When Davis's assistant saw him, however, his reaction was terrifying.

Charley was in bad shape himself, but when he saw Sammy, he just pointed at his face, closed his eyes, and let out a horrible moan. Davis reached up to his face...and felt his own eyeball, hanging by a thread. His face had slammed directly into the steering wheel upon the crash—and unfortunately, the Cadillac his mentors had bought him was the worst possible car to be driving that day.

One of the features on Davis's sparkling new Cadillac was a sleek, bullet-shaped protruding horn on the steering wheel. Unfortunately, when Davis crashed his car, his face went right through that horn. In fact, Cadillac actually changed the design of the wheel specifically because of Davis's accident. Unfortunately, it was too late to save Davis's eye...

When Davis felt his own eyeball hanging on his cheek, he did what anyone would do: He tried to shove it back in. Unfortunately, while that would maybe work for Bugs Bunny, Davis was still only flesh and blood. He ended up losing his left eye. The pain was excruciating—but something far worse terrified Davis.

Sammy Davis Jr had spent his entire life singing, dancing, and performing on stage—would he be able to do that with only one eye? Was his career over just as it started taking off? As he recovered from the accident, Davis painstakingly worked on his routine, completely relearning his balance.

Within just a few weeks of the accident, Davis was ready to tentatively take to the stage once more—but he never expected the response he got.

When Sammy Davis Jr took his first step back onto the stage at Ciro's, half of Hollywood came out for the event. Cary Grant, Spencer Tracy, Gary Cooper, June Allyson, Frank Sinatra, and more all cheered him on from the crowd.

Davis later said, “Never had I felt so much a part of show business. All that it had given me materially was nothing compared to the kinship I felt for all these people".

Eventually, Sammy's talent began to eclipse that of his two mentors. Mastin and Davis Sr were amazing performers, but they came from a different time. This was Sammy Davis Jr's world now. His father saw the writing on the wall and stepped aside—but Will Mastin just couldn't face the music.

Davis Jr included the name "The Will Mastin Trio" in his billing for his entire career, even after he started performing solo. But for a time after that happened, Will Mastin still traveled with him. He would arrive at venues, insist on a dressing room—his name was on the marquee after all—and put on his full makeup and costumes before the shows. He just never went on stage.

By the late 50s, Sammy was reaching the peak of his powers as a performer. He was now making $25,000 a week at the Sands Casino, he had hit singles on the radio, and he was about to get a second chance at television. But, as he grew more successful, the prejudice he faced only got worse and worse. Now a bonafide star, Davis was fed up—and he wanted a way to hit back.

Sammy Davis Jr knew exactly how he wanted to show them: “You know, I reached a point with the indignities, the injustices, the nastiness...I got to the point where I wanted to get the whitest, the most famous chick in the world and just show ’em. To show everybody, yeah, guess what I’m doing with her! How do you like that?”

So that's just what he did.

Sammy Davis Jr loved women, and he spent his rise to the top having an unending string of one-night stands. Sometimes, he went home with Ava Gardner, sometimes it was simply a pretty girl who caught his eye, but in either case, "love" hadn't really been on the menu. That all changed one night in 1957 at Chicago's Chez Paree. Sammy took the stage and entranced the audience—but he only had eyes for one woman out in the crowd.

Her name was Kim Novak. Their affair would nearly ruin them both.

Everyone saw Sammy Davis Jr singing to Kim Novak that night—but that was the last time they'd be so reckless. This was the 1950s, and Black/White relationships were still an extremely polarizing topic. In fact, both of them got off on the forbidden nature of their romance. Davis called their relationship "equal parts civil disobedience and love affair".

Despite their defiance, they still did everything they could to keep the tryst a secret—but it was only a matter of time before the news got out.

If you wanted to keep a relationship a secret, Hollywood was a bad place to be. One night, Davis and Novak made the mistake of getting close during a party at Tony Curtis's house. One opportunistic guest knew a scandal when they saw it and called up Dorothy Kilgallen, the gossip columnist for the sensationalist Hearst newspapers.

So much for the down low...

Dorothy Kilgallen may have played coy, but she knew exactly what she was doing. In her next gossip column, she wrote, "Which top female movie star (KN) is seriously dating which big-name entertainer (SD)?" You didn't have to be a genius to connect the dots. The public was scandalized, but that was the least of Davis and Novak's problems.

Now the studio heads knew about them. That's when things took a frightening turn.

Davis knew the jig was up. When he saw the column, he immediately called Novak—but she wasn't ready to wave the white flag just yet. She insisted that the studio didn't own her and promptly invited him over to her Beverly Hills home for spaghetti. They were going to make a go of it, no matter what people thought.

But Novak underestimated just how far Harry Cohn, the infamous head of Columbia Studios, would go to make sure Davis wouldn't "sully" his star blonde.

Davis started to get nervous. He could tell exactly what Novak was doing: "Through me, she was rebelling against the people who made rules for her," he wrote. But while Novak wanted to make a statement, she wasn't the one with her head in a noose. Davis knew he was in trouble—but he was angry too. He'd spent his entire life enduring abuse from white audiences, and this was his chance to really stick it to them.

Despite public pressure, they went ahead with their relationship—but it was far from easy.

Harry Cohn had spies keeping tabs on Kim Novak, and all of Los Angeles was crawling with reporters who wanted nothing more than a juicy story. Novak and Davis had to go to desperate lengths to avoid them. Whenever Davis went over to her house, he had a friend drive him while he huddled in the back seat, hiding under a rug.

It was absolutely humiliating. Sammy Davis Jr was one of the biggest performers in the country, and yet he couldn't even show his face. Soon, he'd face far worse than humiliation.

Sammy wanted to rebel, but getting on Harry Cohn's bad side was a frightening endeavor. Cohn had deep connections to the underworld, and he wasn't above skirting the law to get what he wanted. When he realized that Davis and Novak weren't giving up their relationship, he decided to send a message.

Cohn reportedly had Davis kidnapped for several hours to put the fear of God into him. He also sent Davis's father a chilling message: Men were coming to break Davis's legs and put out his good eye unless he married a Black woman, STAT. This was the final straw. Davis and Novak wanted to rebel, they wanted to be together, but it simply wasn't meant to be.

Davis's assistant Arthur Silber found him in their suite at the Sands Hotel, frantically flipping through his address book. Silber asked him what he was doing. He responded, "I got the call this morning. I have to marry a Black chick, and I’m looking for someone to marry". Eventually, he found someone: a local dancer named Loray White.

He immediately called her and made a truly scandalous proposition.

Davis invited White to come to his suite, and when she arrived, he dropped his bombshell: He would pay her to marry him, then dissolve the marriage after a year. He hoped that a year might be long enough to get the mob off his back. White agreed, and they were off to the races. Davis was miserable, but there was nothing else he could do.

And, to make matters worse, people couldn't have been happier for him.

The first person to call Davis to congratulate him on his upcoming nuptials was Evelyn Cunningham, one of the leading voices in the Black press. It hadn't just been white people who were against his relationship with Kim Novak. Cunningham had frequently written about his "obligation" to the Black community, and she was overjoyed that Davis had finally found a Black woman to share his life with.

If she'd known the dark truth, she probably would have sung a different tune.

Sammy Davis Jr's first wedding wasn't exactly romantic. The location was pretty nice, in the Sands' Emerald Room, but the bride was 40 minutes late to a ceremony that lasted all of two minutes. Then it was done: Davis and White were man and wife. Neither was particularly happy, but White at least made sure she got hers.

As soon as she became Mrs Sammy Davis Jr, Loray White went nuts on a shopping spree. Jet magazine ran a photo of her with 20 new pairs of shoes. Davis showered her with even more gifts to show his gratitude for getting him out of a sticky situation. White even got to stay in the Sands' Presidential Suite—but when she returned to the room, she returned alone.

Meanwhile, Davis only got more and more miserable.

After six months of a sham marriage, Davis paid White $25,000 to get a divorce—though it took three long years before the split was actually official. And what happened to Kim Novak during all of this? Well, when Davis threw in the towel, so did she.

Kim Novak enjoyed feeling rebellious during her love affair with Davis, but she couldn't handle the pressure. Though she didn't face the same physical threats as Davis, that's not to say she didn't face consequences. She had friends who would no longer return her calls, and her agent reminded her that staying with Davis would mean lights out for her career.

So, even after his marriage to White ended, Davis and Novak simply drifted away from each other. That chapter in Davis's life had ended—though an exciting new one was about to begin.

Frank Sinatra had been fond of Sammy Davis Jr for years, and in 1959, Davis officially became a member of Sinatra's Rat Pack. You can actually thank Davis for the iconic name; Sinatra wanted to call the group "the Clan," but Davis, as the sole Black member, noted that name had some...less than ideal connotations.

One day, actress Lauren Bacall saw the disheveled group after a long night of drinking, smoking, and poker, and said, "You all look like a pack of rats," and the Rat Pack was born.

Davis's relationship with Kim Novak may have ended in disaster, but that wasn't enough to put him off forever. In 1960, Davis fell in love with yet another bombshell blonde: Swedish actress May Britt. After a whirlwind romance, the pair got engaged. Britt didn't have Cohn over her shoulder, and Davis hoped that he might finally be free to marry a woman he loved.

Unfortunately, joining the Rat Pack had catapulted him to all new levels of fame—and once again, it spelled doom for his love life.

While a crooked studio head ended Davis's relationship with Novak, politics threatened to do the same to his relationship with Britt. John F Kennedy was in the middle of a campaign for president, and Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack were heavily involved. That year, Davis joined his pals on stage at the Democratic National Convention, only to hear a loud "Boooooooo" from the audience.

Everyone knew about his relationship with Britt, and polling suggested only 4% of Americans supported interracial marriage. The backlash soon followed.

The Kennedy campaign started to get hate mail directed purely at Davis. Campaign officials pressured Sinatra—who was supposed to be the best man at Davis and Britt's wedding—not to attend. Kennedy and his campaign managers feared that their connection to Davis and his scandalous relationship could threaten their chance at the presidency.

As usual, Davis had to sacrifice his dignity.

Davis blinked first. He knew Sinatra was caught between a rock and a hard place. He decided to postpone the wedding until after the election. The touching gesture allegedly brought Old Blue Eyes to tears. John F Kennedy ended up winning the election, and five days later, Sinatra stood next to Davis at the altar. But this wasn't happily ever after for Davis.

Sadly, that was never an option.

May Britt soon gave birth to a daughter, Tracey, and the couple adopted two sons, Mark and Jeff, under mysterious circumstances. However, being married to Sammy Davis Jr wasn't easy. A tireless performer, Davis spent almost no time at home with his family, opting instead for the bright lights of the stage. After everything they'd been through, their marriage was doomed from the start.

Sammy Davis Jr had chosen greatness over madness—but he lived hard years, and they started taking their toll. His marriage ended after eight years, and Davis started to spiral. He had always been a man of many vices: Drinking, smoking, women, you name it. Well, he kicked these vices into overdrive.

He was still the greatest performer in show business, but once the 1970s rolled around, Davis was almost unrecognizable.

Davis's assistant couldn't help but notice the change in his boss. While Davis had once spent his evenings with the Rat Pack, now his entourage was a seedy group of deviants. He started traveling with a trunk full of adult reels of films, which he'd frequently screen at his increasingly debaucherous parties. Anyone who knew Davis could tell he something was haunting him, but they couldn't stop his frightening downward spiral.

Despite everything he'd been through, Davis had still managed to win over white audiences. Unfortunately, he knew that Black audiences still didn't accept him. Those close to him believe that's why he got involved with his third and final wife, Altovise Gore. Perhaps marrying a Black woman for real would finally earn him acceptance.

Gore, now Altovise Davis, couldn't believe her luck, landing a husband like Sammy Davis Jr. She didn't realize it was a curse.

Davis was in yet another marriage that wasn’t his full choice. It’s safe to say that the marriage certainly didn’t please his wife either. In addition to the substances and booze, Davis had become addicted to those dirty movies, and that led to Davis forcing his wife into some bedroom behavior she didn't want to perform. Gore was officially stuck in a marriage of convenience with a man going more and more out of his mind.

We’ll soon see how her life, even after Davis, eventually grew even worse.

While living with Gore, Davis would often host film screenings for his friends. Paul Anka relates a story of a screening that Davis hosted for around 40 of Hollywood's best and brightest. The crowd was just settling into their popcorn when Deep Throat appeared on the screen. The dirty movie stunned and embarrassed the audience—but Davis was just getting started.

Davis ended up befriending Linda Lovelace, the star of Deep Throat. He convinced his wife to join in on some escapades that were so wild even Sinatra found them disgusting—and Sinatra was certainly no goody-two-shoes. Life at the Davis mansion was truly out of control. Not even Davis's family could reel him in. In fact, he dragged them down with him.

Davis had hired his adopted son Mark as an assistant stage manager. Mark was happy for some father-son time, but it soon went sour. They ended up fighting over a Vegas dancer that Mark was dating. Turns out that Davis, 72 at the time, wanted her for himself. When he couldn’t take her away from his son, he stopped talking to Mark for eight months!

He did eventually connect with Mark again—but only because he had a doozy of a revelation.

Remember how Davis adopted two boys under mysterious circumstances? Well, according to Mark Davis, this wasn't totally correct. Mark tells the story of Davis calling him to his deathbed in 1990. When Mark arrived, Davis simply said to him: “You are my son”. Not just his adopted son: his biological son. It turns out, Davis hadn't exactly been faithful during his marriage to May Britt...

Mark was still reeling from his father’s confession, but he wanted proof. He tracked down his birth certificate and saw it in black and white. Listed as his father was Sammy Davis Jr—one mystery solved. Under the heading “mother” Mark saw May Britt, Davis’s wife at the time. Only half of this information turned out to be correct.

Once Mark Davis learned that Davis was his real father, he wanted to know about his mother. Of course, Mark turned around and asked Britt flat out: Are you my mother? The answer from Britt was a firm, “No". Many speculate that Mark was the product of a relationship that Davis had with another white woman. They’d kept the birth secret because of prejudice. Who the real mother is, though, is still a mystery.

Davis didn't just confess to his son out of the blue: He was dying. He started having trouble with his throat in 1988. Davis smoked like a chimney, and particularly loved exhaling the fumes while belting out long notes on stage. As a young man, Nat King Cole told him that he'd damage his vocal cords by doing that, but Davis loved the flourish. He paid for it in the end.

Nodes in Davis's throat soon developed into throat cancer. He kept on performing and, miraculously, his voice seemingly got even better. Eventually, the cancer progressed to the point where he needed surgery. However, doctors gave Sammy an unbearable ultimatum: You need the surgery, but you'll never sing again.

What do you think the world's greatest performer said to that?

A Sammy Davis Jr who couldn't sing was no Sammy Davis Jr. The crooner quipped that he'd lived a good life, and there was no way he'd give up his voice for anything. He opted not to have the surgery, well aware that his end was right around the corner. To rub salt in the wound, Davis’s employees saw his vulnerability as an opportunity to make a quick buck.

They reportedly looted his home—taking artwork, jewelry, and priceless memorabilia. This was especially sad because Davis and his inheritors were about to need every last dime.

On May 16, 1990, Davis succumbed to his illness. The very next day, the cold-hearted IRS arrived at his mansion to seize his assets. It turns out that Davis wasn’t quite up to date on his taxes: He owed over $7 million dollars. The family added up what remained after the looting, and came to a grim conclusion.

So, what did Davis Altovise Gore get after years of humiliation in a loveless marriage? Millions of dollars of debt. She and Davis had filed joint tax returns, so that meant that she inherited what he owed in taxes. Gore made a deal with the IRS and paid most of it off by selling Davis’s properties and other assets. In the end, she got nothing.

Davis’s wife Gore no longer lived a life of excess—unless you count excess sadness. According to the book Deconstructing Sammy, Gore lived for a time in an apartment with no refrigerator and a serious cockroach infestation. Any income she had came from bottles she found in the neighborhood dumpsters. In 2009, a stroke ended her life.

Sammy Davis Jr's marriage to Altovise Gore was an absolute horror story—but it was still better than his sham union with Loray White. While it’s not unusual for a groom to have a few too many at the reception, on the day of his wedding with White, Davis definitely went way over the edge. He got completely loaded, likely because he was marrying a woman he didn’t love. That doesn't forgive what he did, though. After the nuptials, Davis was walking his lovely bride to the honeymoon suite when he suddenly snapped and tried to choke her.

Luckily White managed to get free and flee, but Davis's horrible night wasn't over yet. It was about to get even worse.

Later that same night, Davis’s personal assistant went to check up on him. What he found in Davis’s hotel room stopped him cold: Davis had a revolver pointed at his head. Davis looked at his assistant and cried: “Why won’t they let me live my life?” Luckily the assistant was able to defuse the situation and Davis carried on with his plan to divorce White six months later.

And what about Kim Novak? She and Davis only saw each other twice after their relationship went up in flames. Over 20 years after their affair, they went to the Academy Awards together. They talked together for nearly an hour, then shared a dance at the Academy Ball. When Davis left the dance floor, he couldn't believe it: "Nobody even took one picture!"

Being with Novak had almost cost him his life two decades earlier. Now, people couldn't care less.

Kim Novak visited Sammy Davis Jr one more time just before the end. She heard that Sammy was dying and paid him a visit at Cedars Sinai. When Davis heard she was coming, he had someone fetch his finest silk robe and pajamas from his home: He wanted to look his best for the love of his life. The pair sat in his room together for some time. Their love couldn't be, but at least they got to be together at the end.

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Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7,

An earlier version of this article stated that the term "Rat Pack" was coined by Angie Dickinson. It has been updated to reflect that Lauren Bacall came up with the name. 

Cora Pearl was born Eliza Emma Crouch in Plymouth, UK, sometime in 1835, though she claimed to have been born February 23, 1842. Her parents, Frederick and Lydia, both taught music lessons at home, causing such a constant racket that Cora dubbed her house “The Musical Box", saying, “I was born to hear a great deal of noise, if not to make it". Of course, it wasn’t all a song and dance…

Cora’s father rivaled her in the scandal department. Frederick Crouch was a family man—but not just one family. He left Lydia in April of 1841 and remarried in 1843 without bothering to get a divorce. Eventually, he took off to New York and married three more times. Meanwhile, Lydia hooked up with her own new beau, a man Cora couldn't stand.

Her mother sent her to school in France, and when she returned in 1854, she moved in with her grandmother to avoid her stepfather at all costs. It cost her plenty—the unimaginable was about to happen.

One Sunday, when Cora was about 19—though she claimed she was only 14—the maid who was supposed to collect her from church and bring her back to grandma’s house didn’t show up. An older gentleman approached her, introducing himself as a diamond merchant named Saunders. He charmed and flattered her and offered to buy her cake. Cora didn’t suspect he had ulterior motives, but he had something dreadful in mind.

The man brought Cora to a smoky pub and plied her with cheap booze. She passed out in her chair—and when she woke up, she made a disturbing discovery. She was in a strange bed with Saunders getting dressed next to it. Horrified, she knew that her old life was over. He asked if she wanted to stay with him, twiddling his thumbs as he waited for her answer. When she refused, he gave her £5 and left. What Cora did next was truly impressive.

Knowing it was impossible to go back to her old life in her “ruined” state, Cora decided to enter the world’s oldest profession. Far from being helpless, she embraced the idea of independence, saying, “I would be telling a lie if I said [...] separation from my family made me cry”. With her £5, she rented a room and bought some second-hand clothes. She also gave herself the new name Cora Pearl, because she liked the idea of being a gem on a strand of lovers. It would be a very long strand.

Cora Pearl soon began frequenting the Argyll Rooms, a once great nightspot that had deteriorated into a seedy pleasure den where men could find some company for the right price. She soon met its proprietor, Robert Bignell, who asked her to move in with him and be his mistress. It was certainly a step up from having to share cramped quarters with dozens of other working girls, but it came with a price.

Bignell was madly in love with Cora, but the feeling wasn't mutual. He was simply a generous means to an end. Sure, he had a way of calling her his “chère Cora” which she found endearing, but it never inspired real passion. When the poor love-struck dope proposed to her, she turned him down flat. She had her reasons.

Understandably, the incident which led Cora to her new career gave her “an instinctive mistrust of men”. In other words, she bore a serious grudge and was determined to use them with no small amount of detachment. While she acknowledged having genuine affection for certain individuals, she laughed off marriage, telling Bignell she “detested men far too much to ever obey one of them”. Still, he was able to make Cora his wife, briefly—sort of.

Cora accompanied Bignell to Paris and he listed her on his passport as his “wife”. After a month of dining, dancing, and touring famous sights like the Arc de Triomphe, the vaults of the Pantheon, and the Bois de Boulogne, Cora was utterly in love—but not with Bignell. Paris was her new fixation, and when Bignell told her it was time to go home, she refused to budge.

Cora Peal would sooner have jumped off a bridge than leave Paris—and she went to twisted lengths to stay there. She threw Bignell's passport into the fire and shouted, “You go if you want to. I remain here”. He knew there was no point in begging, so he paid the hotel bill and left without her. She admitted feeling sorry for him, but not sorry enough to return to the dirty old dance halls of England. Paris had all she wanted.

France had no problem with women like Cora so long as those who sold their services registered with authorities and submitted to regular, humiliating, health checks. Furthermore, during France’s opulent Second Empire, ruled by Emperor Napoleon III, formerly respectable “fallen” women like courtesans and kept mistresses had their own celebrated class—the demi-monde, or those who lived between worlds.

Cora knew that by playing to society’s fascination with all things theatrical and glamorous, fame and fortune were possible, but success wouldn’t happen overnight.

Cora’s first client in Paris was a sailor named d’Amenard. He was pretty much broke but he amused her, and she had to start somewhere. When he had to set sail, he promised to marry her when he got back. Cora said she’d wait for him—but there was something she was hiding from him. She knew full well she’d never see him again.

Cora wanted lovers who could afford to place and keep her in the lap of luxury. For that, she needed help. Enter Monsieur Roubise.

Cora’s next client, Monsieur Roubise, was a man in good standing with Parisian high society. He became her “procurer”, introducing her to just the type of affluent customers she’d been waiting to get her hands on. He set Cora up in a nicer neighborhood, taught her the basics of the business, and of course, helped to expand her repertoire of specialty skills. Cora had everything it took to make her very popular.

Cora may not have trusted men, but she sure liked working with them. She earned a reputation for being an enthusiastic lover; an “acme of sensual delights” with an “almost superhuman knowledge of the art of love”. She was no classic beauty, but she had an hourglass figure with a waist so tiny it was no bigger than the span of a man’s hands. But she also had an unexpected secret weapon. 

Cora had a brilliant sense of humor and knew how to make bored men laugh. It set her apart from the competition—and there was a lot of it.

In a swanky neighborhood near the Champs-Elysées, Cora shared a house with another popular courtesan by the name of Caroline Hasse. Though they mostly got along, but Caroline was a beautiful blonde business rival, and they sometimes had wicked fights. One day, a fire broke out in their complex, and Cora stuck her head out of a smoke-filled window to yell at stable hands below, “I’ll sack the first person who takes a bucket of water to that cow upstairs!”

Cora soon met Victor Massena, the wealthy Duke of Rivoli, whom she called “one of the first links in my chain of gold”. He was thoughtful and anxious to please her. Even though he was jealous of her other lovers, he lavished her with designer clothes and jewelry and paid for her living expenses for six years. Massena put Cora on the map, so to speak, and she used his money wisely to stay there.

Now in the position to build her brand by hosting extravagant dinners, Cora hired a culinary genius by the name of Salé to feed her guests. He insisted on doing all the shopping and would hand in bills so enormous she was certain he was running a side business out of her kitchen. Funny, the name Salé means salty in French—but it also means costly. Cora turned a blind eye to it because her parties were the talk of the town, and not just for the food.

Cora Pearl spared no expense when it came to entertaining. She had so many people clamoring to get into her parties that they literally crawled through the windows. Guests danced, ate, and drank morning, noon, and night. During a two-week rager in Vichy, she spent 30,000 francs on food alone—1,500 of that was for out-of-season violets to garnish a tray of fruit!

When a guest accidentally broke one of her expensive drinking glasses, she laughed it off and broke four more. Sometimes things got so loud, it was scary.

Fireworks were all the rage and Cora loved setting off huge displays from her garden—until disaster struck. She nearly burned down an outhouse. She also handed out firecrackers to guests so they could prank each other and make the room jump with surprise. One party moved over to a casino where the croupiers were so startled out by the sounds of the crackers going off that they flung themselves over the gaming tables to protect the money. Nevertheless, Cora was always welcome at a casino. Well, almost always.

Massena also bankrolled Cora’s gambling habit, which often got her into trouble. In the fashionable town of Baden-Baden, doormen at a casino once refused to let her in because they said her presence would cause a scandal. That afternoon she ran into a powerful friend: Napoleon III’s half-brother, the Duc de Morny. When she returned to the casino on de Morny’s arm, the doormen practically bowed to her as she walked in. Her visit to a casino in Monte Carlo didn’t end quite so well.

A lengthy stay in Monte Carlo ended with Cora owing a casino 70,000 francs. Not only couldn’t she pay the debt, but she also couldn’t even pay her hotel bill. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She snuck out of her room, leaving all her clothes behind, swiped 500 francs from the hotel’s cash desk, and hitched the cheapest ride home. Don’t judge her too harshly. She paid everyone back eventually. After all, business was booming.

Even though she had a long-term arrangement with Massena, Cora made time for anyone who could afford her company. William, Prince of Orange, heir to the throne of the Netherlands, once paid 5,000 francs for one night with her and gave her a priceless necklace of black pearls which she never tired of showing off.

Prince Joachim Murat showered Cora with money, as did his 17-year-old devoted son, Prince Achille, who gave her one of her most prized gifts: her first horse. It immediately sparked something special in her.

Cora claimed she’d never had a riding lesson in her life, so her natural skill as a horsewoman added to her mystique. Admirers likened her to a “centauress” saying she “rode like an amazon”. They also pointed out that she was kinder to her horses than her lovers. But she soon took it way too far. One horse quickly led to 30, then in between 1863 and 1868, she bought 60 more, spending 90,000 francs with one dealer alone.

A journalist called it a “rational form of insanity”. Once Cora had ‘em, she really knew how to flaunt ‘em.

The more money a courtesan made, the more she had to spend. Wealthy patrons wanted their mistresses to be status symbols, not secrets. To this end, Cora began taking regular rides through the Bois de Bologne in her magnificent open carriages in order to show off her best assets—both material and physical. In no time, all the courtesans were parading the goods, and respectable high society got into the habit too. It was a great way for Cora to drum up business, and it wasn’t the only trend she started.

Because Napoleon’s wife Empress Eugenie was blonde, it was in vogue for women to copy her look by powdering their hair to make it look fairer. Never one to blend in, Cora decided to dye her hair red, likely with a mixture of ground-up bricks and ammonia. Though some called it “clownish”, red soon became the next craze. She didn’t just dye her hair though.

Cora once dyed her dog’s fur blue to match one of her outfits. She also dyed her hair lemon yellow to match the satin lining of her carriage. Okay, so that may have been a case of making a mistake work. Bleach wasn’t a thing yet and sometimes sulphuret of potassium, used for dying hair black, turned hair yellow if it wasn’t fresh. She pulled it off with humor and style, but some felt Cora’s whole look was way too much.

Boy, did Cora slather on the makeup. Jean Philippe Worth, son of the famed couturier Charles Worth, wrote that her face was always “shockingly overdone” and said she looked better at a distance. Geez. It worked for her, didn’t it? She at least got points for originality because she pretty much invented highlighter. She’d apply a mix of metallic powders and starches with swan down to make her forehead, eyelashes, and body shimmer. The shinier the better—to lure in the big fish.

Remember the Duke de Morny from the casino? After Cora and Massena parted ways, he was the next major link in her golden chain of lovers. She genuinely liked him, and what wasn’t to like? Handsome, charming, and powerful, de Morny had his choice of mistresses, but Cora’s wit, on top of her other talents, made her his favorite. On his arm, she rose to even greater celebrity—with a wardrobe to match. Her designer Worth gowns cost between 1,600 and 2,500 francs a pop. Just wait until you hear what her underwear cost.

Cora bought only the finest lingerie, but in 1864, she sued boutique owner Madame Roux des Florins, arguing a bill for six negligées totaling 9,500 francs was excessive, even for her. To prove her point, she stirred up a major scandal. She displayed her seductive undergarments in court as evidence, causing such a kerfuffle it made headlines back in England. Not only did she get 1,000 francs knocked off the bill—but she also got tons of priceless publicity.

Following the untimely demise of de Morny in 1865, Cora became the main squeeze of Prince Napoleon Joseph Bonaparte—the cousin of the sitting emperor. He was rude and really disliked, but Cora insisted “he was an angel to those who pleased him”. He was besotted with her, and even though he had a wife, he had jealous fits about her other lovers—the hypocrite.

Cora would never belong to any one man, but it was in her best interest to keep this prince happy.

Whenever Prince Napoleon felt like Cora wasn’t giving him enough attention, he sulked and threatened to deport her. She had to make up excuses, like twisting an ankle, when she wanted to see other clients. But he gave her a hefty allowance of 12,000 francs a month, bought her two fabulous houses, and made her one of the wealthiest women in France. What did she do with all that money? She threw more parties, of course.

Cora Pearl was never more popular than she was during the last half of the 1860s and she was living it up like there was no tomorrow. At one over-the-top party, she shocked her guests by serving them flaming punch in a silver chamber pot. At another, she dressed like a sailor and danced a horn pipe over a carpet of exquisite orchids Prince Napoleon had sent her. What she did with another of his gifts was even more outrageous.

Napoleon outfitted one of Cora’s mansions with a beautiful, custom-made bronze bathtub, personalized with her monogram of three intertwined Cs. She used to fill it with champagne and invite house guests to keep her company while she had a soak. It seemed she never missed an opportunity to show off her famous body. For example...

Cora Pearl once famously invited dinner guests “to cut into the next dish” before four large footmen served her to the table on a silver platter wearing nothing but parsley. She also showed up to a restaurant’s costume party dressed—or undressed, rather—as the biblical Eve. If you think that’s body confidence, hang on to your fig leaves.

Cora made her stage debut as Cupid in an operetta performed at the Théâtre des Bouffes Parisiens in 1867. The audience, filled with present and past lovers—and probably most of their wives—gasped when the curtains parted revealing Cora wearing strategically placed diamonds and not much else. It didn’t matter that she was a terrible singer. She kicked up her heels as she made her exit showing she wore diamonds on the soles of her boots as well. But that didn’t mean she quit her day job.

Cora Pearl was so in demand that she’d fully turned the tables on her wealthy clients--now it was her suitors who felt they needed to stand out in order to make the cut. Gifts became more extravagant and imaginative than ever. Someone sent her a box of candied chestnuts, each one wrapped in a 1,000-franc note. Another gave her a book, also with 1,000-franc notes in between every page, and yet another gifted her a silver horse filled with precious gems and gold. It was said she was earning 50,000 francs a month. So how did she keep track of it all?

To manage her business, Cora kept a ledger where she wrote down the names of her clients, the dates of their appointments, and how much she earned for her services. Someone once caught a glimpse of the open book and noticed Cora also kept a column for special notes. Let’s just say not all of her gentlemen callers got a five-star rating and the reasons why fit neatly in the margins. But the good times—and even the so-so ones—sadly weren’t meant to last.

In July of 1870, France lost its cool over Prussia’s candidate for the throne of Spain and picked a fight with serious consequences. The battle was short-lived, with Napoleon surrendering on September 1 of that same year. The ensuing siege of Paris by the Prussians on September 19 began with little warning. Cora just had enough time to get eight of her beloved horses out of the city by pretending they needed a little exercise. Her beautifully cultivated world would never be the same again.

During the occupation—and despite her occupation—Cora showed a surprising side. Like many of her courtesan peers, Cora Pearl turned one of her homes into a hospital to help nurse and feed the wounded. The injured slept in her eight luxurious bedrooms. She tore up her finest linens to use for bandages and shrouds.

She even paid for funeral expenses out of her own pocket. All in all, the experience cost her 25,000 francs. While she may have ponied it up—she wasn’t exactly gracious about having to foot the bill.

A truce in January of 1871 set the Parisians free. Now the decadence of the Second Empire which had indulged the demi-monde lifestyle was cause for much resentment. While others received honors for their sacrifices, all Cora got was dirty looks. Insulted, she went to court to demand repayment. She got 1,500 francs—and even more dirty looks.

Later, she regretted being so petty, saying the best reward was the gratitude of those she helped. But at the time, the humiliating hits just kept on coming.

Like the rest of the Imperial family, Prince Napoleon was living in exile. He wrote to Cora often from Florence, and in early 1871, they arranged a reunion in London—her first trip back to England in 20 years. She booked a suite at the Grosvenor Hotel, but she didn’t exactly get a warm welcome. 

When the manager recognized her, he threw her out without returning her deposit! Who’d have thought over 100 years later, they’d try to make it up to her?

On February 23, 2012, the Grosvenor Hotel dedicated The Cora Pearl Suite to its most famous cast-out customer. Details like glass chandeliers and feather-trimmed lamps still imitate the French decor of the late 19th century. Not only does the room have a replica of Cora’s bronze bathtub, but there’s even a giant oil painting of Cora over the bed. A little bit of revenge from beyond the grave—Cora would’ve loved it.

In 1872, Cora, who was now 37 but pretending to be 30, became the obsession of 27-year-old Alexandre Duval, heir to his family’s restaurant chain fortune. Totally infatuated, he burned through his inheritance and nearly lost his business paying for Cora’s rent and buying her ridiculously expensive presents. When the money ran out, Cora cut him off and he lost it. He decided it was her turn to pay.

Duval made several attempts to see Cora, but she refused to see him. She had no idea how unhinged he truly was. On December 19, 1872, after pacing for hours in front of her home like a lovesick madman, he forced his way into her house. He confronted her with a pistol pulled from his coat. It went off, gravely wounding him in his back and lung.

Reports claimed Cora’s only concern was that he got blood all over her carpet. Shocked society clearly wanted Cora to be the villain.

Duval got all the sympathy. His family nursed him back to health, but people blamed Cora for causing the ruin of yet another upstanding citizen. Authorities deported her, and some of her best clients, to save their own reputations, were the first to tell her not to let the door hit her on the way out. Leaving France was the beginning of a downhill slide from which Cora would never really recover.

Cora couch-surfed her way through Monte Carlo and Nice before briefly reuniting with Prince Napoleon in Milan. He continued to send her what money he could, but with his own finances dwindling, he wrote to her in 1874 and with regret and affection, ended their relationship for good. Cora was in a pickle. She was eventually able to return to Paris, but she was in debt up to her eyeballs. Something had to be done.

In May of 1877, Cora sold some of her most valuable possessions at an auction, but the sum raised was only enough to pay off her debts. She downsized to a smaller apartment where she continued seeing clients, but they were hardly the type she was used to. One man skipped out on her without paying his bill, and many admirers who couldn’t afford her tried wooing her with poetry stuffed in her mailbox.

She couldn’t live on love letters, so she tried her luck at casinos again and hit a new low.

Julian Arnold, an old friend of Cora’s, saw her one night in 1881, weeping on the curb outside a Monte Carlo casino. She told him she was broke and had no place to stay. Arnold took her back to his villa for a hot meal and a good night’s rest. Later, Cora found him in his study and flashed him by surprise. It wasn’t an offer, but rather to show him she may have lost her money, but not her money maker. Cora was never one to wallow in self-pity.

In 1886, Cora Pearl sold her memoirs for some much-needed cash—but there was so much more to her plan than literary fame. She also gave former lovers the chance to remain anonymous for the right price. Descriptions of her in this last year of life vary between an aged-out courtesan living in squalor, and a still cheerful woman visited often by friends in her comfortable apartment above a carriage shop.

What is certain is that on July 8, 1886, at the age of 51, she succumbed to intestinal cancer, just four months after the publication of her book. Some of her last words really stick with you.

Cora’s gravesite has long since disappeared, but her memoirs remain. In them, she claimed to have had a truly happy life. She regretted her decline into poverty, true, but said she would’ve regretted a quiet life more. And at the end of it all, she could still hold her head high. “I have never deceived anybody, because I have never belonged to anybody. My independence has been all my fortune, and I have known no other happiness; it is still what attaches me to life. I prefer it to the richest necklaces”.

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Born in 1446, at Fotheringhay Castle in Northamptonshire, England, to Richard of York and Cecily Neville, Margaret was one of 12 kids. She was also the couple’s last surviving daughter. We don’t know a lot about her childhood, but we do know that her dad’s desire for the throne would impact his family life, and not in a good way either.

Another one of his goals: To make sure his daughter married up.

Her family might have not married her off right then, but they did try getting her betrothed when she was just eight. Richard of York became Duke and established himself as King Henry VI’s protector in 1454. He probably felt this was the best time to secure a nobleman for Margaret, and he didn’t have to look too far to find one.

The nobleman for Margaret was Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy. His mom, Isabel, wanted an alliance with the Yorks since she shared an ancestor with Margaret’s mom. Richard of York was delighted, as Burgundy was a rich and cultured region. Sadly for him, Charles’ dad wanted a French daughter-in-law. Looks like Margaret was out of luck—or was she?

Some marriages are just meant to be, and as we’ll see, this would prove to be one of them. Before that happened though, Margaret and her family faced a devastating incident. 

Margaret’s dad badly wanted to become king, and he tried to achieve this goal at the Battle of Wakefield when she was just 14. Unfortunately, he lost not just the battle, but his life too. Even darker, his opponents decided Richard of York deserved worse than an honorable end on the battlefield. They beheaded him and placed his head atop the walls of their home city of York. And as a final humiliation? They placed a mocking paper crown on his head for daring to challenge the throne. Brutal.

Oh, and one of her brothers also lost his life in the same battle. The House of York was at its lowest point—but they wouldn't be there for long. Eventually, the kingship her dad had sought so eagerly would come to her older brother, and this would mean brighter days for Margaret of York as well.

After her brother became King Edward IV, Margaret followed him to court and was present at his queen’s coronation as well. Since her older sisters already had husbands to support them, her brother paid for her lifestyle out of the royal treasury. But Margaret of York couldn't hope to remain single for much longer. She was an accomplished, educated young princess and had several suitors interested in claiming her hand. And whoever won her hand was in for quite a handful...

Margaret was tall, at almost six feet. She was blonde, grey-eyed, and looked like her older brother, King Edward IV. They were a pair of 10s, but their appearance led to some scandalous rumors. People compared their looks to their dearly departed father, Richard of York, who was short and dark-haired. Courtiers were hopeless gossips back then, and many people were convinced he wasn’t their real father.

There's no proof of that historically—but there was still a betrayal in store for the House of York.

Always trust your family to really screw things up. Apparently, Margaret’s mother Cecily Neville had it in for her son Edward, mainly because he had married a lowborn woman named Elizabeth Woodville, rather than agreeing to a political match. To make matters worse, Woodville was a widow with two kids. The absolute horror!

In petty revenge, Cecily didn’t do much to negate the rumors about her children’s illegitimacy, throwing Margaret right under the bus in the process. How very Cersei Lannister of her!

Despite this family feuding, the Yorks still knew they needed to get their daughter married. Margaret’s engagement took place when she turned 20. The lucky suitor was Peter, Constable of Portugal, also Charles the Bold’s cousin. Unbeknownst to the Yorks, their future son-in-law was pretty overwhelmed by his duties, and not in the best of health when he proposed.

Peter may have become king of the Catalans as well as Margaret’s husband, but it turned out he wasn’t that lucky after all.

Sadly for Margaret, her fiance didn't handle stress very well. So much so that he didn’t wait for either the engagement or the proposed kingship to get to the next step. The man’s heart gave way before that, and he passed just a few months after the betrothal. I doubt it broke Margaret up too much though—she'd never even met the guy! Plus, she wouldn’t have to wait long for another eligible suitor to appear.

Clearly, Margaret and Charles the Bold were meant to be together, but they had a dramatic "Romeo and Juliet" story before that happened. Obviously, they had almost been betrothed when they were children, and Margaret had fully been engaged to another man, but that wasn’t their only hurdle. When Margaret turned 20, the stars finally seemed to align for the couple.

They got Edward to support their match, and everything appeared to be in place—only for another enemy to enter the ring…

Although Edward IV was now ready to accept Charles the Bold as his brother-in-law, Margaret’s troubles were far from over. The French king, Louis XI, was unhappy about the match. And he didn’t just show his displeasure by mentioning his concerns to the prospective groom. On the contrary, he actively did everything he could to ensure the wedding’s cancellation.

And by everything, I mean everything! They didn't call Louis "The Universal Spider" for nothing. He was willing to play dirty.

Note: Do NOT get on a French King's bad side. From calling upon the Pope to forbid the wedding on the basis that Margaret and Charles were distant cousins, to trying to discredit Edward to his bankers so he wouldn’t be able to pay for his sister’s dowry, Louis XI tried his best to stop the couple from getting married. Luckily for them, all these efforts were in vain.

But did Louis give up? Oh no. He had one final, cruel trick up his sleeve.

Since nothing else had worked, Louis XI came up with another brilliant idea to stop the wedding. He slandered Margaret, claiming she’d been involved with another man and had an illegitimate child hidden somewhere. Thankfully, Charles the Bold was no Othello and paid no heed to this accusation. Then, when Margaret set off to meet her groom at long last, Louis XI ordered his ships to seize her before she crossed the English Channel.

Again, thankfully, the people manning the ships had more integrity than the French king, and she was able to get to her groom-to-be without any trouble. It finally seemed like her trials were over. Unfortunately, they were not.

Margaret met Charles at long last. The meeting they waited so long for was no fairy tale. At 22, she was 13 years younger than him, but at almost six feet, she was quite a bit taller. In fact, she had to bend down to kiss him. Still, what Charles the Bold lacked in stature, he made up for in status. He may not have been king, but he was a very powerful Duke.

So when Margaret arrived at his doorstep, she let loose.

Margaret’s new mother-in-law, Isabel, and stepdaughter, Mary, were extremely welcoming of the newcomer, and she was always very close to them. Mary was Charles’ only child from his second wife; he had never really known his first wife since he was just a child when he married her. Margaret immediately took a liking to Mary and would always treat her like her own daughter. But the ladies weren’t the only ones delighted to welcome Margaret.

Margaret and Charles married each other in a private, early morning ceremony, a week after they’d met. Although they didn’t have many people attending the actual wedding, the real celebrations would happen when the bride and groom made their grand entrance among their people. That's when the real party started.

Charles traveled to Bruges soon after the wedding, and Margaret followed a few hours later with her own entourage in a grand procession. The couple made their royal entrance into society, AKA “Joyous Entry,” amidst much festivity and partying. Everyone knew the Burgundians enjoyed extravagance, but they surpassed all previous standards by hosting a welcome more spectacular than anything seen before.

Margaret of York basked in the attention and love she seemed to command from her new subjects. She drove through the streets in the pouring rain, in her golden litter drawn by white horses, waving to the people instead of shutting herself in from the wet and windy weather. Flowers and torches adorned the streets, and sculptures of archers spurted spirits for the revelers.

The wedding and welcome went down as “the marriage of the century.” Its reenactment in Bruges remains a tourist attraction to this day, which you can catch every five years. The next reenactment is due in 2022 by this token.

The Duchess and Duke both wore splendid crowns at their welcome ceremony. Pearls and white enamel flowers adorned Margaret’s crown. These flowers were a symbol of the House of York (in the Wars of the Roses, the White Rose represented the House of York). It also had her name in Latin, set in red, green, white, and gold. The crown is significant because it is one of only two medieval royal crowns that survive to this day, as Parliamentarians destroyed all the others during the rise of Oliver Cromwell.

Margaret knew that every good ruler needed to stay in the public eye. She traveled through several regions after Bruges. Her husband realized that his wife was interested in how he ruled, and she was quick to understand what he told her. However, Charles soon discovered that intelligence wasn’t something that ran in her family.

Margaret may have been a sharp cookie herself, but you couldn’t say the same for her brother Edward IV. For starters, he made a disastrous mistake when he presented Charles with the Order of the Garter. To be sure, it was one of England’s highest honors, but if Charles had accepted it, French King Louis XI would have charged him with high treason.

Thankfully, Charles’ mother preempted the disaster and her son refused to accept the honor. But this wouldn’t be the last time Margaret’s brother would trouble them.

When Margaret discovered that her younger brother, the Duke of Clarence, and cousin, the Earl of Warwick, had conspired to overthrow Edward IV, she asked Charles to stand by him and help him regain the throne. Initially, Charles agreed and threatened London merchants that they’d lose Burgandian business if they didn’t stay loyal to Edward.

While this briefly brought Edward back to power, his downfall was still coming...and Margaret was right in the middle.

Look, Edward just wasn’t a popular guy, and less than a year later, yet another plot had him abandoning his throne, fleeing to Flanders, and looking to his sister and Charles for help. It didn’t go quite the way he planned it: While Margaret still stood by her brother, her husband Charles was less convinced, and he only helped reinstate Edward to the throne after deciding it would benefit him too.

Margaret didn’t appreciate her husband's indifference, but that wasn't the only thing causing her distress. Even without her brother's misadventures, Margaret of York had a massive problem.

Margaret may have been Charles’s third wife, but she felt the responsibility to provide him with a son and heir quite keenly. Imagine her disappointment when months turned into years and she was unable to fulfill this important “duty.” The woman didn’t leave any stone unturned though. She even visited shrines and churches, hoping prayer would help if nothing else did.

Eventually, she had to accept the heartbreaking truth. She'd never have a child of her own.

Margaret had gotten along well with her stepdaughter Mary from the first time they met, and that bond only grew. They both seemed to enjoy the same things, like hunting, reading, and writing. They also shared a love for falconry, and Margaret took over the responsibility for Mary’s education. Either because of this, or because he was a matter-of-fact person, Charles did not openly blame Margaret for not giving him an heir.

However, behind the scenes, there was trouble in paradise.

Historical records seem to prove that as time went on, Margaret and Charles hardly spent any time together. He visited her fairly regularly for the first four years of their marriage, but the visits grew more infrequent in the next three years as Margaret didn’t seem able to get pregnant. Scholars estimate that they spent a total of one year together in those first seven years, and then he stopped visiting almost entirely. But hey, Margaret didn’t take this lying down.

In the first few years of her marriage, Margaret didn’t bother herself with state affairs at all. However, she suddenly found herself with a whole lot of time on her hands, and she began to understand her role and became an important administrator of Burgundian affairs. She was also a great representative for the Duke when he was away, trying to conquer new territories. It helped that she had a great role model.

Margaret had enjoyed a good relationship with mother-in-law Isabel since she met her. She observed how the Dowager Duchess received diplomatic missions on her son’s behalf, and how he depended on her advice in his political affairs. Isabel shared her wisdom and helped Margaret become a politically savvy survivor in a world rife with plots and conspiracies. But it wasn’t just advice Margaret got from Isabel...

Margaret of York was good at cultivating relationships. Her mother-in-law cared for her deeply and showed it by leaving her favorite residence to Margaret in her will. Yet while this was financially good for Margaret, losing Isabel left an emotional scar—and not just on her.

Isabel’s passing had a disturbing impact on Margaret’s husband Charles. Sure, the man was probably devastated to lose his mom, but instead of just grieving over the loss, he seemed to be taking it out on other people. Everyone felt that Charles the Bold was becoming more Charles the Tyrant after the tragedy. He imagined threats from all quarters and his people dreaded his treatment of both real and imagined “rebels.”

As you can imagine, this wouldn’t end well for him.

To Margaret’s dismay, Charles wanted to form a new kingdom, from the North Sea to the Mediterranean, and he felt he could achieve this by conquering all that territory. In other words, he was constantly away at battle. This did nothing to endear him to his people, or the neighboring regions. To make matters worse, the French King Louis had undermined his banking credit and reputation through trade embargoes.

Charles the Bold was playing a dangerous game—and he paid for it in the end. When Margaret met her husband again in 1474, it would be the last time they were together.

Duke Charles the Bold met his end at battle in 1477. But just before his passing, he left Margaret one last task to fulfill. He had arranged his daughter Mary’s engagement to Maximilian of Habsburg, and he expected Margaret to protect Mary’s marital interests and make sure Louis XI didn’t usurp them in his favor. Based on what we know of Louis, that would be no easy task.

With Charles gone, Louis XI dealt Margaret and Mary a devastating blow by taking over the Duchy of Burgundy for himself. His reasoning: A woman couldn’t inherit the Duchy. Now all the women could do was make sure that Burgundy didn’t get further divided, so Mary had enough power to stay relevant. But if you think Margaret was beaten, you've got another thing coming.

Determined not to let Louis further encroach on Burgundy or her family, Margaret wrote to Maximilian to visit them immediately, hoping his power and protection could combat the King of France. But, knowing that that might not be enough, Margaret made sure to sweeten the deal with a brilliant and dangerous move.

In order to entice Maximilian to be the strongest, most devoted ally against the Kingdom of France he could be, Margaret drew up a marriage contract that made a huge promise: In the event of Mary’s passing, Maximilian would receive her full inheritance, AKA, the Duchy of Burgundy. As we’ll see, this provision would prove to be critical.

By now, Louis XI realized that he had a strong adversary in Margaret. Before long, he tried to buy her off with a French pension and a promise that he’d personally protect her. It would have been a sweet deal—for anyone other than Margaret of York. She scoffed at his offer and sailed off to England to negotiate her affairs. She was happy being a wealthy widow, and one of Mary’s most trusted advisors.

She was going to bet on herself—and it paid off in the end.

In 1472, Mary of Burgundy gave birth to a son, Philip. When the boy's christening came, she entrusted none other than her beloved stepmother, Magaret of York, to carry the child. Two years later, Mary made an even more heartwarming gesture: She named her second child, a daughter, Margaret. After so much hardship, things finally looked good for Margaret of York—except just as the happy family was all coming together, an old rival showed up.

Louis XI just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie—or, as it happened, sleeping babies. Staying true to his slandering ways, the French King spread the rumor that the Burgundian heir Philip was actually a girl, and so couldn’t inherit the duchy when he came of age, thanks to the laws that Louis himself had just so happened to put in place. Now, our girl Margaret couldn’t take this rumor lying down.

In true boss fashion, Margaret countered the rumor the only way she knew how: by undressing Philip in front of the crowd gathered for his Christening, thus proving beyond a doubt that he was actually a boy. I’m thinking it’s a good thing this wasn’t a time of cell phones and social media, ‘cos Philip might not have appreciated a photo of that little incident floating around.

Margaret proved herself a vital ally to her stepdaughter and Emperor Maximilian—and in more ways than one.

Apart from providing Mary and Maximilian with political advice, Margaret was invaluable in helping them raise men and money to battle France. Earlier, after Charles’s passing, she’d even asked her brother Edward to send his men to prevent Louis XI from taking any more of their lands. For all this hard work, Mary repaid Margaret by letting her keep all the rights and properties she enjoyed while Charles was alive.

It was a kind gesture from a loved one—but another devastating loss was just on the horizon.

By the 1480s, Margaret had lost many people from her family. Her father, two brothers, her husband, and her mother-in-law. But no loss was as heartbreaking as when she lost Mary, the girl she’d always considered her daughter...and in the most brutal way imaginable. In 1482, while out falconing with her husband and his knights, Mary's horse suddenly tripped and threw her in a ditch.

The retinue panicked, but that was just the beginning of the nightmare.

After she launched into the ditch, Mary’s horse fell on top of her and broke her back. Margaret’s 25-year-old beloved stepdaughter managed to cling onto life for a few more weeks, until she finally expired on March 27. Margaret was stricken with grief, but she didn't have time to mourn. She immediately understood that her lands were now in more danger than ever...and she had work to do.

The next years of Margaret’s life saw her desperately clinging to any power she could find. King Louis still held her feet over the fire; Margaret even eventually sent her two-year-old granddaughter, the little Margaret, over to France in the hopes of pleasing the King and preventing him from further encroaching on her territories. Meanwhile, Margaret put all her focus into raising her grandson.

Her world upside down, Margaret held on for dear life—and right at that moment, another sudden loss threw everything into chaos once again.

While Margaret was busy raising the little Duke-to-be, Philip, things changed drastically in England. Her brother, Edward IV passed, and her younger brother, Richard III, declared his nephews illegitimate and took over the throne himself. There isn’t any record of Margaret’s reaction to this development, but she probably supported, it as it made political sense for Burgundy.

But things would change again for her, and sooner rather than later too.

Sadly for Margaret, Richard III, who was also her last surviving brother, didn’t live too long either. He lost a battle to Henry Tudor, who went on to become Henry VII, the next King of England. This change in rulers brought about an end to the trading privileges that the Yorks had granted Burgundy. Naturally, Margaret didn’t appreciate that at all and, as she always did, she fought back.

Margaret did all she could to oppose Henry VII and get him off the English throne. She supported men like Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck, hoping that one of them might be able to take over the throne. She even claimed that Warbeck was her missing nephew, and there is speculation that she may have actually believed it to be true.

Her support couldn’t muster up enough backing for these two pretenders, however, and Henry VII was able to banish and execute them without much trouble. Margaret had run out of ways to fight back.

Henry VII eventually returned Burgundy their trading privileges and signed a treaty with them. One of the main clauses was to forbid Margaret from supporting any of his enemies. It seems that by then she had lost steam, and the will to overthrow him, so she agreed to the clause. Perhaps she also agreed because some happier events—all too rare at this point in her life—distracted her.

Margaret’s step-granddaughter returned to her in 1493, a year before her older brother Philip came of age. In celebration, Margaret planned a great double wedding for both her grandkids the following year. Philip would marry Joanna of Castile and young Margaret would marry Joanna’s brother. It seemed like Margaret would finally fulfill the promise she’d made to Mary to take care of her children.

When Philip came of age in 1494, he inherited his mother’s lands and titles. He acknowledged his grandmother’s service and love and looked up to her for advice. Margaret in return played an important role in selecting officials and administrators, and in presiding over important ceremonies, such as his children’s christenings. All that was left to do was for Margaret to go out with a bang.

Margaret passed suddenly in 1503, when she was only 57. There is no record of any illness, so her passing was unexpected. The Monastery of the Recollects in Malines became her final resting place, but her tomb could not survive the 16th century’s religious turmoil. Supposedly, it bore the inscription, “A marvelous and devoted patroness of justice, of religion, of reform.”

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Joey Bishop left audiences in stitches. But his first joke was his name. He was born in February of 1918 as Joseph Abraham Gottlieb in the Bronx to Polish-Jewish immigrants Anna and Jacob. As the youngest of five, he would have to find a way to stand out. Or, frankly, to survive.

From the time he was born, Bishop set a terrifying record. When he came out of his mother’s womb, he weighed just two pounds, 14 ounces. His shockingly low birth weight made him the smallest baby ever born at Fordham Hospital at the time. Doctors weren’t sure he’d pull through, but Bishop was a fighter from day one.

He continued defying expectations as a teen.

Bishop might have been small, but he had big dreams—and he didn’t waste any time chasing them. In the 1930s, he gave up on his final semester of high school, choosing to start a comedy trio with two other local boys instead. They hustled, working in nightclubs and burlesque joints all along the East Coast.

That’s how a star—or at least his name—was born.

The name “Joey Bishop” would light up marquees. Too bad there was no actual “Joey Bishop”. The trio christened themselves the “Bishop Brothers,” despite none of them being Bishops…or brothers. They simply borrowed the surname of their driver and chose a first name they thought fit. Together, they were: Joey Bishop, Rummy Bishop, Mel Bishop.

His marriage certificate, however, had his real name.

As a future member of the Rat Pack, Bishop could have had any lady he wanted. However, he only ever wanted the one: Sylvia Ruzga. The couple tied the knot sometime between 1941 and 1942, sticking together through thick and thin until the very end, nearly six decades later. Too bad he and his “brothers” didn’t last nearly as long.

The Bishop Brothers had a good thing going—until the artillery of WWII tore them apart. Rummy Bishop was the first to get his draft letter. Good old Joey continued on his own as a solo act until his draft letter found him, too. His budding career came to a sudden halt as he traded nightclubs and microphones for battlefields and bayonets.

Turns out, he was pretty good at that, too.

Joey Bishop entered the US Army during WWII and worked his way up to sergeant in Special Services at Fort Sam Houston. Entertaining troops and boosting morale, he gained discipline—and an appreciation for audiences he’d soon command off-base. Once discharged, he returned to the stage with a hunger to make up for lost time.

As a civilian once again, Bishop jumped straight back into performing, once again picking up as a solo act. He hit the Casablanca Roadhouse in New Jersey, then snagged an opening slot at the Greenwich Village Inn in New York. His confident timing and understated style were beginning to bloom.

Then he teamed up with another future star.

Joey Bishop spent most of his early career making a name for himself as a solo act. However, when he teamed up with the future TV star Jack Soo, his knack for buddy work boosted his profile. And his wallet. Soon after, he became a regular at the famed Latin Quarter, pulling in $1,000 per week. It was serious cash that attracted the attention of television, film…and a true superstar.

Sometime in 1952, Frank Sinatra stopped by the Latin Quarter where, as a regular, Bishop was doing his thing up on stage. While Sinatra could serenade an audience, he marveled at Bishop’s ability to make them laugh. Bishop’s dry, understated sense of humor was enough to make Sinatra offer him a job.

Just like that, Bishop became Sinatra’s opening act. And so their troubled friendship began.

Joey  did such a great job warming up audiences for Sinatra that he earned himself a dubious moniker. All throughout the papers, on TV, and amongst industry insiders, Bishop became known as “Sinatra’s comic”. Once Sinatra’s fame truly went interstellar in the 1950s, Bishop rose right alongside him.

And Sinatra trusted him even more.

Sinatra was well aware that he owed at least some of his success to Bishop. And, at first, he was happy to share the spotlight. Sinatra thought so highly of Bishop that he affectionately referred to him as “the hub of the big wheel” and “the speaker of the house”. Bishop, however, didn't want to stay in Sinatra’s shadow forever.

With audiences referring to Joey Bishop as “Sinatra’s comic," Bishop was eager to make a name for himself. And what better way than to start headlining. Bishop toured the country, packing nightclubs from New York to Los Angeles while making television appearances on the highest-rated variety shows.

One thing was clear: He was no longer Sinatra's sidekick.

Bishop had begun making television appearances as early as 1948. However, it wasn’t until 1950 when he was on The Ed Sullivan Show that his talent for TV became truly apparent. By 1961, he had his own weekly comedy series, delivering laughs to audiences right in their living rooms. His starpower was about to earn him one of the coveted spots in Hollywood.

Much like Joey Bishop, Frank Sinatra had big dreams. But to make them a reality, he needed some friends and began assembling a “boy band” of the top entertainers in the country. Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr, Peter Lawford, and, of course, Joey Bishop. Together, they became the “Rat Pack”.

The entertainment world wasn’t ready for them—and they weren’t ready for each other’s egos.

To promote the “Rat Pack”, Sinatra had an audacious idea. By day, the Pack would film Ocean’s 11, and, within the same casino, they would perform two shows by night. They dubbed the month-long spectacle “The Summit”—equal parts Hollywood movie magic, nightclub raucousness, and casino class.

Together with his Rat Pack pals, Bishop was about conquer Las Vegas.

“The Summit” was a raging success. Perhaps too much of a success. The newly-built Sands Hotel—where the Rat Pack filmed Ocean’s 11 and performed—only had 2,800 rooms. But, thanks to Bishop and crew, there were 35,000 reservation requests that month. Fans mobbed the hotel, hoping to catch a Rat Pack performance or gawk at them filming their movie.

Soon, the press gave the frenzy a name.

The media christened Sinatra, Martin, Davis, Lawford, and Bishop the “Rat Pack”. But it wasn’t an original name. The press had recycled the nickname Lauren Bacall once used for Humphrey Bogart’s Hollywood circle. Reportedly, Sinatra couldn't stand the label, but he was at the mercy of his audiences—and they loved it.

By then, Bishop wasn’t just a Pack member—he was the secret sauce behind their success.

Onstage, Joey Bishop played the quiet “straight man," letting Sinatra, Martin, and Davis whirl around him in chaos. But behind the curtain, off the stage, and away from the lights, Bishop was the one writing most of their material, crafting their funniest jokes, and finding the catchiest rhythms that made the Rat Pack what they were.

They should have used more of his material.

By the time Ocean’s 11 hit theaters in 1960, the Rat Pack was the biggest act in town—in any town. However, they were clearly resting on their laurels. The critical consensus of the film was less than flattering: “Easygoing but lazy, Ocean’s 11 blithely coasts on the well-established rapport of the Rat Pack royalty”.

It didn’t seem to matter, though. By that time, Bishop was practically royalty.

At the height of his Rat Pack fame, Joey Bishop got a request no comic could refuse. Sinatra asked him to serve as master of ceremonies for President John F Kennedy’s inaugural gala in January 1961. Bishop didn’t just serve as master of the ceremonies—he practically took over the White House.

During the star-studded inaugural gala, Bishop tested the limits of his starpower and stretched his comedic chops to their limits. Looking straight at the freshly sworn-in president, in his usual deadpan way, Bishop quipped, “I told you I'd get you a good seat”. But the president wasn’t the only one chuckling it up with Bishop.

Behind the Rat Pack glamor and the funny man veneer, Joey Bishop had a big heart and a philanthropic disposition. Pope John XXIII awarded Bishop with a special citation for his help in raising millions of dollars for Boys’ Towns of Italy, an American-funded charity supporting vulnerable children.

He could give generously, because he was making money like never before.

By 1961, Bishop’s knack for TV had gotten the attention of producers Danny Thomas and Louis F Edelman. While they loved him as a rat in the pack, they knew he could shine on his own. So, they gave Bishop a shot with a pilot episode for The Joey Bishop Show.

The studio knew that Bishop’s pilot could fly.

Based on the success of the pilot episode, The Joey Bishop Show officially premiered in September of 1961. For a staggering 123 episodes of rib-busting laughs, Bishop played Joey Barnes, a publicity agent turned talk-show host. Even though Bishop was the star of the show, he didn’t mind sharing the spotlight.

Sometime in 1962, Abby Dalton joined The Joey Bishop Show, taking on the role of Bishop’s TV wife. Even when the cameras weren’t rolling, Bishop supported his co-star, becoming her acting mentor and honing her comedic timing. Still, Bishop only ever had one true entertainment family: the Rat Pack.

Even with his solo TV career taking off, Joey Bishop still remembered the troupe that had helped catapult him to superstardom: the Rat Pack. Reuniting with Sinatra, Martin, Davis, and Lawford in 1962, he filmed Sergeants 3. The film became a “money maker” that reminded audiences just how much they missed having the Rat Pack together.

Not everyone, however, loved having Bishop around.

When funeral took place, Joe DiMaggio—Monroe’s ex-husband—made his feelings loud and clear. DiMaggio blamed Sinatra and the other Rat Pack members, like Bishop, for her tragic life and demise. As such, he banned them from attending the funeral, wishing to keep the affair more solemn and somber.

Bishop, however, wanted to clear the Rat Pack’s name.

Even if audiences loved the Rat Pack, they knew about some of the boys’ bad behavior. Bishop, however, was none of it. He once stated, “Are we remembered as being [drinkers] and chasing broads? I never saw Frank, Dean, Sammy, or Peter drunk during performances. That was only a gag! And do you believe these guys had to chase broads? They had to chase ’em away!”

The reward for his loyalty? Excommunication.

By 1964, the Rat Pack had taken some poison. The once-unbreakable partnership between Bishop and Sinatra which had started the whole thing was beginning to collapse. The reason for the falling out wasn’t over a woman or a bar tab or even a bad joke. It was something far pettier.

The friendship-ending fight between Bishop and Sinatra began with what should’ve been a simple favor. Sinatra asked Bishop to stand in for him at the Cal-Neva Lodge in Lake Tahoe, a property Sinatra partially owned. Instead of agreeing to do a favor for a friend, however, Bishop treated the request like a business deal.

And the price he named made Sinatra livid.

Rather than step in for Sinatra out of loyalty or gratitude, Bishop made a staggering demand: $50,000. In addition to the obscene payday for a single appearance, Bishop requested that Sinatra send a private jet to get him to the venue. For Sinatra, it felt like a knife in the back and a slap to the face.

But Bishop wasn’t done pushing his luck.

According to one of the authors of Deconstructing The Rat Pack, Richard A Lertzman, the inner-workings of the infamous group became clear. Discussing the book, Lertzman shared, "Frank felt he was responsible for Joey’s success so the fact that he was now making all these demands did not sit well with him”. And then Bishop crossed an unforgivable line.

The book Deconstructing The Rat Pack made it abundantly clear who was in charge of the group. And it wasn’t Bishop. According to Lertzman, “You don’t offend the Chairman (Sinatra). Not only did he hung up on Joey, but he completely cut him from the Rat Pack”. Just like that, Bishop was no longer a rat in the pack.

And Hollywood quickly followed Sinatra’s lead.

Bishop’s fallout with Sinatra had wide impacts. He was supposed to appear alongside his Rat Pack crew in Robin and the 7 Hoods. But once Sinatra cast him out of the Pack, he was out for real—and for good. Before the cameras began rolling, Sinatra had Bishop replaced in the film, sealing his excommunication.

His television career wasn’t going much better.

Bishop’s Rat Pack rejection didn’t help his TV career either. Not long after the fallout, NBC cancelled The Joey Bishop Show, ending its three-season run with the network. Thankfully, CBS stepped in to give the series one final year, but by 1965, the sitcom was finished—and Bishop found himself back at a crossroads.

His next move, however, shocked everyone.

Instead of retreating, Bishop made a bold move—and came back bigger. On April 17, 1967, ABC launched a 90-minute late-night talk show—also titled The Joey Bishop Show—to compete directly with Johnny Carson. The show had a successful run, giving Bishop the highest-profile hosting job of his career.

And he had found a new pack to run with.

Bishop didn’t miss the Rat Pack—he had new friends. On The Joey Bishop Show, he teamed up with a young newcomer named Regis Philbin in his first major national role. Philbin learned the ropes beside Bishop, who taught him timing, confidence, and how to keep calm when chaos broke loose on live TV.

And The Joey Bishop Show promised lots of chaos.

When ABC announced that it was canceling The Joey Bishop Show, Bishop made the first move. Instead of waiting for the final episode, he went on air, informed the audience of the bad news, and calmly said he was going home to eat dinner with his wife. Then he simply got up and walked out—leaving Philbin to fill in.

Out on his own again, however, he turned an old competitor into a new compatriot.

Even after his own talk show ended, Bishop remained a late-night fixture. Throughout the 1960s and into the mid-1970s, he guest-hosted The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson at least 175 times, more than anyone before him. Johnny Carson, his old late-night competitor, wasn’t the only one that Bishop was making nice with.

In 1966, Bishop made nice with at least one former Rat Pack friend: Dean Martin. The two appeared together in the Western comedy Texas Across the River. And their friendship clearly endured. Bishop later became a regular on the wildly popular Dean Martin Celebrity Roasts.

With or without Sinatra, Bishop was still a hot commodity.

Bishop’s final movie role came in 1996 with Mad Dog Time. But it wasn’t just any film—it was a touching achievement for Bishop. His son, Larry, had written and directed the film. In a nod to their family bond, his character was named Gottlieb—his real surname. Even if the Rat Pack was no more, the next generation was taking over.

Bishop was having a “brat” summer long before it was cool. In 1990, he appeared in Betsy’s Wedding alongside Molly Ringwald and Ally Sheedy; two members of the appropriately named “Brat Pack”. Bishop was the only Rat Pack member to appear alongside this new generation of Hollywood frequent collaborators.

His personal life held an even rarer distinction.

Despite his falling out with Sinatra, Bishop was nothing if not loyal. While Sinatra, Martin, and Lawford each endured three broken marriages—and Davis Jr weathered two—Bishop stayed with one woman his entire life. His one and only marriage to Sylvia Ruzga thrived for 58 years.

But even unbreakable bonds face heartbreak.

On September 20, 1999, Bishop lost one collaborator he could not replace. After almost six decades together, his beloved wife passed from lung cancer. Her absence left a void no stage, camera, or audience could fill. Yet Bishop wasn’t meant to spend his final years alone. A new companion soon entered his life.

Even if Bishop couldn’t replace his wife, he could find companionship. Following Ruzga’s passing, Nora Garibotti became Bishop’s steady new girl. She remained close to him during his later years, offering comfort as his world grew smaller and quieter. But fame hadn’t forgotten him entirely.

When Frank Sinatra passed on in 1998, Bishop earned a distinction that he probably didn’t want. Every other member of the old Rat Pack had gone to their grave, leaving him as the last surviving member of the famous troupe. On the other hand—he might have been happy to see them go.

According to Deconstructing The Rat Pack, Bishop never truly forgave Sinatra for kicking him out of the Rat Pack. As author Lertzman described in an interview, “Bishop was a very bitter person…Joey felt he was the hub of the Rat Pack and didn’t get the kind of recognition he would have liked”. Throughout his life, Bishop hadn’t exactly been shy about airing his grievances.

In a heated moment, Bishop once fumed, “One guy wrote that I worked with the Rat Pack occasionally. Occasionally! Another talks about how I kissed Frank’s [a—]. That hurt me a little bit. I know I sound bitter, but I have a right to”.

In the end, however, Bishop might have been ready to bury the hatchet.

Despite feeling overshadowed and underappreciated, Bishop never stopped defending Sinatra and the Rat Pack that he rolled into fame with. Even in his final years, he spoke with genuine affection for the man who’d once been his closest collaborator and, at times, harshest critic. Sadly, it’s not clear if he and Sinatra reconciled before it was too late.

After years of declining health, Bishop had his last laugh at the age of 89 on October 17, 2007. Per his wishes, his family scattered his ashes in the nearby Pacific—one final quiet exit for the last Rat Pack survivor.

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Shel Silverstein drew himself into existence on September 25, 1930, in Chicago—a city as tough and funny as he’d turn out to be. His dad, Nathan, had fled Russia’s hardships, while his mom, Helen, was born to Hungarian-Jewish parents. The family wasn’t fancy—but they had flavor.

Before Shel Silverstein was penning poems, his parents were kneading dough. Nathan and Helen ran Silverstein’s Bakery—later renamed the Service Cake Company. But whatever they named it wouldn’t matter. The bakery had opened its doors in the middle of the Great Depression. Unfortunately, the only thing that rose was the bread.

The bakery barely survived. Silverstein was only good at one thing anyway.

Silverstein had no choice but to go into the arts. He started drawing as early as five, tracing the comics of the cartoonist Al Capp. But his real motivation wasn’t artistic—it was hormonal. As he put it, “I couldn’t play ball. I couldn’t dance. Luckily, the girls didn’t want me…so I started to draw and to write”.

Turns out, he had a knack for it.

Shel Silverstein learned the techniques of drawing from Al Capp. But the rest was all him. “I was lucky,” he later said, “that I didn’t have anybody to copy, be impressed by. I had developed my own style; I was creating before I knew there was a Thurber, a Benchley, a Price and a Steinberg”. His unique drawing style wasn’t the only thing that made him stand out.

At Theodore Roosevelt High, Silverstein distinguished himself for being something of “a loner who marched to the beat of his own drum”—and for being a total class clown. One of his former classmates recalled one of Silverstein’s early poetic works, “Ode to a Pig”. It was dedicated, not to a genuine swine, but to Silverstein’s basketball coach.

Thankfully, he excelled outside of school.

In school, Shel Silverstein was a clown, but once the bell rang, he was a hustler. After school, Silverstein worked the stands at Comiskey Park selling peanuts—and, later, hot dogs—to baseball fans. It’s not clear what his grades looked like, but they were good enough to give him a chance at something better than shelling nuts for shillings.

Silverstein’s college years are about as clear as one of his sketches—if he sketched with invisible ink. He claimed the University of Illinois at Navy Pier “put [him] on probation and then kicked [him] out”. But the actual records say otherwise. According to the books, Silverstein finished freshman year and transferred to the Chicago Academy of Fine Arts.

Either way, he didn’t stay put for long.

At Roosevelt College, Shel Silverstein found his calling…in the garbage. Sort of. Between 1950 and 1953, he drew and wrote for The Torch, the school paper, creating a satirical column that he called “The Garbage Man”. Despite the smell, the column was a hit. Even so, Silverstein thought he was wasting his time—and ink.

Ever the contrarian, Silverstein saw college as a waste of ink. “It’s better to travel and experience the world than to stay in one place studying it,” he said. Silverstein should have been a little bit more careful about what he wished for.

As a budding writer, Shel Silverstein knew all about drafts. But he was about to learn about the draft. In 1953, Uncle Sam sent Silverstein the dreaded draft letter. Before long, he was overseas, serving his country in places like Japan and Korea. He wasn’t exactly charging the battlefield.

While serving in the US Army, Silverstein spent more time with a pen in hand than with a pistol. He served his country as a cartoonist for the Pacific Stars and Stripes. He would later compile his “tour of doodles” into his first book, Take Ten. When the book was republished as Grab Your Socks!, it became a paperback sensation.

His superiors, however, did not like his drawings.

Silverstein’s cartoons for Pacific Stars and Stripes weren’t exactly up to code. One cartoon in particular implied that officers were taking uniforms for their families—an artistic choice that nearly earned him a court-martial. Still, Silverstein defended his time in uniform, saying “As much as I fought the Army while I was here, it[…]taught me things about life and gave me freedom to create”.

Civilian life would be the real fight.

After his Army service ended, Shel Silverstein returned to Chicago. But work as a cartoonist was hard to come by, and he was feeling the pressure. “In Chicago,” Silverstein explained, “if you're an artist or a painter, your family has no respect for you”. The pressure he felt to make it big almost broke him. Instead, it drove him straight into a mansion.

In 1956, short on his luck, Silverstein took a bold course of action. One that led him straight into the Playboy Mansion. Without so much as a phone call—and definitely no appointment—Silverstein strolled right into the most infamous bawdy house on earth. Once inside, he bumped into Hugh Hefner, lounging in his pajamas.

By the time the next issue hit the presses, Silverstein had his own byline. Within a year, he was one of Playboy’s leading cartoonists.

Shel Silverstein wasted no time adopting the “playboy” lifestyle himself. The moment he received his first paycheck, he cashed it in, and moved out of his parents’ house. For a while, he couch-surfed across Chicago, turning his late-night escapades into cartoons. Before long, he became a fixture at Hefner’s mansion and Playboy parties.

That is, when he wasn’t gallivanting all around the world.

Silverstein had become such a fixture at Playboy—both on and off the pages of the magazine—that he had his own illustrated series, “Shel Silverstein Visits…”. The funny and uncensored travel diary took him everywhere, from Haight-Ashbury to Fire Island, Mexico, Paris, and even a naturist camp in Pennsylvania.

Not all places sang to him, however.

The “Shel Silverstein Visits…” series took the cartoonist-turned-writer to a sleepy Swiss village. But it was too sleepy for Silverstein. Bored out of his mind, Silverstein doodled himself grumbling, “I’ll give them 15 more minutes, and if nobody yodels, I’m going back to the hotel”.

Decades later, publishers compiled Silverstein’s dry-witted observations into a book, Playboy's Silverstein Around the World, with a touching foreword from Hefner himself.

Silverstein didn’t just save his wit for the glossy (and saucy) pages of Playboy. In 1960, he published Now Here’s My Plan: A Book of Futilities. Its cover cartoon featured two chained prisoners with one saying, “Now here’s my plan”. Critics commented that Silverstein’s wit had turned dark. Silverstein, however, thought it was hopeful. “There’s a lot of hope even in a hopeless situation,” he said.

It was that kind of witticism that landed him his next big break.

Back home in Chicago, Shel Silverstein became a regular at the Gate of Horn—the city’s first folk club and “the social center for the hip crowd”. There, Silverstein caught the eye of musician Bob Gibson and the two became fast friends. Before long, Silverstein was finishing Gibson’s lyrics.

Together, they would write over 200 songs. His musical stylings were definitely unconventional.

Silverstein blended his love of cartoons and drawing with his new musical career when he designed the cover art for Jean Shepherd’s 1959 album Jean Shepherd and Other Foibles. But Silverstein’s design had a secret message. Written backwards, and clearly concealed, Silverstein managed to slip in an insult: “Jean Shepherd is a dirty rotten, one-way sneaky [SOB]”.

If he was ever found out, it wouldn’t matter based on what happened next.

Shel Silverstein finished his novel, The Giving Tree, in 1960. But, despite his proven success, publishers wanted nothing to do with the new novel. They believed that it was “too dark for children and too simple for adults”. When the book finally hit shelves in 1964, it became one of the top “all-time best-selling hardcover children's books”.

His books for adults were even stranger.

In 1961, Silverstein published Uncle Shelby’s ABZ Book. Various editions of the satirical book of bad advice were marketed, simultaneously, as, “A primer for adults only,” and, “A primer for tender young minds”. The “subversive” book taught kids all the wrong lessons—like how to play with matches or drink ink.

Trying to tame Silverstein into writing something straightforward would be a challenge.

Silverstein’s editor at Harper & Row, Ursula Nordstrom, saw Silverstein’s potential for more. Behind his satire, she knew, was a big heart, bursting to write children’s poetry. Silverstein, however, wasn’t sold on the idea—until his friend Tomi Ungerer “practically dragged [him], kicking and screaming, into Ursula Nordstrom’s office”.

In fairness to Silverstein, he was a little preoccupied.

Silverstein’s work wasn’t the only thing that got around. In a 2007 biography, A Boy Named Shel, Silverstein’s personal life was laid bare. The book revealed that Silverstein had “never married” but that he had done what only married couples should do “with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of women”.

He certainly had access to the most sought-after women of the time.

By 1968, Shel Silverstein had practically moved into the infamous Playboy Mansion. When an interviewer asked what it was like, Silverstein grinned and replied, “It’s about as swinging a place as anyplace could be. Not 24 hours a day, but there’s a lot more going on there than anyplace else I know”.

He wasn’t exaggerating.

Diane Chandler, one of the famous “Playmates of the Year”, explained how Silverstein kept his bachelorhood intact at the mansion. Whenever a woman would get too emotionally invested, Silverstein would smirk and say, “Well, let’s see, where shall I put you on my list?” All of those romantic escapades, however, came with consequences.

Heartbreaking ones.

Not all of Silverstein’s romances were fleeting. At the Playboy Mansion (because where else was he meeting women?), Silverstein met Susan Taylor Hastings. By 1970, Hastings came as close as any woman had to tying Silverstein down when she gave birth to their daughter, Shoshanna Jordan Hastings. Sadly, nuptials were not to be.

Hastings passed the day before Shoshanna’s fifth birthday and the girl went to live with relatives in Baltimore. Meanwhile, her father buried his pain in work.

Silverstein’s parenting style was about as gentle as his humor. He once refused his daughter Shoshanna money from the tooth fairy, insisting on “not sugarcoating the truth to kids”. But, when Shoshanna passed on at 11 from a cerebral aneurysm, Silverstein did all he knew how to do.

He poured his grief into A Light in the Attic, a book of poems and songs. His broken heart mended pretty quickly.

After losing his daughter, Shel Silverstein found new warmth, far from the vices of the Playboy Mansion. He began a relationship with Sarah Spencer, a Key West local who “drove a tourist train”. She inspired his song “The Great Conch Train Robbery,” and in 1984, they made music of their own: a son, Matthew De Ver.

His life finally seemed to circle back toward light.

Silverstein didn’t just write songs for music legends like Johnny Cash—he played them himself. He mastered guitar, piano, saxophone, and trombone, using his gravelly voice as another instrument. As he told the Chicago Tribune in 1978, “Nobody gives me any static about my voice…They just aren’t charmed by it. But I like the way I sing”.

Shel Silverstein wasn’t just a poet and a lyricist—he was a hit factory. Over the span of his career, he wrote over 800 songs for other artists. After hearing radio host Jean Shepherd complain about “having a girl’s name”, Silverstein wrote “A Boy Named Sue”. When Johnny Cash recorded the tune, it reached the second spot on the Billboard Hot 100 and earned Silverstein a Grammy.

Everything he wrote seemed to sell.

Silverstein’s songwriting credits read like a jukebox dream. For Dr Hook & The Medicine Show alone, he penned “The Cover of Rolling Stone,” “Freaker’s Ball,” and “Sylvia’s Mother”. He also wrote more hits for Johnny Cash, such as “25 Minutes to Go,” a minute-by-minute countdown to the gallows, and “The Unicorn,” a whimsical hit made famous by The Irish Rovers.

He was just warming up his wrist.

By the 1980s, Silverstein’s mantle was full of awards. He earned Oscar and Golden Globe nominations for “I’m Checkin’ Out” from the film Postcards from the Edge. Then he won another Grammy, this time for Where the Sidewalk Ends, his 1983 children’s record. His true passion for music, however, was not in writing pop hits.

Perhaps it was writing for Johnny Cash, or perhaps he was simply a country boy at heart, but Silverstein adored country music. “I love [country music],” he once said. “Again a lot of people say they hate it when they haven't even listened to it. You got to listen. Country music isn't that screaming stuff anymore. There's good things going on”.

And Silverstein wanted to be part of it.

For all his success, Silverstein couldn’t sit still. “I’m not that satisfied with my work,” he admitted in 1968. “I have to find change in my work all the time to have any satisfaction…My drawing is really great now—and I’m sick of drawing”. He was, after all, his own harshest critic.

Silverstein guarded his writer’s ego carefully. “I never read reviews,” he told Publishers Weekly, “because if you believe the good ones you have to believe the bad ones too”. And it wasn’t just words for Silverstein. “Not that I don't care about success,” he quickly clarified. “I do, but only because it lets me do what I want”.

The only question was what did he want?

Silverstein’s words filled pages, songs, and theatres—but not interviews. By 1975, he had sworn off ever giving another interview, explaining, “Lots of things I won't do. I won't go on television because who am I talking to? Johnny Carson? The camera? Twenty million people I can't see? Uh-uh”.

Plus, he found a new spotlight.

In the 1980s, Silverstein turned his restless energy towards one form of writing that he hadn’t yet conquered: the theater. But he would conquer by sheer numbers, writing more than 100 one-act plays, including The Lady or the Tiger Show (1981) and Remember Crazy Zelda? (1984).

Both debuted in New York, proving his knack for storytelling could fill a stage just as easily as a page.

If anyone doubted whether a cartoonist-turned-novelist-turned-poet-turned lyricist could write for the stage, they were quickly proven wrong. The New York Times’ Frank Rich reviewed Silverstein’s Wild Life and suggested that his theater writing “may eventually prove his most fruitful career to date”.

But Silverstein had already moved on from the stage.

Given his own multi-media focus, it’s little surprise that Silverstein’s works were adapted for the screen. He even personally wrote and narrated an animated short of The Giving Tree, lending his voice to the narration. More than 40 years later, the film was remade, proving that Silverstein’s works transcended media and time.

Still, his true passion was for the written word.

Silverstein didn’t just write books—he designed them. He believed that the paper the words were written on were just as important as the words themselves. In fact, Silverstein was so specific about the folio that he “usually would not allow his poems and stories to be published unless he could choose the type, size, shape, color, and quality of the paper”.

He was something of a purist.

Silverstein’s creativity thrived on pen and paper, not pixels. Even as other writers ditched the notepad for the desktop, Silverstein stuck to tradition. He never owned a computer and refused to give up his rotary phones. The times were changing—but Silverstein was not.

In his later years, Silverstein made his home in Key West, Florida, a warm weather refuge full of characters that rivaled his own creations. Locals often spotted him performing at Hog’s Breath Saloon and Capt Tony’s. A photo of him with Captain Tony still hangs there for literary and lyrical buffs to gawk over.

Towards the end, his wise words rung with truth.

When asked about aging and ambition, Silverstein gave the kind of answer only he could: “You’re trying to solve the problems of youth, and then you’re middle-aged, and then you’ve got those problems, and then you’re old, and you can’t solve that problem”. His takeaway? “Function despite these problems”. [Which is exactly what he did.]

Despite making a new family, Silverstein still carried his old one in his heart. His friends recalled him confessing that “one of [Shel's] biggest regrets was that he hadn't been a better father to his daughter”. So, with his son Matthew, he tried to do better, spending long stretches in Key West and dedicating his 1996 poetry collection Falling Up to the boy who finally grounded him.

Despite what his Playboy years might have suggested, in the end, Silverstein was quite a settled man. His friend Pat Dailey swore he was a model of discipline. “He took extremely good care of himself,” Dailey said. “Every morning it was yoga, breakfast, and walking”.

Even his routine had the rhythm of a poem, but his final stanza was nearer than he knew.

Despite his habitual yoga and exercise, Silverstein’s final chapter came sooner rather than later. On May 10, 1999, his story ended in the most Silverstein way possible: quietly, at home in Key West, surrounded by his poems, cartoons, and stories. He was just 68.

He still had so much more to do.

Even in the hereafter, Silverstein couldn’t stop collecting honors. He was inducted into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2002 and the Chicago Literary Hall of Fame in 2014. Few artists ever managed to bridge honky-tonk and highbrow quite like him.

In 2011, 12 years after his passing, a posthumous collection called Every Thing On It hit shelves. Compiled by his nephew Mitch Myers, it gathered Silverstein’s unpublished poems and drawings. While promoting the book, Myers confessed to NPR that, during his life, Silverstein hadn’t been “sure how it would be received”.

Of course, readers adored it.

Time magazine’s eulogy nailed the paradox that Silverstein perfectly: Silverstein, they said, was “a recluse totally engaged in life”. He avoided fame, cameras, and interviews—but never people, ideas, or experiences. He hid from the spotlight only so he could shine brighter through his work. And he knew how brightly it shined. 

“Art is an extension of the man,” Silverstein once told a friend. “Anything a man does will reflect his thinking and will be his ideas”. Years later, in another interview, he reflected on his own art. “What I do is good. I wouldn’t let it out if I didn’t think it was”. He just hoped his readers felt the same.

The Giving Tree is one of the most celebrated children’s books in the world—but it’s also one of the most controversial. While many see it as a heart-wrenching story about unconditional love and sacrifice, others think it leaves children with a darker message about selfishness and materialism. The moral of the story is still a source of debate and has even led to calls for the book’s censorship and banning in schools.

Regardless of whether one thinks the story is positive or negative, there is one thing that Silverstein hoped all readers would in his books.

Shel Silverstein’s final wish wasn’t for fame—it was for connection. “I would hope,” he said, “that people, no matter what age, would find something to identify with in my books, pick up one and experience a personal sense of discovery”. And readers still do, every single day.

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Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Wilton Norman Chamberlain was born on August 21, 1936, to Olivia Ruth Johnson and William Chamberlain in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He was one of the couple’s nine children.

Chamberlain stood at a towering 7'1". His imposing height was inevitable; he reached six feet when he was only 10 years old and reached 6'10" when he was a high school freshman. There was also a great deal of bulk on his tall frame. As a rookie, he weighed 250 pounds, and by the end of his career, he tipped the scales at 300 pounds.

Before hitting the hardwood, Chamberlain’s sport of choice was actually track and field. Chamberlain was a well-rounded athlete in the discipline; his personal best in the high jump was six feet six inches, he threw 55 feet in shot put, he ran the 440 in 49 seconds, and he could do a 22-foot long jump.

As a very young child, Chamberlain dealt with a brutal bout of pneumonia which nearly killed him. The sickness made the future basketball star quite frail and even caused him to miss an entire school year.

It was in high school where Chamberlain was given the famous nicknames that would stick with him for the rest of his life. Chamberlain reportedly didn’t like “Goliath” or “Wilt the Stilt,” but he did like “The Big Dipper.” “The Big Dipper” was apparently inspired by Chamberlain’s penchant for ducking his head underneath doorways to avoid hitting them.

With Philadelphia being a hoops hotbed, Chamberlain came to terms with his height and decided to shift his sporting attention to basketball at Overbrook High School in West Philadelphia (side fact: Will Smith attended high school years later). Chamberlain became a local, and eventually national, legend. During his final season with the Overbook Panthers, he had a three-game stretch where he recorded 74, 78, and 90 points. In his time with Overbook, Chamberlain led his team to two city championships and an overall win-loss record of 56-3.

Chamberlain’s legendary high school basketball career led him to field scholarship offers from nearly 200 colleges across the country. As an African-American, Chamberlain ignored schools in the South due to the continued practice of racial segregation. He also ignored offers from schools in New England and, seeking a fresh start and a new environment, he ruled out schools close to Philadelphia, which included universities in New York City.

At last, Chamberlain decided to go off to the Midwest and enroll at the University of Kansas, under the tutelage of famed basketball coach Phog Allen.

At Kansas, Chamberlain continued to develop his game, build his legacy, and even find time to compete in the track. Unfortunately, he also experienced racial taunts from hostile away crowds. Chamberlain’s biggest accomplishment in college was leading Kansas to the 1957 National Championship Game. Although his team fell short to the University of North Carolina Tar Heels, Chamberlain was still named the tournament’s Most Outstanding Player.

Given a national spotlight, Chamberlain became a celebrity during his time with the Jayhawks. As a collegiate player, he was featured in popular magazines of the time, including Life, Time, Look, and Newsweek.

To combat Chamberlain’s dominant play, opposing teams devised various tactics to stop him, including double and triple-teaming, and holding the ball for long periods of time to deny Chamberlain chances at offense (the shot clock was not used in college basketball at the time). He also didn’t get along with Kansas's new coach Dick Harp, who replaced Phog Allen after he retired.

Growing increasingly frustrated and wanting to make money, Chamberlain decided to forego his senior year at Kansas. He made his announcement through an article in Look. The article earned him a cool $10,000, which at the time was more than the average NBA contract.

The rules at the time prevented Chamberlain from entering the NBA directly after leaving college early. As a result, Chamberlain joined the Harlem Globetrotters—the entertaining traveling exhibition team. He played with legendary Globetrotters Meadowlark Lemon and Tex Harrison. In the year 2000, the Globetrotters retired Chamberlain’s #13 jersey.

Chamberlain was part of the Harlem Globetrotters team that went to the Soviet Union for a series of historic exhibition games in 1959. The series comprised of nine sold-out games at Moscow’s Lenin Stadium and was a sign of the improving of US-USSR relations. During the visit, Chamberlain and the Globetrotters met with then-Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev.

Chamberlain made his NBA debut on October 24, 1959, for his hometown Philadelphia Warriors. Despite being a rookie, Chamberlain became the league’s highest-paid player after signing a contract that paid him $30,000 per year (about $258,000 in today’s dollars). Chamberlain had an incredible rookie campaign. He averaged 37.6 points and 27 rebounds a game, which were both single-season records.

He won Rookie of the Year, Most Valuable Player, and the All-Star Game MVP. Not a bad first impression!

Chamberlain had a multi-faceted game. He was an incredible scorer, a dominant rebounder, great defender, and an exceptional passer for his position. However, his one weakness was free-throw shooting...and it was a pretty bad weakness. Amongst NBA players with at least 1,200 free throw attempts, Chamberlain is third-from-last, with a career free throw percentage of only 51.1%.

In a game for the Philadelphia Warriors against the Boston Celtics in the 1960-61 season, Chamberlain set the record for most rebounds in a single NBA game. The Big Dipper brought down a massive 55 boards in that game. The record still stands today and it is very unlikely to be ever broken.

A player scoring 50 points in a single game is a pretty notable and rare accomplishment. That’s why Chamberlain’s points per game average for the 1961-62 season are so stupefying. His average of 50.4 points per game is easily the highest in NBA history. Not to be outdone, he also averaged 25.7 rebounds per game and, perhaps most amazingly, he averaged 48.5 minutes per game.

Why is this impressive? As some of you may know, a regulation NBA game is only 48 minutes long. Chamberlain not only had to play all regular minutes, but also had to play deep into overtime many times to get that average.

Chamberlain’s 1961-62 season is best remembered for one legendary game in particular. On March 2, 1962, in a game between the Philadelphia Warriors and the New York Knicks in Hershey, Pennsylvania, Chamberlain scored 100 points—the most points a single player has ever scored in an NBA game. Considering that entire teams often fail to make it to 100 points, it's a record beyond basketball comprehension.

The record was only seriously threatened once, when Los Angeles Lakers superstar Kobe Bryant dropped 81 points in a 2006 game against the Toronto Raptors. Adding to the mythical status of Wilt's game was how few people actually got to see it. For such a momentous event, it wasn't televised and was only attended by a small gathering of press.

While still in high school, Chamberlain played semi-professional basketball under the name George Marcus. Chamberlain had to keep it a secret that he was playing for money, as the revelation would nullify his eligibility for the Amateur Athletic Union and the NCAA.

The lowest point of Chamberlain’s career was Game 7 of the 1969 NBA Finals, when his Lakers lost to his old rivals, Bill Russell and the Boston Celtics. The game was a tight affair and after Chamberlain appeared to tweak his knee while grabbing a rebound, he was benched in favor of Mel Counts. With Counts on the floor, the Lakers were able to narrow the lead. Chamberlain then asked his coach, Butch van Breda Kolff, to get back in the game with only a few minutes left.

However, van Breda Kolff refused, allegedly telling Chamberlain to "sit your big *** back down...we don't need you." The Lakers ended up losing by a score of 108-106. Chamberlain never forgave van Breda Kolff, and after learning that the Lakers were on the hunt for a new coach, van Breda Kolff resigned before he could be fired. He never coached another playoff game in his career.

Chamberlain almost gave up his NBA career after his rookie season. Chamberlain was tired of the constant aggressive double and triple-teaming deployed by opposition defenses, which he feared might entice him to lose his cool one day. He was eventually convinced to continue playing when Warriors owner Eddie Gottlieb upped Chamberlain’s annual salary to $65,000.

During the 1967 playoffs, Chamberlain finally vanquished his old foe Bill Russell, as his Philadelphia 76ers defeated the Boston Celtics in the Eastern Division Finals. This meant that he would play in the NBA Finals for the first time in his career, where Chamberlain would go up against his old team the Warriors (who had since moved to San Francisco).

In the Finals, Chamberlain and the Sixers won a hard-fought series, winning four games to two.

Following another defeat to the Bill Russell and the Celtics in the 1967-68 playoffs, the Sixers decided to trade Chamberlain to the Los Angeles Lakers. It was a milestone move for Chamberlain, as he would make Los Angeles his primary home for the rest of his life.

Following the 1971 season, Chamberlain challenged Muhammad Ali to a boxing bout. The match was supposed to take place in the summer of 1971 in the Astrodome in Houston. Chamberlain went so far as to get help from legendary trainer Cus d’Amato, but he eventually pulled out of the fight at the last minute.

Chamberlain won his second and last NBA Championship with the Los Angeles Lakers in the 1971-72 season. In the Finals against the Knicks, Chamberlain battled a nagging hand injury to lead his team to victory in five games. Chamberlain would play one more year in the NBA—where his Lakers would once again face the Knicks in the Finals, though this time coming out on the losing end—before retiring.

During his playing time, Chamberlain owned and operated the Smalls Paradise nightclub in the Harlem neighborhood of New York City. Chamberlain renamed the club Big Wilt’s Smalls Paradise and reportedly spent 18 hours a day at the establishment.

With his basketball career behind him, Chamberlain turned his attention to another sport—volleyball. He was a founding board member of the newly established International Volleyball Association. He even appeared in a few games for the Seattle Smashers and was the MVP of one of the league’s All-Star games.

Even in retirement, Chamberlain still played basketball recreationally and would field offers to return to the game. The San Diego Conquistadors of the upstart American Basketball Association signed him to a player-coach contract in 1973, but a lawsuit from his old team the Lakers prevented him from playing. The Cleveland Cavaliers pursued him in 1980 and five years later, the New Jersey Nets offered a then-50-year-old Chamberlain a contract, but both times, Chamberlain declined.

In 1970, Chamberlain returned to his track roots by establishing Wilt’s Athletic Club, a track and field club based in Southern California. The most famous member of the club was a young Florence Griffith Joyner. This was before she became known as the fastest woman of all time for setting world records in the 100m and 200m.

She won three gold medals at the 1988 Seoul Olympics, and her records still stand to this day.

Chamberlain made his Hollywood debut in the 1984 film Conan the Destroyer. Chamberlain played the character of Bombaata, the nemesis of the film’s title character, iconically played by Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Chamberlain was enshrined in the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame in 1979, and in 1996, in honor of the NBA’s 50th anniversary, he was named as one of the league's 50 greatest players.

Chamberlain’s dominant on-court play made the NBA institute a variety of rule changes. These included widening the painted area on the court, implementing offensive interference rules, and changes to free throw shooting and inbounding procedures.

Chamberlain holds the record for being the fastest player to reach 30,000 points in a career, doing so in 941 games (Michael Jordan, who’s second on the list, reached the mark in 960 games). At the end of his career, Chamberlain held the record for most career points with 31,419. However, his mark has since been passed by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Karl Malone, Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, Michael Jordan, and Dirk Nowitzki.

Chamberlain also holds the record for most career rebounds with 23,924. Perhaps most impressively though, he holds the record for most 30 point/30 rebound games with 124. To put it into perspective, all other NBA players combined have only done this 32 times. In all, Chamberlain holds 72 NBA records.

As a lifelong bachelor and infamous ladies man, Chamberlain became well known for a particular off-court statistic. In his 1991 autobiography, A View From Above, Chamberlain made the startling claim that he had had intimate relations with 20,000 women. Chamberlain’s claim drew both criticism and mockery (if you do the math, his claim does seem a little...unlikely). In his later years, however, Chamberlain discouraged and regretted his promiscuous lifestyle.

He told an interviewer, “With all of you men out there who think that having a thousand different ladies is pretty cool, I have learned in my life...that having one woman a thousand different times is much more satisfying.”

During his time as a Laker, Chamberlain began to build his dream home in the Los Angeles neighborhood of Bel-Air. The unique home, which he named Ursa Major as a nod to his nickname The Big Dipper, was designed by architect David Tenneson Rich. The house, which stood on a 2.5-acre parcel of land, overlooks the Bel-Air Reservoir. In 2018, Ursa Major hit the market for nearly $19 million.

In his later years, Chamberlain began to suffer from a series of heart problems. On October 12, 1999, Chamberlain passed away from congestive heart failure. He was 63.

As a teenager, Chamberlain spent his summer vacations working as a bellhop at the Kushter’s Hotel, a popular resort in New York's Catskill Mountains. In his off time, Chamberlain continued playing basketball at the resort, impressing guest Red Auerbach, who was the coach of the Boston Celtics that Chamberlain would have many run-ins with throughout his career.

Auerbach convinced the young Chamberlain to play a game of one-on-one with college star B.H. Born. Chamberlain absolutely dominated Born in their matchup. Born was so devastated by the loss that he decided to give up his dreams of playing in the NBA. Now that's what I call a beat down.

Like all great athletes, Chamberlain had a bevy of sponsorship deals. He appeared in a variety of television commercials for companies like TWA, American Express, Le Tigre Clothing, Drexel Burnham, Volkswagen, and Foot Locker.

Despite his tenacious brand of defense, Chamberlain never fouled out of an NBA game. Chamberlain was very proud of his disciplined approach to the game, and I’m sure his teammates were just as pleased.

Chamberlain is one of only two players in NBA history to record a double triple-double—having 20 or more in three different statistical categories. This occurred in a game in 1968 when he recorded 22 points, 25 rebounds, and 21 assists. This feat was finally matched in 2019 by Oklahoma City Thunder star Russell Westbrook.

During his time playing for the Philadelphia Warriors and the Philadelphia 76ers, Chamberlain lived in New York City. Preferring the brighter lights of the Big Apple, Chamberlain had to make a two-hour commute from his home in Manhattan to games and practices in Philly.

Before Bird-Magic or LeBron-Durant, there was Russell-Chamberlain. Chamberlain’s biggest on-court rival was Boston Celtics center Bill Russell. While Chamberlain had the far more impressive individual statistics, Russell had the greater team accomplishments. They met in the playoffs eight times and Russell’s Celtics were on the winning side seven of those times.

Russell also won 11 NBA Championship titles, while Chamberlain only won two. Off the court, the two had a good friendship, until a falling-out which was sparked by Russell’s accusation that Chamberlain gave up in the 1969 NBA Finals. They were not on speaking terms for nearly two decades, but were eventually able to patch things up.

When Chamberlain passed away, his nephew was instructed that Russell be one of the first individuals to be notified.

One impressive tidbit regarding the legendary 100-point game was that Chamberlain spent the entire night before partying in New York City. On no sleep and nursing the beginnings of a hangover, Chamberlain boarded an 8 AM train to Philadelphia. In Philly, he met up with some buddies for a long lunch, which nearly caused him to miss the team bus to Hershey.

Thankfully, Chamberlain was able to make it in time for the game and set basketball history.

Chamberlain went to the free-throw line a whopping 32 times in his 100-point game. One would think this would seriously hurt his chances at racking up points, but Chamberlain had a trick up his sleeve that night: He shot his free-throws underhanded. An effective, yet embarrassing method, Chamberlain usually preferred to miss overhanded than risk ridicule with the granny shot.

On March 2nd, however, he stuck with the underhand, and ended up making 28 free-throws, which stood as the most-ever in an NBA game for over two decades.

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Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Bobby Driscoll was born Robert Cletus Driscoll on March 3, 1937. By all accounts, he was your average little kid living in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. His parents had normal, respectable jobs. Nothing about his early childhood indicated a future career with Walt Disney. In fact, Driscoll stumbled into acting purely by chance…and it was all thanks to a fateful encounter.

Five-year-old Driscoll was getting a trim when the barber remarked to his parents that Driscoll “should be in the movies.” The barber then connected them to his son, who was an actor himself. After taking one look at Driscoll’s adorable little freckled face, the barber’s son got Driscoll an acting agent. Just like that, precocious little Driscoll took his first steps toward a whole new life—but his road to stardom was not going to be an easy one.

Driscoll’s new acting agent put out the feelers for roles that suited little Driscoll, and soon found the perfect part for him in an upcoming MGM Studios film called Lost Angels. The part for Driscoll was a tiny one—he would only be on screen for a grand total of two minutes—but the competition was fierce. In fact, 40 other applicants wanted the role!

Driscoll needed to stand out to get the part, so he ended up doing something that completely won the director over.

What Driscoll did was simple, but revealed a curiosity for the world around him which deeply impressed the director for Lost Angels. While on a tour on the studio lot, Driscoll noticed a mock-up ship and curiously asked where the water was. Driscoll’s desire to learn dazzled the director, who ended up choosing Driscoll over the other 40 applicants.

Other studios quickly saw Driscoll’s potential too, and the boy soon had more roles than he knew what to do with.

In 1944, 20th Century Fox offered Driscoll a role in their WWII drama, The Fighting Sullivans. He portrayed a young version of Al Sullivan, one of five close-knit brothers growing up in Iowa during the dark days of the Great Depression. Audiences warmly received Driscoll and his “pert nose and freckled face,” leading to even more film roles for the seven-year-old actor. But that was only the tip of the iceberg.

From 1944 to 1946, Driscoll found work in films that needed a cute, gifted little boy. He portrayed a boy that could whistle while standing on his head in Sunday Dinner for a Soldier, acted across Richard Arlen as his kid brother in The Big Bonanza, and portrayed Percy Maxim—a trouble-making child—in So Goes My Love. While those roles got Driscoll’s acting career rolling, it was his next role that took the little boy’s career to the next level.

After three years of taking on minor acting roles, Driscoll got the chance of a lifetime when he caught the eye of the one and only Walt Disney. Disney placed young Driscoll and an even younger Luana Patten under contract, making Driscoll one of the first actors to ever be placed under a contract to the House of Mouse. Disney had big plans for Driscoll too.

The young actor’s days of taking on small movie roles were officially over—but this new life would eventually lead him down a dark and dangerous path.

The first Disney film that Driscoll ever acted in was Song of the South in 1946, in which Driscoll took on the starring role as Johnny. A lot of pressure was on Driscoll to perform. At the time, Disney’s finances were in shambles thanks to WWII and desperately needed the film to do well. Needless to say, Driscoll could not afford to fail.

While the film received mixed critical reactions and was rather controversial upon release, Song of the South netted Walt Disney $226,000, which is the equivalent of over $3 million in today’s dollars. Both Driscoll and his co-star Patten received critical acclaim for their roles in the film, turning them both into child stars nearly overnight.

From there, Driscoll quickly became one of Disney’s biggest money-makers. But this was only the beginning.

Following Driscoll’s runaway success in Song of the South, Disney immediately ordered for production on So Dear to My Heart to begin. While So Dear to My Heart didn’t put quite as much pressure on Driscoll to perform well, the plot of the film closely mirrored Walt Disney’s childhood, giving the film—and Driscoll’s role as young Jeremiah—a special meaning to Walt.

Disney put a lot of faith into Driscoll for the film, and it definitely paid off.

You see, So Dear to My Heart was a joint venture between Walt Disney and RKO Pictures. During production, the big wigs of RKO pictures were so impressed by Driscoll’s talent that they borrowed him for two vastly different films. The first film they needed Driscoll for was If You Knew Susie, a comedy musical that was right up Driscoll’s alley. The other film RKO had in mind for Driscoll, however, presented a whole new challenge for the child actor.

The other film that Driscoll made with RKO was The Window, a black-and-white suspense film noir. In the film, Driscoll portrayed Tommy Woodry, a boy that witnesses a murder, only to have no one believe him due to his reputation as a liar. The part was a far cry from Driscoll’s usual roles—there was no singing, wise-cracking, or cartoon animals involved.

And despite Driscoll’s acting talents, not everyone believed in Driscoll’s star power.

After filming wrapped up for The Window, Driscoll’s career hit a major snag. Howard Hughes, an American investor that bought out RKO, thought the film was “unworthy of release.” To make things worse, he completely dismissed Driscoll, and thought of the young boy as “not much of an actor.” As a result, Driscoll’s film wasn’t released until the following year, in May of 1949.

Hughes probably didn’t expect much of a reaction, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

When The Window hit theaters, it—and more importantly, Driscoll’s performance—was a hit with audiences. The New York Times credited the film’s success wholly to Driscoll’s performance, stating that “The Window is Bobby Driscoll’s picture, make no mistake about it.” At just ten years old, Driscoll proved to the world that he had what it took to be an exceptional actor, and it led to one of the biggest highlights of his career.

In 1950, Driscoll—at just 13 years old—received a very special Academy Award that recognized his work in So Dear to My Heart and The Window. The award Driscoll received was the Juvenile Academy Award, which is only awarded at the discretion of the Academy’s Board of Governors. The award made Driscoll even more valuable in the eyes of Uncle Walt, and it led to Driscoll’s next big Disney hit.

In 1950, Disney cast Driscoll as Jim Hawkins in Treasure Island, the studio’s first all live-action film. Not only did it give Driscoll another chance at a starring role, but Disney planned on filming in the United Kingdom. It must’ve felt like one huge adventure for Driscoll, but a huge issue ended Driscoll’s journey almost as soon as it began.

During the middle of production, authorities discovered that Driscoll did not have a valid British work permit. Both Driscoll’s family and Disney received hefty fines, and they ordered Driscoll out of the country. This put Driscoll and the entire production in a sticky situation. There was simply no way Disney could complete Treasure Island without Driscoll…Or so it seemed.

The authorities in the United Kingdom allowed Driscoll six weeks to prepare an appeal. Instead of doing that, however, Driscoll took the sneaky route: He used the six-week buffer he had to hastily film all his close-ups. At the end of his six weeks, the authorities booted Driscoll and his family out of the country, and Disney filmed the rest of Driscoll’s scenes with a stand-in.

It certainly wasn’t the best experience Driscoll had with a production, but it barely put a dent in Driscoll’s success.

Despite the obstacles presented to Driscoll during production, Treasure Island was an international smash hit. It was so popular that Driscoll reprised his role the following year for a radio adaption of the movie. On top of that, the head honchos at Disney planned more film projects involving Driscoll. The young boy had it all, but unfortunately, his snafu with the British authorities had a bigger impact on his career than Driscoll could’ve imagined.

Disney slated Driscoll for two more films: Tom Sawyer and Robin Hood. While Driscoll was the perfect age for the role of Tom Sawyer, legal disputes over the Tom Sawyer story forced Disney to cancel the project altogether, leaving Driscoll high and dry. Driscoll still had Robin Hood to look forward to, at least…Right? Well, not exactly.

Disney wanted to film Robin Hood in the United Kingdom, but Driscoll’s run-in with British immigration made it impossible for the young actor to work in the UK. As a result, Driscoll was unable to work on the two major pictures that Disney planned for him. Still, Walt Disney had a lot of affection for Driscoll and signed the boy on for a second contract regardless. This decision kept Driscoll’s career alive…for now.

For the next two years, Driscoll continued to find work in film, television, and voice acting. He took on the double role of Danny/Josh Reed in When I Grow Up and made a brief guest appearance in Disney’s first televised Christmas show, One Hour in Wonderland. Driscoll even had the honor of voicing Goofy Jr. in two Disney cartoon shorts, Fathers are People and Father’s Lion. At the same time, Driscoll was working on another project—and it defined his entire career.

Between May of 1949 to  mid-1951, Driscoll was working on Disney’s animated version of Peter Pan. His role for the production was enormously important: not only did he voice the titular Peter, but he also served as the reference model for the film’s close-ups. Even more amazingly, Driscoll became the first male to portray Peter on film.

The film was incredibly received—but in an ironic twist, its success ended up being Driscoll’s downfall.

Although Peter Pan was largely successful, Walt Disney himself didn’t like the film. He thought that Peter—and Driscoll, by extension—came off as cold and unlikeable in the movie. Ironically, critics of the film thought that Driscoll’s portrayal was a huge step up, as the original Peter Pan book portrayed the character as a complete sociopath.

Unfortunately for Driscoll, Walt’s affection seemed to run dry after the filming of Peter Pan, and it led to the young actor’s early decline.

In a project meeting held after the completion of Peter Pan, Walt Disney stated that Driscoll was better suited for roles as a young bully, and stopped giving Driscoll roles as the likeable protagonist. As a result, Driscoll received very little work from 1952 onwards. Disney still kept Driscoll on their payroll, but it was clear that they were losing interest in their once-favorite kid actor. Driscoll’s time with Disney was running out.

Things came to a head when Driscoll hit puberty. With puberty came a severe case of acne, which—through no fault of his own—marred the boy’s flawless face. When Driscoll appeared on television, Disney Studios forced him to use heavy makeup to cover up his acne, which must've been humiliating for Driscoll. However, this wasn’t the end of the humiliation that Driscoll had to face.

Remember Howard Hughes, the guy that initially dismissed Driscoll’s acting ability? As the years passed, Hughes’s disdain for Driscoll seemingly turned into downright hatred. You see, Hughes really had it out for child actors like Driscoll; he thought that kids like Driscoll were “incredibly annoying.” As Driscoll’s acne grew worse, Hughes used his influence over Disney to get rid of Driscoll in the most mortifying fashion possible.

One day in 1953, Driscoll drove up to the entrance of Disney Studios as usual, only to find his way blocked. The guards refused to let Driscoll enter, and informed him—rather abruptly and rudely—that he was no longer under the employ of Disney Studios. The news was absolutely devastating. After years of working for the studio, Disney dropped Driscoll like a hot coal, forcing the young man to find work elsewhere. For Driscoll, this was easier said than done.

After his dismissal, the now teenaged Driscoll looked to other Hollywood studios for work. In an incredibly sad twist, Driscoll’s work with Disney made it incredibly difficult for the young actor to find roles. Most still thought of Driscoll as “Disney’s kid actor,” which made it nearly impossible for Driscoll to find work as a serious character actor. Outside of his career, Driscoll’s private life was going just as poorly.

After Disney kicked Driscoll to the curb, his parents withdrew him from the Hollywood Professional School, an institution that served child actors. Instead, they sent Driscoll to West Los Angeles University High School. Driscoll’s past as a child actor made him a prime target for ridicule from the other students, resulting in his grades dropping. Driscoll wasn’t going to take that lying down, however.

Still determined to become an actor, Driscoll left his parents’ home at 16. He made multiple trips to New York City to study acting, and even reportedly enrolled in UCLA and Stanford. Unfortunately, Driscoll could not escape the shadows of his past and ended up dropping out of both prestigious universities. With little choice, Driscoll tried to fit in with the other kids at the West Los Angeles University High School, and the results were utterly heartbreaking.

According to Driscoll, “The other kids didn’t accept me…When they rejected me, I fought back, became belligerent and cocky—and was afraid all the time.” Alone and friendless, Driscoll turned to substances at the age of 17. Thanks to the money he saved up while working for Disney, Driscoll had the cash to experiment with a wide variety of them, and his experiments led him down a dark path with no return.

Eventually, Driscoll convinced his parents to re-enroll him to the Hollywood Professional School, where his grades improved. In May of 1955, Driscoll graduated and even found work in television. He appeared in a variety of anthology and drama series, such as Dragnet (a crime drama) and Medic (the OG medical drama). Sadly, these small successes were not enough to turn Driscoll’s life around—and for one devastating reason.

After a few years of experimenting with various substances, Driscoll became a full-blown addict. Every cent he made went straight to fueling his addiction. Soon, Driscoll began butting heads with the law. In 1956, the authorities took him in and charged him with possession of marijuana. Although the charges were dismissed, this event marked the beginning of Driscoll’s many future encounters with the law.

Although Driscoll had a troubled life, he attempted to push forward. In December of 1956, Driscoll made the decision to elope with his longtime girlfriend, Marilyn Jean Rush. Driscoll and Rush eloped in Mexico, although both sets of parents objected to their union. Perhaps Driscoll hoped that Rush would change him for the better, but what actually happened was far, far worse.

A year after the couple eloped, they re-wed in an official ceremony in Los Angeles in March of 1957. The two had two daughters and one son. On the surface, this sounded like an enormously successful marriage, but for Driscoll, this wasn’t the case. According to him, his personality took a turn for the worse during his marriage, and his dwindling career soon followed suit.

In a last-ditch attempt to distance himself from his Disney days, Driscoll began using the name “Robert Driscoll” when looking for acting jobs. This strategy was only mildly successful. He managed to land two television parts in 1957, and even got a film role in The Party Crashers in 1958, but it was too little, too late. In 1960, Driscoll’s life fell apart all at once.

As Driscoll’s personality deteriorated, his marriage suffered. Driscoll and his wife separated, then officially divorced in 1960. That same year, Driscoll got in trouble with the authorities once again when he hit a heckler that insulted him while he washed his girlfriend’s car. They charged him, but once again, the charges didn’t stick. Driscoll lucked out this time, but his luck ran out the following year.

Over the next year, Driscoll ran into trouble with the authorities again and again. They took him in for possession, battery, burglary, check kiting, and more. It was clear that Driscoll’s dependence was destroying his life, and in 1961, everything came to a head when the authorities finally sentenced him as an addict.

This was the final nail in the coffin for Driscoll’s life and career.

The State of California sent Driscoll to the Narcotic Rehabilitation Center of the California Institution for Men in Chino, California. By early 1962, Driscoll’s prison sentence ended, but it utterly destroyed his chances of becoming an actor ever again. The stigma that his prison sentence left on him made it impossible for Driscoll to find acting jobs, leaving the young man bitter…But not completely hopeless.

For a short time, Driscoll did everything he could to rehabilitate his image. He briefly worked as a carpenter and cared for the young children he had with his ex-wife. Driscoll never forgot about his dream of being an actor, though. In 1965, a year after his parole expired, Driscoll made the decision to relocate to New York City. Driscoll planned on starting over, but life had other plans for him.

In New York City, Driscoll attempted to revive his career through Broadway. He had the acting chops and the singing talent, but his Broadway career was largely unsuccessful. Instead, Driscoll found a place beside an extremely unlikely and eccentric individual: the artist Andy Warhol. Warhol welcomed Driscoll with open arms, but his reasons for doing so may have been sinister.

Driscoll found work as an artist in The Factory, Warhol’s New York City art studio. According to one Hollywood biographer, Warhol “loved having Bobby Driscoll as part of his scene.” In particular, Warhol loved the idea of having a bitter, Hollywood ex-actor as a part of his crew. Whatever Warhol’s reasons were, Driscoll produced some outstanding pieces of art while working at The Factory, and for a short while, Driscoll’s life took a positive turn.

Critics praised Driscoll’s work, with some of his art even being temporarily displayed in Los Angeles in the Santa Monica Museum of Art. Driscoll even got a chance to act one last time in the movie Dirt, an experimental film directed by Piero Heliczer. Driscoll’s moment of peace was painfully brief. In 1968, Driscoll’s heavy substance use caught up with him, and it led to one of the most grisly and tragic discoveries of the century.

On March 30, 1968, two boys playing in a deserted East Village apartment stumbled upon a gruesome discovery. What they found was the body of Bobby Driscoll in a cot, with two empty beer bottles nearby and surrounded by religious pamphlets. An examination revealed that Driscoll passed from heart failure directly related to his substance use.

This was already sad enough, but it wasn’t even the most tragic fact about his end.

The real tragedy of Bobby Driscoll was the fact that no one identified his body. The authorities showed photos of his body to people living in the neighborhood, but no one had any idea who he was. As a result, the city buried Driscoll’s unclaimed body in an unmarked pauper’s grave on Hart Island. It wasn’t until one year later that Driscoll’s family learned of his passing, and the results were agonizingly tragic.

In late 1969, one year after the discovery of Driscoll’s body, Driscoll’s mother attempted to find her son. Driscoll’s dad was nearing the end of his life, and Driscoll’s mom wanted to reunite father and son one last time. She reached out to Disney for help, which eventually led her to the NYPD. They managed to identify Driscoll through his fingerprints, which led them to Hart Island.

It took even longer for news of Driscoll’s passing to reach the public.

In 1972, Disney re-released Song of the South, which reignited public interest in Driscoll, the smiling little boy in the film that brought Disney back from the verge of bankruptcy. Reporters looking into Driscoll discovered the ghastly tale of Driscoll’s career and his end. News of Driscoll’s end finally went public, four years after tragedy took the young man’s life.

Unfortunate circumstances made it difficult to keep Driscoll’s memory alive, however.

First, the exact spot where the city buried Driscoll remains a mystery. Driscoll’s burial records, along with many others, were destroyed in a fire. All that is known is that Driscoll’s body is somewhere in the Northern part of the island, surrounded by deer, red raccoons, and a bird sanctuary. Driscoll’s legacy as an actor is even harder to keep alive.

Although Driscoll did much to bolster Disney during a time of crisis, he is still, to this day, not a part of Disney Legends, the Disney equivalent of a Hall of Fame. To make matters worse, Disney distanced itself from Song of the South, as well as Peter Pan to a lesser degree, both films in which Driscoll played a pivotal role. Sadly, the story of Bobby Driscoll does not end with “happily ever after.”

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Lady Diana’s life started out like many a rebel before her: In an extremely suffocating family. Her mother was Violet, Duchess of Rutland, who married the Duke of Rutland after securing her own reputation as one of the great beauties of her time. Yet Diana’s home life was far from functional. While her mother was artistic and bohemian on the surface, she ran the home like a nun.

The Duchess insisted that Diana follow strict house rules and made her keep her hair down like a child long into her teenage years, all while banning her from most social events. Above all, Diana’s mother was terrified of her little girl losing her “purity” before she could make a good match in society. As it happened, this was a recipe for disaster.

By the time she was old enough to debut in society, Diana was bursting at the seams to have any independence. Once she debuted, however, she was in for a grave disappointment. She had imagined full adults having the time of their lives, but quickly realized she was only surrounded by other sheltered girls like her—with most of them lacking her verve, bravery, and charm. The men were hardly better, and she was supposed to marry them.

Desperate to experience the life she knew was out there, Diana jumped off the deep end. After all, she had zero training in moderation.

One of the few people Diana did like anywhere near her age bracket was Raymond Asquith, son of British Prime Minister HH Asquith. Diana had grown up idolizing (and crushing on) Raymond, who was over a decade older than her and ran with a very fast crowd indeed. As soon as she could, Diana jumped in on the fun too, quickly forming “The Coterie” with Asquith and their other well-to-do friends. It turned out to be the beginning of Diana’s infamy.

The Coterie also sometimes called themselves the “Corrupt Coterie,” and the name was more than apt. What they got up to would make Diana’s mother gasp. One of their haunts was the very first nightclub in London, The Cave of the Golden Calf, and soon Diana was giving her chaperone the slip dancing all night with other men and women, not to mention taking taxi rides and necking with several lovers. Only, that was the least of it.

The Coterie also liked performing pranks and stunts all around London—some of them childish, some of them terrifying. With a motto to be "unafraid of words, unshocked by drink, and unashamed of 'decadence' and gambling," they went on treasure hunts, hosted lavish parties, and caused a great deal of monetary damage that they would then aristocratically insist on paying for.

To Diana and her new friends, they lived by a code, if a hedonistic one. To others, they were shallow, unthinking, and cruel; Raymond Asquith’s sister-in-law once wrote that their antics were damaging to their happiness. And Diana, as it happened, was the worst of them.

In the end, Diana far outstripped Raymond Asquith when it came to naughtiness. While he became a more moderating influence in the group, Diana—having gone so quickly from repressed childhood to full-blown adulthood—was soon going off the rails. The Coterie, Diana most of all, liked dabbling in substances, and particularly used chloroform recreationally.

One night at a dinner, Diana even proclaimed, “I must be unconscious tonight” and went off in search of “jolly old chlorers". Then again, there was a grave reality she was trying to escape.

Throughout this time, Diana was falling more in love than ever with Raymond Asquith. He too, shared feelings for her. But the pair of them were doomed to a heartbreaking end. As it happened, Asquith already had a wife, Katherine Asquith, and the trio were all friends together. Not wanting to step on toes, Diana stayed as far away from Asquith as she dared…at least for now. Instead, she began attracting the attention of another suitor entirely.

During her time with The Coterie, Lady Diana hadn’t just gotten scandalous, she’d also grown undeniably beautiful. She had a “blind blue stare,” and many men and women who saw her described her as goddess-like and electrifying. So it was no real surprise when the wealthy American finance man George Gordon Moore was so taken with the socialite, he swore to divorce his wife for her and began lavishing her with gifts. But these attention-attracting gifts had a big downside.

Moore wasn’t Diana’s only suitor, and her Coterie friend Duff Cooper was also continually pestering her with marriage proposals. Diana, for her part, glibly rejected Duff by saying she was “very decadent, and theatrical, & inclined to look fast—qualities no man likes in his wife". She was joking, of course, but with all the male attention on her, some people took her at her word.

Society naysayers began to whisper that she was merely a “scalp hunter” out to corrupt the young men around her. What happened next made matters ten times worse.

In 1914, a horrific tragedy visited Diana’s doorstep. The Coterie, who had been continuing their dangerous antics and partying, finally got a harsh, fatal lesson. Actually, they got two. First, their friend Gustav Hamel perished in a daredevil plane maneuver, and then another member, Denis Anson, drowned during one of their cheeky midnight swims. But that wasn’t all.

By this time, no one was more synonymous with The Coterie and their pleasure-seeking ways than Lady Diana Manners herself, and the papers were quick to place the blame squarely on her shoulders. More than that, they erroneously claimed that Hamel and Anson had both died after trying to show off romantically for their Queen Dee.

It had crushing consequences: Suddenly Diana was persona non grata in high society, with people removing her name from guest lists and refusing to let her into their houses. Only, they didn’t know the truth.

Diana’s reputation in society was that of a bratty wild child—and it’s true she did much to uphold that reputation. There was one aspect of her life, however, that people had all wrong: She was categorically not out bedding every man she saw. While she rebelled against her suffocating noble family through partying, the fear about needing to keep her “purity” somehow stuck, and she kept her suitors at arm’s length.

In the end, though, all this sturm und drang about Diana was about to get washed away. Something much bigger and more destructive was coming.

The same year that Diana found herself as the society black sheep, WWI broke out. Suddenly, her life morphed into a true nightmare. She watched in horror as many of her male friends went to fight, powerless to do anything about it. Meanwhile, fears about the conflict ran through even the most hedonistic of her night clubs, and the very world changed before her. And then the worst of her terrors came true.

Soon, Diana’s beloved Raymond Asquith was called to the front too, and Diana couldn’t take it anymore. Breaking their years-long détente, she and Asquith met in secret at his training camp for one last goodbye. Although there was still no physical consummation of their feelings, they poured their hearts out to one another. Later, Asquith would write to her of that night: “Even in this foul and dingy inn the recollected glory of your beauty flings its unquenchable beam". Tragically, this would only make the news to come that much harder for Diana.

In 1916, Diana got the most devastating news of her life. Raymond Asquith had been killed just a year after going to the front—and the story of his death is now legendary. In a classic “British stiff upper lip” move, Asquith had been shot in the chest, but lit a cigarette to distract from how badly he was hurt so that his men’s attack on the enemy could continue. By the time the troop tried to carry him back to safety, it was too late.

Diana now felt all alone in the world—and that world was about to get a whole lot crueler.

In the midst of the conflict and her grief, Diana’s partying ways only grew more desperate and destructive. In particular, she began hanging out more and more with her wealthy admirer George Gordon Moore, who was now pressing his suit harder than ever. Moore would throw parties specifically for Diana and fill them with all manner of drink and racy art. Diana, for her part, would drink up and try to forget. Yet these nights were also laced with a dark secret.

Diana was certainly happy to accept any form of debauchery she could right now, but her relationship with Moore had grown creepy to the extreme. Because Moore’s financial connections gave him influence in the war efforts, Diana’s mother Violet was praying that he could prevent her son John from going to the front and a near certain end.

Diana, under her mother’s urging and in order to save her brother, had to seduce Moore for all he was worth. The results were deeply disturbing.

In truth, Diana despised fanning the flames of Moore’s lust, calling him “George Gordon Ghastly” and describing with revulsion his “straight black hair, flattened face, and atomic energy". Then the real crisis hit. One night, Diana’s mother let Moore sneak into her daughter’s bedroom at three in the morning. Although the girl wasn’t “compromised,” she wrote that Moore’s attempted seduction was “sullying…mutilating and scarring,” not to mention her trust in her mother was completely gone. As we’ll see, this had lasting effects.

Eventually, Diana’s brother did escape the front, and Diana tried to put the whole affair behind her. Only, she couldn’t. Men still liked her very much—her friend Patrick Shaw Stewart once practically went down on his knees begging to have her for just one night—but Diana could barely stand their attraction. There was, however, one man who could still slip past her defenses, and he was quite the surprise.

Around the time that Diana found out Raymond Asquith wasn’t coming back, she deepened her friendship with Duff Cooper, one of her many admirers and a fellow Coterie member. And while Cooper couldn’t have been more different from Asquith—he was gruff, stout, and bawdy next to Asquith’s reedy elegance—he was a man who had a great understanding of women, and easily found his way into Diana’s heart. But Duff also produced a strange change in Diana.

With Diana’s stuffy upbringing and then her horrible pseudo-relationship with George Gordon Moore, she began to feel utterly frozen when it came to bedroom matters, even if she was indulging in every other pleasure in other aspects of her life. Well, Duff had no such problems: He was as lusty a womanizer as they came, and his presence thawed Diana somewhat. Perhaps a little too much.

Where Diana could barely work up emotions for most of the men throwing themselves at her feet, her reaction to Duff Cooper was through the roof. With him, she knew passion, not the numbness of chloroform. But it did get out of hand. During one argument, she hit him so hard that his lip bled. They also frequently and passionately fought about her residual feelings for the late Raymond Asquith, especially when Diana promised Cooper she loved him best, but only “among the living".

Cooper even once famously wrote to her in a fiery, ill-advised letter: "I hope everyone you like better than me will die very soon". Still, as their relationship got serious, more problems developed.

Diana’s mother Violet hadn’t given up on her ambitions to make her daughter an advantageous match, and the Duchess had even considered trying to link her up with the Prince of Wales, the future King Edward VIII. So Violet was not happy with “that awful Duff,” whose womanizing, gambling, and drinking were legendary. Well, she wasn’t going to get her wish this time.

In the end, Duff Cooper’s connection to The Coterie and all of Diana’s old, long-lost friends was too much to deny. The pair married in 1919, just after the end of the conflict that had decimated their social circle. With all the whispers and unhappiness surrounding the union, it was no doubt the talk of their well-to-do set…but behind closed doors, the wedding was even more salacious.

For the new Lady Diana Cooper, the wedding night was a momentous occasion. She could finally give in to her passions without feeling guilty—and the way she remembered it, it was glorious. She later described feeling “elated” and “desirous". But there was another side to the story. While Duff was very much in love with his new wife, he found the experience in bed “very old fashioned and conventional". Right away, their relationship took a dark turn.

With the cat now out of the bag in the bedroom, Diana’s new husband started to show his true colors. Namely, just days after the wedding, Duff admitted to falling into lust with another woman—and while for some husbands this would just stop at harmless fantasy, Duff’s thoughts were anything but trivial. In fact, it wasn’t long before they turned into actions.

Diana had always run with a loose crowd, but she quickly realized that not even she could handle Duff Cooper’s libido. Soon, he was entertaining high-profile mistresses like socialite Gloria Guinness, who was one of Truman Capote’s swans. At one point, he even fathered an illegitimate child with an American diplomat’s wife. As for Diana’s reaction to all this? It was unconventional, to say the least.

For the most part, Diana was magnanimous about her husband’s roving eye, at least in a white-knuckled way. She allowed the affairs to go on right under her nose and frequently became friends with the “other” women. Later in life, she even claimed complete indifference, once saying of the mistresses, “They were the flowers, but I was the tree". In reality, though, it was quite the adjustment to make. One day, she hit her breaking point.

For all her cool-girl Zen about her marriage situation, there was one mistress who drove Diana to the edge. When Duff Cooper took up with notoriously catty heiress Daisy Fellowes, even Diana couldn’t shrug it off. After all, Daisy was a woman so mean-spirited and bawdy in her life and bedroom endeavors, she reportedly filled even Duff Cooper with “self disgust".

Diana, for her part, made a rare snipe calling Daisy “the very picture of fashionable depravity”…but Diana took it further than just jibes.

Diana had tolerated a lot with Duff before they were out of their honeymoon phase—but she wasn’t about to tolerate Daisy Fellowes. Eventually, she got an ingenious revenge on her straying husband and his mistress. When Duff all but abandoned her in the middle of a date night to go spend time in Daisy’s bed, Diana merely rung up the authorities and, affecting genuine panic, claimed her husband had gone missing. Duff and Daisy had quite the time that night.

Still, Diana wasn’t one to let her husband have all the fun, and she quickly made a scandal of her own.

Around this time, Diana got a scandalous offer. Film director DW Griffith approached her to star in his upcoming film Hearts of the World, selecting her because he thought her “the most beloved woman in England". American cinema had been sniffing around Diana for a while, but her parents and social circles forbid her from partaking in what they considered employment for loose women. No less than the Queen Consort of England, Mary, declared that she would banish Diana from court if she saw her on screen.

For once in her life, though, Diana put her foot down and took the part. It set off a fateful chain reaction.

As it happened, Diana was so effervescent on screen that even her strict mother was a convert, crying at one role, “Oh why can’t Diana be longer?”—but she wasn’t the only one. Diana became a true celebrity, acting in a string of successful productions and even once almost replacing Greta Garbo before Garbo reconciled with the director.

In typical Diana fashion, she was flippant about her accomplishments, once quipping that she acted “only for money and distantly imagined fun. Don’t let my grimaces to order be called self-expression". Yet there were other perks of the job.

At the beginning of the 1920s, especially after starring in the smash revival hit The Miracle and its subsequent stage production, Diana was now wealthy beyond even her wildest dreams, and famous to boot. This had a crucial side effect: The position gave her enormous power in her once-imbalanced marriage, and she lent her celebrity and money to Duff Cooper’s rising political career. And oh, she enjoyed using that power.

When Duff got a little out of line, Diana liked to pull on her purse strings. Once, after taking up with his latest mistress, Lady Warrender, overseas and asking his wife for more money, Diana sent back a 200-pound note with a letter saying, “I hope it will be enough, tho I expect you to drop it on plovers’ eggs and Lady Warrender". Satisfactorily, this led the shameful Duff to write in his diary, “She’s onto that as I thought she would be".  Still, all this fame had a dark side.

Lady Diana sparkled on screen and in ballrooms across England, but this entire time, she was hiding a ruinous secret. For some time now, ever since she had suffered a serious fall through a skylight in 1919, she had become increasingly dependent on morphine. And while she’d had an easy time with “jolly old chlorers,” this habit proved difficult to break, disconcerting even her fun-loving husband. Then Diana got some news that made her truly concerned.

By the late 1920s, Diana was enjoying the fruits of her fame…when an enormous wrench came into the works. She began to feel nauseated nearly all the time and jumped to the conclusion that she had a tumor. The real issue was what she least suspected: After over a decade of marriage to Duff Cooper, she had assumed she was barren, but it quickly became clear she was now pregnant. At first, Diana was elated—and then her excitement transformed into terror.

Diana had a lot to worry about when it came to her unborn baby. There was the (untrue) gossip that she had given Duff Cooper as good as he got and that the child belonged to another man. There were also Diana’s fears that her body would turn “grotesque". But it got worse than that. Above all, Diana feared childbirth would put her in mortal danger. Unfortunately, she was right to worry.

Not only did women still regularly perish while giving birth during this time, but Diana was also 37 years old and doctors discovered she had a fibroid in her uterus. Both these complications only increased her certainty that she was nearing the end of her life. In fact, Diana felt so certain of this, she spent her days in the nursing home leading up to her labor telegramming goodbye letters to her friends. Then the day finally came.

On September 15, 1929, Diana gave birth to a baby boy. Though both mother and child survived, not without the complications she feared. Her son had to be born via Caesarean section, prompting the ever-witty Diana to name him John Julius Caesar. Still, there were consolations for the difficult labor. When Diana emerged from the hospital, a crowd was waiting for her as if she had just birthed the Prince of Wales.

Motherhood, as it happened, hardly changed Diana. If anything, she only got sharper.

By the 1940s, Duff Cooper’s political career had taken off with the coming of WWII, Diana’s addiction issues were at bay, and suddenly the pair were playing host and hostess to some of the most powerful people in the world. Diana took to it like a duck to water, reaching back into her days with The Coterie to set up some of the most lavish parties. But being around all these famous people didn’t faze her. It often only revealed her cruel side.

Diana had come a long way from the little girl under her mother’s thumb, and she began developing some sharp opinions about the respectable guests she and Duff had to receive. For one, she called famous macho writer Ernest Hemingway “the greatest bore to end all bores". She even turned her nose up at the former King Edward VIII, the man her mother once considered marrying her off to.

Edward had since abdicated the throne for his mistress Wallis Simpson, and Diana sniffed that Edward was “sillier and duller". As she got older though, empathy wasn’t all she lost.

Diana had always been a shockingly bad driver. Early on in her driving career, she rammed into a milk cart on the side of the road and laughed uproariously when dogs started lapping the mess up. It got even more ridiculous as she got older. When parking laws came into effect, Diana simply ignored them, often writing silly notes on her windshield for officers after parking anywhere she felt like it.

One read, “Dear Warden, taken sad child to a cinema—please forgive,” and another: “Dearest Warden, Front tooth broken off, look like 81 year old pirate so at dentist".

Whatever her eccentricities—and there were many—the aging Diana still retained her elegance. She also kept her natural ability to receive invites to the best parties on any continent. When Carlos de Beistegui hosted Le Bal Oriental in Venice, AKA “the party of the century,” Diana went there as Cleopatra. As a bonus, she liked the photograph Cecil Beaton took of her so much, she used it on her passport. Sadly, though, the good times were coming to an end.

In 1952, it looked like Diana and Duff Cooper couldn’t fly any closer to the sun of high society. That year, the government even made Duff into the Viscount Norwich for his services to Britain throughout WWII and beyond. Diana, for her part, hated the title of Viscountess Norwich and refused to go by the honor, sniping that it sounded like “porridge". As it happened, she had precious little time to use it.

Within a year of becoming the Viscountess Norwich, Diana’s whole world fell apart. The Coopers’ fast living and hard drinking caught up to Duff in a spectacularly brutal manner. In May of 1953, he had a massive stomach hemorrhage likely brought on by cirrhosis of the liver. He managed to survive this instance, but Diana, deeply disturbed, took him on a cruise to try to help him convalesce. All it did was seal his fate.

In the end, Duff Cooper couldn’t outrun the grim reaper. While on the ship, he suffered another hemorrhage on New Year’s Eve and lay in agony for hours while the doctors tried to stop the bleeding. It was no use: Duff passed at the age of 63 on January 1st of 1954. It was a gruesome scene, but Diana’s reaction was the most heartbreaking of all.

Throughout Duff’s final hours, Diana couldn’t work up the courage to even say goodbye, and refused to watch her husband pass in pain. Such was her grief that she didn’t attend the funeral, feeling that it would only be an opportunity for the public to gawk at her. Instead, she preferred to mourn in private. Her road back to any sense of normalcy was a long one.

Diana had many, many years without Duff, only passing in 1986 at the ripe old age of 93, but she never forgot him. After his passing, she took out space in the paper to announce that she was reverting back to “Lady Diana Cooper” so she could drop the “Viscountess Norwich” business and still honor her husband. As that anecdote indicates, she also never lost her verve. But there is one secret about Lady Diana Manners that still fascinates society.

Diana always had a fraught, complicated relationship with her mother Violet, who had tried to keep her daughter in eternal ignorance and never liked Diana’s husband. But all this makes more sense when you know the family’s biggest secret. According to pretty much everyone, Diana was actually not the daughter of the Duke of Rutland; she was the product of an affair with her mother’s lover Harry Cust.

Maybe that’s why the Duchess felt the need to control Diana’s libido. How Diana found out about this, though, is worthy of a soap opera.

In reality, her parentage was something of an open secret in high society, as Diana also reportedly shared a huge resemblance with her biological father. The rumor was so commonplace, Diana actually first heard about it casually from a friend at a party as a teenager. In classic Diana fashion, she was completely unruffled at the revelation. As she said, “It didn’t seem to matter—I was devoted to my father and I liked Harry Cust too".

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Elizabeth of York was born at Westminster, the first child of King Edward IV and Queen Elizabeth Woodville. As England's eldest princess, Elizabeth should have had it made in the shade—but Elizabeth was not born in peaceful times. Her father had only recently taken England's throne from the mad King Henry VI, and his crown was far from secure.

But that wasn't all. By nature of her parents' controversial marriage, Elizabeth of York was in danger from the moment she came screaming into the world.

Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville have one of history's greatest love stories. And what's even better than true love? Forbidden love. When Edward became king, his advisors expected him to marry some foreign princess to ensure an alliance with a powerful nation. He then went and stabbed them in the back by marrying Woodville, an impoverished widow, in secret.

That alone was enough to enrage Edward's inner circle—but there may have been an even darker origin to this tale.

Elizabeth's father fell in love with her mother at first sight—but it might not have been mutual. Edward begged Woodville to become his mistress, but she refused. Then, he made a disturbing suggestion: If she wouldn't join his bed willingly, then he'd take her by force. But Elizabeth's mother was one tough woman. She threatened to slit her own throat if Edward attempted to touch her without her consent.

Though Elizabeth's parents went on to have a long and passionate marriage, that's definitely what I call "getting off on the wrong foot." Regardless, Edward balked and the pair got married—though their recklessness would mean certain doom for their children, Elizabeth of York included.

Though underneath the surface tensions bubbled, Elizabeth of York's christening was a lavish and joyous affair. Her two grandmothers acted as witnesses, as well as a very special cousin: Richard Neville, AKA, the Kingmaker. As Edward's closest ally, Neville seemed the perfect man to bless the baby Elizabeth. On that joyous day, I wonder if Neville already knew that he'd betray her family so cruelly.

Even Elizabeth, a child as she was, would feel the sting of Neville's treachery before long.

The sad reality is, Elizabeth of York was born to be a political pawn. Her father first betrothed her when she was just three years old, to Richard Neville's nephew, George. That arrangement went up in flames when Neville dealt Edward IV one of history's greatest betrayals. He teamed up with the king's greatest enemy, Margaret of Anjou, and stole the throne from Edward.

Edward promptly took the throne back, slaying Neville in battle to boot, but it meant Elizabeth's marriage was definitely off. She was three, so she probably didn't care too much—but her father still had huge plans for his little girl.

The Nevilles were out, so who next? Edward managed to negotiate the deal of the century by getting young Elizabeth, now eight, betrothed to King Louis XI of France's son—but it wasn't meant to be, either. People just seemed to love turning on Edward, and the French king ended up backing out of his promise. Was Elizabeth cursed?

Her arranged marriages kept falling apart. And, even worse, a terrible tragedy would strike before she got the chance at a third.

Elizabeth's father suddenly—and mysteriously—died in 1483. That meant her younger brother was now King Edward V. At least, he should have been. Her uncle Richard quickly took the boy to the Tower of London, "for his protection." Really, he was just separating young Edward from his mother, so she couldn't stop what he had planned.

Elizabeth didn't know it yet, but her father's end would throw her entire world upside down within just a few short weeks.

The days following Edward IV's passing must have been terrifying for Elizabeth of York. When Richard stuck her brother in the Tower, Elizabeth's mother took her and their other siblings and fled to the safety of Westminster Abbey. Elizabeth couldn't possibly have understood all that was happening. What was the problem? Her brother was the king, and her uncle was there to protect him.

She'd realize the truth before long. Probably right around the time she realized that Westminster Abbey had become a prison.

Elizabeth and the rest of her family huddled in Westminster Abbey for days, but even the holy ground couldn't ensure their safety. Richard came knocking, demanding custody of her other brother. Elizabeth's mother reluctantly gave the boy up, terrified of what Richard might do if she refused. Elizabeth said goodbye to her youngest brother—totally unaware it was the last time she'd ever see him alive.

Elizabeth spent two long months wondering what was going to become of her and her family. On June 22, 1483, she got her answer: Richard had her parents' marriage declared invalid. That meant Elizabeth and her siblings were illegitimate, making her uncle Richard the new king: Richard III. With that one announcement, Elizabeth's entire world crashed down around her.

One day, she was sister to the King of England. The next, she was a nobody, cowering in sanctuary, praying her vengeful uncle didn't come for her next. It seemed like a nightmare come to life—but her brothers suffered a still darker fate.

If nothing else, Elizabeth managed to escape her uncle's treachery with her skin intact. We can't say the same about her brothers. After the declaration, no one ever saw them again. People started whispering about the Princes in the Tower, wondering if perhaps one day they might reappear to challenge Richard for the throne. If anyone held out hope for that, it was misguided.

The months passed, and no princes emerged from the Tower of London. In a few, fleeting moments, Elizabeth must have worried about her brothers' fate. However, she had herself to worry about now...

Lucky for Elizabeth, she had a seriously ruthless woman around to protect her. Her mother came up with a secretive plan to get back at Richard once and for all. Elizabeth was to marry Henry Tudor, a young noble exiled in France who had a distant claim to the throne. The deal was brilliant. The Wars of the Roses between the Yorks (Elizabeth's family) and Lancasters (Henry's family) had raged for nearly half a century at this point.

By marrying Henry, Elizabeth could unite the two houses against a common enemy: Richard III. Now, all she could do was wait and pray for a miracle. Would it come in time?

Elizabeth of York was the lynchpin of the entire plan to dethrone Richard III. Henry Tudor had a claim to the throne, but it was extremely weak. Only with Elizabeth, the daughter of the beloved Edward IV, by his side could he hope to win the nobles over. Over in France, Henry bided his time and planned out his next move, while Elizabeth still huddled in sanctuary back in England.

She must have spent many months praying for any way to escape her confinement. Unfortunately, she was about to learn, escaping only led to a new nightmare.

Elizabeth finally left Westminster Abbey in 1484, nearly a year after first entering sanctuary. Her mother and uncle had allegedly reconciled, with Richard publicly swearing that no harm would come to Elizabeth or her remaining family. But remember, this was the man who very likely killed his own nephews. How far could Elizabeth ever trust him?

Well, if rumors from the time are to be believed, her uncle had even more disturbing plans in mind for her.

It's widely rumored that Richard III planned on marrying Elizabeth, his own niece. Since his wife had failed to produce any heirs thus far, he wanted a newer, younger model. Plus, marrying Elizabeth could cement his claim to the throne. If Elizabeth had thought rotting in sanctuary was as bad as it could get, she was so wrong. Being forced to marry her treacherous uncle would have been so much worse.

Can't Elizabeth ever catch a break? Well, speaking of that...

Whether or not Richard actually planned on marrying Elizabeth, we'll never know. But we do know that the rumors of such a wedding became so loud that Richard had to publicly deny it. But that didn't mean Elizabeth was off the hook completely. Richard still had plans for her, whether she liked it or not.

Henry Tudor was nowhere in sight, so Elizabeth remained at Richard's mercy. He locked her away in a distant castle in the North and started doing everything in his power to marry her off. He eventually forged a deal to have her marry the future King of Portugal, Manuel I. For anyone who's counting, that makes four arranged marriages for Elizabeth, all before she even turned 20.

So, who was it going to be? Henry or Manuel? She was about to get her answer.

The day everyone was waiting for finally came. Henry Tudor landed in Wales with an army on August 7, 1485. Two weeks later, he fought Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth Field. Against all odds, the inexperienced Henry defeated the battle-hardened Richard, claiming England's crown by right of conquest. For Elizabeth, it's like her wildest dreams had come true.

Her uncle was gone, and her betrothed was now King of England. Any day now, he'd come join her in London, and she'd be crowned queen. Unfortunately, as always with this long-suffering princess, things didn't go exactly according to plan...

Elizabeth was the whole basis for Henry's claim to the throne in the first place, but after he defeated Richard, he grew arrogant. He believed the right of conquest was the only claim he needed. They were supposed to marry as soon as Henry arrived in London, but he dragged his feet. Was someone about to turn on Elizabeth for the umpteenth time?

Thankfully, no. This time, after lord knows how many betrothals, Elizabeth made it stick.

After several tense months of waiting, Elizabeth and Henry finally tied the knot. Elizabeth of York, the embattled princess who'd been through so much, finally had some sense of stability. Now, it was time for Henry to realize just how lucky he was...

Here's the thing about Elizabeth of York: She wasn't just another important royal; she was also a stone-cold fox. Her parents both happened to be babes, and they definitely passed their genes onto their daughter. Despite the horror story she'd survived thus far, she was truly like a queen out of a fairy tale. She was beautiful, kind, and generous.

Her childhood was officially over. Now it was time for her life to begin—but there were so many more trials ahead.

Elizabeth and Henry welcomed their first son, Arthur, eight months after their marriage. His birth was a joyous occasion for all of England, but especially for the newlyweds. A son meant there was someone to carry on Henry's line—but any history buffs out there might have noticed one dark detail. The Tudors became some of the most iconic English monarchs, but there's no King Arthur Tudor in the history books.

Unfortunately for Elizabeth, motherhood led to devastating heartbreak.

As if she hadn't survived enough in her life, Elizabeth of York had a nightmarish time when it came to motherhood. In seven pregnancies, only four of her children survived infancy: Arthur, Margaret, Henry, and Mary. She clung to these children like her life depended on it—but unfortunately, she couldn't protect them all.

While Elizabeth was utterly beautiful and clearly very fertile—two very appealing traits in a medieval queen—Henry remained distant. Obsessed with proving he was the rightful king on his own merits, he put off crowning Elizabeth for nearly two years. She was simply the royal consort, not a queen. Finally, in November 1487, crown touched temples, and Elizabeth became the Queen of England.

Now, she just had to make the cold, calculating man she'd married come around—but Elizabeth was up to the task.

Henry VII was like a stone, hard and unfeeling, but Elizabeth was not to be deterred. She wore away at his tough exterior and slowly made her husband fall madly in love with her. Her beauty and her personality certainly helped matters, but Elizabeth quickly proved she was more than just a pretty face.

Though he wanted almost nothing to do with her at first, Henry eventually had to admit that his wife had a lot to offer. After all, he'd spent his youth in France, plotting his rebellion. He knew very little of English court life. Elizabeth, on the other hand, knew the customs like the back of her hand. The uncouth Henry might have alienated all of his new allies had Elizabeth not guided him through the subtleties of the English court.

Plus, while familiarizing her husband with aristocratic intrigue, she had an even more crucial task to accomplish.

Henry VII was king, but that didn't mean much. After all, there had been three kings in the last four years. Elizabeth's future was anything but secure, but was going to do everything in her power to change that. Elizabeth had lived in Richard III's court for a time, so she knew exactly which nobles had turned on him. Knowing the same thing could happen to her husband, she set about forging alliances wherever she could.

Elizabeth's charm and political savvy won over many Henry's new court—but her husband still caused her no end of problems.

We'll just say it: Henry VII was not a fun guy. He was strict, severe, and unbearably cheap. Records from his early reign show that he never parted with a penny he didn't have to, and he tracked England's finances down to the last crumb of bread. Those watching from afar must have felt sorry for Elizabeth for marrying such a miser, but they didn't realize what Henry was like behind bedroom doors.

Henry VII was definitely a cheapskate, but part of it might have been an act. Away from prying eyes, he was a completely different person. He lavished gifts on his wife and children, and even enjoyed music and dancing—at least in private. Against all odds, Elizabeth had actually succeeded in softening her cold and unfeeling husband.

Finally, after an entire life of turmoil, Elizabeth could finally start enjoying the high life. And boy did she.

As Henry's rule grew more and more secure, Elizabeth got to taste the fruits of her labor. She and her family knew how to throw a party, especially around the holidays. Legers show that she got the normally stingy Henry to spend lavishly on imported wine, roasted meat, and live entertainment. But all of that is nothing compared to the craziest gift he ever bought for her...

Elizabeth got her own menagerie of wild animals to enjoy, and Henry even spent a fortune to import a lion for her. Add that to the luxurious clothes, fine food, and extravagant palaces. Elizabeth had paid her dues, and now she got to live for once. Unfortunately, life wasn't done throwing her curveballs just yet. This was just the eye of the storm.

If there was one flaw in Elizabeth's perfect life, it was her mother-in-law, Lady Margaret Beaufort. Margaret was a hardened battleax of a woman who'd survived exile and whose scheming had gotten her son England's throne. As you can imagine, she wasn't exactly the "kindly old mother-in-law" type. For the most part, Elizabeth let Margaret dominate politics while she tended her family.

Her children were, after all, growing up before her eyes. Her eldest, Arthur, even had to start thinking about marriage. Elizabeth and Henry excitedly prepared a match for their boy—unaware of the horrible tragedy that lay ahead.

In November 1501, Elizabeth's son Arthur married Catherine of Aragon. Now, to some of you, that name might be familiar. Catherine of Aragon was the first of the infamous Henry VIII's many wives. But wait, if she married Henry, then...what happened to Arthur?

After their wedding, Arthur and Catherine left London for Ludlow Castle, the traditional residence of the Prince of Wales. However, they'd only been married for a few months when something went terribly wrong. Both newlyweds suddenly fell horribly ill with an unknown sickness. The only reports state that it was, "a malign vapor which proceeded from the air."

Whatever it was, it struck hard and fast. The last Elizabeth saw Arthur, she was waving goodbye to him and his new wife—unaware she'd never see him alive again.

Catherine of Aragon managed to survive the mysterious illness. Arthur was not so lucky. He quickly wasted away, until he gave his last breath on April 2, 1502. He wasn't even 16 years old. To this day, we don't know for sure what it was that killed him, but it didn't matter. Elizabeth had lost her oldest and most beloved child. The grief was devastating—but seeing her husband's heartbreaking reaction made it even worse.

Henry VII was always a cold and unemotional man, but losing his eldest son destroyed him. He broke down in grief, and it fell to Elizabeth to comfort him. Putting on a brave face, she joined him in his rooms and reminded Henry that God had left him with a son and two daughters. She gave him a shoulder to cry on, a rock in the ocean of his grief.

When he finally calmed down, she retired to her own rooms—but then her true feelings finally exploded to the surface.

Elizabeth was strong when her husband needed her, but when she made it back to her own rooms, she crumbled. In a touching twist, her sobs grew so pained that her attendants sent for Henry, who then came and comforted her in turn. They supported each other through their grief, but since life is cruel, they still had to soldier on. They had to begin thinking of their other son, Henry.

He was the future of England now—they could never have predicted the horror he would bring.

Elizabeth of York was well into her 30s, but losing Arthur drove her to try and give birth once more. Now that Henry was the only remaining son, she wanted another for a little insurance. In 1502, she became pregnant for the seventh time. As the child inside her grew, she moved into the royal apartments in the Tower of London, the safest place for her. I wonder how she felt stepping through those gates, knowing that the castle had been her brothers' tomb all those years ago.

I also wonder if she had any inkling she'd meet a similar fate.

In early 1503, Elizabeth of York gave birth to her seventh and final child, a girl named Katherine. Tragically, the infant only survived for mere days—but at that moment, there was no time to grieve. Elizabeth herself had contracted an infection and was fighting for her life. Unfortunately, so soon after losing Arthur, she simply didn't have the strength anymore...

Elizabeth of York closed her eyes for the last time on her 37th birthday; February 11, 1503. The Tudors had weathered many such tragedies before, but losing Elizabeth was different. Young Prince Henry was inconsolable, but he was nothing compared to his father. Elizabeth was the only person who could comfort the king when their son had passed, but now, he had nobody—and his reaction to her passing was heartbreaking.

Everyone in court knew Henry VII as a stern, emotionless man. It must have been chilling to see him so utterly broken after Elizabeth passed. According to one writer, her death broke his heart for good, utterly shattering him in a way he'd never recover from. He locked himself away in his rooms and banned anyone from entering. When he finally emerged, he wasn't the same man he once was.

You can't blame Henry for falling apart. In just two years, he'd lost his beloved son, wife, and baby daughter. Meanwhile, his problems abroad worsened as well. He had to sign the humiliating Treaty of Perpetual Peace, essentially halting his war with Scotland in its tracks. To the members of the court, who had grown used to Henry being as strong and emotionless as a mountain, this new wreck of a man was a total shock.

I'm sure plenty of them assumed that this was just a momentary lapse, and that once Henry got over his grief for Elizabeth, he'd go back to normal. But Elizabeth wasn't the kind of woman a man forgets that easily.

Henry VII was normally an incredibly shrewd politician, but after he lost Elizabeth of York, his heart went with her. He knew that he should remarry to forge an alliance and potentially beget more heirs, but he just couldn't bring himself to go through with it. Anyone could see what the problem was—you just had to look at the description Henry gave his advisors when he sent them out searching for a new queen.

He told them what he wanted his new wife to look like, but he was really just describing Elizabeth.

It soon became clear that Henry VII would never find the woman he was looking for—because Elizabeth of York was the only one for him. In the end, he never remarried. For one woman, at least, that was a very good thing. While considering potential new queens, Henry actually considered the creepiest option possible.

We can't forget about Catherine of Aragon in all this. Remember, she had survived the illness that had claimed her husband, Prince Arthur. So, through all this chaos and tragedy, she remained in England, a total stranger and completely alone. Losing Arthur meant that the deal Henry and Elizbeth had struck with Catherine's parents was toast. Maybe you can see where this is going...

Henry VII strongly considered marrying Catherine of Aragon himself, despite the fact that she was almost 40 years younger than him and his daughter-in-law. Thank god he abandoned that plan—though since she ended up marrying his son, the future Henry VIII, I'm not sure which option was worse.

In a grim twist, Elizabeth of York may have met her end mere steps away from where her two long-lost brothers met theirs all those years before. Remember, her brothers were the infamous "Princes in the Tower," locked away in the Tower of London and never seen again. If Richard III really did have them both murdered, it's likely that their bones laid to rest in their prison—where Elizabeth of York suffered her fatal labor.

Certainly, the unidentified children's bones that workers dug up in the Tower centuries later make it seem extremely likely.

Elizabeth's second son eventually became King Henry VIII, but as a boy, he was something of an afterthought. His father paid him almost no mind when he was a child, instead focusing all of his attention on Arthur. Maybe that's why he grew up to be such a monster. Few historical records of Henry's childhood exist, but one thing we do know: He was a major mama's boy. In fact, his devotion to his own mother may have explained his most disturbing acts as a grown man...

Henry VIII viewed his mother as an angel from heaven; perfect in every way. So, when he grew up, he expected nothing less from his wives. No surprise, then, that they all disappointed him. Each new wife fell short of his mother in his eyes, and most of them paid a terrible price for it. If that's not creepy, I don't know what is.

Perhaps one reason for Henry's idealistic view of his mother was that she was taken away from him when he was still young. You see, Arthur's demise was just the beginning. The House of Tudor had more tragedies in store.

Elizabeth of York lived through one of the most chaotic and interesting periods in English history—and she was always right at the center of the action. Because of that, she holds a distinction that no other woman has ever claimed: She is the only woman whose father, brother, husband, and son all became Kings of England. Now it's time for a test: Can you remember all their names?

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Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

In certain echelons of New York society—the upper ones—the birth of Consuelo Vanderbilt in 1877 was akin to the coming of a messiah. The eldest child and only daughter of the main Vanderbilt heir William and his wife Alva, Consuelo was all the hopes of the Gilded Age of America rolled into one.

As such, the little heiress heralded a generation of beautiful creatures with pearls on their necks and gold in their veins; she was even named after her mother’s childhood best friend, the famous socialite Consuelo Yznaga. But all that glitters is very much not gold. Consuelo’s family was already hiding shadowy secrets.

Consuelo’s mother Alva was one of the great battle-axes in history, and she was determined to force old money New York families like the Astors to accept the Vanderbilt name into their ranks, despite its “brutish” nouveau riche associations. A reasonable enough goal…except Alva was something of a true brute.

A Confederate loyalist, Alva was infamous in her hometown of Mobile, Alabama for being a spoiled little girl who enjoyed mistreating the slaves she and her family owned. And soon, the power-tripping Alva turned her gaze on her daughter.

Growing up a Vanderbilt was a hugely privileged position for Consuelo. But her privilege came with nightmarish punishments. From the beginning, Alva expected her daughter to be nothing short of perfect, and from a young age forced Consuelo to wear a steel rod along the length of her spine to “improve” her posture. That was far from all.

Not content to limit herself to her daughter’s looks, Alva also rigorously “corrected” Consuelo’s personality and behavior. If Consuelo said one word out of line, the matriarch was liable to whip the girl with a riding crop. Picking her own wardrobe was also seen as the height of rebellion; when Consuelo once complained about the clothes her mother had chosen for her, Alva snapped back,  "I do the thinking, you do as you are told”.

And as Consuelo grew up, an enormous problem began developing.

Unfortunately for the poor girl, Consuelo was utterly beautiful as a young woman. With the “slim, tight” look that was all the rage in the Edwardian era, she was a small, elongated woman with dark eyes and a long, oval face with delicate features.  As Peter Pan playwright J M Barrie once put it, "I would stand all day in the street to see Consuelo…get into her carriage”.

Why was this beauty unfortunate? Because soon, Alva was using this as another weapon against her.

The sweet, stunning Consuelo was barely in her teen years when she began getting offers of marriage from almost every man who met her. Her mother’s reaction was chilling. The only suitor she even allowed Consuelo to consider was Prince Francis Joseph of Battenberg, a man Consuelo deeply disliked.

To the ambitious Alva, only a prince or a duke was good enough to marry her daughter and lift up the Vanderbilt dynasty—whether Consuelo liked them or not. And while Consuelo managed to escape Prince Francis’s proposal, she wouldn’t be so lucky with the next one. Still, there was something her mother didn’t know.

While Alva planned out her daughter’s titles and nuptials, Consuelo had a much different idea for a groom. During the course of her debutante season, she’d met and fallen in love with the handsome Winthrop Rutherfurd, a young man of similar—or even greater—New York social standing as the Vanderbilts.

Still, Rutherfurd was no prince and no duke, and Consuelo was terrified of her mother finding out about their love. So they carried on a courtship right under Alva’s nose, with Rutherfurd even sending Consuelo a single red rose on her 18th birthday. And then one day, they took it as far as they could.

Just after her birthday, Consuelo committed her biggest act of rebellion yet. She met Winthrop Rutherfurd for a bicycle ride along with her mother and some other friends in Riverside Park in Manhattan, but when they drew back from the rest of the crowd, Winthrop quickly and clandestinely proposed to Consuelo—and she accepted.

If it sounds like the lovers were in a hurry, it’s because they were. Something terrifying was looming.

The day that Winthrop Rutherfurd made Consuelo Vanderbilt his fiancée, the young girl was on the edge of heading out on a long European sojourn with her mother, ostensibly to broaden her horizons but really to catch her a husband with a title. Indeed, Consuelo was set to leave the very next day.

Undeterred, Winthrop promised to trail her to Europe and elope with her once they got back stateside. If only this is what happened.

Consuelo spent months soaking up European hospitality, going to tea party after tea party and meeting prince after duke. But she soon realized something had gone terribly wrong. After five months, her fiancé Winthrop still hadn’t shown up. Nor had he written, or called, or done anything to hold onto the promise they had made each other that day.

It was only much later that she found out the chilling truth.

Consuelo’s love Winthrop Rutherfurd had followed her to Europe, and had even called on where she was staying in Paris. But Consuelo hadn’t managed to fool her mother Alva, who cottoned on to what was going on and refused to admit Winthrop that day or any other. When he wrote frantic letters, she intercepted and destroyed them.

And after all that, Alva still had her cruelest card up her sleeve—and she was about to play it.

The entire time that they were in Europe, Alva had one man on her mind: Charles Richard John Spencer-Churchill, the ninth Duke of Marlborough. The Dukes of Marlborough had a storied history, and Alva—who had secured Consuelo an introduction to the noble at a dinner party on their trip—was foaming at the bit for Consuelo to be a part of that history.

But the Duke of Marlborough was really a snake in the grass.

It wasn’t that Consuelo disliked Marlborough; it’s that she had almost no opinion of him at all. He was inoffensively and blandly handsome, and she thought he was somewhat smart and somewhat nice, but not much more. But the Duke had a dark side he was hiding from Consuelo. When he inherited his title two years before they met, he found out he was practically bankrupt.

In a twist on a historical theme, the duke was fortune-hunting her—and her mother Alva couldn’t be happier. She stopped at nothing to keep pushing them together.

After Consuelo’s Europe trip wrapped up, she might have thought she would finally be free to exhale. She wasn’t. Instead, Alva invited the Duke of Marlborough back to America to visit just a couple of months later.  Consuelo was young, but she wasn’t dumb: She knew what her mother was up to, and she knew it spelled certain doom. But before she could do anything about it, her mother went to horrific new lows.

Sure that her daughter would try to make a break for it with Winthrop the minute the opportunity arose, Alva controlled Consuelo in a chilling way. She actually locked her up in her room, like a princess in a tower, and told any friends who visited that Consuelo wasn’t at home.

Isolated and utterly beaten down, Consuelo couldn’t even get in touch with Winthrop to tell him what was going on. She did, however, get one last tragic chance with him.

During this Rapunzel period, Alva did let Consuelo out to attend the best society balls, naturally. It was at one of these events that Consuelo happened to run into Winthrop at long last, and they shared a single dance together. It was all Winthrop needed. In a flurry, he told Consuelo he still loved her and wanted to elope. But before Consuelo could get a word out, disaster struck.

While Consuelo danced with Winthrop, her eagle-eyed mother watched from the sidelines. She quickly swooped in to separate the pair as soon as possible, foiling any plans they might have made. The fallout was unimaginable. When they got home from the ball that night, Alva demanded Consuelo see her in her private chambers, ready to give her daughter a piece of her mind.

But for once, Alva Vanderbilt got far more than she bargained for.

Certain of what her mother was going to say, the mild-mannered Consuelo finally put her foot down and stated her intention to marry Winthrop Rutherfurd. In a story with a happy ending, this would be where the heiress got her heart’s desire and married the man of her dreams despite her mother’s objections. But this is no fairy tale.

Instead of succumbing to her daughter’s will, Alva exploded with rage, insulting Consuelo and Winthrop alike for their stupidity. She also cast aspersions on Winthrop’s intentions, claiming he just wanted Consuelo for her money. Scariest of all, she vaguely threatened that she wouldn’t “hesitate to shoot a man if I thought he might ruin your life”.

The argument carried on for hours, and Consuelo left, depleted and exhausted, with no clear path forward. Except her mother was just getting started.

When Consuelo woke up the next morning, it was to gut-wrenching news. Her defiance of her mother had caused Alva to have a heart attack, and the matriarch was currently clinging to life in her bedroom. Consuelo begged to see her, but her mother’s emissary instead insisted, referring to last night’s fight, “I warn you there will be catastrophe if you persist”.

Guilt-stricken, Consuelo made a fateful decision.

Consuelo couldn’t bear the thought of causing fatal stress to her mother, not even if it allowed her to keep Winthrop Rutherfurd. So instead of holding her ground, the still-teenaged girl asked the emissary to inform Winthrop that she couldn’t marry him, and that she'd canceled their engagement. It must have been heartbreaking. It was about to get so much worse.

In the wake of her canceled engagement, Consuelo was almost completely alone. Winthrop left town, her friends had long stopped calling—and her mother twisted the knife in further. Almost as soon as she heard about her daughter’s broken engagement, Alva “miraculously” recovered from her deathbed, though not enough to treat Consuelo with any warmth in the coming weeks.

Alva had gradually stripped Consuelo of all her independence. Now she went in for the kill.

Starting in late August of 1895, Alva Vanderbilt accepted the Duke of Marlborough as her guest as she had always planned and began drumming up publicity for the marriage between her daughter and a British peer. Soon, Consuelo was going everywhere with the duke, with Alva giving lavish balls to show her daughter off to both him and society.

Everyone expected an engagement at any moment. When it finally came, it was a high-society tragedy.

In the end, not even the day of Consuelo’s engagement to a duke was worthy of a fairy tale. The duke proposed to her in her family cottage, but he was more like a dutiful cadet than a passionate lover. And the worst was yet to come.  When Consuelo reported her engagement to her younger brothers, she couldn’t keep anguished tears out of her eyes.

Still, she was about to find out just how awful things could get.

Consuelo viewed her upcoming nuptials like a funeral march—but the preparations themselves were just as nightmarish. As soon as the engagement hit the papers, the press crudely characterized Consuelo as yet another “million dollar duchess,” American heiresses who traded their wealth for a European title.

One publication even printed a cartoon with the heading “The Duke’s Return from the Land of Dollars,” with Marlborough sailing Consuelo back to Britain atop a heap of money. As if that humiliation weren’t enough, the Duke’s true feelings soon became obvious.

As plans for the massive, extravagant, and expensive wedding coalesced, Consuelo and her mother held a rehearsal to make sure everyone in the wedding party knew exactly what to do on the big day. But Consuelo’s fiancé dealt her a cruel snub.

The duke decided he didn’t need to attend the rehearsal, especially since he thought the American custom was “vulgar”. He did, however, make sure to show up to the settlement meeting the very next day, where he finalized Consuelo’s 3-million-dollar dowry. And that was just what was going on in public. Behind the scenes, everything was falling apart.

The year of Consuelo’s engagement was also the year the Vanderbilt family publicly imploded. Just months before the duke proposed, Consuelo’s mother Alva had filed for divorce from her father William Vanderbilt—and the reasons were utterly scandalous. For one, William had long kept a mistress, Nellie Neustretter, and Alva was fed up. But that was just the polite interpretation.

While Consuelo’s tycoon father William was no saint in the boardroom or the bedroom, there was a much naughtier secret at play. In truth, Alva had known about his mistress Nellie Neustretter for years. Instead, some said that the real problem was Alva’s own infidelity; she had started up an affair with her husband’s best friend, Oliver Belmont, and was now openly courting him.

Oh, and there was one more truly damning detail.

When the infamous Vanderbilt divorce officially went through, high society couldn’t help gossiping about what was going on. They simply didn’t believe Alva would have given up her hard-won position for Oliver Belmont or anyone else. This leads to the uncomfortable truth: The true urgency for the divorce was a betrayal of the first order.

The last straw, reportedly, was when Willie struck up an affair with none other than Consuelo’s namesake, Alva’s best friend Consuelo Yznaga. So yes, our poor, naive Consuelo was being forced into marriage by a family who didn’t know matrimonial happiness in the slightest. How do you think it’s going to go?

On November 6, 1895, Consuelo’s nightmare finally became a reality. Laced into a wedding gown her mother had chosen before her engagement and walking beside bridesmaids her mother had hand-picked, Consuelo entered the church to marry the man her mother had insisted on.

As she walked down the aisle with her father—who Alva only allowed to come for the sake of appearances before he left immediately after—the crowd turned to face her. When they saw her, some of them must have started whispering.

During her perfect wedding, in front of some of the most influential people in the world, it was patently obvious that Consuelo had been crying. Even worse, she had to stifle mournful sobs throughout the ceremony. To the world outside of that church, though, the marriage still looked like a triumph. It only took the honeymoon for it all to fall apart.

Before marrying the duke, Consuelo knew she didn’t and probably couldn’t love him. That tore her up enough—but on their honeymoon, a sinking feeling overwhelmed her. As they traveled out for their vacation to Europe, Consuelo watched her new husband preen at all the congratulatory letters he was getting from other members of the nobility, including from Queen Victoria herself.

She not only realized her husband was a shallow man, but that she was now a duchess, and subject to all the snobbery of the aristocracy that would put old money New York to shame. But if she thought that was the worst thing she’d find out on her honeymoon, she was very, very wrong.

Consuelo’s honeymoon had barely started before the Duke of Marlborough made a stunning confession to her. First, he outright admitted, with characteristic bloodlessness, that he’d only married her to “save Blenheim,” his ancestral home. That would have been painful on its own to hear, but the Duke followed it up with a much crueler insult.

Besides basically telling her that she amounted only to a big bank account, Consuelo’s new husband revealed his real feelings. He claimed that not only had he married her for her money, but he was also fully in love with another woman and had no intention of developing any kind of romance between the two of them—except, that is, to produce an heir.

By the time Consuelo’s honeymoon wrapped up and she arrived at Blenheim Palace, she was a thoroughly broken woman. It was only a matter of time before it spiraled.

Terrified his American wife was going to come off ignorant and coarse, Consuelo’s husband had spent most of their honeymoon drilling her on his Spencer-Churchill family tree, as well as on other people of importance and rank in society. As it turned out, Consuelo nailed it: She arrived in England as the toast of the town, and commoners and aristocrats alike fell in love with her. But it wasn’t all good news.

Even Consuelo’s arrival at her new home was an enormous disappointment. The Duke of Marlborough hadn’t been kidding when he said Blenheim needed saving. Over the years, the bankrupted dynasty had had to sell off masses of furnishings and possessions, so that now the stately home was only a husk.  And then there were Consuelo’s unpleasant “duties”.

For Consuelo, one of the worst parts of being a wife was sharing her marriage bed with a man whom she didn’t love, and who felt utterly indifferent—if not outright scornful—toward her. Nonetheless, she was the Duchess of Marlborough now, and she laid back and thought of America.

Soon enough, she gave birth to a son, John Spencer-Churchill. Her duty done, Consuelo might have settled into a quiet, unassuming life. Instead, the exact opposite happened.

It all started, perhaps, with a high society invitation. Gladys Deacon, the newest young American heiress on the market, secured herself an invite to Blenheim one day and became fast friends with both the Duke of Marlborough and Consuelo. But Gladys had a reputation as something of a wild child, and things escalated fast.

Gladys and Consuelo may have been friends, but that didn’t stop the socialite from stabbing Consuelo right in the back. It wasn’t long before Gladys had completely supplanted Consuelo at Blenheim, and she and the duke struck up a torrid affair that lasted over a decade. As for Consuelo’s feelings on the matter? Well, they weren’t what you think.

As it happened, Consuelo wasn’t exactly bothered by her husband taking up with another woman, even if that woman was her friend. That’s because she was far from faithful herself—and one of her first lovers was scandalous. After their agonizing will-they, wont-they back and forth, she eventually did hook up with Winthrop Rutherfurd shortly after her marriage.

And oh boy, did this have consequences.

In 1898, Consuelo gave birth to another son, Lord Ivor Spencer-Churchill, fully completing her duty by providing her husband with—as she often wryly quipped—“an heir and a spare”. Except there was just one incredibly shocking thing.

Many believed Ivor was actually Winthrop Rutherfurd’s son, given that the boy had very little resemblance to either the duke or his older brother. Yet like so many of Consuelo’s romances, her dalliance with her old lover was going to go up in flames.

For a brief time, it looked like Consuelo was going to get her happy ever after at last with Rutherfurd; around the time of Ivor’s conception, Rutherfurd experienced a fit of passion and proposed that they elope together. Consuelo knew just what to do. She rushed to her husband and confessed everything, hoping now she could finally be free.

Instead, all she got was more hurt and disappointment.

At first, Consuelo’s announcement to Marlborough seemed to be successful, and the duke—indifferent to the bitter end—even allowed her to visit Rutherfurd again to decide what she really wanted to do. The very next day, Consuelo rushed to the arms of her lover, hopeful that her whole future was before her. Instead, Rutherfurd dealt her a heartless betrayal.

When Consuelo got to Rutherfurd’s that day, he spoke some of the harshest words in the history of love. In the interim between proposing and Consuelo visiting, he had apparently gotten a major case of buyer’s remorse and presented her with one of the worst excuses for not marrying her. Apparently, he felt “too attached to her” to elope.

No, it made absolutely no sense. All the same, Rutherfurd wouldn’t budge, and Consuelo had to go back to Marlborough with her tail between her legs. Still, when it comes to Consuelo’s bedroom life, that’s just the beginning.

Consuelo may not have had much attraction to her husband, but she certainly seemed to like his family line. Once, while Marlborough was away fighting in the Boer War, Consuelo took up with his cousin Freddie Guest—who was, in fact, staying at Blenheim as a guest. And when the duke finally got home from battle, Consuelo had another nasty surprise in store.

By this point, Consuelo had given up on ever fully escaping her marriage, so she had to fall back on merely hurting her husband any way she knew how. When the duke arrived home from the conflict, she coolly informed him that she had been sleeping with his cousin, and that she never wanted to see him in her bedroom ever again.

Somehow, though, it gets more twisted.

Consuelo actually had affairs with no fewer than three of the Duke of Marlborough’s cousins over the course of her marriage, to the shock and horror of the respectable Spencer-Churchill family. In some ways, this very particular promiscuity was a continued cry for help from the dank cell of her loveless marriage. But it also put her in incredibly horrible positions.

One of the naughty Spencer-Churchill cousins was Charles, Viscount Castlereagh, and he was more of a piece of work than the Duke of Marlborough himself. Charles was such a rake that he would often send Consuelo love letters with missives to his other girlfriends attached, along with a request that she kindly forward them along.

Nonetheless, there was one cousin of her husband’s that Consuelo really got along with.

When Consuelo married into the Spencer-Churchill family, she inadvertently changed the course of history. That’s because before she had an heir with the Duke of Marlborough, none other than his cousin Winston Churchill was next in line to inherit Blenheim. As such, the birth of Consuelo’s first son helped free Winston to go into politics—something he was apparently very grateful for, and the pair became fast friends.

But that friendship was about to endure a horrible shock.

In 1906, Consuelo Vanderbilt stunned the world. That year, she and her husband could finally take no more and publicly separated—and if her mother’s American divorce set society atwitter, Consuelo’s split from a British peer caused even more of a scandal. It had been a decade of utter misery for them both, but it still wasn’t the “done” thing in the aristocracy.

Little did England know, Consuelo had more scandals up her sleeve.

A separation was one thing, but Consuelo and the duke wanted to go whole hog and file for divorce. It was a grueling battle that required years in and out of courtrooms, even with both parties very sure they were doing what was best for them. In fact, it was in one of those courtrooms that Consuelo’s mother Alva made a heartbreaking confession.

Since Consuelo’s separation from the duke, her domineering mother Alva had made a strange, late-in-life pivot. She had transformed into, of all things, a vehement suffragette. While this was more than a little ironic given her childhood owning slaves and her motherhood controlling her daughter, it did seem to provoke twinges of feminist guilt in the matriarch, and she showed it by testifying in Consuelo’s divorce.

On the stand, Alva confessed that "I have always had absolute power over my daughter” and she admitted she “forced” Consuelo into the union, begging the judge to grant the divorce for a marriage that had so obviously happened under duress. It worked: In 1921, Consuelo became a free woman—and she wasted no time enjoying that freedom.

Mere weeks after her divorce came through, Consuelo had a huge deja-vu. On July 4, 1921, before the ink on her divorce papers was dry, she married again. Her second husband was the dashing French pilot and man about town Jacques Balsan, who was her lover in the days leading up to her official divorce. In fact, she and Balsan went way back.

Heartwarmingly enough, Balsam had been in love with Consuelo since her debutante days; he’d fallen in love with her when he first saw her just before her 18th birthday. The less heartwarming part? A decade older than Consuelo, Balsam had been nearing his 30s at the time he first ogled the teenager.

Even so, it’s hard to argue with the results; the next period of Consuelo’s life was everything she deserved and more.

Later in her life, Consuelo wrote (with the help of a ghostwriter) her autobiography The Glitter and the Gold, where her life with the Duke of Marlborough was “the glitter,” with all its hollow opulence, and her time with Balsan was the true “gold”. They were blissfully happy together, with Balsan doting on his wife. As for Consuelo’s ex-husband, well…he wasn’t so lucky.

While Consuelo had been no saint throughout the course of her marriage, the Duke of Marlborough certainly hadn’t treated her properly, either. Eventually, karma came for him. He too married his mistress, Gladys Deacon, just weeks after the divorce. But unlike Consuelo, his second marriage was far from blissful. It was a total nightmare.

Consuelo’s rival Gladys Deacon was incredibly captivating, but she was also incredibly narcissistic. Shortly after becoming the official lady of the house at Consuelo’s old home of Blenheim, Gladys painted a huge mural of her own sparkling green eyes on the front hall ceiling. And really, this was just a tiny sign of the deranged acts to come.

By the time Consuelo and her second husband Jacques Balsan were happily entering middle age, the duke and Gladys were doing nothing but tormenting each other. Gladys not only bred “Blenheim Spaniels”—a hobby her husband detested—just to spite the duke, she also reportedly kept a gun in her bedroom to prevent him from ever entering (this kind of thing seemed to happen to Marlborough a lot).

Eventually, the duke evicted Gladys from the premises and passed in 1934, utterly estranged from his second wife.

Consuelo’s relationship with the Duke of Marlborough didn’t last, but her friendship with his cousin Winston Churchill surprisingly managed to pass the test of time. Churchill frequently visited Consuelo in her chateau near Paris into the 1930s. But for all her mid-life happiness, the next decades brought final tragedies to Consuelo’s story.

In 1956, Consuelo got devastating news. Her youngest son, Lord Ivor Spencer-Churchill, developed a brain tumor, and his health quickly went downhill. Doctors weren’t able to operate on it, so Consuelo had to watch as her baby deteriorated and then passed that September at just 57 years old. And the hands of fate had even more cruelties to dish out.

1956 was a horrific year for Consuelo. Not only did her son pass that fall, but in November of that year, her beloved husband Jacques Balsan—now frail and 88 years old—also passed. In the span of two months, Consuelo had lost two of the people she loved the most, and she was well and truly alone for the first time in her life.

Consuelo spent her remaining years living like a ghost of a bygone age—which, in all honesty, she was. Living out the next decade in Long Island, New York, she followed her husband and son into the grave on December 6, 1964, passing at the age of 87. With her went some of the last living memories of the Gilded Age of America.

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Born in 1933 to Elsa and Joseph Collins, Joan Collins had show business in her blood. From a very young age, her parents had a strong influence on her future career: Joan's mother was a dance instructor and her father was a talent agent, and by the time she was a teenager, Joan was already thinking about becoming an actress. However, her road to fame was far from easy—in fact, it was downright dangerous.

Through most of her teen years, Joan Collins wasn't boy-crazy at all. But by the time she turned 17, she was eager to gain some intimate experience, if only to measure up to her other "worldly" classmates. At first, she fumbled her way through her first crushes and dating attempts, and then one day, she was given a rare opportunity—one she'd only dreamed about.

When she was only 18, Collins was introduced to her ultimate celebrity crush and idol, actor Maxwell Reed. As a youth, Collins had once vowed to marry Maxwell Reed, and now, she actually had a chance to meet him. She was completely starstruck. When this 32-year-old rake asked her out, she accepted without a second thought. But this was no fairytale.

Joan's first date with Reed should have been a night to remember. Unfortunately, it turned into a nightmare she’d rather forget. Instead of taking her out on the town, Reed took her back to his place, drugged her, and then had his way with her when she was unconscious. Although she called the whole traumatizing experience "awful" and "degrading," she also made the most shocking decision.

After Reed mistreated her, Collins decided to try to forget about the whole thing and continued to date him. She was even pleased when he proposed and told all her friends that her childhood dreams had come true, "Told you I'd marry him!" But beneath her convincing smiles, Collins hid a terrible truth. As her wedding day approached, she began to wither under the weight of her discontent.

For Collins, intimacy with Reed never improved. In fact, she didn't enjoy it at all. However, according to her mother, this was perfectly normal. And so, anytime Collins and Reed slept together, she endured her displeasure, distracting herself with the TV, and waiting for it to end. When she finally admitted to her parents that she didn't want to go through with the wedding, they were livid.

Collins' parents wouldn't take "no" for an answer. Selfishly worried about their own careers and the opinions of others, they urged her to marry Reed despite her unhappiness. And so, due to the enormous pressure from her parents, Collins married Reed on her 19th birthday. Of course, this was all a recipe for disaster, and soon, it all came apart at the seams.

From the very beginning, her marriage never stood a chance. Maxwell Reed was terribly jealous. He absolutely resented any sliver of success Collins enjoyed, sometimes even giving her the cold shoulder for days on end. But his intolerance didn't end there. His jealousy jumped to a whole new level whenever another man glanced her way—so much so, that he often scared her.

Whenever Collins attracted the attention of other men, Reed would became completely obsessive: He even threatened to cut her face so no man would ever want to look at her again. As jealous as Reed was, he wasn’t above putting a price on his beautiful wife. On one occasion, he came up with a proposition so demented—it had Joan on the run.

A man at a nightclub offered Reed £10,000 in order to sleep with Collins. You’d imagine that jealous Reed would have hit the ceiling. Not this guy. Apparently Reed stopped being jealous when there was money involved. Reed actually wanted to accept the deal, and most importantly, he wanted to watch the transaction. For Collins, this was the last straw. She ran straight from the nightclub to her parent's place. It was finally time for Joan to get a divorce.

In 1952—the same year she married Reed—Collins also starred as a juvenile delinquent in I Believe In You, and it earned her quite the reputation. After the film's release, the press dubbed her "Britain's Bad Girl" for her performance. But this was only the beginning. She'd continue to earn this nickname in one of her next films. In fact, she'd have tongues wagging on a global scale.

The following year, Joan Collins rocked the boat once again with her appearance in Cosh Boy, which raised a great deal of controversy. The film was one of the first to get an X certificate in Britain. It was also banned in Sweden, Australia, and Birmingham. Joan's spicy reputation was heating up and if she needed advice, her father was certainly no help in the matter.

Before Joan took her show on the road and left for Hollywood, her talent agent dad had some advice for her. He said that if Collins wanted to kick-start her career there was one sure way to do it: strip down for the camera. Nice fatherly advice. Many years later, she'd end up doing just that. For now, however, she was eager to make her mark with her acting chops alone. And on one memorable occasion, she certainly stood out from the crowd.

Howard Hawks’ Land of the Pharaohs—now considered a cult classic—was Joan’s leg up into Hollywood. It’s a surprise that she stood out in this film as in one single scene there were reportedly almost 10,000 extras. But amidst the many faces, Joan's was the one with star power: 20th Century Fox noticed the sultry princess and immediately signed her on.

An argument between leading actress Marilyn Monroe and 20th Century Fox resulted in a sudden opportunity for Joan Collins. The Girl In The Red Velvet Swing is about a woman whose husband murders her lover. But the behind the scenes, the film's production had its own turbulent tale—and Joan Collins found herself wrapped up in it.

During the production of The Girl In The Red Velvet Swing, Marilyn Monroe reportedly threw a snit and refused to do the film, leaving the studio no choice but to suspend her. But now they had a glaring predicament: they needed a new leading lady. Luckily, Joan Collins just happened to be at the right place at the right time and won the coveted part.

But just as her star was on the rise, her own love life struggled to take flight.

After three long years, Joan finally secured a divorce from her cruel first husband, Maxwell Reed. The whole process was a total nightmare and she ended up having to borrow money from 20th Century Fox in order to drive the divorce home. Walking away from that dumpster fire, Joan said she departed "poorer, wiser, and with a growing distrust of men." But, of course, Joan wasn't alone for long.

Post-divorce Collins soon entered serious dating mode. To say her dance card was full would be a gross understatement. Let’s put it this way, she went on so many dinner dates that when she gave up her rented apartment, she found something very telling: her oven still had its original plastic covering. But continuous dating eventually caused her to make a startling decision.

After her serial dating period—and two sour relationships—Collins thought about taking a break from men. What good had come from them after all? Her first husband had been an abuser and a loser. Certainly she was better off on her own. But just as she'd made up her mind, she met her next handsome costar and her resolve dissolved into thin air.

Collins was filming in Grenada when she met the jaw-droppingly handsome Harry Belafonte. Together, they acted in Island in the Sun—a film that was surprisingly ahead of its time for its depiction of interracial romance and relationships. Collins had no scenes with Belafonte but, when he laid eyes on his lovely co-star, he couldn't look away—even the British film crew couldn't help noticing his special regard for Joan...

Joan was completely aware that a white woman pursuing a black man in the fifties was unheard of, and had absolutely no intention of shacking up with Belafonte. But soon, she couldn't resist his compelling charms. One night, the two of them took a romantic twilight stroll along the beach. The mood was set. And that's when Harry Belafonte leaned in close and made her an offer she couldn't refuse.

Harry Belafonte asked Joan Collins to meet him in secret later that spring. And of course, she agreed. They met at the Coconut Grove club, and as she watched him perform lilting jazz numbers and calypso songs, she knew her heart was taken. And so, these two star-crossed lovers embarked on a passionate affair destined for heartache.

Joan and Belafonte had a fling to remember. They mostly hid out at Joan's apartment so no one would know about their secret relationship, but soon it became sadly clear that it was never meant to last. You see, there were two things holding them back: the fact that an interracial romance was still taboo (something that could end both of their careers) and the fact that Belafonte had a wife.

After Belafonte, Joan swore off dating married men. Well, for a couple of days anyway. Next was MGM producer George Englund, who repeatedly promised that things with his wife were as good as over. Joan believed him until Englund’s wife, Cloris, ended up banging on her door demanding to see her husband. But then it was Collins’ turn to go ballistic.

Joan Collins played the peeping Tom and spied Englund doing something horrible: jumping into bed with his own wife. The nerve! The sight shattered Joan and the next day she barged into Englund’s office, demanding an explanation about why he was in bed with his wife. His response only confirmed her worst possible fears.

Not only did Englund admit to sleeping with his wife, he also delivered the most shocking news: His wife was pregnant. Although he promised he’d only slept with her once, Joan rightly refused to believe him. After her disappointing track record with married men, she promised her next relationship would be with someone single. But first, she wanted to have a little bit of fun.

One of Collins’ next conquests was Rafael Trujillo Jr., the son of the vicious dictator of the Dominican Republic. Trujillo was famous for giving out extravagant presents. He once gave Zsa Zsa Gabor a Mercedes Convertible and a chinchilla coat. Gabor was game for setting Collins up with Trujillo, but Collins had an outrageous request.

Collins would only meet Trujillo if she was sure to get an expensive present. Gabor relayed the information and Trujillo arranged for a diamond necklace. Collins was on the next plane to Florida to follow through with her end of the deal. It was to be dinner, dancing, and whatever came naturally on a yacht anchored off Palm Beach. Collins certainly performed—but apparently not very well.

Trujillo reported to Gabor that after spending the night with Collins, the beautiful actress was not what he had expected. In fact he called her "boring." But Gabor, knowing Collins, came up with an interesting theory: She believed that clever Collins only pretended to be boring so that she could get her necklace and not have Trujillo following her around like a lost puppy.

If this was true, she sashayed away from the deal with some shiny diamonds and a priceless rebound story.

In 1960, Joan Collins had an unprecedented opportunity—she was up for the lead role in Cleopatra. Called in to test for the part on several occasions, she became increasingly hopeful that the part might be hers for the taking. But it soon became clear that the CEO of 20th Century Pictures, as well as the head of the studio, had sinister ulterior motives.

Marilyn Monroe had once advised Collins to "watch out for the wolves in Hollywood." When the head of the studio offered to buy her an apartment in exchange for an intimate relationship, Collins grew apprehensive. But that wasn't all. He also offered her the pick of 20th Century Fox's scripts, pretty much guaranteeing her career and her role in Cleopatra.

When Collins refused to accept his advances, she turned her back with her agency still in tact. However, she soon learned the price of her defiance. She lost the role of Cleopatra to Elizabeth Taylor. She would never know whether she was spurned because the studio wanted a bigger name or whether her cold shoulder toward the lecherous studio head had caused them to reject her entirely.

One night, while dining at a Hollywood restaurant, Joan couldn't help but notice a handsome younger man looking her way. The man was very confident, brazen even. Collins became intrigued and asked her companion who the young man was. Her friend told her that it was Shirley MacLaine’s brother, who was just getting started as an actor. His name? Warren Beatty.

After seeing Collins that night, Beatty—determined to take her out on a date—managed to get a hold of her number. Collins was 26 and Beatty was just 22, but once they started dating, their passion was unrivaled. In fact, it didn’t take long for Beatty to move into Collins’ apartment. The two played like they were a married couple and Collins enjoyed how compatible they were. But soon, Collins found out something very odd about her younger boyfriend.

Despite the age difference, Collins and Beatty got on like a house on fire. But there was one area that they didn’t see eye to eye on: the bedroom. It seemed that Beatty wanted to spend a lot of time there—in fact, he wanted it several times a day. Collins’ pal Joanne Woodward showed her no pity. Her not-so-woke advice? If he’s 22 and "libidinous", let him do what he wants, as often as he wants.

In spite of Collins’ exhaustion from keeping Beatty happy in the bedroom, in 1960, she agreed to marry the young heartthrob. But unfortunately, their careers kept pulling them apart, not to mention Beatty's wandering eye and womanizing ways. In the short time they'd been together, he'd catapulted to fame, and now had attention from every corner. Soon, Collins caught wind of some disturbing rumors.

When whispers of Beatty's infidelity began to circulate, Collins didn't want to believe it. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. At home, they regularly engaged in vicious fights—sometimes about rent and sometimes about their house guests. It was a total mess. When Collins got the opportunity to film on location in Hong Kong, she jumped at the chance. She just wanted to get away from him. Their time together had run its course. But even after they were through, she held on to a huge secret.

Years down the road, Joan Collins published a memoir that spilled the tea on her and Beatty's tumultuous relationship. In it, a particular secret came out: she had once been pregnant with Beatty's child. Fearing scandal and a ruined career, Collins opted for an abortion and never started a family with Beatty. When they called it quits, she walked away and never looked back.

In 1963, Collins married singer-songwriter Anthony Newley. Newley became famous for his remarkably titled film: Can Heironymus Merkin Ever Forget Mercy Humppe and Find True Happiness? In the film, Newley plays a man who relates his most promiscuous adventures to his young children, played by his and Collins' real life son and daughter. Let there be no doubt: this film was going to come back to haunt him.

In her later memoir Past Imperfect, Collins wrote about Newley in very unflattering terms. She wrote that he allegedly had a taste for underaged girls. But weirdly enough, Collins also wrote that she only agreed to marry the singer under one condition: he had to keep his criminal urges under control. But as dysfunctional as this marriage was, Collins never seemed to learn her lesson.

Collins is legendary for her bad marriages, and of the five, this next one was no exception. In 1972, after divorcing Newley, she married Ronald Kass, a recording executive. But everything went downhill after Kass lost his job. As a result, Collins became the sole earner in the family. And what she went through to support him was absolutely staggering.

Collins didn’t just have to put food on the table, she also had to take care of Kass’s expenses: his drug habit and the alimony he paid to his ex. As the debts accumulated, she joined a self-help group in an attempt to alleviate her anxieties. This didn't help at all. In fact, the group pretty much told her off for not being more empathetic. To make matters worse, over the next few years, her acting career began to falter.

In a moment of desperation, Joan Collins applied for financial assistance. In 1976, she reportedly pulled up to the unemployment benefits office on Santa Monica Boulevard in a gold Mercedes. Collins’ appearance at the center stunned the staff. “Weren’t you Joan Collins?” someone at the office asked her. “I still am,” Collins replied and filled out her application.

Collins' opportunities to make good films were quickly drying up. She hit rock bottom in 1977 when she appeared in Empire of the Ants—a cheesy sci-fi horror film. It was around this time that Collins’ agent took her to lunch. With blunt honesty, he laid out the grim situation: Her acting days were over. For the first time, she started to think about finding a new line of work...Interior design? Writing? Of course not. This is Joan Collins we're talking about.

Collins never collected her unemployment check—it wasn’t her style. But she still had to find work. She quickly secured the rights to one of her sisters most lewd novels—The Stud—and then set out to find funding for it. Her disaster husband would be the producer and she found George Walker, the head of a movie distribution company, for the funding. But there was a catch: Walker only agreed to bankroll the film under one sleazy condition.

Collins had often stated that she would never take her clothes off in a film—even though her father had recommended it. She once said in an interview, "I won't ever strip in a movie. I think a woman, and a man for that matter, are more exciting with their clothes on. Garbo never stripped. Dietrich kept her clothes on and so did Vivien Leigh. And who is more glamorous than them?"

Of course, this was before her career went off the rails. Now, with Walker demanding a stripped down performance, she had no choice in the matter.

Viewers considered Collins’ film The Stud softcore and rather crass. Basically there are a lot of scenes of Collins’ character getting it on: in a lift, in a limousine, in a swimming pool, and even in a swing chair. What can you say: a girl’s gotta eat. That said, the film netted over 20 million dollars internationally and became one of the highest selling British videos ever.

But there was more Collins wanted to do to fix her financial problems. She had one more cash grab left.

A month after the public got an eyeful of Collins in The Stud, her memoir Past Imperfect hit the streets. Just like her film, her book was extremely revealing. Collins knew it had to be shocking in order to get readers to buy it, and so, she included everything: the shameful, the vulgar, and the most disgraceful episodes of her life. However, she wasn't quite ready for what happened next.

It hadn’t occurred to Collins that a newspaper might decide to publish excerpts from her book in its weekend edition. Well that’s exactly what happened. But there's more. The newspaper chose to use Collins’ most scandalous stories as headlines. Reportedly, Collins ran around LA trying to purchase all the copies to save her friends from reading them.

In the 1980s there was a night time soap opera feud between CBS’s Dallas and ABC's Dynasty. Except after Dynasty’s first season there wasn’t much of a competition: Dallas was the clear winner.  Dynasty’s second season needed a boost and Collins provided it. Her role as the scheming Alexis Carrington took the show to new heights and even earned her six Golden Globe Nominations and one win. And what did it do for Dallas?

With Collins playing Alexis Carrington, Dynasty finally got the edge over Dallas. And most people feel that if it hadn’t been for Collin’s feisty performance, Dynasty would never have nudged Dallas out of the number one slot. But it turns out that Collins got the role out of sheer luck, as their first choice was actually a much bigger old Hollywood star...

When Collins accepted her Emmy, included in her thank-yous was a total surprise. She thanked Italian screen legend Sophia Loren. What for? Acting advice? Nope. It was because Loren had said "no" to the role, allowing Collins to swoop in and claim it. But as she soon learned, success didn't necessarily ensure security...

During the last season of Dynasty, Collins held the honor of being the highest paid woman on television. She reaped a substantial financial reward for what she’d done: single-handedly saving a TV show. And what, besides a raise, did she get as thanks? Nothing. They cut her last season to 10 episodes and told her she was too expensive.

In 1983, when Collins was at the edge of turning 50, she agreed to pose for Playboy magazine. At her age it was a bit of a risk to let a photographer take racy photos of her and then present those photos alongside the usual twenty-something models. It was a 12-page spread and photographed by old Hollywood glamor photographer George Hurrel. This gamble paid off. The images were absolutely stunning.

Unfortunately, her next spin of the wheel wasn't so lucky.

The Vegas setting for her 1985 marriage should’ve been a clue that Collins was taking a massive gamble. Her groom was singer Peter Holm who actor Michael Caine once referred to as "the Swedish comedian"—code for: not funny at all. But it was more than that. Collins soon learned that Holm was not her prince charming in any way, shape, or form.

Collins marriage to Holm soon spun out of control as his bitter temper leant to heated arguments and constant fighting. Collins once described him as "the most combative person" she'd ever met. By December 1986, Collins had placed a restraining order against her husband. The most baffling part of all? He was in complete denial over the whole thing.

Even though it was clear that Collins wanted Holm to keep his distance, he kept insisting in interviews that Collins still loved him and that it was only a matter of time before the two of them reunited. Even more puzzling? He blamed it all on her over-identification with her Dynasty character. Collins was having none of this and quickly hired a divorce lawyer. But the divorce proceedings were even more wild that she ever expected.

Collins' lawyer revealed that Holm had kept a secret lover—a burgeoning actress named Romina Danielson. His questions were brutal and relentless, and she reportedly fainted on the stand. In the end, Collins won the case and Holm only walked away with $80,000. Her disrespect for Holm reigned supreme—so much so that in her next memoir, she only referred to him as "the Swede."

After this debacle of a marriage, Collins didn't marry again for another 15 years.

Holm didn’t turn Collins off marriage forever. In fact she seemed to have learned something from her past four husbands and finally found someone more suitable. She met Percy Gibson, 31 years her junior, while working in theater. One thing she says that makes this relationship work: He likes to drive and she likes getting rides. Sounds like a match made in heaven.

Collins’ sister, author Jackie Collins, suffered from cancer and passed on in 2015. Surprisingly she kept her illness a secret—even from her sister. But Collins doesn't have to miss her only sister. She says a fly has been following her between LA, France, and England, and Collins believes it may be her sister: reincarnated.

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Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 13, 14,

Charlemagne would shape history forever. but his own history is something of a mystery. Some sources claim that he was born on April 2, 748, while others put the year as 742. It’s not entirely clear where he was born. Chroniclers can’t seem to agree whether his birthplace was Aachen, Liège, Herstal, or Quierzy.

But they did agree on one thing: he was born into destiny.

As the eldest son of Pepin the Short and Bertrada of Laon, Charlemagne inherited his father’s kingdom—and his ambition. His very name honored his legendary grandfather, Charles Martel, the man who halted the Moors at Tours. Greatness was in Charlemagne’s blood. And his name.

Before he was “the Great,” Charlemagne was simply “Charles”. However, even in his lifetime, given his accomplishments, he needed a stronger name. The French called him Charles le Magne—Charles “the Great”—while Latin scribes hailed him as Carolus Magnus. No matter the language, everyone agreed: this kid was different.

Though no one knows how far his schooling went, Charlemagne was as clever as they came. He likely spent his youth at his father’s wandering court, learning battle tactics and diplomacy instead of grammar. Even so, he spoke multiple languages and understood Greek. There is debate as to his literacy.

But when you looked like Charlemagne, you didn’t need to read or write.

Einhard, a Charlemagne biographer, described him as “broad and strong,” with sparkling eyes and a laugh that could fill a hall. Einhard commented on Charlemagne’s short neck and round head but said that, despite those features, “his appearance was impressive whether he was sitting or standing”. He certainly stood out in a crowd.

Using modern scientific techniques, historians have measured Charlemagne’s bones. And, suffice to say, he was large and in charge. The measurements of his left tibia suggest that he stood somewhere between 5’10” and 6’4”—a full head taller than most men of his era. In other words, he was ready to rule before he even ascended to the throne.

By 760, before his father had vacated the throne, Charlemagne was already signing royal charters in his own name. When Pepin the Short passed on September 24, 768, the young prince wasted no time claiming his crown. He was anointed at Noyon, while his brother, Carloman, took his own coronation at Soissons the very same day.

He shared a crown, but not a kingdom.

Though Charlemagne and his brother technically ruled one kingdom, they lived as rivals. Charlemagne governed the north and east from his palace in Austrasia, while Carloman ruled Burgundy, Provence, and Aquitaine. The peace between them was as fragile as the borders they drew.

Before his royal wedding, Charlemagne had a relationship with a noblewoman named Himiltrude. Together, they had a son, Pepin—later nicknamed “the Hunchback”. Whether or not the couple ever married remains unclear, but the alliance produced a child who would one day challenge his father’s throne with devastating consequences.

In 770, Charlemagne’s mother, Bertrada, arranged a marriage to secure peace with Lombardy. Her son dutifully wed King Desiderius’ daughter, known to history as Desiderata. The union was brief, cold, and entirely political. But it set the stage for a conflict that would define his reign.

Charlemagne’s joint rule with his brother didn’t last long. And, thankfully, fate intervened before he had to. His brother suddenly passed on December 4, 771, leaving Charlemagne to claim the entire Frankish kingdom all to himself. He marched straight into his brother’s lands, forcing Carloman’s widow, Gerberga, and her children to flee to Lombardy for protection.

No one, however, was safe from Charlemagne.

Charlemagne didn’t take kindly to Desiderius harboring his brother’s family. To show his displeasure—and strengthen his grip on the new territories—he cast aside Desiderius’ daughter as his wife and married Hildegard. As the daughter of Count Gerold, one of Carloman’s most powerful nobles, the marriage solidified Charlemagne’s grip on power.

And he secured his crown just in time.

In 772, having absorbed his brother’s lands into his kingdom, Charlemagne turned his gaze eastward to the wild, pagan lands of the Saxons. Even before his reign, the Saxons had been raiding Frankish borders. But a new king meant new rules—Charlemagne didn’t play nice like his ancestors. With his fearsome army at his back, Charlemagne destroyed a sacred Saxon site and made off with their gold and silver.

The fight, however, was far from over.

Charlemagne’s first Saxon campaign in 772 was only the beginning. His conflict with them would stretch on for more than three decades—longer than most men of the time lived. From 772 to 804, Charlemagne waged nearly continuous battles against Saxons, baptizing, exiling, or executing anyone who refused to bend the knee to Christ—or to him.

You might say that Charlemagne was the sword of Christendom.

As Charlemagne mopped up the floor with the Saxons, Desiderius began plotting his revenge against his former son-in-law, conspiring with Carloman’s heirs. But, when Pope Adrian I begged Charlemagne for help against Desiderius Lombards, Charlemagne saw his opportunity. He assembled his armies and crossed the Alps in 773, laying siege to the Lombard capital of Pavia.

Popes would forever be in Charlemagne’s debt.

Ever the devout Christian, Charlemagne paused his siege of Pavia in 774 and traveled to Rome to celebrate Easter in style. There, Pope Adrian I, indebted to Charlemagne for his rescue of the Vatican, staged a grand reception for the conquering Frankish hero. Together, the two men swore solemn oaths, sealing their alliance—and the fate of Europe.

By June 774, Charlemagne’s siege of Pavia was in full effect, leaving the Lombards starving and sick. Desiderius’ men, sensing their defeat, surrendered to Charlemagne without much of a fight. With the support of the local nobles and city leaders, he made himself King of the Lombards—and turned Italy into a Frankish province.

The choice was clear: join…or else.

The celebrations of his conquest of Lombardy had barely finished when Charlemagne went back on campaign. In 776, he returned to the eastern front of his kingdom to crush yet another Saxon uprising, burning villages and forcing entire tribes to accept baptism into the Christian faith. Converts received mercy; rebels received the sword.

His faith was as fierce as his fury.

The following year, to consolidate his growing kingdom, Charlemagne summoned both Frankish nobles and newly conquered Saxons to a massive assembly at Paderborn. There, many Saxons pledged loyalty—but one man refused. Widukind, a defiant Saxon chieftain, slipped north into Denmark to regroup.

Thankfully for Widukind, Charlemagne had bigger fish to fry—for the time being.

While at Paderborn, emissaries from al-Andalus arrived with a bold request for Charlemagne: help overthrow their rival Muslim rulers. Ever ambitious, Charlemagne led his army across the Pyrenees in 778, meeting little resistance. But it was all a feint. While traversing the Roncevaux Pass, Basque warriors ambushed his rear guard in a brutal surprise attack that left his men reeling.

It was a rare defeat for Charlemagne, but his army escaped the ambush with barely a scratch. His next defeat was a personal one.

In 781, Charlemagne and his wife Hildegard journeyed to Rome with one mission in mind: begin the dynasty. With their children in tow, they arrived in Rome where Pope Adrian baptized young Carloman, renamed him Pepin, and crowned both Pepin and Louis. With that act, Charlemagne was now a king among kings.

But he couldn’t seem to keep a queen.

During that same Roman visit, Hildegard gave birth to a daughter, Gisela—but tragedy soon followed. After returning to Francia, Hildegard passed on during childbirth…along with her newborn namesake. Grief-stricken, Charlemagne ordered daily Masses for her soul. But, just months later, he lost his mother, Bertrada, too.

He didn’t mourn for long.

Charlemagne didn’t linger long in mourning. By the end of 783, he had remarried, this time to Fastrada. She was the daughter of an East Frankish noble and their union strengthened Charlemagne's hold on the eastern frontier where his feud with the Saxons still raged on. Then an old enemy came back into the picture.

Just when he thought he had subdued the Saxons, Charlemagne’s old nemesis Widukind returned from exile in Denmark. And he came back swinging. Widukind rallied the Saxons to his side and ambushed a Frankish force, dealing a crushing blow. Widukind thought he had scored a victory—but he had only poked the bear.

When word reached Charlemagne of Widukind’s surprise attack, he wasted no time reasserting his authority. At the head of an army, Charlemagne stormed to Verden and demanded justice. Widukind, however, fled once he heard Charlemagne was coming. The Saxon nobles, fearing reprisal, handed over thousands of captives to Charlemagne. But it did nothing to appease him.

Instead of forgiveness, Charlemagne ordered 4,500 Saxon captives to be executed in one day. History would call it the Massacre of Verden.

Even centuries later, the stain from the blood of 4,500 Saxon captives sullied Charlemagne’s reputation. “Although this figure may be exaggerated,” wrote the historian Johannes Fried, “the basic truth of the event is not in doubt”. Historian Alessandro Barbero went further, calling it “perhaps the greatest stain on his reputation”.

A stain that he seemed to wear proudly.

Charlemagne’s word was every bit as brutal as his sword. To cement control over Saxony, he issued the Capitulatio de partibus Saxoniae, a decree with no mercy in it. Pagans who refused baptism or practiced their old rites faced execution. Charlemagne wanted to erase Saxon culture from Europe altogether.

And he very nearly succeeded.

By 785, after years of devastation, Charlemagne had finally subdued Saxony. When Widukind emerged once more, the king offered him peace—and baptism. In a grand ceremony, the rebel chieftain stood before the altar with Charlemagne himself serving as his former nemesis’ godfather. The Saxon battles were over.

The empire-building has just begun.

With the Saxons defeated, Charlemagne could look elsewhere for expansion. And he looked to Italy. Charlemagne marched into Benevento, forcing Duke Arechis to flee to Salerno. Before long, Arechis submitted, offering his loyalty and his own son as a hostage. Charlemagne accepted with a smile; he’d added yet another crown to his collection.

But now his kingdom bordered a fierce foe—or a powerful friend.

While in Italy, Charlemagne met envoys from Constantinople, the seat of power in the Eastern Roman Empire. But the meeting didn’t go well. Empress Irene had convened the Second Council of Nicaea without inviting Charlemagne or any Frankish bishops to represent his interests. Feeling slighted, Charlemagne broke off his daughter’s engagement to her son, Emperor Constantine VI.

The feud between Charlemagne in the West and the Byzantines in the East was getting heated.

Charlemagne wasn’t just about battles and beheadings. In fact, he issued a sweeping reform known as the Admonitio Generalis. It demanded schools in every monastery and cathedral, ensuring both priests and peasants could read Scripture. After all, he needed someone to administer the lands that he conquered.

And he wasn’t done conquering.

With Italy under his thumb, Charlemagne looked north to Bavaria, where his cousin, Duke Tassilo, ruled. The duke had once been a loyal Frankish ally but now, his loyalty wavered. Charlemagne gathered his armies for an invasion, but before he could even yell, “Charge!” Tassilo surrendered. The feuds within his own family would get even worse.

Tassilo’s fealty to Charlemagne didn’t last long—and neither did Charlemagne’s mercy. No sooner than Charlemagne returned home did he hear rumors that Tassilo was plotting with the Avars—the nomadic warriors who ruled the Danube plains—against him. Charlemagne, never one to tolerate betrayal, deposed Tassilo, but spared him from the gallows. Instead, he sent his cousin to a monastery and absorbed Bavaria into his kingdom.

The Avars, however, would not receive Charlemagne’s mercy.

From his new base in Regensburg, Charlemagne stomped out any opposition to his rule in Bavaria. He launched campaign after campaign against the Avars. He struck from both Bavaria and Italy, and by 791, his armies had shattered Avar power.

The spoils filled his treasury, but loyalty was not something he could buy with gold. Or blood.

In 792, Charlemagne faced an immense betrayal. His eldest son, Pepin the Hunchback, turned on his father and plotted to overthrow him by any means. Bitter at being sidelined from the succession, he conspired with Bavarian nobles to kill his own father and brothers and pick the crowns from their severed heads.

The plot was audacious—and doomed from the start.

Before his treacherous son could strike, Charlemagne’s spies exposed the conspiracy. For his son’s co-conspirators, Charlemagne showed no mercy; he had them all put to the sword. But, for the perfidious prince, Charlemagne was merciful…kind of. Charlemagne banished his rebellious son to a monastery where only God could hear his schemes.

That same year, Charlemagne convened a council at Regensburg to address a brewing theological feud. Spanish bishops were spreading “Adoptionism,” claiming Christ had been adopted by God rather than born divine of God. Charlemagne denounced it as heresy and commissioned the Libri Carolini, a fiery rebuttal that even challenged the authority of Nicaea.

His theological doctrines would bring him into conflict with his Byzantine neighbors.

Never one to do things halfway, Charlemagne called another council in 794 at Frankfurt to settle the matter. The council confirmed his hardline stance on heresy and set forth a number of economic reforms that solidified his power and democratized Christian worship. His empire was becoming both godly and governed.

Not long after the Council of Frankfurt, tragedy struck again. Charlemagne’s wife Fastrada fell ill and passed on. True to form, the king didn’t stay single for long—he soon married Luitgard, an Alamannian noblewoman with a calm temper and sharp mind. She would be his last queen.

Even as his councils preached peace, Charlemagne returned to his oldest battlefield: Saxony. From 794 to 799, he led yearly campaigns against the still-defiant Saxons. Even his own chroniclers used terms like “burning”, “ravaging”, “devastating”, and “laying waste” to describe Charlemagne’s campaigns in Saxony.

And he was about to add insult to injury.

Charlemagne didn’t just beat the Saxons into submission. He replaced them. After deporting thousands of Saxons to Francia, he let in thousands of loyal Frankish nobles to take their place. Near the frontier, he built his grand palace at Aachen, complete with a magnificent chapel that still stands today as part of Aachen Cathedral.

His greatest accomplishment was still ahead.

When Leo III became pope in 795, enemies in Rome accused him of corruption. They attacked him in the streets, nearly gouging out his eyes and ripping out his tongue. Bleeding and terrified, Leo III fled north, to the one man who could restore his power: Charlemagne.

Charlemagne was in the middle of another Saxon campaign when Leo III arrived at his camp. But the fleeing pope wasn’t alone. Leo’s foes had followed, and repeated their accusations in front of Charlemagne. Charlemagne listened calmly—calculating his next move—then sent Leo back to Rome under royal guard.

He wanted Leo III reinstalled in power. And, perhaps, a favor in return.

In November 800, Charlemagne made the first move in his imperial plan. He met Pope Leo III near Mentana—at the exact milestone where ancient Roman emperors began their ceremonial entrance into the Eternal City. He then oversaw the hearing of charges against Leo III but made a shrewd proclamation, declaring that no mere mortal could judge guilt or innocence of the pope. On December 23, Leo swore an oath declaring his innocence in all charges.

With Leo III back in power in Rome, Charlemagne’s plan was almost complete.

Two days later, on Christmas morning, Charlemagne and Pope Leo III stunned parishioners gathered at St Peter’s Basilica. Instead of a regular mass, they were about to witness the most pivotal moment in history since the fall of Rome. In a move that left everyone’s jaw on the floor, Pope Leo III placed a crown on Charlemagne’s head and called him Imperator Romanorum, Emperor of the Romans.

The coronation made Charlemagne the first emperor in the West since Rome’s fall in 476. But not all was as it seemed.

There is speculation amongst historians as to whether or not Charlemagne knew that Pope Leo III was going to crown him emperor. Charlemagne’s own biographer later wrote that the newly minted emperor “would not have entered the church that day” had he known Leo III’s intentions. Other historians, however, believe that Charlemagne orchestrated the entire thing.

Either way, he didn’t give the crown (or the empire) back.

If Charlemagne was reluctant at first, he got over it quickly. From that day forward, he signed every royal document as “Charles, most serene Augustus, crowned by God, great peaceful emperor governing the Roman Empire, and who is by the mercy of God king of the Franks and the Lombards”. Given his new title, his behavior was curious.

Charlemagne lingered in Italy after his coronation, resolving church disputes and even witnessing an earthquake in Spoleto. But by the summer of 801, he’d had enough. He returned to Aachen for good, never setting foot in the Eternal City again. After all, he had an empire to look after.

In 806, Charlemagne issued the Divisio Regnorum—“The Division of the Realm”. It laid out which of his sons would inherit which lands. Charles the Younger was to receive Francia. Pepin (not the hunchback) was meant to inherit Italy, while Louis was poised to take Aquitaine. The only thing Charlemagne didn’t divide was the imperial crown.

But his grand designs for his empire were not to be.

Charlemagne’s careful plans unraveled almost as quickly as he had drawn them out. Pepin of Italy passed in 810, and Charles the Younger followed in 811. By the time the old emperor looked over his once-mighty empire, only Louis of Aquitaine remained. The “Father of Europe” was left with one son—and one last legacy to shape.

Charlemagne’s coronation as emperor of a reborn Western Roman Empire put him in direct conflict with another empire: the Eastern Roman Empire. Instead of a destructive campaign, however, Charlemagne sought diplomacy. So, in 802, he exchanged envoys with Empress Irene and, according to the Byzantine chronicler Theophanes, even proposed marriage.

The union might have united East and West—but fate had other plans.

Before Empress Irene could accept Charlemagne’s proposal, she lost her throne to Emperor Nikephoros I. Unsurprisingly, Nikephoros I had no interest in marrying Charlemagne, and refused to recognize his imperial title. Their rivalry spilled into the Adriatic, where fleets clashed until Charlemagne’s deft diplomatic touch finally prevailed.

Charlemagne sent envoys to meet with Nikephoros—but the meeting never happened. Nikephoros was no Charlemagne with a sword and he fell in battle before Charlemagne’s envoys could meet with him. Thankfully, Nikephoros’ successor, Michael I, was a lot more receptive to Charlemagne and sent his own emissaries to Aachen, officially recognizing Charlemagne as emperor.

To mark the moment, Charlemagne minted coins bearing his new title, uniting two worlds under one name.

Charlemagne truly was the “Father of Europe”—as in, he might have fathered all of Europe. With at least 18 children (possibly 20) his dynastic line would stretch on through the ages. Curiously, however, none of his daughters ever married, though a few of them mothered children out of wedlock. Still, he could rest assured that his empire would live on.

On January 28, 814, after seven decades of battles, diplomacy, and empire-building, Charlemagne’s body finally failed him. Stricken by fever and pleurisy, the great emperor whispered his famous last words: “Into your hands, Lord, I commend my spirit”. The age of Charlemagne was over—but his legend had just begun.

Long after his passing, Charlemagne’s legacy lived on. Royal houses across Europe traced their lineage back to him to legitimize their reign. For centuries, popes sought the protection of the Carolingian rulers. Even as his empire splintered, each nation traced their origins back to Charlemagne, truly making him the “Father of Europe”.

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Francis Timothy McCown (later known as the cowboy-actor Rory Calhoun) rode into town on August 8, 1922, in Los Angeles, California. His father, a professional gambler, passed on when he was just nine months old, leaving his mother alone—though not for long. She quickly remarried a man named Nathaniel Durgin.

In time, though, he turned out to be every bit as bad as Calhoun would pretend to be on screen.

Calhoun spent his childhood in poverty. But, instead of finding an honest job, he turned to the outlaw lifestyle—at just 13. His first major infraction was boosting a revolver, landing himself in a reformatory. But even there, he refused to stay put. Before long, he made his first daring escape. But his home wasn’t any safer than his cell.

Calhoun’s teenage years were less about homework and more about hideouts. After fleeing home at 17 to escape his stepfather’s beatings, he started hot-wiring cars for fun and profit. Unfortunately for him, this “hobby” would keep him behind bars more often than behind the wheel.

Eventually, Calhoun’s misdemeanors escalated from petty theft to serious business. After breaking into a few jewelry stores, he boosted a car and crossed state lines—a federal offense. When authorities caught up with him, they handed him a three-year sentence.

For a boy barely out of his teens, it was a hard road—and it was about to get harder.

Rory Calhoun served his federal time at the United States Medical Center for Federal Prisoners in Springfield, Missouri—down to the day. “Three years, three months, and four days,” later, he was finally a free man. Or, at least, that’s what he thought. His sentence, however, had barely just begun.

Just when it seemed like he’d done his time, another sentence came knocking. After Springfield, Calhoun was transferred to the infamous San Quentin State Penitentiary for other charges that had been pending. There, he remained until just before his 21st birthday. By that time, it seemed like he was ready to turn his life around.

Amid the steel bars and concrete walls, Rory Calhoun had found redemption—or, a priest, at least. In years to come, Calhoun would credit Reverend Donald Kanally for transforming his life, saying, “He put me on the straight and narrow by teaching me to pray and respect myself”. The message of faith and discipline seemed to work. For a time.

After his release, Calhoun didn’t waste a minute looking for a fresh start. He worked as everything from a mechanic to a logger, miner, fisherman, truck driver, and even a forest firefighter. Hollywood wasn’t even a thought yet—but it was about to find him.

Fate (and fame) came galloping into Calhoun’s life. While riding horseback in the Hollywood Hills in 1944, Calhoun caught the attention of actor Alan Ladd. Impressed by his “physique” and rugged good looks, Ladd introduced Calhoun to his wife, Sue Carol—a talent agent par excellence.

This chance meeting put Calhoun on a trajectory for fame—and trouble of a whole new kind.

Thanks to Sue Carol’s connections, Rory Calhoun scored a screen test at 20th Century Fox. It didn’t take long before he was appearing—albeit uncredited—in Something for the Boys and Sunday Dinner for a Soldier, both in 1944. But, with a big frame and a square jaw, the camera couldn’t help but find him.

Calhoun’s first real taste of the big screen came with a one-liner in 1945’s The Bullfighters. In the Laurel and Hardy comedy, Calhoun appeared under the name “Frank McCown”, not yet having adopted the persona that would make him famous. Still, he followed up that success with an appearance in Where Do We Go from Here?

Unfortunately, the answer to that question for Calhoun was nowhere good.

Just when his career was beginning to take off, Calhoun’s temper got the better of him. In 1945, after punching a detective, he found himself right back where he started: locked up. Thankfully, it was a short stint, but a sharp reminder that his outlaw instincts hadn’t left him yet. What he really needed was a makeover.

When the Ladds hosted a star-studded party, Calhoun’s fate took another wild turn. Among the guests was Henry Willson, the agent famous for discovering young Hollywood beefcakes. Impressed by the ex-con’s rugged charm, Willson signed him to Selznick’s Vanguard agency.

His real gift to Calhoun, however, was a rebrand.

According to Rory Calhoun, it was the legendary producer David O Selznick who dreamed up his stage name. “Rory,” Selznick declared, “because you’re a Leo, and lions roar”. Selznick then let “Rory” choose a surname between Donahue, Callahan, and, of course, Calhoun. With a new name, he was ready to ride into fame.

Calhoun’s first official Hollywood appearance wasn’t on-screen—it was on Lana Turner’s arm. The studio sent the dashing newcomer as her escort to the premiere of Hitchcock’s 1945’s film Spellbound. By morning, his (ruggedly goodlooking) face was splashed across gossip columns and fan magazines all over the country.

The cowboy had arrived.

Rory Calhoun had the nation’s attention, but Selznick wasn’t quite sure what to do with him. So, he loaned him out for bigger roles—and bolder scenes. In The Red House (1947), opposite Edward G Robinson and Julie London, Calhoun smoldered as a “ruthless woodman”. Audiences couldn’t look away from the “torrid” love scenes.

Neither could one woman.

In 1947, Calhoun met his match in the French actress Corinne Calvet. “Our romance was spontaneous and electric,” she later wrote—but Calhoun’s temper was just as combustible. After Calvet went out on a date with another man, she returned home to find her apartment destroyed, courtesy of Calhoun.

But that didn’t mean they were over.

Calhoun’s relationship with Calvet took a terrifying turn. Even after the apartment-trashing scene, Calhoun wanted to be with her and proposed. Surprisingly, Calvet agreed. But, instead of a romantic evening with his new fiancée, Calhoun abruptly ditched her for a night out with Henry Willson.

What happened next almost ended his career before it truly even began.

When Rory Calhoun returned home, Calvet was (understandably) irate. The fiery French actress confronted Calhoun, demanding to know where he had been. According to Calvet, that’s when he fired a revolver at her. Thankfully, he missed. And, suffice to say, their engagement ended. But Calhoun didn’t waste any time getting back on the marriage mare.

By 1948, Rory Calhoun was ready to trade chaos for commitment—at least for a while. He had met the Mexican singer, Lita Baron, while she serenaded the crowd at the famous Mocambo nightclub. By August 29, 1948, the pair had exchanged their vows and it looked like Hollywood’s hunkiest new cowboy was already riding off into the sunset.

According to the actress Yvonne De Carlo, marriage mellowed the onetime outlaw. De Carlo claimed that Rory Calhoun “settled down to a more stable way of life”. And, when Calhoun and Baron welcomed their first child, Cindy, it looked like De Carlo had been right. But the glare of the spotlight was calling his name.

By August 1950, Calhoun’s restless streak finally found structure when he signed a seven-year contract with 20th Century Fox. Though he hadn’t filmed a single project for Selznick, he didn’t mind. “I didn't worry about it,” he joked, “because it was like a long vacation with pay”. 

Under contract with 20th Century Fox, Calhoun’s career galloped ahead. He appeared opposite Susan Hayward in I’d Climb the Highest Mountain (1951) and Betty Grable in Meet Me After the Show (1951). But it was in With a Song in My Heart (1952), also with Hayward, that he finally earned his first billing as co-star.

It wouldn’t have been possible without Hayward.

Calhoun never forgot his time working alongside Susan Hayward. “I learned a lot from that lady,” he said years later. “I learned more about my trade, about presence in front of the camera, by watching her. She acted like it was nothing, with no effort”. He took her advice and rode it all the way to success.

Later in 1952, Calhoun finally found his signature role in Way of a Gaucho, a sweeping Western filmed in Argentina. The film’s rugged landscapes and rebellious themes suited him perfectly—no acting required. Once audiences saw Calhoun in his natural setting, they couldn’t get enough. And neither could the ladies.

After Way of a Gaucho, Calhoun cemented his Hollywood hunk status. He followed up his Gaucho success as Betty Grable’s love interest in How to Marry a Millionaire and even starred as ’s beau in River of No Return the following year. Both films dominated the box office, and Calhoun’s star power soared.

Then his past came back to haunt him.

In 1955, Calhoun made headlines—but not for a starring role. His own agent, Henry Willson, leaked Calhoun’s past conviction record to keep reporters for Confidential magazine from outing another one of his clients, Rock Hudson. With his bad boy past exposed, Calhoun was about to go from rising star to passing fancy.

Or so everyone thought.

Instead of destroying him, the Confidential exposé about his dodgy past only made Calhoun more marketable. His outlaw backstory, once a liability, became his biggest asset. Hollywood adored a bad boy, and Calhoun fit the bill perfectly—both on and off the screen. Rather than stall his career, the scandal had it charging ahead at full gallop.

By the late 1950s, with a string of successes behind him and a teflon reputation, Calhoun was calling his own shots. He smartly negotiated an exit from his Universal contract and started commanding $75,000 per film—a small fortune at the time. Shortly after that, he founded Rorvic Productions with a business partner, ensuring he’d never be at another studio’s mercy.

In 1958, studio boss Desi Arnaz handpicked Calhoun to co-produce and star in The Texan. The Monday-evening Western ran for 79 episodes and two solid years and could have gone on for longer if Calhoun hadn’t yearned to return to the big screen. In the meantime, however, he focused on his marriage.

That same year, 1958, proved to be a big year for Calhoun. On top of his television success, he became a father once again. He and his wife, Lita Baron, welcomed their second daughter, Tami. However, Calhoun was about to prove that he was one bronco that couldn’t be tamed.

While filming The Texan, Calhoun began a secret affair with the actress Vitina Marcus. But it didn’t stay secret for long. The romance, lasting just seven months, burst out into the open when Marcus gave birth to their daughter, Athena Marcus Calhoun. The affair, however, only seemed to improve Calhoun’s bad boy reputation.

By 1960, Calhoun’s name was literally written in stone—or brass, to be exact. For his work in both film and television, he received not one but two stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. But no amount of fame or fortune could protect him from real-life bad guys.

In 1961, Calhoun traveled to Spain to film The Colossus of Rhodes. But he ended up coming back home with less than he had traveled with. His Spanish adventure turned sour when robbers made off with his belongings during production. For once, the former outlaw was the victim, not the villain.

His fortunes were beginning to turn.

Calhoun nearly landed one of television’s most iconic parts: James West in The Wild Wild West. Unfortunately, the show’s producers hadn’t been too impressed with his screen test and went with Robert Conrad instead. It was a rare miss for Calhoun—but in true cowboy fashion, he rode on unfazed.

By 1969, Calhoun had traded film sets for footlights. He called on his former co-star and good friend Betty Grable to headline a Western musical called “Belle Starr”, which he planned to produce for London’s West End. During production, however, his personal life unraveled.

Instead of grabbing headlines for his role in producing “Belle Starr”, Calhoun was getting attention for the shocking revelations in his personal life. In June 1969, his wife, Baron, filed for divorce. And she had good reasons—79 of them, to be exact. In the proceedings, Baron claimed that Calhoun had had affairs with 79 women, including Grable.

Calhoun’s response to the accusation was telling.

When reporters asked Calhoun about his wife’s explosive claims, he didn’t dodge the question—he doubled down on it. “Heck,” he said with a grin, “she didn’t even include half of them”. Even so, both Calhoun and Grable denied ever having an affair. That, at least, appeared to be the truth.

Whatever goodwill remained between Calhoun and Grable didn’t last. When “Belle Starr” flopped, Calhoun and his business partner allegedly skipped town—and dodged their bills. Calhoun didn’t pay Grable or the chorus members their final week’s wages. The fallout ended their friendship.

His marriage wouldn’t last much longer.

After 21-one years of marriage, Calhoun and Baron went their separate ways. And, for a time, Calhoun hung up his hat, not appearing in any films or television shows. But it wasn’t because of a broken heart. “I figured the more I worked, the more alimony I had to pay her,” Calhoun told The New York Times. “So I stayed idle”.

But not single.

Calhoun might not have been working on camera—but he was working in the bedroom. On April 19, 1971, he married Sue Rhodes. He had first met the Australian journalist when she interviewed him while he was in London. Rhodes, it seemed, was the only woman who could wrangle Calhoun. For a time.

Calhoun and Rhodes welcomed a daughter, Rory Patricia, before their relationship hit a rough patch. The couple divorced in 1979 after eight turbulent years together. True to form, Calhoun took the split in stride—by turning to a new creative outlet instead of a new romance.

Like a true cowboy riding off into the sunset, Calhoun shifted gears in the late 1970s and began writing Western novels. His books The Man From Padera (1979) and Cerrado (1980) drew on his trademark mix of grit, charm, and gruffness. A little time alone with his own thoughts might actually have been exactly what he needed.

Just when it seemed like Calhoun was a true lone ranger, he surprised the entire world. In 1982, after a few years of being divorced, Calhoun rode back into town and got married. Again. To the same woman. He and Rhodes rekindled their romance and the second time was the charm as they remained married for the rest of his life.

1982 was the year that Calhoun righted old wrongs. Not only did he remarry Rhodes, but he landed a steady gig on CBS’s Capitol, playing the stern but sympathetic Judge Judson Tyler. Ironically, he had almost passed on the role but his family convinced him to take it, reminding him that he regretted not having taken a role in Dallas.

Pretty soon, he was saying, “Yes,” to everything.

To a new generation of moviegoers and TV watchers, Calhoun was no longer the Western heartthrob of the 1950s. He managed to transition into a new phase of his career. Throughout the 70s and 80s, he racked up credits in cult favorites like Night of the Lepus, Motel Hell, Avenging Angel, and Hell Comes to Frogtown.

Calhoun didn’t pass along much to his children. Except, that is, for his roguish goodlooks. Calhoun’s daughter, Athena Marcus Calhoun from his affair with Vitina Marcus, followed her father into showbiz as a showgirl. And not just any showgirl. In Paris, she was crowned “The World’s Most Beautiful Showgirl” and awarded “The Key to the City of Las Vegas”.

Even the best rides, however, have to come to an end.

After a career spanning nearly five decades, Calhoun had his final on-screen appearance in Pure Country in 1992. As the grizzled rancher Ernest Tucker, Calhoun proved that he still had something special. In fact, Calhoun’s performance was so magnetic that critics called him “the best thing in the film”. Oddly, Calhoun was never that kind to himself.

Despite his fame and success, Calhoun wasn’t blinded by it. In fact, he was strangely humbled by it. In a 1959 interview, he confessed that out of all his movies, only two—With a Song in My Heart and How to Marry a Millionaire—were truly good. “The rest,” he admitted, “were terrible”. True or not, he deserved to ride off into the sunset at last.

Calhoun spent his final days in the hospital battling emphysema and diabetes. Then, on April 28, 1999, at the age of 76, he passed on at Providence Saint Joseph Medical Center in Burbank. The onetime outlaw, the heartthrob, the cowboy—Rory Calhoun—had taken his final ride into the sunset. It was, however, the best ride of his life.

Reflecting on his career in 1979, Calhoun summed himself up best: “By and large, I suppose my image is Western. If the two or three dozen Western features I made didn't do it, the 79 episodes of my television series, The Texan, certainly set it…I always enjoyed putting on the hat, strapping on the [revolver] and feeling like a kid again”.

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Still, his family was looking out for him—and one member would help change his life forever.

Until his teenage years, Carl likely never even considered an entertainment career, but that all changed when an extraordinary opportunity landed in his lap. While reading the paper, his brother, Charles, noticed an ad for a free drama workshop and thought it might interest Carl, so he encouraged his brother to go for it.

Even after all the fame and fortune he achieved—he never forgot one important thing.

Carl would eventually go on to create many stories centered on family, which comes as no surprise, seeing as he felt so much gratitude for his brother. Although he was working as a machinist at the time, he left his comfort zone and attended the drama workshop, kicking off what would become his lifelong career. 

Ultimately, he was never shy about admitting that he wouldn’t have even considered switching career paths if not for Charles. Thanks to his brother, Carl was at least able to get some training—while he still could.

Once Carl stepped into the world of performance, it didn’t take long to realize that it was exactly where he was meant to be, and he was intent on honing his skills as much as possible. Working in the Catskill Mountains in sketch comedy, he quickly found his specialty and knew that he had a bright future ahead of him.

Suddenly, something far worse took priority over any passions.

Although his heart remained with sketch comedy, Carl had to put all of that on the back burner in 1942, when the US Army drafted him into service. WWII was already in full swing, and Carl served in the conflict for four years, by the end of which he achieved the rank of corporal.

If the horrors of WWII weren’t enough, his health started to fail him at the worst moment.

Beyond the grueling training and horrific combat that came with fighting in WWII, Carl had to face another, more internal threat that had him bedridden early on in his service. Although he had been busy learning to be a radio operator, he once again had to stop in his tracks as he developed a serious case of pneumonia that kept him in the hospital for three months.

Luckily, even through all of this, Carl managed to find a light in the darkness.

Although it was a rough three months, Carl recovered from his pneumonia and transferred to Georgetown University, where he studied to be a French interpreter. Unexpectedly, this allowed him to return to his theatrical roots and take his first steps as a director when he produced one of Molière’s plays—and kept it completely in French.

As another welcome surprise, college allowed Carl to find something that would help him survive the rest of WWII—true love.

Before WWII began, when Carl was still working in the Catskill Mountains, he was lucky enough to meet the woman he would spend the rest of his life with. Estelle Lebost was a set designer for hotel shows, and as soon as she met Carl, the two fell head over heels for each other. Even though he was called to fight before long, they were able to marry in 1943 while Carl was attending university.

In time, he managed to build a life with her—and inspire the next generation.

Carl and Estelle truly lived happily ever after and were married for a whopping 65 years until Estelle sadly passed in 2008. In that time, though, they were able to welcome three children—all of whom seemed to inherit their creativity. Their daughter, Annie, grew up to be an author and poet, Lucas Reiner went into filmmaking, and their oldest child became a famous actor and director by the name of Rob Reiner.

Furthermore, one of them was all too thrilled to collaborate with his parents.

While Carl and Rob would eventually become the most famous members of their family, Estelle had her time in the spotlight and was responsible for one of the most famous movie lines in history. While filming one of Rob Reiner’s classics, When Harry Met Sally, Rob chose to include his mother in a scene. Proving that Carl wasn’t the only funny one in their relationship, Estelle perfectly delivered the iconic line, “I'll have what she's having”. 

Back during WWII, though, Carl’s future in the army would have looked much different if he hadn’t made one last-minute decision.

After ten months of rigorous studying, Carl was now ready to ship overseas for active service, but something changed his course in the eleventh hour. After briefly working as a teleprinter operator in Hawaii, Carl was about to leave for Iwo Jima when he decided to see a production of Hamlet the night before. This was no ordinary show, however, as it was presented by the entertainment branch of the army, the Special Services.

Suddenly, he had a chance to chase his passion once again—all while still serving his country.

Carl was so in love with the art of performance, and specifically live theatre, that as soon as he saw that he could serve in the army and pursue acting at the same time, he could think of nothing else. Determined to join the Special Services, Carl auditioned for Captain Allen Ludden and Major Maurice Evans, impressing them so much that they had him transferred to their branch.

Finally, Carl was able to feel like he was doing his life’s work—even so far away from home.

Carl still shipped out to the Pacific theatre, but rather than facing only the ugliest parts of WWII, he took pride in his work as he lifted the spirits of all those fighting alongside him. Excelling as a member of the Special Services, Carl performed everywhere from Iwo Jima to Saipan to Guam before his time in the army ended in 1946 with an honorable discharge.

Of course, now that he was no longer in active duty, he was free to chase his dreams full-time.

Still pursuing a career in acting, Carl wasted no time after leaving the army and went straight for the big leagues, securing a gig that most young actors only dream of. Debuting in a production of Inside USA, Carl began his short stint as a Broadway musical actor, and he would go on to perform in others like Call Me Mister and Alive and Kicking.

Before long, he found himself getting bigger and better opportunities—and meeting another kind of soul mate.

As the 1950s began, Carl left his work on Broadway to transition into TV acting, as director Max Liebman cast him in the NBC variety series Your Show of Shows. Not only did Carl get to flex his comedic acting while working on the show, but he also got a taste of comedy writing, often collaborating with the show’s writers. As fate would have it, Carl would become lifelong friends with one of the show’s most talented writers—Mel Brooks.

Of course, while this was his purpose in life, it wasn’t always a picnic.

To the surprise of no one, Carl had a knack for comedy writing, and he and Mel Brooks spent a lot of time together brainstorming for the show, although the audience would never know it. As he was primarily a comedy actor on Your Show of Shows, the studio refused to credit his idea contributions. Thankfully, this didn’t mean he fell into obscurity, and he went on to win two Emmys for his role as a supporting actor on the series.

Suddenly, TV was one of the biggest parts of his life—and it gave him his next great gig.

By the end of the 1950s, Carl had been working mostly as an actor or director, but CBS allowed him to take on a completely different role. Replacing famous TV personality Monty Hall, Carl began hosting the game show Keep Talking and stuck with the gig for about a year, at which point actor Vincent Price took over.

By this point, though, Carl knew what he wanted to be doing—and who he wanted to work with.

Carl hadn’t seen the last of Mel Brooks, and much to their collective excitement, the two would work together again as a comedy duo on The Steve Allen Show. This kicked off a partnership that would last the rest of their days, resulting in five comedy albums, countless sketches, and even an animated special.

Little did Carl know that he was on the verge of arguably the greatest breakthrough of his career.

All while working with Mel Brooks to make America laugh, Carl continued to write his own solo works, one of which was the concept for a sitcom titled Head of the Family. Drawing from his own life as a husband, father, and comedy writer, he wrote 13 prospective episodes with the intention of playing the main character, Rob Petrie.

Still, he wasn’t the only one serving as an inspiration for the show.

Beyond using his career to inspire many of the story elements for Head of the Family, even basing the writing office in the series on the Your Show of Shows writers’ room, Carl basically made the main character a TV version of himself. Furthermore, he included his best friend, Mel Brooks, by basing the character of Buddy Sorrell on him.

Unfortunately, one thing stood in the way of him realizing his vision for the show.

Believing he had struck gold with Head of the Family, Carl likely hoped that TV studios would be fighting each other to sign him to a contract, but they weren’t biting as he thought they might. Thankfully, it drew the attention of producer Sheldon Leonard, who saw great potential in the show—despite one problem. He liked the character of Rob Petrie, but he refused to let Carl play the role.

Whether Carl agreed with the decision initially, it was clear who was right in the end.

Sheldon Leonard got his way and recast the lead role, bringing on actors Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore as Rob Petrie and his wife, Laura, respectively. The show even got the new title, The Dick Van Dyke Show, and soon enough, it was on every TV in America. Becoming an instant success, it not only brought worldwide fame to its lead actor but also to his co-star, Mary Tyler Moore.

Still heavily involved, Carl was eager to get to know his cast—and soon developed a specific reputation.

Although he had lost out on playing the lead role, Carl was never bitter towards the actors, and it helped that he got to guest-star on several episodes. Behind the scenes, though, he became known for how pleasant and friendly he was, often speaking with both cast and crew members and listening to their life stories.

At the same time, Carl wasn’t only doing this to be nice—he had another motive.

While Carl likely had a genuine desire to get to know his cast and crew better, he was also inquiring about their lives as part of his creative process. He would often ask people about the funniest things they had experienced, and, lending a unique authenticity to the show, he would usually incorporate these stories into the various episodes.

Although his inspiration came from all around him, Carl had one specific rule for the series.

Making a TV show in the 1960s already came with enough challenges, especially with some of the more strict guidelines imposed on studios, but Carl saw fit to add one more to the mix. While he couldn’t ensure it indefinitely, his goal was to create a show that would remain timeless, so he told the writers to avoid any references to current events or slang from that period.

Fortunately, the show would live on for decades—even if there were some updates.

Although The Dick Van Dyke Show ran for about five years and left a wonderful legacy behind it, CBS wanted nothing more than to keep working with its lead, and they already had a concept going. Creating The New Dick Van Dyke Show, they brought back the titular actor, and Carl returned as its showrunner.

Thankfully, he was always willing to lift others up—otherwise, the world wouldn’t have another of its finest comedians.

Carl had already been integral in giving some of history’s greatest comedic actors a boost, and as the 1970s came to an end, he was about to do it again. Directing the classic comedy film, The Jerk, Carl helped to kick-start the career of one of America’s favorite funny guys—Steve Martin.

Naturally, everyone working on the film had a lot to say about Carl.

Although it had been well over a decade since his first hit TV show, it was nice to know that Carl hadn’t lost the friendliness that made him so popular on set, which was evident while filming The Jerk. According to Steve Martin, everyone always ate lunch together and kept what he called “a joyful set,” all thanks to Carl’s influence.

Understandably, Carl and Steve became practically inseparable—though not always by choice.

Beyond collaborating on the actor’s debut, Carl and Steve would go on to write several more films together, but it all started with their unique situation while filming The Jerk. As there had been a gas shortage at the time, Carl and Steve always carpooled to and from set, and they spent each commute coming up with new jokes and bits for the movie.

Finally, Carl received the recognition he should have had from the beginning.

Going from his uncredited sketch work on Your Show of Shows to creating one of the most memorable sitcoms on television, Carl had truly left his mark on the entertainment world, and the rest of the industry knew it. Receiving the Mark Twain Prize for American Humor in 2000, Carl was grateful for both the old and new familiar faces coming out in support, such as Jerry Seinfeld, Mary Tyler Moore, and, of course, Mel Brooks.

Taking more substantial acting roles, he suddenly found himself in one of cinema’s most iconic franchises.

By 2001, Carl was nearing his 80s, but he had no intention of slowing down anytime soon, and proved it by taking a role in that year’s iconic heist movie, Ocean's Eleven. Playing the character of Saul Bloom, this became one of the more uncommon instances of him working solely as an actor, and he was happy to return for both sequels.

However, he hadn’t given the role much thought before taking it—since he had almost no time to at all.

For Ocean’s Eleven producer Jerry Weintraub, casting Saul Bloom hadn’t been one of those situations where he always knew Carl was right for the part, and in fact, he didn’t ask Carl to join until only a few days before filming. Thankfully, the two of them were old friends, so Carl had no qualms about the last-minute request.

Nonetheless, he carried his trademark charm with him onto set—even when it became a problem.

Part of what made Ocean’s Eleven so successful was the chemistry between all the actors, so director Steven Soderbergh encouraged them to spend time together to make this authentic. That was where Carl flourished, and his cast members often came to him for stories from his life, usually resulting in uproarious laughter. Even while filming, actor Andy Garcia admitted that acting with Carl was too challenging because he was just too funny.

His next television project was on the horizon—and this one was much more personal.

The 2000s had even more in store for Carl, and while the next show he joined may not have been as prestigious as some of his other works, he took endless pride in it. Playing the villain of the story, Carl joined the animated series Father of the Pride about a family of lions, a role he found a special kinship with. He claimed he knew exactly how to play the character since he grew up next to the Bronx Zoo, and watching the lions was a favorite pastime of his.

Even at his age, Carl tried to stay hip to the modern world—but it was all for one important reason.

While Carl always kept busy with acting and directing jobs, he was careful not to let other priorities fall to the back burner, especially after he lost his wife in 2008. Ensuring that his loved ones knew he was always there for them, he even joined Twitter in 2012 specifically to connect with his grandson, Jake. As a result, he later became the oldest active celebrity on the platform at 98 years old.

Needless to say, he was a family man—a fact he would soon etch in stone.

By this point, Carl’s eldest son, Rob Reiner, had long since become just as iconic as the senior filmmaker, so it was only fitting that the two immortalize their legacies together in 2017. As many other celebrities did before and after, both Carl and Rob added their handprints and footprints to the concrete outside Grauman's Chinese Theater, becoming the first father-son duo to do so.

While he never stopped being a family man, one friendship became just as strong.

Constantly trying to stay active in his 90s, Carl worked with a lot of entertainers as the years wore on, and even appeared on Jerry Seinfeld’s Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee. Speaking about his long and storied career, Carl mentioned that he and Mel Brooks had kept their friendship alive all this time, going so far as to ask Jerry if he wanted to come over for dinner with the two of them.

While this was a distinguished invite, it wasn’t exactly once-in-a-lifetime.

Just because Carl was intent on working for as long as he could, it didn’t mean he was against having downtime, and in fact, it was of the utmost importance to him and Mel. The two of them had a long-standing routine where, every night, Mel would come over to Carl’s place for dinner, after which they would watch Jeopardy! and movies.

These hangouts weren’t as relaxed as one might expect—the two men took their films very seriously.

After lifetimes in the film and television industry, both Carl and Mel had not only seen many of the movies airing on TV, but they also knew exactly what kinds they liked. According to Carl, whenever it came to their nightly watch party, the rule was that the film had to include one of two lines, either “Secure the perimeter!” or “Get some rest”.

Unfortunately, it would only be so long before their time together ran out.

Like they had every day for years, Carl invited Mel over on June 28, 2020, but this was no ordinary day—it was Mel’s birthday. The legendary comic was turning 94 and spent the day celebrating with his friends and family, but after all was said and done, he and Carl settled in for their usual routine.

All in all, Carl had enjoyed a beautiful night with his friend—even if it would be one of his last.

After Mel’s birthday, Carl woke up to what seemed like a completely normal day, and he was even able to see some family, as his nephew, George Shapiro, recalled that he had been in a good mood. Of course, once the day wound down into the evening, he had Mel over again for dinner and movies.

In a bittersweet twist, this served as a fitting sendoff as his story came to an end.

Spending another perfect evening with Mel as normal, Carl seemed totally fine until around 10 pm, when his walking suddenly became unsteady. With the help of his housekeeper, Carl tried to keep moving, but he soon collapsed and fell unconscious. Sadly, little could be done for him at his age, and it wasn’t long before he took his last breath.

Naturally, this was quite a shock for the industry—and no one was quiet about it.

The passing of Carl Reiner hit the film and television worlds like a wrecking ball, and thousands of people took to the internet to send their condolences and give him a proper farewell. Obviously, the most heartwrenching of these came from his children and Mel, but many others spoke up as a reminder of how many lives he had touched, including Steve Martin and Carol Burnett.

Many recalled how kind and loving he was—something that was clear whenever he spoke about the woman he had lost.

Carl loved to be in the public eye, and while he could have spent his last interview discussing his career or his directing style, he chose to speak about someone more important. Appearing on the web show, Dispatches From Quarantine, Carl raved about his late wife Estelle, explaining when they met and praising her.

Rather than face retirement, Carl took acting jobs right until his passing—one of which had an extra special connection.

Carl had spent his life trying to lift people’s spirits, which became all the more necessary during the COVID-19 pandemic. As a means to raise money for charity, director Jason Reitman enlisted the help of several celebrities to recreate a classic film from the comfort of their own homes. This would eventually become Home Movie: The Princess Bride, and since his son had directed the original film, Carl was naturally on board to help.

Not only that, but he finally got to work with one of his favorite actors in the world.

Despite both becoming titans of the entertainment industry, Carl and his son Rob didn’t collaborate on many projects, but one at the end of his life was enough. Since Rob directed The Princess Bride, Jason Reitman chose him to play the grandson in the final scene of the home movie—opposite Carl as his grandfather.

Despite being such a short scene, Carl put his all into it—only for it to be nearly scrapped.

In a strange twist of fate, Home Movie: The Princess Bride would be the last time Carl performed on screen, as he ended up passing just three days after he shot his scene. Wanting to respect his memory and his family’s wishes, Jason Reitman reached out to the Reiners and offered to replace the scene. However, they thought it was an appropriate tribute to him and gave their blessing to keep it in the film.

However, Carl’s family would face even more tragedy due to one shocking moment years later.

Unfortunately, grief hadn’t finished with the Reiners, and on one dreadful day in 2025, they learned of an atrocity that had come from within their own family. On December 14, Carl Reiner’s granddaughter, Romy, received a call from her parents’ massage therapist, who said that Rob and Michele had failed to show up for their appointment. 

But the truth behind their absence was a downright nightmare.

When Romy arrived at her parents' house to see if they were okay, she made a terrible discovery. She found the body of her father, Rob Reiner, bearing several stab wounds. Sadly, all signs pointed to one suspect—and it was no stranger. 

As the nightmare continued, authorities found Rob’s wife in a similarly horrific condition, and they had an idea who was behind it. Rob’s son, Nick, had accompanied him to a Christmas party the night before, where guests reported that Nick was acting erratically, leading to an explosive argument between him and Rob. 

This was all the authorities needed, and they took Nick into custody, charging him with taking the lives of both his mother and father. Years before this, though, Carl’s final official role held even more weight—and it didn’t disappoint.

At the core of everything he did in life, Carl Reiner loved his family, and audiences felt that quality throughout his works as a writer, director, and actor. Shockingly, his final on-screen line reflected exactly who he was, even if Jason Reitman never intended it to be the perfect epitaph. 

In the film, as his character says goodbye to Rob’s, he leaves him with a line that means “I love you” in the story of The Princess Bride—“As you wish”.

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Anne Shakespeare, née Hathaway, was the wife of English literature’s most famous playwright: William Shakespeare. Their mysterious marriage might have been the inspiration for Shakespeare’s most breathless romances—or his most tearful tragedies.

Anne Hathaway debuted on the world stage in 1556 in Shottery, Warwickshire, England. Her origin story sounded like the beginning of one of her future husband’s plays. Hathaway’s father, Richard, worked the land as a yeoman farmer and came from a family that enjoyed both social standing and financial security.

It was a comfortable, respectable existence—one that would turn dramatic pretty quickly.

When Richard Hathaway drafted his will, he left a little mystery that would have scholars scratching their heads for centuries. Instead of listing his daughter as “Anne”, he named her as “Agnes”. This curious detail has led some to argue that history has been calling her by the wrong name all along.

But, even if her name wasn’t clear, her storybook childhood was.

Anne Hathaway grew up in a home that might as well have been plucked from the pages of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The Hathaway family “cottage” was more like a quaint estate. The twelve-roomed farmhouse in Shottery, near Stratford-upon-Avon, boasted more than 90 acres of land, and the Hathaway family had occupied it since 1542.

But the house itself held even older secrets.

The earliest part of the Hathaway family home stretched back to 1463—nearly a century before Anne was even born. The original structure featured “a cross passage, where the visitor enters today, with a hall to the left and kitchen to the right”. Its distinctive cruck frame, with large curved timbers, marked it as a quintessential Tudor-style building.

Sadly, tragedy would soon darken its ancient walls.

In September 1581, Richard Hathaway drew his final breath. But even in passing, he was thinking of his daughter’s future. In his will, he left Anne “the sume of ten marks or £6 13s 4d (six pounds, thirteen shillings and fourpence) to be paied at the day of her maryage”. It was a modest sum—but she was lucky to get anything at all.

Hathaway’s family tree was more like a tangled mess of brambles. Her father had produced two sets of children—three (including Anne Hathaway) from his first wife, and at least five more with a second wife. Thankfully, Hathaway didn’t have to compete for her stepmother’s attention—or rely on her mercy—for long.

A marriage license, issued on November 27, 1582 left historians wondering about a possible scandal. The Episcopal Register at Worcester issued the marriage license to one “William Shakespeare” and his new wife, “Annam [Anne] Whateley”. The confusing entry had everyone wondering whether Hathaway was the third person in a literary love triangle.

The truth was far stranger.

Most modern scholars have put the “Whateley” love triangle theory to rest. Stanley Wells, writing in the Oxford Companion to Shakespeare, declared that the name on the marriage certificate was “almost certainly the result of clerical error”—not evidence of a scandalous love triangle. Another historical document almost certainly proved it.

Whatever confusion the marriage license caused should have been cleared up the next day. When two of Hathaway’s relatives “signed a marriage bond of £40,” it was a clear indication that William Shakespeare had married Anne Hathaway from Shottery. But who, exactly, was getting the better end of the marriage arrangement was another scandal in and of itself.

Anne Hathaway and William Shakespeare didn’t exactly have as scandalous a romance as Romeo and Juliet. But, it still raised eyebrows. When the couple wed in 1582, Hathaway was 26 years old—and Shakespeare was barely out of diapers. At just 18, he was admittedly “young for an Elizabethan bridegroom”.

Their age difference, however, wasn’t the true scandal.

When Anne Hathaway walked down the aisle in 1582, she was carrying more than just a bouquet of flowers. Hathaway, as it turns out, was already pregnant with Shakespeare’s child. Although, it might not have been the most scandalous revelation. According to modern research, “almost one in three late-sixteenth-century British women married while pregnant”.

Hathaway was a catch either way.

For centuries, critics speculated that Hathaway’s pregnancy forced Shakespeare into marriage. However, marriage might have been Shakespeare’s intent with Hathaway all along. Women like Hathaway—older, orphaned, and managing younger siblings—often married in their late 20s. Far from being a burden, Hathaway was “a catch” with a financially secure family.

Just six months after saying their vows, Anne Hathaway welcomed her first child, Susanna, into the world. The little girl instantly cemented the young couple’s domestic life. Yet, as Hathaway embraced motherhood and the quiet of life in Stratford, Shakespeare was writing the beginning of their personal tragedy.

By early 1585, Hathaway had expanded the Shakespeare clan. In a surprise that delighted both parents, Hathaway gave birth to twins, Hamnet and Judith. Unfortunately, Shakespeare hadn’t written a best-seller yet. With a growing family, Shakespeare fell into “financial ruin”. Money, however, was the least of their problems.

Nothing King Lear endured was as bad as what fate had in store for Hathaway and Shakespeare. When a wave of the bubonic plague swept through Stratford, it didn’t leave until it had claimed the life of Hathaway’s only son, Hamnet. His early passing at just 11 haunted the family, and eventually inspired Maggie O’Farrell’s novel Hamnet.

Despite her intimate connection to history’s most famous playwright, few words about her ever made it to the page. Other than marriage and birth records, the only surviving reference to her during her lifetime appears in the 1601 will of Thomas Whittington, her father’s shepherd. However, that particular shoutout was more than enough to get tongues wagging.

Whittington’s will was as direct as it was confusing. “I gyve and bequeathe unto the poore people of Stratford the sume of fortie shillings that is in the hand of Anne Shakespeare wife unto Mr William Shakespeare…”. The mention strongly suggested that Hathaway had incurred a debt and owed a handsome sum of money to the shepherd.

Other interpretations were only more confusing.

Though Whittington’s will describes money “in the hand of Anne Shakespeare”, scholars argue about what that meant exactly. Some argued that it meant she owed a big debt. Yet, other historians have said that Whittington was likely referring to “uncollected wages, or savings held in safekeeping”. Curiously, the same sum of money appeared beside her brothers’ names, reinforcing the idea that Hathaway helped manage the family’s funds.

She certainly had business sense.

Historians have suggested that Hathaway wasn’t just a bit player in her husband’s life. She was, they argue, “a businesswoman of substance”. With William constantly in London, Hathaway had to manage everything in Stratford: properties, purchases, and income streams that kept the household afloat.

From the sounds of it, she was quite industrious.

Shakespeare’s witches in Hamlet weren’t the only ones brewing “double, double, toil and trouble”. Contemporary research suggests that Hathaway “brewed [ale] at home”, taking on the common trade for women as a malt-maker. There’s little doubt that she “ran the household”. In fact, she ran multiple households.

When Anne Hathaway wasn’t brewing up some tasty bubbles, she still stayed busy. Along with her husband, she owned “several tenanted properties” that demanded hands-on oversight. And with Shakespeare away in London, that responsibility fell squarely on Hathaway’s shoulders.

Thankfully, she was as good with money as Shakespeare was with words.

While her husband was away running the theater scene in London, Anne Hathaway stayed in Stratford—running their home like a bank. According to the historical records, Hathaway borrowed and lent money at various times to keep the cashflow of the Shakespeare household running smoothly.

Lending and borrowing from other local families might have helped her develop an important friendship.

In February 1616, Thomas Quiney, the son of Richard and Elizabeth Quiney, married Hathaway’s daughter Judith. The two families had been close prior to the marriage, but when their households combined, Hathaway gained an influential in-law. One who, ironically, could barely read or write.

Elizabeth Quiney, the mother of Hathaway’s new son-in-law, was almost her carbon copy. Despite effectively being illiterate, Elizabeth ran a household of “sixteen persons” while working as a “malt-maker, property owner/rent-collector, mercer, grocer, licensed vintner, and money-manager”.

But the Quineys came with strings attached.

Anne Hathaway handled most of the family’s financial affairs. But the only surviving letter addressed to her famous playwright husband came from Richard Quiney—with a desperate appeal for money. The letter asked Shakespeare to help Richard settle his debts in London. But the fact that he never sent the letter suggests Hathaway might have intervened.

Still, the families grew closer. Perhaps too close.

Hathaway started a new chapter in her life when, in 1607, her daughter Susanna married the respected physician John Hall. The next year, the young couple welcomed their first child, making Hathaway a grandmother for the first time. But it was her other daughter’s marriage into the Quiney family that left her feeling scandalized.

Hathaway’s connection to the Quiney family wasn’t without its share of controversy. When her daughter Judith married Thomas Quiney on February 10, 1616, she was practically an old maid. Judith was 31 and Thomas just 27 at the time of their nuptials. Their late marriage wasn’t, however, the real scandal.

Shortly after the wedding, Hathaway and Shakespeare made troubling discoveries about their new son-in-law. Thomas Quiney, it seemed, had impregnated another woman prior to his marriage to Judith. Worse yet, his marriage to Judith may not even have been legitimate.

The second disturbing revelation that Hathaway and Shakespeare faced about their new son-in-law was deeply troubling. Because Judith and Thomas’ marriage occurred during Lent in 1616, he had failed to secure the special marriage license required to legitimize their union. Before Hathaway could cover up the scandal, it grew out of control.

The fallout from the revelation of her daughter’s illegitimate marriage license rocked Judith to the core. A little over a month later, Judith and Thomas Quiney were formally excommunicated for marrying during a prohibited season without proper license. The ruling sent shockwaves through Stratford’s tightly knit community, bringing shame to Anne Hathaway.

Drastic action was necessary.

Just weeks after the scandal, in March of 1616, Shakespeare revised his will—and the changes spoke volumes. He granted Judith £300 in her own name, explicitly blocking Quiney from control. At the same time, he altered the will to leave the bulk of his substantial estate to Susanna and her (considerably more respectable) husband, John Hall.

For most of their 34-year marriage, Anne Hathaway lived a world away from her husband. While Shakespeare chased fame and literary immortality across the stages of London, she remained in Stratford—raising children, running businesses, and keeping the household afloat. Their marriage stretched across counties, letters, and long silences.

Yet distance didn’t mean detachment.

Hathaway didn’t see her husband nearly as much as the London theater folks. Historical records suggest that Shakespeare only returned home “a period every year”. Even so, it seems that Stratford remained Shakespeare’s true home, and Hathaway its heartbeat. In fact, the couple might have spent more time together than originally thought.

In 2025, researchers made a jaw-dropping discovery: a letter addressed to “Mrs Shakspaire”, referencing a residence on “Trinity Lane”. That address sat near London’s playhouses—Shakespeare’s world. The find suggests Hathaway may have once lived alongside her husband in the bustling capital or, at least, visited him.

The “Mrs Shakspaire” letter surfaced in the unlikeliest place: the binding of a 1576 book printed by Richard Field and nestled in the archives of The King’s School, Canterbury. Matthew and Gerrie Brown uncovered it while performing routine conservation work. That single scrap of paper changed how history saw Hathaway.

When Shakespeare retired from the stage in 1613, he made a surprising choice. Instead of remaining in glittering London, he “chose to live in Stratford with his wife”. After decades of separation, he returned to Hathaway—by then the unquestioned steward of the Shakespeare estate—for his final years. Sadly, their reunion wouldn’t last long.

Shakespeare’s last curtain fell on April 23, 1616, when he passed at just 52. Anne Hathaway, then 60, had been his wife for 34 turbulent years. She’d lived most of their marriage in his absence, yet now faced a world where he would never return home again. His will has left historians scratching their heads wondering if they know anything about Hathaway at all.

When historians read Shakespeare’s will, they stumbled across a curious bequest to Hathaway. The only thing he left for his supposedly beloved wife was his “second-best bed with the furniture”. Scholars have since debated the meaning for centuries, picking apart that one line as if it was one of his sonnets.

Whatever it meant, it wasn’t the end of the puzzle.

The mystery deepened when researchers examined the original draft of Shakespeare’s will. Even more curious than a “second-best bed with the furniture”, Hathaway wasn’t mentioned at all. In other words, she got nothing. Nada. Shakespeare had only written the final draft that included her one inheritance “slightly less than a month before” he took his final bow.

It all hinted at something scandalous.

Generations of scholars and Shakespeare historians claimed the “second-best bed” was a deliberate insult. They argued that Hathaway was, metaphorically, the “second-best” woman in Shakespeare’s “intimate life”. This reading painted their marriage as cold, distant, or fractured—a tragic romance fit for the Bard himself.

But a quieter truth countered the sensationalism.

According to the National Archives, Shakespeare’s bequest to Anne Hathaway wasn’t an insult at all. In fact, “beds and other pieces of household furniture were often the sole bequest to a wife,” with children inheriting the best items and the widow the second-best. In other words, Shakespeare followed tradition—leaving Hathaway precisely what custom dictated.

Still, one final mystery remained.

Elizabethan custom held that the “best bed” in a house belonged to guests, not the household’s couple. That means Hathaway’s “second-best bed” might have been a truly sentimental inheritance; her and Shakespeare’s shared marital bed. Far from an insult, it was a symbol of Shakespeare’s devotion to Hathaway.

And it was definitely not “second-best”.

To modern ears, a bed as an inheritance sounds paltry. In Hathaway’s world, however, it was practically a treasure. Beds were “sometimes equivalent in value to a small house,” making Shakespeare’s bequest to Hathaway far more substantial than it appears. If anything, he left her something personal and precious.

Or, maybe it was all just business.

Some historians have suggested that Shakespeare’s will wasn’t emotional at all—it was all business. This theory suggests that Shakespeare made careful arrangements after Susanna married John Hall, who later became the estate’s executor. If right, Hathaway’s inheritance had been planned long in advance and finalized in Shakespeare’s final months.

Still, the speculation continued.

The historian Stephen Greenblatt offered an even colder interpretation of Shakespeare’s will where Anne Hathaway was concerned. He claimed Shakespeare “tried to forget his wife and then remembered her with the second-best bed”. Greenblatt added that in contemplating the afterlife, Shakespeare wanted distance from “the woman he married”.

It was a harsh reading—and far from the final word.

Regardless of what Shakespeare’s will revealed, Anne Hathaway spent her final years as the widow of the legendary playwright. Far from London’s applause, living quietly in Stratford, she, too, took her final bow on August 6, 1623. At 67, she had outlived her husband by seven years.

Yet even in rest, stories about her continued to grow.

According to the historical records, Hathaway “greatly desired” to be reunited with her husband in the hereafter. Though her true wish was to be buried with him, she was, instead, placed in a grave beside him as was the standard practice. It was a clear sign that, whatever the speculation, Hathaway and Shakespeare had a loving marriage.

One that the poets would write about.

The epitaph above Hathaway’s grave read: “Here lyeth the body of Anne wife of William Shakespeare who departed this life the 6th day of August 1623 being of the age of 67 years”. The plain English text seemed an unceremonious send off for the wife of the wittiest bard in town. But the rest of the epitaph was truly telling.

The Latin verse beneath the English on her epitaph—likely written by John Hall for his wife Susanna—was much more like what Shakespeare might have written. “Woe is me—for how great a boon shall I give stones? How much rather would I pray that the good angel should move the stone so that, like Christ's body, thine image might come forth! But my prayers are unavailing. Come quickly, Christ, that my mother, though shut within this tomb may rise again and reach the stars”.

In fact, Shakespeare might have buried hints about his love for Hathaway in his plays.

Some scholars believe Shakespeare slyly referenced Hathaway in Sonnet 145. The phrase “hate away” may be a pun on “Hathaway,” while “And saved my life” echoes “Anne saved my life”. If true, the sonnet preserves the earliest whisper of their romance. Its style hints at something else.

Sonnet 145’s unusually simple language suggests it came from Shakespeare’s youth, long before his sonnets matured and his legend grew. Scholars think he wrote it in the early 1580s—during his courtship with Hathaway. In other words, Anne Hathaway may have inspired not just Shakespeare’s heart, but his later works that made him famous.

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Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Over 700 years ago, Osman I established what would become one of the most enduring dynasties in history, the Ottoman Empire. However, while he was responsible for creating the foundations of this mighty nation, not much remains in terms of historical records of his life. This is largely because the earliest sources available were written about him 100 years after the end of his reign, with no surviving accounts from anyone who lived during his lifetime.

Still, that doesn’t mean there aren’t bits and pieces that can tell his story.

While not much knowledge remains about Osman’s life or family before he began his conquest, historians at least have an idea of where he came from. According to the most widely accepted conclusion, Osman’s family was part of the Oghuz Turkic clan—specifically the Kayı tribe—which resided in Central Asia. Unfortunately, Osman would never know this home, as a Mongol invasion drove his people out in the 13th century.

Not only that, but he had a link to this conflict from the beginning.

Like much of his life, the date of Osman’s birth remains unclear and is the subject of contention among historians, but it was likely several decades after his people fled from the Mongol invaders. Still, according to some records, he shared a distinct connection to this kind of strife, as he was allegedly born on February 13, 1258—the same day as the catastrophic Mongol invasion of Baghdad.

Thankfully, the Kayı tribe seemed to be faring better at the time.

In the narrative of Ottoman tradition, Osman seemed to have inherited his outstanding leadership abilities from his father, Ertuğrul, a warrior chieftain. As the story goes, Ertuğrul took charge of his people in the wake of the Mongol invasion, leading them to the Anatolian Seljuks to ask for assistance. Fortunately, the Sultan took pity on the Kayı, granting them the town of Söğüt near the Byzantine border to live under the authority of Ertuğrul.

At the same time, it isn’t always easy to separate fact from legend.

While the story of Ertuğrul leading his people to an alliance with the Seljuks was an essential part of Ottoman history, there isn’t much to support this record. It’s widely accepted that the account only emerged about 100 years after the events in question, likely fabricated by court chroniclers at the time. In reality, there’s no way of knowing the real source of the Ottoman people.

Regardless, Osman grew up under his father’s strong influence and learned to be like him.

Osman may not have been the eldest child of Ertuğrul, but he was still the son of a warrior and would learn to become a formidable leader in his own right. According to the writings of Ottoman historian Kemalpaşazâde, this training began at a young age and included such skills as falconry, swordsmanship, and wrestling.

He had other skills, too.

Not only did Osman receive the training befitting a warrior chief, but he reportedly excelled at every skill he encountered, becoming far greater at any of them than the rest of his brothers. However, being a proper warrior wasn’t only about battle prowess, and alongside his physical training, he studied under several Sufi sheikhs, resonating deeply with the principles of Islam.

All of these skills would come in handy soon enough.

With all the wisdom and strength to back it up, Osman finally had the chance to demonstrate his leadership skills when, around 1280, his father perished. Of course, as the youngest of Ertuğrul’s sons, he wasn’t exactly a shoo-in to lead his people as their new Emir. While he ultimately did take over as ruler, he faced numerous struggles in laying claim to the title.

One relative made things especially dangerous for the budding Emir.

Also in contention for the title of Emir was Osman’s uncle, Dündar Bey, who not only wanted the power for himself but also may have believed Osman would only lead their clan to doom. While it’s unknown exactly what he did, several sources mention that Dündar tried to plot his nephew’s downfall, only for Osman to catch on. Making an example of his treacherous uncle, Osman executed Dündar himself.

At the same time, there is a wildly different version of events leading to Osman’s rule.

In another rendition of events, as per the texts of the Vilayetname, Osman wasn’t actually able to take the title of Emir right away, and it instead went to another uncle of his. In this version, Osman decided to prove his worthiness by taking matters into his own hands and attacking the nearby lands of the Byzantine Empire. 

This kind of hostility was more than the Byzantine forces could take.

As the Byzantine city of Bursa became directly threatened by the continuous raids, its Tekfur—or governor—knew he wouldn’t be able to stand up to Osman by himself, so he told on him. Contacting Alâeddin Kayqubad III, the Sultan of the Seljuks, the Tekfur demanded that he do something about Osman’s behavior.

Unfortunately for the governor, this wouldn’t turn out how he hoped.

Wanting to keep the peace with the Byzantine Tekfur, the Seljuk Sultan ordered Osman’s uncle to hand him over. This was a request that Osman could not ignore, so he went before the Sultan to accept his judgment—only to hear something he never expected. The Sultan explained that he couldn’t punish him, as he actually admired what Osman was trying to do, and instead passed the matter onto the mystic, Ḥājī Baktāš Walī.

Surprisingly, this put Osman in the exact position he was fighting for.

Traveling to Ḥājī Baktāš Walī, Osman once again relinquished himself to whatever judgment the mystic might render, only to receive another shock. The Ḥājī had nothing but praises to give Osman, going so far as to say he had been “waiting for someone like him for years”. With his fate decided, Osman returned with a message from the Ḥājī, telling the Sultan to bestow the title of Emir upon Osman.

Meanwhile, this wasn’t the only religious leader whom Osman impressed.

Osman would have several consorts in his lifetime, but his first marriage only came to be because he befriended another holy man. Growing closer to a local religious leader named Sheikh Edebali, Osman even reached the point of joining his family, marrying the Sheikh’s daughter, Rabia Bala Hatun.

All in all, though, Osman appeared to have a much greater connection with her father.

Osman’s friendship with Sheikh Edebali was legendary among Osman’s contemporaries, especially since the two of them claimed to have come together through divine intervention. In Osman’s words, he had a dream where he saw a moon emerge from the Sheikh’s chest before floating over and entering Osman’s own chest, proving they were meant to stay connected for life.

This wasn’t the biggest revelation from his dream, though.

The moon sinking into Osman’s chest had only been the first portion of his dream, but the far more significant part seemed to foretell his destiny. As he explained, in the dream he saw an enormous tree sprouting from his body, the shadow of which covered the Earth. According to the Sheikh, this proved that God chose Osman to rule over his own empire.

Supporting this claim, Osman instantly began changing the lives of his people for the better.

Before the Mongol invasion drove them out of Central Asia, Osman’s people had been content with their nomadic lifestyle, but he knew that they needed to change. To properly grow into an army better equipped to fight the Byzantine forces, Osman had his tribe leave those ways behind and put down permanent roots in the area. 

This put him in the ideal place to continue his attack—and perhaps get his revenge.

At this point, while Osman had become a rising threat to the Byzantine people, he wasn’t batting 100 when it came to their skirmishes. Around 1284, one of his raids had gone horribly wrong, and he suffered a defeat against the Byzantines. Therefore, when it came to his first official campaign against them, he was in the mood for revenge.

This wasn’t only out of humiliation for Osman, as he had lost more than pride that day.

Osman was already a prolific commander, but he was still young and relatively inexperienced, and couldn’t win every battle. On that day in 1284, the Tekfur of Bursa had laid a trap for the Ottomans, ambushing Osman’s small forces and eventually forcing them to retreat, but not before taking the life of his nephew.

This time, he would be the one getting the drop on his enemies.

Embarking on his new campaign in 1826, Osman took an army of 300 men to overtake a fortress called Kulacahisar, but he didn’t attack immediately. Taking his turn to catch the Byzantines by surprise, Osman and his men waited until nightfall before descending upon the fortress in full force, overwhelming the men there and claiming it for themselves.

Suddenly, the Byzantines started to take him a lot more seriously.

After surviving the invasion of his fortress, the governor of Kulacahisar only had a couple of choices—accept Osman’s rule and serve under him, or fight. The former was out of the question for the Byzantine Tekfur, but he no longer had the forces to take on Osman again—at least not on his own. Allying with the governor of another castle called Karacahisar, the two vowed to drive Osman back out of all Byzantine lands.

Naturally, they were due for another showdown with the Ottomans.

Osman knew the enemy would be coming for him sooner rather than later, but he wasn’t about to give up all the land he had expanded to, no matter the odds. Therefore, he met the combined forces of the two Byzantine governors head-on in an intense battle, one that took the lives of both his commander, Pilatos, and his brother, Savcı Bey.

Fortunately, Osman’s winning streak was just getting started.

Proving he was every bit as dangerous as the Byzantines feared, Osman and his forces fought valiantly against their enemy until they finally defeated them, conquering Karacahisar too as a result. Marking their victory, they headed to the town’s church and—in an unprecedented action for them—transformed it into a mosque.

Once again, Osman was exactly where he needed to be.

Osman had achieved momentous success so far in conquering several towns and settlements, but he had far grander plans to expand his empire. Fortunately, Karacahisar was in a perfect strategic position for his plans, so he used the town as his staging base as he continued to strike out at his enemies.

Meanwhile, his recent deeds had greatly impressed the higher-ups back home.

Although Osman’s endgame was to rule over a vast empire, he still had to answer to Sultan Alâeddin Kayqubad III at this point—but luckily, the Sultan couldn’t have been happier. He was already a fan of Osman, but when he heard about the recent victories, he was over the moon and showered the Emir with praise. As a token of gratitude, he bestowed Osman with the title, “the honorable conqueror and border guardian Osman Shāh”.

Finally, Osman was one step closer to fulfilling his destiny.

The speed and efficiency with which Osman conquered the Byzantine lands were worth more than just one token of appreciation, so the Sultan set him up with all the authority he needed for his grand plan. Although Osman didn’t actually have the title of Sultan, he may as well have, considering he received complete control over the lands he conquered, exemption from taxes, and even the ability to mint his own coins.

Of course, this also meant that his life was in more danger than ever.

Although Osman largely furthered his conquest through force, he wasn’t a stranger to diplomacy and did try to forge alliances with several Byzantine tekfurs. Therefore, he saw nothing out of the ordinary when the governors of Yarhisar and Bilecik invited him to the wedding of their children. However, Osman then received word from another tekfur friend of his, Köse Mihal, that the wedding was a trap to end his life.

While he undoubtedly faced many threats as ruler, this one stung even worse.

Osman had no shortage of enemies, but this plot was especially shocking and insulting to him, specifically since one of the major culprits was the Tekfur of Bilecik. Osman’s forces had long had a partnership with Bilecik, in which the fortress allowed the Ottomans to use it for storage during their travels in exchange for various tokens of gratitude. As such, the Tekfur was one of the last people Osman expected to betray him.

Nonetheless, the bridge was now burnt—and he had a plan.

Osman could have just stayed away from the wedding and marched on the fortress, but he was much more clever than that and wanted to punish his friend for betraying him. On the day of the wedding, while many of the fortress’s inhabitants were outside celebrating, Osman sent his men into Bilecik carrying items for storage as usual. Once inside, however, his men surprised the few remaining guards and overtook the fortress.

As soon as everyone was in place, all he had to do was show up as expected.

With the wedding in full swing, neither tekfurs realized that Bilecik had already fallen to Osman’s forces, and they were in for a rude awakening. Not one to refuse such an honor, Osman still attended the wedding feast as a guest, only then ordering his men to attack. The skirmish wasn’t long, and he soon emerged victorious with another fortress under his rule.

However, Bilecik’s Tekfur hadn’t been the only one behind the plot.

As soon as he secured Bilecik, Osman set out to conquer Yarhisar as well, since its governor had a hand in orchestrating the plot against him. As he was quick enough to reach the fortress before news of his victory did, and since many of its inhabitants and guards had been at the wedding, he had no trouble overtaking it as well. Adding insult to injury, he took the daughter of Yarhisar’s Tekfur captive, later marrying her to his son Orhan.

Fortunately for him, the Byzantines had other things to worry about.

In the wake of such devastating and humiliating defeats, the Byzantines had woken up to how much of a threat Osman was, but they couldn’t stop him. Having already spread out their forces to combat other enemies in Anatolia and the Balkans, they just didn’t have the resources or manpower to fight him as well.

Naturally, he was more than happy to take advantage of the situation.

The lack of any real resistance Osman met in his conquest might have seemed like it was too good to be true, but he knew exactly what he was doing. Pressing his advantage against the Byzantines, Osman used their diminished presence to intensify his invasions and expand his territory at a terrifying rate.

Finally, he achieved what he had set out to do in the first place.

It’s a good thing that Osman received so much authority from Sultan Alâeddin Kayqubad III by this point, since in 1302, the Sultan was suddenly executed by the Mongol Ilkhan Mahmud Ghazan. This ended up being the best thing for Osman, since it allowed him the opportunity to declare himself the “sovereign of the house of Osman,” and take full autonomy as the ruler over his territory.

Ever the mystery, even this isn’t the only account of these events.

While one story has Osman simply proclaiming his own authority as an independent ruler, another record states that it wasn’t up to him. In this account, following the Sultan’s demise, a council of other Seljuk noblemen came together to find a replacement for him, especially since he had no children. Considering Osman’s track record, he seemed the perfect candidate to be the next Sultan, so they offered it to him—and he accepted.

If true, this quickly proved to be the best decision they could have made.

With his newfound autonomy, Osman reached a whole new level of menacing for the Byzantines, but they were no closer to eliminating him from the board. With what little forces were available to spare, they tried to stop him from expanding any further, but without success. Before long, any Byzantines who resided in the Anatolian countryside had no choice but to flee from the Ottoman invaders.

Fortunately for them, he wasn’t completely merciless.

Osman was cold and calculating, but he still recognized that diplomacy had a place in his rising empire, and he could afford to ease up on the conquest. Extending a possible olive branch, Osman offered all the remaining Anatolian tekfurs a chance to either submit to his rule—which meant converting to Islam and paying a tax called jizyah—or facing more conflict.

By this point, he had already scared some of them into rethinking their loyalty.

Whether they were already allied to Osman before this ultimatum or were scared of suffering the same fate as places like Bilecik, several Byzantine governors agreed to Osman’s terms. Fortifying their partnership, Köse Mihal was one of the first tekfurs to sign on under Osman’s rule, and he became one of his most trusted men.

On the other hand, some weren’t so ready to give up their allegiances.

While some made the sacrifice and swore fealty to Osman and his growing empire, others refused to see him as anything but a threat to overcome and remained loyal to the Byzantine Empire. Osman anticipated this, and as a consequence of their choice, he targeted their fortresses next—such as those of Nicaea or Bursa.

This had already gone way too far, and the Byzantines had to do something about him.

The Byzantine Emperor Michael IX was aware of the Ottomans, but had many other concerns on his plate, including his 1302 campaign to Magnesia. This would have been the perfect opportunity for Osman to take on the Emperor himself, but the Byzantine forces were far too massive to fight head-on. Likewise, Emperor Michael wanted nothing more than to divert his army and wipe out Osman once and for all, but his generals convinced him not to.

As it turned out, this may not have been the best decision for the Emperor.

Instead of engaging the Emperor’s army straight on, which would have likely ended in a swift defeat, Osman went back to his roots and began raiding smaller forts and towns in the area. Although indirectly, Osman weakened the Byzantine army, whose men heard that their homes were under attack from the Ottomans and left to defend them.

Soon enough, the Emperor found that the tables had turned.

With a dwindling army and zero chance of success, Emperor Michael had no choice but to retreat across the sea, but it wasn’t the end for the Byzantines. The Emperor’s father then sent an army of 2,000 men to stand against Osman; however, even this wouldn’t be enough to stop him. When the two armies finally met at the plain of Bapheus, Osman answered the challenge with an overwhelming force of 5,000.

The previously intimidating Byzantines were shaking in their boots—and they were right to be.

To their credit, the Byzantine army refused to turn back despite the formidable odds against them, though they probably should have. They tried their best to overcome the Ottomans, but Osman’s cavalry was too swift and deadly, forcing the enemy commander to flee in defeat.

Achieving his greatest victories yet, Osman had the world at his fingertips.

In defeating the Emperor’s army and the one sent by his father, Osman successfully expanded the boundaries of his lands to the Marmara Sea and Black Sea, so it was time to shift gears. Heading south, he targeted Yenişehir and conquered many of the towns and fortresses around it before marching on the city itself. Taking it easily, he made it his new capital for the time being while he plotted his next actions.

Unfortunately for the Ottomans, this was when they started to show weakness.

Growing in number and ambition, the Ottomans used their base in Yenişehir to prepare for a large-scale conflict, as Osman targeted some of the larger Byzantine cities. Going with Bursa first, Osman began a siege that may have lasted as many as nine years, which was much longer than he hoped. In truth, while the Ottomans were exceptional fighters and held their own, they had never invaded such a powerful city before and didn’t know exactly how.

In a cruel twist of fate, Osman was nearing the end of his story.

Osman commanded his forces in the siege against Bursa for a few years, but eventually, he faced a much more personal enemy—one he couldn’t overcome. Stricken with gout so severe that he couldn’t stand, Osman gave up any hope of seeing victory with his own eyes, instead leaving the siege in the capable hands of his son, Orhan.

Still, he did not doubt they would overtake the city before too much longer.

Lacking any siege engines, Orhan chose to continue the effort against Bursa not by attacking the city directly, but by maintaining a blockade to force it into submission. This worked better than he hoped, and the Ottomans soon overtook the city relatively peacefully. According to the story, Orhan rushed back to the Ottoman capital and informed his father of the victory, right before Osman perished.

Surprisingly, he had time to utter one last message to his son.

Just like his father before him, Orhan wasn’t the eldest of his siblings, but Osman believed he would be the best candidate to replace him as ruler of the new Ottoman Empire. Choosing him above his older, more passive son, Alâeddin, Osman allegedly had just enough life in him to proclaim Orhan as his successor.

Strangely, Osman wasn’t the only one who suffered from his affliction.

Orhan helped to continue his father’s endeavors and contributed in part to the growth of the Ottoman Empire, ensuring a long line of rulers in his dynasty, many of whom shared a distinct similarity with Osman. As was later revealed, he wasn’t the only one prone to gout, as the disease’s gene ran in his family and often caused later rulers to suffer similar fates.

Of course, he managed to create a much more important legacy than this.

Although Osman I expanded his domain to an impressive scale at the time, it was nothing compared to the dominant power it would grow to in its centuries of existence. Still, although few details of his life have survived as fact, his status as the founder of the Ottoman Empire is undeniable. In fact, the only reason it has that name is that the word “Ottoman” is an anglicization of “Osman”.

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Part of what makes Brandon Lee’s story so tragic is that it’s easy to see how magnificent his life could have been, especially since he had greatness in his blood. Born on February 1, 1965, Brandon’s mother was Linda Lee Cadwell, while his father was the famed Hong Kong-American fighter and filmmaker, Bruce Lee. Born under the legacy of his father, Brandon endeavored to make a name for himself on his own merit.

Naturally, Bruce could see how special his son was from the moment he was born.

As Bruce Lee was already of mixed ancestry, and Linda Lee Cadwell came from a German and Swedish background, Brandon had quite a unique mix of traits. From the beginning, Bruce couldn’t have been happier, and he often bragged about how his son was—in his words—the only Chinese person with grey eyes and blond hair.

As famous as he was, Bruce tried his best to be a hands-on father.

Eager to pass his training on to his children, Bruce began teaching Brandon martial arts early on, and Brandon proved to be truly his father’s son. He took to the training like a fish to water and was eager to learn from his father, allegedly getting to a point where he could kick through an inch-thick board by the time he was five.

Meanwhile, martial arts wasn’t the only thing Brandon latched onto.

As his father’s career grew with each film he created, Brandon and his family became increasingly busier, often splitting their time between America and Hong Kong. Still, Brandon got to see his father as much as possible while visiting him on set, and doing so spurred on Brandon’s own dream of acting.

Sadly, he would experience his first instance of grief far too soon.

In a tragic turn of events, Bruce Lee perished on July 20, 1973, from cerebral edema, likely caused by a bad reaction to medication. The rest of the world had lost an icon whose legacy was instantly immortalized. However, Brandon, who was only eight at the time, simply lost a father whom he wished he could have known longer.

As Brandon grew older, he tried to keep up the training his father had started.

In the wake of losing Bruce, Brandon and his family decided to live solely in California, but he didn’t want to lose the biggest thing he and his father had bonded over. So when he was nine, he resumed his training, but this time under another martial artist and actor, Dan Inosanto—who had once been a student of Bruce.

Unfortunately, even this became far too difficult for him.

Although Brandon wanted to continue his martial arts training at first, the effects of his father’s loss became too unbearable. His grief was especially affected by the dojos he would train at, since most of them celebrated Bruce’s life with large portraits on the walls. Unable to continue, he abandoned his training and chose to play soccer instead.

Understandably, the next several years were even more challenging.

Having experienced such a devastating loss at a young age, it’s no wonder that Brandon couldn’t stay out of trouble by the time he reached high school. In fact, his actions became so disruptive that in 1983, he was kicked out of his school, despite having only four days left before he graduated.

Fortunately, he didn’t let this turn him away from education forever.

Although troubled, Brandon hadn’t given up on learning entirely, and he achieved his GED the same year he left high school. Almost immediately, he relocated to New York City and attended the Lee Strasberg Theatre and Film Institute for acting, then Boston’s Emerson College, where he graduated with a major in theater.

Still maintaining his dream of acting, he was lucky enough to find a job in the business.

After graduating from college, Brandon returned to California to find a job in the film industry, which fortunately didn’t take too long, as he got a job as a script reader in 1985. Even better, though, a casting director named Lynn Stalmaster offered him an audition for the TV movie, Kung Fu: The Movie, which he accepted and knocked out of the park.

At the same time, he wasn’t completely on board at first.

Kung Fu: The Movie was Brandon’s first chance at on-screen acting, and he even found a familiar face in Jeff Imada, a previous instructor of his who was in the film’s stunt department. However, he initially found the role too similar to what his father became known for, and it took some serious convincing for him to audition.

Even then, he couldn’t help but see another connection to his father.

While Brandon wanted to separate his career from his father’s as much as possible, he ended up strangely honoring his memory with Kung Fu: The Movie. The film was a follow-up to the series of the same name, and even Brandon eventually had to admit that his taking the role was only right, since the show was initially created with Bruce in mind.

Of course, he had many bigger opportunities on the horizon.

Thankfully, Brandon didn’t have to wait long at all before someone gave him a chance at a lead role, since Kung Fu: The Movie wasn’t the only film of his released in 1986. Playing the main character in the Hong Kong action thriller Legacy of Rage, it was the first time Brandon received top billing on a project.

Meanwhile, it wasn’t the most pleasant filming experience.

Although Legacy of Rage would be the only Hong Kong film that Brandon worked on, his performance was good enough to earn him a Hong Kong Award for Best New Performer. Still, behind the scenes, Brandon had earned that acclaim through a fair amount of frustration, as he and director Ronny Yu often clashed on set.

However, not all of Brandon’s early projects would be as successful.

Brandon hadn’t finished with the Kung Fu universe, and in 1987, he joined a spin-off series of the original show, Kung Fu: The Next Generation. The studio only created a pilot episode, which aired on CBS Summer Playhouse, and asked fans to vote on whether the series should continue or not. Regrettably, there wasn’t enough interest in the show, and it never made it past that episode.

Ultimately, Brandon wasn’t going to let anyone tell him what to do.

Brandon’s work in the 1980s continued, and he began to take more control of his career, even when that meant going against the advice of those around him. When he wanted the role of the villain in an episode of the series Ohara, others suggested he not go for it, as the character was the son of a Yakuza. Nonetheless, he took the role, seeing it as a welcome challenge.

At the same time, receptions of his films weren’t always so clear-cut.

Going into the 1990s, Brandon continued to find work in the action genre, but he wasn’t exactly pumping out blockbusters every year. At the start of the decade, he starred in the direct-to-video film Laser Mission, and although it became a hit on home video, the best praise that critics gave it was that it was a fun B-movie.

Finally, after years of avoidance, he decided to go back to his roots.

Now that he had grown and come to accept the influence of his father’s legacy on his life, Brandon wanted to get back to learning martial arts. Returning to his old teacher, Dan Inosanto, he approached his training with a cinematic mindset, often filming his sessions to determine what might look good in a movie.

Around the same time, someone was eyeing him for a life-changing role.

During this period, another amazing opportunity landed on Brandon’s doorstep when he received an invitation from none other than Marvel Comics. Meeting with the legendary comic book writer Stan Lee, and by proxy Marvel’s CEO, Brandon learned that they believed he had the potential to play the superhero Shang-Chi in a TV series or film.

Behind the scenes, though, he found something truly special.

Brandon had one major romantic relationship in his life, and it all started in 1990 when he visited director Renny Harlin at his office. Harlin’s personal assistant was a woman named Eliza Hutton, and as soon as she and Brandon met, they felt an instant connection. By the following year, they had begun dating and had moved in together.

Still, there was one unique opportunity that Brandon refused.

Brandon may have been more accepting of his father’s legacy, but he still had his limits, which became clear when he received an offer to play Bruce in Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story. Thinking it would still be uncomfortable portraying his father, especially acting out his romance with his mother, Brandon ultimately declined the role in the biopic.

However, this didn’t mean he wanted nothing to do with it.

Instead of Brandon, the studio behind his father’s biopic cast an actor named Jason Scott Lee as Bruce, but even he was feeling the weight of the role. Jason would later state that he only got through his anxiety because Brandon had a heart-to-heart with him, urging him to view his father like the human he was instead of treating him like a god.

In his own career, though, Brandon was about to take a big step.

Although Brandon had a few film credits, he had yet to make his debut in an American feature film, but this changed with the 1991 film Showdown in Little Tokyo. Starring alongside action icon Dolph Lundgren, Brandon appeared in his first major role for American audiences, even if the film had a mostly poor reception.

Luckily, other filmmakers in the US were starting to realize his talent.

In what would be Brandon’s second-last film in America, the 1992 film Rapid Fire featured him in the lead role and stood as an example of how his career was only getting better. He had secured the role through producer Robert Lawrence, who had seen Legacy of Rage and believed in Brandon’s prospects as a leading man.

Once again, Brandon felt like he could really empathize with his character.

Clearly, the filmmakers trusted Brandon completely with this role, as they gave him a major say in putting together the film’s story. This was the right call, especially since Brandon felt a profound kinship with the role, as it was a character who had recently lost his father. Brandon even began bringing one of his father’s books to set so that he could get in the proper headspace for the character.

Fortunately for him, he was able to take even more control creatively.

Brandon involved himself in as many facets of filmmaking as possible for Rapid Fire, being especially eager to participate in the writing and fight choreography. Working with Jeff Imada again as the stunt coordinator, Brandon incorporated some of his father’s martial arts style, Jeet Kune Do, and he even added some of his own comedy to the script.

As it happened, all of this hard work paid off.

Although Rapid Fire received poor reviews from the majority of critics, one positive aspect that most tended to agree on was Brandon’s performance, which many found charming. This praise seriously helped his growing career, and soon enough, the phone was ringing with bigger and better offers. Before the year was out, he had signed a multi-picture contract with Carolco Pictures and a three-picture deal with 20th Century Fox.

Even aside from all of that, he landed the most significant job of his life.

Brandon was still doing publicity for Rapid Fire when he booked his next role, and this time it was his most exciting opportunity yet. Cast as the lead role in The Crow, Brandon delved into his preparation, which included immersing himself in the comic book the movie was adapting. By the time filming was underway, producer Jeff Most would applaud Brandon’s insight into the character.

Wanting to share his success, Brandon also took a familiar face with him.

Although he was still relatively new in Hollywood, Brandon was no stranger to action films and especially knew the importance of a strong stunt team behind the scenes. Therefore, he spoke to the filmmakers and convinced them to hire Jeff Imada as the stunt coordinator, knowing he would work well with him.

Just as before, Brandon also became heavily involved in the stuntwork.

In The Crow, Brandon was playing Eric Draven, a man who comes back to life after he and his fiancée perish at the hands of a local gang. As an undead avenger, Brandon and Jeff Imada had to figure out what set the character apart, including the way he fought. To make his fighting style unique, they based a lot of it on aerobics, as well as including bits of Brandon’s personal martial arts style.

Likewise, his character had to have an equally distinctive look.

Eric Draven may have technically been a vigilante, but he wasn’t a typical superhero, and Brandon knew exactly how to tackle his design. Basing his portrayal more on rock stars like the singer Chris Robinson, Brandon tried his best to steer clear of anything that would make him appear like a classic action hero. These efforts included undergoing an intense diet to make himself look smaller.

As filming began, it became clear just how dedicated Brandon was.

Brandon didn’t just want to show up and read his lines; he wanted to inhabit the character of Eric Draven fully, and he went to extreme measures to immerse himself. One such method was to lie down surrounded by bags of ice, since the story had Eric Draven resurrected, and Brandon imagined that the experience would be that cold.

His commitment to the role didn’t stop there.

Brandon’s focus on the resurrection of his character nearly took him past his limits, as they shot the scene in question outside in the middle of winter. For Brandon’s part, as per the script, he filmed the scene without any clothes, which shocked everyone even more, as he still requested his bags of ice to prepare.

Naturally, the amount of himself that he gave to the role did not go unnoticed.

Brandon clearly took method acting to a whole new level, and although it put his health at risk, his attitude constantly inspired those around him. People like key hairstylist Michelle Johnson later stated that he would douse himself with water before any rain scenes to make it more real, and that the crew had only amazing things to say about his truly dedicated work.

At the time, Brandon still had to film one of his most important scenes.

Although it was a difficult project, Brandon was clearly having a blast making The Crow—until one terrible day. While filming the scene of his character’s demise on March 31, 1993, Brandon was preparing for actor Michael Massee to fire at him with a revolver, which still had dummy rounds inside from a previous scene.

Before filming, however, they made a change.

The dummy rounds used in a previous scene were actually real live rounds that the special effects team had removed the powder charges from. However, it would have been unsafe to use them when the revolver was fired at Brandon, so they replaced the dummy rounds with blanks.

Nonetheless, all it took was one mistake for something to go horribly wrong.

The scene went forward as scripted, with Michael Massee firing what he believed was only a blank at Brandon, but the special effects team had overlooked an issue. They should have cleaned and examined the revolver before the scene, and since they didn’t, no one realized that a small, broken piece of a dummy round was still stuck in one of the chambers.

While unclear at first, it wasn’t long before they knew something was wrong.

As the script dictated, the revolver was meant to fire and cue Brandon to collapse face down, so when he instead fell backwards, everyone stopped. Director Alex Proyas yelled “cut,” and everyone prepared to start the scene again, but Brandon remained on the ground. Being who he was, everyone thought that he was either still in character or playing a joke.

The truth, however, was far more tragic.

Although others in the cast and crew believed it might have been some sort of trick, Brandon’s long-time friend, Jeff Imada, thought otherwise. Almost instantly, he rushed to the actor’s side to make sure he was okay, but he noticed that while his breathing was heavy, Brandon had fallen unconscious.

Even then, they didn’t realize the extent of his injury.

When the piece of dummy round fired at Brandon, it pierced his abdomen and lodged itself close to his spine, but it didn’t look like this had happened initially. When the set medic showed up, he didn’t see any bleeding, so he thought that Brandon had only hit his head when he fell. He even checked Brandon’s pulse, which was normal at first, but slowed down and stopped within a matter of minutes.

Unfortunately, it was already too late to save him.

Whether they fully realized what had happened yet or not, it was clear that Brandon’s life was in danger, so paramedics brought him to the hospital. The doctors determined the problem and attempted to treat him, performing emergency surgery for over six hours. In the end, though, they couldn’t do it, and he perished at 28 years old.

Still, many took this opportunity to turn this incident into a conspiracy.

When Brandon’s father passed, although the authorities confirmed the cause, several other theories emerged that someone had orchestrated his demise. Sadly, despite Brandon’s incident receiving the ruling of “an accident due to negligence,” he fell victim to the same type of speculations.

After everything, one other detail makes his loss all the more tragic.

Brandon was so young when he passed, and although his father had already married and had one child by that age, Brandon had done neither. In a devastating twist, though, he had proposed to Eliza the year before, and if things hadn’t happened as they did, the two would have married a week after filming was to wrap on The Crow.

Of course, Eliza was far from the only one grieving Brandon’s loss.

The cause of the incident came down to poor safety on the part of the filmmakers, and although they received no charges against them, they weren’t totally off the hook. Brandon’s mother, Linda Lee Cadwell, wanted justice for her late son and filed a lawsuit in which she cited carelessness. While the full details are unknown, the filmmakers settled after a couple of months.

At the same time, she didn’t want Brandon’s final work to remain unfinished.

Not only had director Alex Proyas lost a good friend, but this also put him in an unimaginably difficult position. Some may say it would have been better to scrap the movie entirely without its lead actor, but Brandon had already devoted himself to making The Crow and was only eight days away from finishing the project. Fortunately, Proyas’ decision became easier when both Linda Lee Cadwell and Eliza vocalized their support for completing the film.

This would be far easier said than done, though.

While there were eight days of production remaining, Brandon actually only had three days left of filming for his scenes, which made completing the movie much easier. To make up for his absence, two stuntmen performed the scenes with Brandon’s face placed over theirs, using special effects. This was one of the first instances of filmmakers using the likeness of an actor who had already passed.

Beyond the logistics, most believed this was the only way to go.

One of the stuntmen who stood in for Brandon was Chad Stahelski, who has gained more recent fame for creating the John Wick film franchise. During an interview in 2019, he reflected on finishing The Crow in the wake of Brandon’s passing, and said he was adamant that “Brandon would have wanted the thing done”.

Thankfully, through all the pain and heartache, they made something beautiful.

Brandon’s tragically brief career had its fair share of ups and downs, and he wasn’t unfamiliar with a movie doing poorly, but thankfully, that wasn’t the case here. Proyas finished The Crow, and when it was released in 1994, it grossed over $50 million in earnings and opened at number one in America, becoming Brandon’s most successful film.

Not to mention that, although he’s gone, Brandon will be forever tied to the film.

Amid the endless applause of audiences and critics, some pointed out that the circumstances surrounding The Crow’s production added a unique and enduring quality to it. The film already had its own brand of melancholy, but as one critic stated when explaining the effect of Brandon’s passing, “That specter will always hang over The Crow”.

Some have even put forward that he rose above another’s legacy.

After losing his father, Brandon Lee spent years trying to run from the immense legacy left behind, wanting to find his own way. Even after Brandon accepted his father’s impact, he tragically wouldn’t live to see his career reach its full potential, but The Crow still offers a bittersweet consolation. Many critics have referred to the film as the perfect epitaph for him, while Roger Ebert went so far as to say it was even better than any of Bruce Lee’s movies.

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Likely born in 1860, Fanny Mills spent much of her life feeling outside of the norm, and others certainly had no problem reinforcing that feeling. However, even in the beginning, there was a point where she undoubtedly felt like an outsider, regardless of any physical abnormalities. When she was still only a small child, her family picked up everything and moved from their home in Sussex, England, across the ocean to Sandusky, Ohio.

However, she soon began to show just how different she was.

Sadly, although her family may have had a shared feeling of isolation when they first arrived in America, it wouldn’t be long before Fanny felt different from even them. As she grew up with two sisters, her parents quickly realized that while her siblings seemed to have no complications, a shocking condition presented itself in Fanny.

This drew endless questions and speculations, but Fanny received no concrete diagnosis. In reality, something complex and life-altering was happening.

Growing up in the late 1800s, doctors didn’t have the necessary research to diagnose Fanny’s disorder, but it has since become known as Milroy’s disease. The core of the issue comes from the body’s lymphatic system being unable to drain fluids properly. In most cases, including Fanny’s, this showed itself by causing her legs and feet to swell continuously during her early years.

While it seemed inexplicable at the time, nothing could be further from the truth.

Today, scientists know this condition of swollen lower limbs that Fanny Mills experienced as lymphedema, but Milroy’s disease is one specific, hereditary form of it. Since medicine in her time hadn’t advanced enough even to diagnose her, it’s unclear whether she inherited the gene from her mother, Sarah, or her father, George.

Still, there’s a good chance one of them was more responsible than the other.

Although Fanny would have had to inherit the Milroy’s disease gene from one of her parents, neither of them showed any signs of lymphedema—or so it seemed. It’s impossible to know for sure, but her mother most likely experienced a less-noticeable form of the disorder and passed it to Fanny, since it’s more commonly found in women than men.

Regardless, this condition truly made Fanny a unique individual—and not just in her time.

Even with how uncommon lymphedema is as a condition, the disease Fanny Mills had the misfortune to suffer from was far rarer, and has made her case an even bigger curiosity. In fact, to this day, she remains one of the only 200 known cases of hereditary lymphedema in history.

Unfortunately, this only made her life more difficult from the very beginning.

As her condition started to show from such an early age, Fanny never knew a life where lymphedema didn’t affect her day-to-day activities. According to several accounts, when she began to walk as a child, her family described it more as “wobbling,” and this difficulty persisted for the rest of her life. As her legs and feet only grew bigger, she eventually couldn’t walk at all without someone helping her.

While this part of her childhood is known, other details have become murky over the years.

While several historical documents outline Fanny’s life from start to finish, some of the more specific details have disappeared over time, or simply due to poor record-keeping. When it comes to the exact year of her birth, there are vastly conflicting reports, especially since an official US census in 1880 notes her age as 14, which would make her birth year 1866.

However, there’s a good chance that this was nothing but a negligent lie.

According to sources, Fanny Mills had always appeared younger and smaller than she was—apart from the obvious—which may have been the cause of her mistaken age in America. It turns out that another census taken in 1861, while the family was still in England, marked Fanny as already born and about "eight and one half months" old, making her closer to 20 years old when the 1880 census was taken.

Still, these weren’t the only mysteries surrounding Fanny Mills.

Given the lack of medical knowledge surrounding Fanny’s condition and where it came from, her family had to reach their own conclusions, especially to answer the frequent questions from their neighbors. Bizarrely, her parents claimed that she was only born this way because when her mother was pregnant with her, George had made her wash a horse's swollen leg.

Although she didn’t know it, someone else was living a very similar life across the pond.

By the end of her life, Fanny Mills had long since given up any chance at a life of obscurity, but whatever fame she gained was quickly lost to time, unlike someone else back in England. While he didn’t suffer from lymphedema, the life of Joseph Merrick—otherwise known as The Elephant Man—shared more than a few similarities with the story of Fanny Mills.

Aside from their shared struggles, even their urban legends were similar.

Although Fanny never met Joseph Merrick, they had more in common than either would ever know, right down to the explanation of their conditions. According to the legend, the reason for the physical abnormalities Merrick experienced was that while his mother was pregnant with him, she fell victim to an elephant attack in a freak incident. Obviously, neither his nor Fanny’s stories has any real basis.

Fortunately, Fanny learned to live with her condition in the modern world.

Although Fanny Mills was living with something that constantly made her stand out, she still tried her best to appear otherwise in line with society at the time, which wasn’t always the easiest task. Her wardrobe especially became more challenging to accommodate, but thankfully, one fad was in her favor. 

Wanting to cover up her swollen legs, she was lucky that long skirts had become popular, and she frequently wore them when she went out. Of course, she didn’t have the same luck with other clothing.

Fanny’s family wasn’t completely destitute, but they couldn’t afford to have all of her clothing custom-made, so she had to find more creative alternatives. Since her feet had grown especially large by her 20s, it was nearly impossible to find socks to fit her, so she began using pillowcases instead.

Eventually, though, other accessories were more specifically tailored.

Later in life, Fanny would have the resources to order a pair of specially made shoes created from the skin of three goats to cover her alleged size 30 feet. According to most sources—and not just those seeking to exaggerate her measurements for effect—her feet were reportedly 7 inches wide and 19 inches long.

Even beyond their measurements, the rest of her body made her feet look even larger.

While anyone who encountered her could easily see how swollen her legs and feet had become, another factor in their large appearance was that she was otherwise so tiny. Having always been someone of small stature, even when she grew up, she weighed around 115 pounds.

Furthermore, she has maintained her record to this day.

It’s been over 100 years since Fanny Mills was alive, but even now, the size of her feet remains something truly unique in history. According to the Guinness Book of Records, even the current female record-holder for the world’s largest feet, Tanya Herbert, has a size that’s only a little over half of Fanny’s.

Of course, she and Fanny have one major difference.

Admittedly, Tanya Herbert doesn’t actually have the world’s largest feet today, since basketball player Jeison Rodriguez sports a whopping size 26 shoe. Still, neither of them holds a candle to Fanny’s record shoe size, especially since neither has any condition causing their abnormally large feet.

During Fanny’s time, though, not everyone was as respectful as the Guinness World Records writers.

News travels fast in a small town, and as Fanny Mills and her family learned all too quickly, outsiders' curiosity could be downright vile. Eventually, as more and more people became aware of Fanny’s condition, her story got the attention of larger news outlets, until even her father couldn’t keep all the reporters at bay.

Unfortunately, they weren’t exactly delicate with how they wrote about her.

Back in Fanny’s time, journalists believed that spectacle was what really sold their stories, so they had to write in punchy, often harsh language—no matter who it might hurt. This was no different for those writing about Fanny, who described her condition in ruthlessly creative detail, with one reporter characterizing her feet as “two immense hams”.

Suddenly, more opportunistic people came knocking at the door.

With Fanny’s name broadcast out to the larger American population, soon enough, gossip and reporters were the least of her family’s worries. Suddenly, a string of showmen began rearing their heads, promising to make the family rich if they would allow Fanny to become an exhibit in one of their “Freak Shows”. Needless to say, this ended with her father sending them packing every time.

Sadly, the comfort of his protection wouldn’t last forever.

Fanny had obviously experienced hardship in her life, but she was in for possibly her worst heartache yet in 1885, when her father tragically passed. However, out of her grief, she made a decision that shocked everyone and changed her life forever. Although the rest of her family was staunchly against it, she decided that the showmen were right, and she should exhibit herself as an attraction at one of the Freak Shows.

Fortunately, she wasn’t heading out into the world on her own.

While Fanny Mills may have been ardently determined to defy her family’s wishes and make a name for herself on the Freak Show circuit, her condition made it impossible to do so alone. Thankfully, she had someone outside her family to rely on, as her nurse and friend, Mary Brown, agreed to accompany her.

And with that, she set out to turn her condition into fame and fortune.

Fanny wouldn’t even have to search for an opportunity to showcase her act, as offers had already been pouring in since before she decided to leave. Traveling to New York, she joined the Bowery Museum as an exhibit, where the owner advertised her as "that girl from Ohio" with the "biggest feet on Earth".

Not to mention, these were far from any small-time shows she might have known in Ohio.

Although showmen had been presenting people they called “freaks” since the 1700s, actual Freak Shows had become especially popular by Fanny’s time. With Fanny joining what most people referred to as “dime museums,” she put herself in the center of the spotlight and instantly gained even greater fame.

Because of this, she was no longer the only one around whom others considered a “freak”.

In joining the Bowery Museum, Fanny Mills was finally able to meet people who had spent their lives as outcasts and spectacles, even if she was still the only one with her specific disorder. Many of her fellow performers had similarly visible medical conditions, such as having three legs or hair all over their bodies.

Just like the rest of them, she spent her days entertaining all who came to see her.

Performers who became exhibits in these dime museums, like Fanny, didn’t just stand behind glass while onlookers passed by, but usually had some sort of act that guests could buy tickets for. In Fanny’s case, it wasn’t anything too crazy, as all she did was sit on a chair before the gathered audience and hoist up her skirts to reveal her swollen feet and legs.

With this, her popularity skyrocketed until people all over America knew her name.

Fanny Mills had become used to the attention of others by this point, but because she had chosen to exhibit herself in New York, she opened the door to even greater acclaim. Garnering the attention of The New York Times, the publication featured her in several articles, and word of her act spread across the country.

Using this fame, the museum released a once-in-a-lifetime promotion.

Wanting to draw in even more visitors to see Fanny, she became the center of an advertisement campaign which promised both love and riches. According to the promotion, a total of $5,000 and even an entire farm were available for interested men—as long as they were willing to marry Fanny.

The museum took this promotion and ran with it—no matter how demeaning it was.

It’s unclear how exactly Fanny felt about the promotion, but since it centered around the idea that no one would want to marry her, it would be understandable if she was upset. Nonetheless, the advertisement ended up in papers and on posters all around New York, usually with the line, “Don’t permit two big feet to stand between you and wedlock tinged with fortune!”

As expected, this brought in a sea of new spectators—all with one thing in mind.

The promotion worked better than Fanny Mills or the museum could ever have expected, and suddenly, huge waves of visitors were coming to her act—but not just to see it for themselves. Believing the ad to be an honest offer, many of these men put their hats in the ring to be Fanny’s husband, whether because of her dowry or not.

Little did they know, they were all out of luck before they even bought their tickets.

Although legions of men flocked to her performance to ask for her hand in marriage, neither Fanny nor her promoters ever really intended to agree to any of them. This was because, behind the scenes, she was already happily married to William L Brown, who just happened to be the brother of her best friend, Mary.

Of course, she had other, more imaginative advertisements than her possible marriage.

Beyond the promotion looking for Fanny’s possible husband, the museum continued to spread the news of her show through several more creative advertisements. One of her other more popular posters drew from a famous fairy tale, stating that “The old woman that lived in a shoe would have rented out apartments if she had resided in one of Miss Mills'”.

Before long, though, her audience grew a whole lot bigger.

Fanny Mills may have become a relatively famous name, in New York especially, but she only spent about a year there before moving on to bigger and braver endeavors. In the fall of 1886, The Cincinnati Enquirer reported that although she had a few shows left, Fanny would soon be sailing back across the pond for a tour of Europe.

Thankfully, by this point, she would never have to go anywhere alone again.

Being such a successful performer, Fanny had all the help she needed as she left America to travel around Europe, but someone still couldn’t bear to stay behind. Although she continued to keep this part of her life private, Fanny brought William to tour Europe alongside her in secret.

Apart from traveling the world, she had already done quite well for herself.

Many who ran these dime museums and Freak Shows couldn’t care less about decency or integrity, and as such, subjected their performers to mistreatment and discrimination. However, one silver lining in Fanny’s case was the agency she kept over her role as an exhibit, and specifically the money she earned from it. By the time she left for Europe, she was earning $150 per week—which is around $4,000 today.

Meanwhile, she did her best to create a normal life for her husband and herself.

While little remains known about Fanny’s quality of life during the height of her career, the truth is she had earned the fame and fortune she set out to achieve and had even fallen in love. However, not everything would be sunshine and rainbows in her marriage, as although they tried to have their first child in 1887, her baby was tragically stillborn.

Unfortunately, she could only go on like this for so long.

In the wake of the loss of her child, Fanny Mills tried to distract herself by pushing on with her work, touring and performing for audiences around Europe and back in the US. Sadly, her grief wasn’t the only major issue, as her lymphedema worsened over the following years. Finally, she had to announce that she was retiring from her performances and the spotlight in general.

Despite being so young, she had everything she needed to live happily ever after.

Unable to continue, Fanny officially left the stage in 1892, and few people ever saw her again as she settled into retired life. She and William had weathered the storm that was the loss of their child, and thankfully, had already purchased a house to spend the rest of their days together in Perkins, Erie, Ohio.

However, her condition only seemed to deteriorate further in her retirement.

For most of her life, the biggest personal issues from Fanny’s lymphedema were ones that mostly affected her movement, but she would have even more to worry about as she neared the turn of the century. As with most lymphedema cases, she started to develop severe abscesses in her legs and feet, and they weren’t going away.

It became clear that she wouldn’t be improving anytime soon.

True to their intentions, Fanny Mills and her husband did get to spend the last of their time as a married couple together, even if it wasn’t for too long. As the abscesses on her lower limbs grew worse, they developed an infection that rapidly turned into sepsis, poisoning her blood and leaving her bedridden.

There was little to do but let her illness take its course.

Despite the challenges that living with lymphedema presented, Fanny had always tried to live her life how she wanted, but her deteriorating health took that away as well. The sepsis soon landed her on her deathbed, and although Milroy’s disease usually doesn’t impact life expectancy, Fanny passed on May 3, 1899, at the age of 39.

In the end, even her passing couldn’t separate her and her love forever.

Following Fanny’s tragic passing, William lived without her for only another five years before succumbing to his own severe illness and passing at the age of 69. His body was then transferred to Fanny’s hometown of Sandusky, Ohio, where it was buried next to hers as the two lovers reunited once again.

While she may have fallen into obscurity over the years, at least someone remembered her.

Fanny’s story may not have passed the test of time as much as other notable Freak Show performers like Joseph Merrick, but she was never wholly forgotten by history. Much of this was thanks to places like the Follett House Museum in Sandusky, Ohio, which has put the unique lasts used for Fanny’s shoes on display.

On the other hand, it’s probably best that other aspects of her career faded away.

While Fanny had become one of the more successful stories to come out of the history of dime museums, her career actually took place around the tail end of their relevance. Both in the US and across the pond, as the years passed into the 1900s, many of these museums and attractions found their attendance steadily declining.

Unsurprisingly, the culture had largely moved on to the next trend.

The spectacle of Freak Shows had held the attention of the masses for much of the 19th century, but as the 1900s arrived, bigger and better things took their places. Suddenly, attractions like carnivals were all the rage, and people became so much more enamored with the far cheaper games and rollercoasters. Chances are that Fanny would have been out of a job before long anyway.

Not to mention that people began to look past the simple label of “freak”.

Even though crowds had been content with pointing and laughing at people like Fanny for many decades before the turn of the century, they suddenly started looking more closely at what they were exploiting. Even the term “freak” fell out of the common vocabulary as most realized that they were just people with—sometimes severe—medical conditions.

Still, even today, Fanny may not have had much better luck than in her lifetime.

While it’s true that Fanny’s quality of life likely would have vastly improved had she been born in the modern day, medicine isn’t advanced enough to have eliminated her issues completely. Today, although most diagnosed with Milroy’s disease have access to much better treatments for their symptoms, there remains no cure for the disorder.

Ultimately, we’ll never truly know why she decided to enter the spotlight.

There is no shortage of horror stories that have emerged from the history of Freak Shows like the one she joined, but taking that into account, Fanny Mills seemed to live a relatively happy life. Still, it's unclear whether she left home for such a career because she wanted to forge her own path to fame, or whether—like many others in her shoes—she simply had no other way of surviving.

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While Tiberius may have shown an interest in becoming Emperor at some point, it’s more likely that he felt pressured into his political career by those around him, especially since he came from such a prominent family. Born in 42 BC, his father and mother, Tiberius Claudius Nero and Livia Drusilla, already held positions of honor, as they were both descended from one of the most influential patrician houses—the gens Claudia.

However, they were about to gain even more of a leg up—at a terrible cost.

While Tiberius became a well-known figure in Roman history in his later years, few accounts exist of big moments that occurred during his youth. The most significant event, however, shattered his family. His parents divorced when he was only three years old, after which his mother married the future founder of the Roman Empire, Octavian.

Having such a powerful stepfather as Octavian meant one thing: Tiberius' life would never be the same again.

By 23 BCE, Octavian—now renamed Augustus—had become the sole ruler of the newly formed Roman Empire, but this posed its own devastating problem. He soon developed a severe illness, and the Senate realized that if he were to perish, the consequences could be catastrophic: the power vacuum left behind would ruin everything he worked to build. While many assumed his most loyal lieutenant, Agrippa, and his nephew, Marcellus, would step up as rulers, he had no official heirs in place.

Fortunately, there was one solution—and it had the power to change the course of history forever.

Although Augustus’s life wouldn’t end for another few years, he couldn’t help the anxiety gnawing at him, so he put together a list of people he believed could take over as Emperor. As his step-son, Tiberius’ name was on this list, along with his brother, Drusus. Augustus took such an interest in Tiberius that he appointed him as a quaestor and brought him under his wing to train in the world of politics.

As Augustus soon discovered, Tiberius was the right man for the job.

Tiberius continued to serve and learn from Augustus, which meant assisting the Emperor in both battle and diplomacy. In 20 BCE, the Parthian Empire had stolen the Roman Legion’s standards in a previous battle, so the young Tiberius reportedly joined up with Augustus to reclaim them, along with Rome’s honor. It’s unclear how exactly they succeeded, but rather than through a bloody conflict, either Tiberius or Augustus negotiated for the standards’ return.

Meanwhile, Augustus wasn’t the only one Tiberius was trying to impress.

When it came to marriages among the elites, everyone understood that they were almost always a political exchange, with no attachment involved. Every so often, though, both parties were lucky enough to have genuine feelings for each other, as was the case for Tiberius’ first marriage. Tying the knot with Vipsania Agrippina around 19 BCE, the two of them couldn’t be more ecstatic about their union, as they seemed hopelessly in love.

Still, he wouldn’t let his devotion to his wife distract him from his duties to Rome.

Around the same time, Tiberius’s accomplishments impressed Augustus and earned him his next promotion, the position of praetor. One of his first tasks was to assist in the Roman campaigns to the west, a conflict that hit him particularly close to home, as his brother was already leading the charge against their enemies.

With the way everything was going, Tiberius felt like he was on top of the world.

Tiberius continued to be the golden boy in Augustus’s eyes, but it wasn’t strictly because of their familial connection. The young praetor proved capable of greatness, such as when he conquered the region of Raetia or when he found the source of the Danube River. This all resulted in his appointment to the office of Consul in 13 BCE, while behind the scenes, he had already celebrated the birth of his son, Drusus Julius Caesar.

Unfortunately, everything good in his life was about to come crashing down.

Back when he was a child, Augustus ordered Tiberius’ parents to divorce for his own personal gain—and now the same horrible thing was happening to him. To boost Tiberius’ political status, Augustus ordered him to join with the Julian family by leaving his beloved Vipsania and marrying Julia the Elder. Tiberius’ heart broke, and after trying and failing to get Augustus to see his side of things, he had no choice but to divorce his wife.

Now at his lowest, Tiberius couldn’t even take comfort in his new marriage.

Having married someone he was head over heels for was rare enough in Tiberius’s time, so to leave Vipsania for someone he had no desire to be around was even worse than a simple divorce. Julia the Elder had a reputation for being unfaithful, so while they remained cordial for the first few months, she likely began seeing other men behind Tiberius’s back.

If he wasn’t having a hard enough time, he fell victim to one of life’s most awkward situations—even by today’s standards.

Tiberius never got over these events, but it became an even bigger problem when he accidentally crossed paths with the worst person he could have in his miserable state—his ex. Immediately breaking down in tears, he followed Vipsania home, pleading with her to forgive him. Augustus wasn’t pleased with this incident, and from then on, he made sure that the two former lovers wouldn’t see each other again.

Although cold and unfeeling, Augustus wouldn’t let anything interfere with his plans for Tiberius.

Through his great deeds in battle and diplomacy, not to mention the personal sacrifices he made, Tiberius was one of Augustus’ top candidates to succeed him. This list had shortened even further since Agrippa had already perished, and Tiberius had tragically lost his brother in 9 BCE, which made him the most sensible option.

With nothing left, what else could Tiberius do but continue to serve Augustus?

Despite the exhausting personal issues Tiberius was experiencing, he remained a strong commander as he led a campaign against the Marcomanni people in 6 BCE. Like his previous endeavors, this ended with an impressive Roman victory, but he had little time before he had to move on to his next operation in Germania.

However, in one shocking move, he brought everything to a halt.

By this point, Tiberius’ blood, sweat, and tears had earned him a high position in Rome, with the potential to go even higher, but something stopped him. Although he was about to become second only to Augustus himself, Tiberius decided to leave those ambitions behind and exile himself to Rhodes. Given all the trouble he had to deal with, this decision isn’t completely unexpected in retrospect, even if his true reasons remain unknown.

One reason is that he may have come to a staggering realization.

To this day, the reality of why Tiberius left for Rhodes is unclear, but scholars have their suspicions based on how exactly he came to power. One theory suggests that initially, neither Tiberius nor his brother was ever meant to become Emperor, and were only chosen to occupy the positions of heirs until better candidates came along.

Other historians think it all boiled down to how depressing his love life was.

While some believe Tiberius’ reasons for withdrawing were strategic or born out of resentment towards Augustus, the truth may have been much more heartbreaking. According to the Roman historian Tacitus, the simplest explanation is that Tiberius felt trapped between the woman he hated but had to face every day and the one whom he loved but could never see again.

Regardless of his motives, Tiberius’ decision had catastrophic ramifications.

Even if Augustus had intended Tiberius to be just a placeholder in the line of succession, his exile to Rhodes wasn’t part of the plan, and it threatened everything he had devoted his life to. Although Augustus still had his two grandsons as potential heirs, neither of them was old enough to rule yet, putting his legacy at risk once again.

Naturally, Augustus wasn’t going to let Tiberius go without a fight.

Tiberius probably had moments where he wanted to disobey Augustus before, but when he actually worked up the courage to do so, the Emperor didn’t take it well. According to some stories, after learning that his step-son was going into a self-imposed exile, the Emperor faked an illness to get him to stay. Determined, Tiberius called his bluff, and after anchoring his ship off the coast for a while to make sure Augustus was lying, he left for Rhodes.

However, something happened that even Tiberius never expected.

Although Augustus pleaded with him to stay and take up the command offered to him, Tiberius wouldn’t budge—at first. As it turned out, not long after exiling himself, Tiberius regretted his decision and completely backpedaled. Unfortunately for him, Augustus’s pride had taken over, so no matter how much Tiberius asked, the Emperor wouldn’t allow him to return.

Luckily, before long, he discovered he wasn’t out of second chances.

Augustus likely took great pleasure in refusing Tiberius’ entry to Rome after trying so hard to get him to stay, but he soon wouldn’t be able to enjoy this luxury. Losing his grandson, Lucius, in 2 CE, a grieving and begrudging Augustus finally granted Tiberius’ request to come back, but only gave him the status of a private citizen.

Even then, Augustus’s situation would only get more dire.

Augustus certainly would have liked nothing more than for his remaining grandson, Gaius, to become the next Emperor and prove they didn’t need Tiberius—but this wasn’t the case. In 4 CE, Gaius also perished, so Augustus had to put aside his pride and bring Tiberius back into the fold, going so far as to adopt him as his son on paper and make him his sole heir.

Suddenly, Tiberius once again had more power than he could ever hope for.

Over the next several years, Tiberius and Augustus rebuilt some of the trust they had lost, and Tiberius immediately proved to be a worthy heir—not just the only one still alive. Despite being second-in-command, Tiberius held the same authority as Augustus, making them essentially “co-emperors”.

Still, he had one more rung to climb, and it was already getting closer.

While Augustus had ruled over Rome for longer than he probably expected, his poor health never stopped being an issue, and it became even worse in 14 CE. Tiberius was away on official business, but upon hearing that the Emperor was on his deathbed, he rushed home to Augustus’s side.

Tiberius knew he was about to become the most powerful man in Rome.

While there was likely some animosity remaining between the two, Tiberius and Augustus spent a whole day together in private before the Emperor finally passed on August 19. As both Augustus and the Senate had recognized Tiberius as the only legitimate heir, he was able to take the mantle of Emperor without anyone kicking up a fuss.

Still, he was no longer the same man who had served Augustus in his youth.

Tiberius may have begun his political career with great ambitions for a high-ranking office, but his priorities had clearly evolved since then. Beyond that, he barely resembled the man he was even a few years before, as sources state that he lost an unusual amount of body fat and most of his hair.

Even worse, he began to suffer from a more dangerous issue.

Tiberius was allegedly as strong as ever, even while his thin appearance caused some to believe he was suffering from some illness. In truth, he had developed a grotesque infection on his face, believed to be the result of a herpes epidemic at the time. This became such an issue during his rule that Tiberius outlawed kissing at public events.

Even though he was the Emperor, he still couldn’t help but swim against the current.

With his previous exile, Tiberius had already proved he would not be the typical Roman Emperor—even if he was only the second one in history. He continued to rebel against the norms by declining certain honors, such as the Civic Crown, and titles that Augustus had carried before him, like “Pater Patriae,” meaning “Father of the country”.

To some, this was one of the worst transgressions he could commit.

In keeping with the circumstances surrounding his rise to power, Tiberius demonstrated that while he may not have wanted to become Emperor, he still had every intention of serving Rome with honor. This reputation motivated him to refuse many of the typical titles, which might have impressed the public, but most of the aristocracy berated him as a fake and a hypocrite.

Understandably, there were a select few who were constantly at odds with him.

Despite rejecting many of the usual honors, Tiberius still held the power that came with the title of Princeps, which the Senate validated at his request. This didn’t mean they were on his side, though, especially since he made it clear how much he despised them. Referring to the Senators as “men fit to be slaves,” Tiberius worked with them as little as possible, and they responded with similar hostility.

Luckily, they knew he wouldn’t be the Emperor forever.

When Augustus adopted Tiberius as his official son and heir, their deal wasn’t without any catches, and it required Tiberius to adopt his nephew, Germanicus, as his heir. This started out well, with Germanicus proving to be just as worthy of the throne as Tiberius. However, it all fell apart the following year, when Germanicus perished under bizarre circumstances—possibly due to poisoning.

All of a sudden, history was repeating itself—in the worst way possible.

Germanicus had only been next in line at Augustus’s demand, but after his sudden passing, Tiberius was free to appoint who he wanted as his heir. Elevating his son, Drusus, to the office of tribune, Tiberius was finally able to decide something of his own—but not for long. Unfortunately, he seemed doomed to experience the same struggles as Augustus, as Drusus perished mysteriously in 23 CE.

If there was any kind of silver lining, though, he still had someone he could count on.

Tiberius had already been growing more and more disillusioned with the power and responsibilities of being Emperor, and the loss of his son only made it more unbearable. As a result, he relied increasingly on his staff, and no one more than the Praetorian Prefect, Lucius Aelius Sejanus. In many ways, Sejanus filled the void that Tiberius’ son had left, as the Emperor treated him much like a partner.

In fact, Sejanus was exactly who Tiberius needed for what he was planning.

It was clear to most of the Roman elite that Tiberius had wanted little to do with being Emperor for a long time, and now that he had Sejanus, his greatest wish was coming true. Promoting his command and even building statues to celebrate him, Tiberius gave Sejanus nearly all of his authority, all while he slowly crept away from the spotlight.

Suddenly, the question arose as to who really ruled over Rome.

With a 20-year career of serving Rome, no one could deny Sejanus’ dedication to the Imperial family, but he was also no stranger to ambition. Fortunately for him, the throne was all but handed to him as Tiberius got some much-needed distance from it, withdrawing to the island of Capri in 26 CE. At that point, all that was missing for Sejanus to be the Emperor was the title itself.

Naturally, this was the perfect opportunity for Tiberius’s enemies to strike.

Despite wielding all the power of the Emperor, Sejanus wasn’t going to stop until he took the Imperial throne officially, so he began to scheme. Over the following years, he tried to get in the good graces of the Julian family, hoping they would adopt him into it. From that position, he would be in a much stronger place to overthrow Tiberius once and for all.

However, no matter how careful he was, Sejanus couldn’t keep this a secret forever.

Tiberius may have been a reluctant Emperor who delegated much of his power to his second-in-command, but he still couldn’t stand by as others plotted his downfall. In 31 CE, Sejanus discovered that the jig was up when, during a Senate meeting, they read out a letter from Tiberius—who had caught on. Suddenly, the usually passive Emperor was furious and merciless, demanding the immediate execution of his former right-hand man.

Enraged and pushed into action, Tiberius didn’t stop at Sejanus’s punishment.

Now in his early 70s, Tiberius had changed much over his long career, and he was far from the young praetor who had served the Empire so honorably. The Senate had Sejanus executed, but he wasn’t alone, and several of his associates joined him at Tiberius’s orders to demonstrate his distinct lack of mercy.

This resulting hunt caused a tidal wave through all of Rome’s elites.

In the wake of Sejanus’ execution, Tiberius went into a frenzy as he tried to weed out any remnants of treason that may have been present in his government. According to some sources, this led to countless executions, targeting anyone even suspected of helping Sejanus, even including his lover and Tiberius’ niece, Livilla.

In response, many other, more despicable rumors about him popped up.

While Tiberius’ treason trials had become a looming shadow over the Roman nobility, he wasn’t actually present to instill this terror himself, since he was still living in Capri. Being so cut off from the rest of his Empire, everyone began to spread horrific rumors about what he was getting up to, often citing perverse or sadistic activities.

Clearly, he hardly had anyone left who wasn’t rooting for his demise.

The stories of Tiberius’ activities while in Capri weren’t the extent of the rumors about him, as many said his appearance had started to mirror his deplorable acts, with a body deformed by blotches and pockmarks. Most saw him as a monster in every sense, and while it’s unclear how embellished these stories were, their existence is a good indicator of how much the Romans loathed him.

Finally, he realized it was time to wash his hands of all of it.

Tiberius’s ruthlessness against Sejanus and his supporters was clearly more about revenge than trying to stay in power, especially since he completely stepped away afterwards. Although Rome was effectively leaderless, it continued to survive due to the system of government that Augustus had established when he first became Emperor.

On the other hand, Tiberius had fallen from grace in every sense.

No matter how true the stories were about his descent into madness or his deteriorating appearance, there’s no denying that Tiberius was unhappy during the last years of his life. Having already lost his son, he suspected that Sejanus’ treachery had started even further back, and that he had been the one behind Drusus’ demise. This suspicion only worsened the paranoia that had crept into his mind.

Paranoid or not, though, he was right to think his days were numbered.

By his late 70s, Tiberius had run out of any immediate heirs, leaving the Senate in a mad dash to find the best person to succeed him. While they likely felt anyone would have been better than Tiberius, they eventually settled on Germanicus’s son, Caligula. This decision happened not a moment too soon, as Tiberius perished on March 16, 37 CE, but the exact details of his passing remain a mystery to this day.

In one version, Caligula may have celebrated a bit too early.

One account of his demise states that Tiberius was unfortunate enough to injure himself while participating in a ceremonial game and fell into a coma, becoming bedridden in his final days. According to Tacitus, Caligula received news that Tiberius had finally passed and immediately threw a party to celebrate his accession, only to learn that Tiberius was, in fact, still breathing.

With few options and even less time, he and his supporters needed to act quickly.

At once, when Caligula and everyone celebrating with him heard that Tiberius was still kicking, the party fell into complete disorder. Most feared what Tiberius would do if he learned they were cheering for his demise, but Caligula’s right-hand man, Naevius Sutorius Macro, jumped into action. Ordering his men to smother Tiberius in his bed, Macro ensured Caligula’s succession right then and there.

At the same time, this isn’t the only version of events.

In another story of how Tiberius’ life came to an end, he passed in a much more natural way than at the hands of those serving his successor. According to Roman historian Suetonius, the Emperor still became bedridden after suffering an illness. However, after feeling like he had finally come out the other side and trying to get up one day, he immediately collapsed and perished.

Even then, people were happy to spread other theories about his demise.

While scholars like Seneca the Elder supported the idea that Tiberius passed from natural causes, Suetonius also mentioned several rumors of far more insidious endings the Emperor could have met. Most of these still implicated Caligula in orchestrating Tiberius’ demise, and ranged from poisoning his predecessor to starving him.

Nonetheless, now that he was actually gone, all of Rome took to the streets in celebration.

Even after his life had ended, Tiberius couldn’t get away from the whims of his enemies, especially since many of them were members of the Senate. When Augustus had passed, the Senate accorded him certain divine honors, but they refused to grant these to Tiberius as the ultimate disrespect. Still, they decided to cremate him, despite calls from the Roman public to simply throw him in the river with chants like “To the Tiber with Tiberius!”

Little did they realize that, without him, Rome wouldn’t have survived as long as it did.

Despite being only the second ruler of the newly established Roman Empire, Tiberius’s people generally regarded him as one of the worst. In reality, though, he left Rome in a better state than he found it, largely due to his avoidance of unnecessary armed conflicts. Although history focused on the disturbing stories about him, behind the scenes, he unified the empire and left behind an astonishing 3 billion sesterces in the imperial treasury.

Regardless, it was clear that the only thing being Emperor gave him was pain.

Tiberius largely wanted to do everything he could to serve the Roman Empire, even after the powers that be pushed him into a position far beyond what he wanted. Ordered to give up the woman he loved and being named the sole heir to the throne, Tiberius was never truly happy again. Many hated him, but even some of the kinder accounts describe him as mostly grim and detached, with Pliny the Elder stating he was “the gloomiest of men”.

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As his name suggests, William II was not the first William in his family. In fact, when he was born sometime around 1060, his father was William, Duke of Normandy. But he wouldn’t stay that way for long. Will Sr was none other than the fabled William the Conqueror.

With two older brothers—Robert Curthose and Richard—and a younger brother—Henry—William II would have to conquer his own inheritance.

Instead of going by his official name, William II, William’s contemporaries mostly referred to him as “William Rufus”. His nickname was Latin for William “the Red”. Historians aren’t certain why he got the name, but they’re pretty confident that it was a reference to his “red hair” or “ruddy appearance”.

Or perhaps it was the fact that he left a trail of red blood in his wake.

Contemporary reports about William Rufus’ physical appearance paint a striking image. William of Malmesbury wrote that William Rufus was “well set” and “of astonishing strength” with a “florid” complexion. Most interestingly, William Rufus might have had heterochromia, as Malmesbury recorded his “different coloured eyes, varying with certain glittering specks”.

The only glitter in his eyes was mischief.

William Rufus’ feuds with his brothers started early—and got bloody. While playing dice with his brother, Henry, William grew bored and came up with a terribly naughty idea: dump a chamber pot onto his older brother Robert. Predictably, the smelly prank didn’t go over so well and the brothers came to blows.

If it wasn’t for William the Conqueror stepping in, the brothers might have torn each other apart.

Sometime around 1075, William Rufus got closer to the throne than he had anticipated when his older brother Richard went on a hunting excursion. After a fatal run-in with an “overhanging branch,” Richard perished in the New Forest. The younger William Rufus would, in time, face a chillingly similar fate in the same danger-filled forest.

But not before he inherited his birthright.

When William the Conqueror passed on in 1087, William Rufus received the crown of England. But…not all of it. His brother, Robert Curthose took Normandy—his father’s ancestral land—while Henry walked away with silver and their mother’s estates. The division of the kingdom was meant to ensure peace—but it did the opposite.

William Rufus might have shared his father’s lands—but not his crown. On 26 September 1087, Lanfranc, Archbishop of Canterbury, placed the crown upon his head at Westminster Abbey. The ceremony gave William II holy legitimacy over his brothers—but he wouldn’t be in God’s good graces for long.

Just two years into his reign, William II suffered a devastating blow. Lanfranc—his father’s trusted advisor and powerful ally—passed on in 1089. Without the wise Archbishop to guide him and grant God’s blessings, William II’s crown suddenly felt like a cross. That said, he didn’t spend much time mourning.

With Lanfranc gone, William II let the see of Canterbury, the archbishopric, sit empty for four long years. Four very profitable long years. During that time, William II quietly collected the vast revenues of the see for himself, redirecting coins for Christ into royal coffers. It was a bold and controversial move. One that would come back to haunt him.

By 1088, the feud between William II and his brother, Robert, reached a boiling point. Bishop Odo of Bayeux and Robert, Count of Mortain rallied nobles behind William II’s older brother, seeking to reunite England and Normandy under one ruler. The uprising threatened to topple his already unpopular reign.

Thankfully, his brothers weren’t as cunning as he was.

William II prepared to face his brother in battle—but didn’t have to. Robert never showed to lead his revolt. So, naturally, William II seized the opportunity. He showered the English nobles with silver and promises of fairer rule, winning back their support and crushing the rebellion without swinging a sword.

The victory secured his crown, but not his family’s peace.

Not content to simply put out his brother’s fires in England, William II marched on Normandy in 1090. But, once again, he preferred silver to steel. William II tried to buy out his brother’s nobles, but too many of them rejected the offer, leading to a spectacular failure when he tried to seize Rouen. Still, he saw that as just a minor setback.

Undeterred by his failure in Rouen, William II invaded Normandy in 1091. And this time, he wasn’t offering bribes. His forces overwhelmed Robert’s army, forcing Robert to cede precious lands. Now, with their brotherly squabble out of the way, William II agreed to help his brother reclaim other lost territories.

Trouble, however, was brewing back at home.

William II wouldn’t have the time to help his brother. Later that same year, Malcolm III of Scotland crossed the border, testing William II’s tumultuous reign. Just as his fearsome father, however, William II was no pushover and he routed the Scots, forcing Malcolm III to pay homage.

Still, he wanted to make sure Malcolm III wouldn’t come back.

In 1092, William II sealed his victory over Malcolm III when he constructed the mighty Carlisle Castle. The imposing fortress firmly placed Cumberland and Westmorland—lands the Scots believed were theirs—under his control. Just when he thought he had secured his borders, however, an old foe fought back.

Just because William II built his big castle, didn’t mean the Scots had given up. On November 13, 1093, Malcolm III marched south once more. Of course, William II was expecting him and smashed his enemy with a brutal ambush. Norman forces under Robert de Mowbray cut down the Scottish king and his son Edward, ending their threat to William II’s rule in a single strike.

De Mowbray wouldn’t always be so faithful an ally.

If the Scots couldn’t take William II out, then perhaps fate could. Later that same year, William II fell gravely ill. Faced with his own mortality, he rushed to make things right with God and nominated Anselm, the era’s most celebrated theologian, as Archbishop of Canterbury.

The appointment was meant to bring peace to William II’s soul…but it only created a whole new battlefield.

Before taking the archbishop’s seat, Anselm insisted on three uncompromising conditions: William II must restore seized church lands, respect the archbishop’s spiritual authority, and acknowledge Pope Urban II who was, himself, in a battle for legitimacy. Cowed by his illness (and desire to not burn in the afterlife), William II agreed.

But his cooperation would last about as long as his fever.

No sooner had Anselm donned his new robes than William II recovered. And with his health returned his greed. William II demanded back the lands he had ceded and pressed Anselm for funds to fuel (yet another) looming conflict with his brother, Robert Curthose. Needless to say, William II’s lack of honor didn’t go over well with the powerful church.

In an effort to keep the peace, Anselm tried to meet William II halfway. He offered the crooked king 500 marks—but that was clearly 500 too few. William II considered Anselm’s offer to be an insult, even more so when Anselm informed him that he couldn’t give back all the money because he had given the rest to the poor.

That elicited an unexpected response from William II.

There was definitely no love lost between William II and the new Archbishop. At one point, William II thundered, “Yesterday I hated him with great hatred, today I hate him with yet greater hatred and he can be certain that tomorrow and thereafter I shall hate him continually with ever fiercer and more bitter hatred”.

Harsh words would be the least of Anselm’s problems.

In 1095, William II convened a great council at Rockingham. The express purpose of the meeting was to brow-beat Anselm into submission before England’s most powerful lords. Yet even surrounded by William’s loyalists, Anselm quietly and calmly refused to yield. Open defiance against William II was, it seemed, in season.

That same year, Robert de Mowbray—the formidable Earl of Northumbria who had helped William II crush the Scots before—changed his allegiances. When de Mowbray flatly refused to attend the Curia Regis (a regular meeting of courtiers and nobles), William II was beside himself with rage. It was an unmistakable challenge.

A challenge that William II was only too happy to answer.

Determined to crush dissent, William II marched north. He easily seized de Mowbray’s strongholds, and destroyed his resistance, stripping de Mowbray of his titles and throwing him behind bars. That was, all things considered, a merciful fate. Another noble in the rebellion, William of Eu, was “blinded and castrated”.

It was a clear signal: no one was safe from William II’s wrath. Not even an archbishop.

By 1097, even as the Archbishop of Canterbury, Anselm had endured enough of William II’s pressure. Unable to defend his reforms at home, he fled England in self-imposed exile and rushed to Rome where he presented his case directly to the pope. William II could only pray that the pope wouldn’t bring the hammer of God down upon him.

Fortunately for William II, Pope Urban II was having problems of his own when Anselm showed up. Emperor Henry IV had thrown his support behind another papal candidate. Seeing an opportunity, Pope Urban II made a deal with William II: the king recognized him as pope, and the pope turned a blind eye to some of William II’s sins.

It was quite a profitable deal.

With Pop Urban II’s approval quieting the controversy, Anselm remained in exile—and William II was only too happy. With the Archbishop of Canterbury stuck in Rome, William II decided it best to keep Canterbury’s revenues. For the rest of his reign, he happily pocketed the archbishop’s income.

Somehow, even God’s money wasn’t enough to satisfy William II.

In 1096, William II’s brother, Robert Curthose, joined the First Crusade. But, to fund his expedition, he had to pledge Normandy to William II in exchange for 10,000 marks. The only problem: 10,000 marks was roughly a quarter of William II’S entire annual revenue.

William II knew exactly how to raise the cash.

To pay Robert’s price, William II imposed a special—and especially heavy—kingdom-wide tax. While the impressive tax collection effort proved William II’s competency as an administrator, it infuriated his English subjects. Considering what he did with some of that tax revenue, their anger was justified.

Flush with cash, William II began construction on one of the most iconic English symbols: the original Westminster Hall. The enormous stone masterpiece was meant “to impress his subjects with the power and majesty of his authority”. At 240 feet long and towering 40 feet high, it dwarfed anything in England.

Except, that is, for William II’s ego.

According to contemporary chroniclers, William II was not impressed with Westminster Hall. In fact, he scoffed at the monumental stone structure, allegedly claiming it was “a mere bedchamber compared with what I had intended to build”. To him, even a massive palace complex wasn’t grand enough.

Nothing ever was to William II.

In 1097, William II set his sights to his borders, leading two campaigns into Wales where he hoped to assert his authority. Unfortunately, William II’s little outing achieved little in open battle, but he compensated by fortifying the frontier. A chain of castles soon marked the marchlands separating England from Wales, tightening his Norman control over the border.

And speaking of Normandy.

As his brother was away on crusade, William II was regent in Normandy. But he was no benchwarmer. William II took the opportunity to launch campaigns into France from 1097 to 1099. He managed to secure northern Maine, extending Norman power—but he couldn’t pry the strategically vital Vexin from French hands.

Still, he rewarded his most loyal lieutenant.

Ranulf Flambard had served William II tirelessly. So, in 1099 the king appointed him Bishop of Durham. But it wasn’t just a spiritual office with a nice title; it was a massive feudal power base. The promotion cemented Flambard as the most influential minister in William II’s government.

And he would need all of the allies that he could get.

On August 2, 1100, William II rode into the New Forest—ironically, the same cursed woodland that had claimed his brother Richard all those years before. The hunt began unusually late, well after lunch instead of dawn. For a king so set in his habits, the delay felt ominous.

And the company he kept was even stranger.

William II’s hunting party would soon turn into a list of suspects. His party included his brother Henry (the future Henry I), Robert and Henry de Beaumont, Robert Fitzhamon, William of Breteuil, and the powerful Clare brothers. Rounding out the list: Walter Tirel. A man history would never forget—and God would bless.

The chronicler William of Malmesbury recorded a peculiar event the night before the hunt. Malmesbury wrote that William II had received six fine arrows that night. He claimed four as his own and gifted the remaining two to Tirel with the remark, “Bon archer, bonnes fleches.” Translation: “[To the] good archer, [the] good arrows”.

Perhaps Tirel was too good an archer—or no good at all.

As daylight faded on the hunt, William II set his sights upon a stag and loosed an arrow. But it wasn’t a perfect shot, and he only managed to wound the animal as it bolted into the glowing horizon. Shielding his eyes against the setting sun, he couldn’t have seen what was coming straight at him.

Malmesbury recounts the curious events that unfolded as the sun was setting on that fateful hunt. Tirel, Malmesbury claims, had taken aim at another stag as William II squinted into the sunset. Malmesbury writes that Tirel “unknowingly and without power to prevent it…sent his fatal arrow through the king’s breast”.

In an instant, the hunt turned into horror.

With an arrow protruding from his chest, William II supposedly made it worse. Contemporary accounts claim that the wounded king snapped the shaft of the arrow off. But by doing so, he only forced the embedded point deeper. Without so much as a sound, he collapsed—lifeless.

Tirel’s reaction? Suspicious.

Realizing what had happened, Tirel rushed to William II’s side. But, by the time he got there, it was obvious: the king was beyond saving. Panicked—or guilt-ridden—Tirel fled England, seeking safety in France. His furtive escape fueled centuries of speculation—and wild conspiracies.

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle—the closest record in time to the events of that day—was very clear about what happened deep in the woods of the New Forest. Clear…and still somehow vague. The chronicle simply stated that William II was “shot by an arrow by one of his own men”. No motive, no intention, no explanation.

William II alone, perhaps, knew what really happened.

Malmesbury recounts an ominous nightmare William II is said to have had the night before the hunt. The ill-fated king imagined himself to be in the underworld, where the Devil taunted him: “I can’t wait for tomorrow because we can finally meet in person!” William II then, allegedly, jolted awake, demanded light, and ordered his attendants not to leave his side.

By dawn, the dream had become a reality.

After Tirel fled, William II (or, rather, his lifeless body) lay abandoned on the forest floor. It wasn’t until peasants—including a charcoal burner named Eli Parratt—found him that he could be laid to rest. They loaded his corpse onto a cart and unceremoniously brought it to Winchester Cathedral.

Then the fingers started pointing.

While William II lay lifeless in the forest, his younger brother Henry galloped to his destiny—and his brother’s fortune. He headed straight to Winchester, seizing control of the royal treasury then rode off to London where, just three days after William II’s final hunt, he was crowned King Henry I.

But questions were beginning to arise.

A little over four decades after William II’s demise, a French abbot shed light of the Tirel’s account of that day. The abbot, Suger, said he had heard Tirel himself say that he had nothing to do with William II’s accident at all. As Suger said, “when he [Tirel] had nothing to fear nor to hope” he swore that he never “saw him [William II] in the forest at all”.

Perhaps we’ll never know. But William II sought revenge from beyond the grave.

William II’s remains were buried beneath Winchester Cathedral’s central tower. But he wasn’t exactly resting in peace. In 1107, the tower collapsed. To devout chroniclers, it wasn’t a structural failure—it was divine judgment. They saw the wreckage as yet another sign that God despised the “pagan king”.

Thankfully, his soul was resting elsewhere.

William II wasn’t the most popular king—but he was solid as a rock. Near Minstead, a monument called the “Rufus Stone” marks the alleged place where William II fell. Its inscription spins a tidy tale: “Here stood the Oak Tree, on which an arrow shot by Sir Walter Tyrrell at a Stag, glanced and struck King William the Second, surnamed Rufus, on the breast, of which he instantly [perished], on the second day of August, anno 1100”.

Carved in stone—though not necessarily true.

Over the course of his life, William II took no wife, no mistress, and fathered no heirs—not even an illegitimate one. As a bachelor king, he would normally have faced immense pressure to marry—yet proposals came and went with no action from him at all. For his critics, this mystery fueled endless speculation.

Historian Frank Barlow didn’t sugarcoat William II’s reputation. He described him as a “rumbustious, devil-may-care soldier…with no cultivated tastes”. And he didn’t stop there. Barlow shed some light on the potential cause of William II’s permanent bachelorhood when he wrote that William II was “addicted to every kind of vice”—and used some choice words to describe what those vices were…namely, the products of lust between two men.

But even Barlow admitted there was another side.

Barlow wasn’t totally negative in his accounts of William II. He also noted William’s strengths, praising his “chivalrous virtues” and numerous achievements. He enforced order in England, secured Normandy, expanded into Wales, humbled Scotland, and pressed relentlessly at the Vexin.

Still, not even his maker could love him.

History is divided on William II. Was he a bold leader, fearlessly expanding and defending his borders—like his legendary father? Or was he a greedy, lecherous pagan? Well, according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, William II was “hated by almost all his people”.

But the real kicker was that he was, according to the Chronicle, “abhorrent to God”.

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Born in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1931, King didn’t have the easiest start in life. The fifth of six kids, his family likely struggled to make ends meet in a pre-Civil Rights Movement America. But when he was still just a boy, about 10 years old, what started as a shocking tragedy ultimately gave his family a fresh start. 

In 1941, King’s father passed in a freak workplace accident at the Otis Steel plant. While the loss of his father became a point of grief for the entire family, the money they received from the company—equal to around $200k in our times—turned into their way out. King’s mother moved the family to a nicer neighborhood, and set up shop selling peanuts and pies. 

You might think that kind of change would put King on the right track, but it ended up doing just the opposite. 

King stayed busy by helping his mother sell her food items at a local concession stand—except, the concession stand actually served as a cover for the real business, running “numbers”. Before long, King and his siblings found themselves caught up in the betting scams. And eventually, in the worst ways possible, King took to the game like a fish to water…

Despite his focus on “business,” King still managed to graduate from Cleveland's John Adams High in 1951. He went on to attend Kent State University, perhaps looking for a taste of the straight and narrow. If he did get a taste, he didn’t care for it, because he ultimately dropped out. But perhaps he just had his mind on other things—some innocent, and some everything but. 

The same year he graduated from high school, King married a young lady named Luvenia Mitchell. There’s not much information available about her, which might be due to the fact that they eventually divorced. Either that, or her history has been drowned out by everything else King did during that time. 

Also starting that same year, King launched his own numbers business. He worked as a full time bookie, taking unlawful bets out of a record store’s basement. He became well known for what he did, with names like “The Kid” and “Kingpin” starting to follow him around. 

As you might expect, illicit behavior often leads to other illicit behavior, and it wasn’t long before King found himself doing the worst of the worst. 

On December 2, 1954, King pulled up to his gambling house to discover three men attempting to rob the place. Seemingly without a second though, King pulled out a revolver and let loose. In the end, he took the life of one of the men, Hillary Brown, and authorities took him in for questioning. All things considered, the outcome proved to be…surprisingly lenient. 

According to the courts, King had every right to react the way he did, despite any other unlawful dealings involved. Authorities ultimately ruled the situation “justified”, releasing King from any potential consequences—from them, that is. While he managed to escape any punishment at the hands of the court, he didn’t find himself quite so lucky when it came to street justice. 

A few years later, in 1957, King faced a whole different type of backlash. On May 20th of that year, the porch of his home literally exploded. Allegedly, he was targeted with an explosive device due to some unlawful dealings with some shady groups. And while that likely gave him quite the fright, things got even more dicey when a crime boss set his sights on King…

Later that same year, well-known American Gangster Shondor Birns supposedly put a hit out on King. Why, you may ask? For not making good on the $200 monthly payment that promised his security. King managed to survive the resulting shots in his head and neck, but, in the background, the courts were already on their way back for their piece of the pie. 

The year 1957 turned out to be a banner year for the young scammer, as the IRS raided his house that December looking for evidence to support his alleged tax evasion. While that case dragged on in court, and eventually ended up tied in with other cases that came back to haunt him later, he ultimately got up to something much worse than owing the government several thousand dollars. 

In August 1966, King went berserk on an employee. According to his version of events, the employee, Sam Garret, “ran off with (some) money”. But according to authorities’ reports, and several people who witnessed the entire accident, King actually went crazy on Garret for owing him just $600. He beat and stomped him to his tragic end, despite his victim’s alleged final words: “Don, I’ll pay you the money". 

This time, he didn't get away quite like he had before. 

King tried to plead “self-defense,” but this time, the courts saw right through his charades. They convicted him of serious charges, and threw him behind bars for a sentence that could amount to 20 years. And while it seemed his life of devious behavior finally caught up with him, it was behind bars that King learned some things that changed the course of his life forever—though not in the way you might expect (or hope). 

While serving his time in lockup, King reportedly hit the books, reading everything from Shakespeare to Nietzsche. In his own words, he said it “gave me an enlightenment on life…don’t get mad, get smart”. Granted, by other reports, he’d go on to quote, both accurately and inaccurately, many well known writers for the rest of his life. But that wasn’t the only interesting thing he managed on lockdown. 

Somehow, King managed to arrange the purchase of a farm during his time away. While that seems pretty innocent, and perhaps was, what’s interesting about it is who lived there—a recent widow by the name of Henrietta Renwick. Eventually, she became King’s next bride and the mother of his kids. But not before one more moment in history sparked his interest and changed his world…

In 1971, King managed to tune into a history-making boxing match between two then undefeated champions: Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier. This fight became “The Fight of the Century,” drawing massive attention and making what amounts to over $400 million revenue. While it’s not completely cemented in history as King’s inspiration for his life after lock up, it seems an obvious influence. 

But you’re probably wondering how he ended up getting out from behind bars in the first place. Well, what exactly happened depends on what version of events you find most believable.

In 1972, after just three years and 11 months locked up, the courts reduced King’s charges to manslaughter and ultimately released him from their custody. Supposedly, this reduction came on the back of the consistent and lawful work of his attorney in overturning the charges. But if that seems unlikely to you, the other explanation behind it might give you some resolve…

In a Sports Illustrated article that came out decades later in 1991, reporters alleged that King actually paid the judge off. That seems much more likely, considering the multiple eye witnesses to the incident, his access to powerful people, and his knack for getting his hands on ridiculous amounts of capital. 

Regardless of how, though, King found himself a free man in 1972, and made a huge play on how he wanted to live the rest of  his life, and just who he would use to get it done. 

King’s foray into the world of boxing began almost immediately once he got released and sought out Muhammad Ali. By that time, Ali’s career appeared precarious. He’d missed prime boxing years due to his Vietnam draft refusal, and likely needed someone to help him get back to the ring. King offered to be that person, and started by convincing Ali to fight in a charity show for a hospital in a poor area. 

That sounds all well and good, but King’s intentions proved anything but charitable. 

In his first real work as a boxing promoter, King managed to pull off the charity fight featuring Ali. But at the end of it all, he allegedly only donated $1,500 of the $85k in profit to the hospital. But if you think that was bad, it was only the beginning. 

Just two years later, King took a huge swing that ultimately parlayed him into boxing history. In 1974, he somehow talked Muhammad Ali and Geroge Foreman—two of the most powerful men in boxing at the time—into fighting each other in Zaire for a $10 million purse he didn’t even have yet. 

It was bold, risky, and in the end, just crazy enough to work.

When the lights went up in Zaire, King found himself in the midst of more than a fight, he’d actually created an unforgettable cultural moment. In the end, as Ali took home the belt, but depending on how you look at it, perhaps King proved the real winner of it all. Overnight, he became the face of boxing.

And with that, he seemed set to go on to one of the most stellar runs in the history of boxing promotion—from the outside looking in, that is.  

The rest of the 1970s seemed served up to King on a platter. He went on to arrange and promote several iconic matches, including the 1974 fight between Ali and Chuck Wepner that supposedly inspired Sylvester Stallone to write Rocky, and the 1975 Ali and Fraizier rematch now known as the “Thrilla in Manila”. Perhaps even more impressive than his fights was his roster of management clients, which included Larry Holmes, Salvador Sánchez, and Wilfredo Gómez. 

The 1970s also saw the beginning of his iconic hairstyle, and his even more iconic explanation for it. 

According to the Don himself, his seemingly naturally curly hair started growing straight up in the air by divine intervention some time in 1974. In his own words, his wife woke him from his sleep one night because his “head was rumbling and moving” and his “hair was just popping up”. 

Do with that what you will, but in all honesty, considering his behavior behind the scenes of all his success, that sounds like just another fun bit of deception, and mere par for the course…

As the 70s approached a close, King continued to ride on his high horse, though one particular incident seemed a foreshadow of things to come. In 1976, he pitched an idea to ABC. He suggested they televise a national boxing match, which seemed like a good idea coming off the US Olympic wins that same year. ABC signed on to work with him, but ended up cutting ties when some very suspicious details about their new “business partner” began to surface. 

ABC ultimately discovered they’d signed up to work with a swindler. One of the participants in the tournament alleged that the fights were fixed so King’s own clients could win. Several others reported the same, with additional allegations of both the rankings and fight records also being rigged. Before they could go down with the King, ABC canned the entire idea. 

But as the next decade rolled in, allegations of King’s misconduct started coming in from what seemed like every fighter he’d ever worked with. 

While King managed to continue working throughout the decade, and even continued to dominate the world of boxing promotion in many aspects, questions about his character began to color the perception of him in many circles. It all started with the person who might be considered his first boxing star—”The Greatest” himself. 

In June of 1982, Muhammad Ali sued King for about $2 million dollars. Ali claimed King owed him money for unpaid work, and seemingly intended to take him to court for all of it. Unfortunately for Ali, his own condition didn’t look too good, physically or financially. And with his resolve compromised, his once friend and manager took advantage in the worst way. 

In an act that seems a true indicator of his ethics (or lack thereof), King sent $50,000 cash to the hospital where Ali laid, receiving treatment. Along with the cash, he sent a contract mandating that the acceptance of the money required Ali drop the lawsuit altogether. Ali signed, taking the tiny percentage of money he claimed King owed him. 

While the picture of a sporting great signing his due away while laid in his sick bed really makes this one hit home, it proved not to be the last time King would swindle a star athlete. 

Throughout the decade, King continued to meet allegations of monetary misconduct with paltry payouts. In 1982, his fighter Larry Holmes sued him for $300k, and he settled it with $100k. In 1986, another of his fighters, Tim Witherspoon, sued him for $25 million and settled for $1 million. 

Almost a full decade later, another boxing great that landed in his camp—Mike Tyson— sued for $100 million and settled for $14 million. But before that monumental Tyson moment, King somehow managed to bag some very questionable life wins. 

In 1983, the unbelievable happened: King received a full pardon for brutally taking the life of his employee back in 1966, wiping the incident completely off his record. Some of the supporters behind his pardon? Jesse Jackson, Coretta Scott King, and a couple sport bigwigs from Cleveland. After pulling off that feat, King probably felt like dancing. Which might explain one seemingly unique endeavor he undertook shortly therafter….

The very next year, Don King took up the official role as concert promoter for the famed “Victory Tour,” the final concert tour of Michael Jackson and his brothers. And while the king of pop didn’t seem to like him all that much—he fired and rehired him during the course of the tour—it seemed no amount of rumor or truth about King’s behavior could hold him down. 

Technically, that is. Like it had earlier in his life, a bit of “street justice” occasionally caught up with him.

Back in 1981, some of King’s chickens came home to roost while he visited the Bahamas. A group of men accosted him and beat him down. By his own reports, another promoter and some Black Muslims were responsible. But while the details are very hazy, it certainly seems that King’s own shady dealings likely played a role. 

That incident aside, though, King pulled through the decade with only ever increasing amounts of money and notoriety. But as the 1990s rolled in, there seemed no end in sight for his questionable business practices. 

In 1990, King allegedly faced another payment issue when one of his clients, Meldrich Taylor, approached him for his promised pay—$1.3 million. When King offered him $300k instead, the fighter understandably balked. King’s response? To threaten to literally end him if he didn’t just take what he offered. A bit of an escalation, if you ask me. 

But perhaps that can help explain where King’s mind was when things came to a head with one of his last big clients, Mike Tyson. 

King first started working with Tyson back in the mid-1980s. And while Tyson was already making quite the name for himself, King helped him into some of the biggest fights in his career—propelling him from a life of poverty into one of great wealth. However, things between the two started to fall apart when Tyson became dissatisfied with his finances, feeling that King might not be dealing fairly with him. 

Now before we get into those grimy details, you might be wondering how exactly King managed to defraud so many people. Well, the answer might just surprise you. 

Among many other ways of supposedly maneuvering around more ethical money practices, one of King’s biggest tools was his contractual agreements. Allegedly, he created a type of “Monopoly Clause”. To get in the ring with one of his clients, other fighters had to also agree to be his client if they won. And thanks to King’s far reaching influence and ties, fighters who didn’t sign often found it hard to work at all. So despite his extremely tarnished reputation, if you wanted to get in the ring, you had to sign on with the ringmaster. 

Yeah, pretty supervillain-esque if I do say so myself. Now back to Tyson. 

The trouble really started in 1992. Tyson sued King over his contract, trying to do what he could to get out of it. But amidst his own issues (including his own indictment and time behind bars), it seems that particular suit didn’t get far. Moreover, when courts released Tyson, he returned to working with King. But a few years later, in 1998, Tyson came to the end of his rope and finally turned on King—and not just with his $100 million dollar lawsuit either. 

When Tyson conclusively found himself out about $20 million dollars in 1998, he pulled up to the LA hotel King was staying in at the time. The reports about what he said aren’t many, but according to eye witnesses present, Tyson nearly beat King to a pulp. In the end, Tyson walked away with his $14 million settlement, and the US government made a more lawful attempt at investigating King’s behavior, though no less dramatic. 

In 1999, the feds finally stepped in. They invaded King’s Florida offices, looking for evidence to bring charges against his shady boxing deals, particularly in connection to Bob Lee, the chief of the International Boxing Federation at the time. Unfortunately for them, King was somehow already several steps ahead of the whole thing. 

Somehow, King still escaped even that situation scot free. Authorities couldn’t directly implicate him in his dealings with Lee, though the prosecutors “called him an unindicted co-conspirator who was the principal beneficiary of Lee’s machinations”. In other words, they considered him just as guilty but couldn’t actually do anything about it. 

And with that, King walked free again. Interestingly enough, a few years later, he brought his own lawsuit against a huge corporation…

In 2005, King and his team of attorneys levied some serious charges against the house of mouse—yup, the Walt Disney Pictures. King sought a payment of $2.5 billion in response to what he called defamation in the ESPN Sports Century episode about him. The documentary made several egregious claims, including the dealings with Meldrick Taylor we’ve already mentioned and allegations that he claimed he would break one of his own fighter’s legs, among several other things. 

For once, though, King didn’t quite get what he wanted. 

In the end, the court ruled in favor of Walt Disney. For one, King turned down multiple requests from the show’s production team to speak in the show himself, making his own claims. For two, King nor his attorneys could provide any substantial evidence to falsify any of the claims made in the show. And with that, King took one of what seems like very few L’s in his career. 

What he’s been up to since leaving the world of sport promotion, though, might just shock you. 

While he’s seemed to mostly step back from his very public work in promotion, King never seems too far from the limelight. In 2008 and 2012, he showed very vocal support for Barack Obama. And in what may seem like quite the switch, he appears to be a longtime supporter of Donald Trump. All in all, those pursuits seem noble enough. And despite his life of controversy, there is one facet of his life where he seemingly managed to keep things kosher. 

King remained married to his second wife, Henrietta, for decades. The two had three children, including one adopted child, and several grandchildren. So while very unscrupulous in several matters, he seemed to greatly value his family, which made his wife’s passing in 2010 quite the blow. Not enough of a blow, however, to make him not try to show up to her funeral with some questionable items. 

On King’s way to his wife’s funeral, authorities pulled him aside to further investigate the contents of his carry-on luggage. Upon investigation, they discovered a notable amount of ammo packed in with his belongings. While it seems the situation didn’t escalate too much past the discovery, it might make you wonder if, despite his ascent into his elderly years, he’s still very much the same man he was in his youth. 

Whether or not he’s as “hands-on” as people report he was back in the day, one 2012 incident seems to prove him just as controversial as ever. 

In February 2012, King shocked an auditorium full of boxing fans when he made an inflammatory comment about Mexican American boxer Chris Arreola. He said his team brought Arreola to the forefront, going on to insist on “no more wetbacks running up and down picking the fruits and things”. As you can imagine, that didn’t sit too well with the fighter. But, all things considered, perhaps it’s just too late for anyone to reign King in. 

All controversy aside (or maybe due to all the controversy!), King remains a bit of a cultural icon. Not only has he made appearances in multiple movies and TV shows, including Miami Vice and The Last Fight, but characters inspired by him pop up over and over in pop culture renditions. And if that isn’t enough, several organizations have gone above and beyond to elevate him to the highest platforms. 

King has received several prestigious awards over the course of his life, including an induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 1997 and the Gaming Hall of Fame in 2008. He’s even had two streets named after him, one in New Jersey and one in his home town, Cleveland. Some might argue that these awards glorify his murky route to the top, but, regardless, his work remains magnanimously influential in the world of boxing, and in more ways than one. 

His run, however, may be nearing an end, if his old frenemy Mike Tyson is to be believed. 

In September 2024, podcasters asked Tyson to comment on his current relationship with King. Tyson replied with a concerning report, saying “Don is not doing well right now. He’s probably close to 100 years old. He’s not doing well”. And while those could be disparaging words of an old opponent, other reports seem to clearly point to King’s degenerating health.  

By that time near his mid 90s, doctors reportedly admitted King and kept him for about 10 days. Further reports seem to indicate he needed a blood transfusion to treat an unnamed sickness. That certainly seems dire, but upon his release from the hospital, King himself made a statement that, at this point, just seems so very him. 

According to King’s own statement released to the press, he was not in nearly as much danger as Tyson made it seem. While he acknowledged his hospital visit, he confirmed he’d been released and was recovering nicely, in stark opposition to Tyson’s comments. You might say “You can’t keep a good man down” (or not). 

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In 1914, Tyrone Power was born into a distinguished acting family. With theater in his blood, he had both a famous father and great-grandfather to look up to. Of course, fame had its drawbacks, and once the curtains closed, Power's father often indulged in illicit affairs offstage. Before long, these vices led to a devastating chapter in young Power's childhood.

Power's father had an impossible work schedule, and eventually, his penchant for adultery destroyed the family. After his parents divorced, Power almost never saw his father. Instead, his mother Patia took the reigns, raising her children in California all alone. But she also had an agenda. As an actress herself, she gave Power and his sister Anne a very important gift.

Under his mother's keen tutelage, Power picked up the basic tools he needed to succeed as an actor: diction, vocal control, and even fencing. But as Power grew into a striking young man, he soon realized he wanted more. Not only did he seek to emulate his father—the touted Shakesperean actor—but he also wanted to be better than him.

Luckily for Power, a long-awaited reunion was just around the corner.

At 16 years old, Power barely knew his father—but that was all about to change. Tyrone Power Sr. decided to burst back into his son's life, ready to shepherd Power toward his lofty goals. He took Power on a father-and-son camping trip, and they bonded for the first time in forever. Holed up in nature, the apprenticeship began. Unbeknownst to both parties, however, this rekindled relationship would be tragically cut short.

Power's determination to break into acting impressed his father greatly. As he learned to project his voice and accompanied his father on projects, Power felt—more than ever—that his dreams were finally in reach. When his dad landed a monumental role in The Miracle Man, their acting dynasty seemed more secure than ever. But it was all destined for heartbreak.

During the shooting of The Miracle Man, Power's father's health took a disturbing turn. When his father summoned him to his rooms, he knew immediately that something was seriously wrong...and he was right. While visiting him, Power watched in horror as Tyrone Power Sr. suffered a massive heart attack. Tyrone Power held his father as he breathed his last breath.

 However, this was only the beginning of another uphill battle.

Without his father to direct his career, Power began to flounder. Not only was he going it alone, but he was also broke. As much as his illustrious name won him some interest, he completely lacked the necessary experience to make it big right off the bat. Even his handsome face couldn't snag him the work he lusted after. With his future now shrouded in uncertainty, Power had a difficult choice to make.

Faced with failure after failure in Hollywood, Power decided to switch things up. He moved to New York City in the hopes that Broadway might bring him closer to achieving his dream. Luckily for him, he caught the eye of the acclaimed actress and theater owner, Katharine Cornell, and eventually won his big break on stage with the role of Benvolio in Broadway's Romeo and Juliet.

But despite this first taste of success, Power still yearned to be a movie star.

Due to his breakout role as Benvolio, Power heard from a Hollywood talent scout who offered him a film contract with Universal Studios. But his response was utterly surprising. You see, when he took this exciting news to his mentor, Katharine Cornell, she urged him not to take it. In fact, she insisted that Power still needed far more experience and that he wasn't ready.

And so, he willingly let this opportunity slip through his fingers...for the time being.

Having given up his one-way ticket to Hollywood, Power threw himself into his theater training. By the end of the season, however, another opportunity fell into his lap, and this time, he grabbed on tight and didn't let go. When he found out he had a screen test, he celebrated unabashedly; he ordered champagne and kicked up his heels.

After nailing his test with 20th Century Fox, the contract was his—and a new chapter began.

In 1936, with his feet firmly planted on the starting line, Power won fame right out of the gates. You see, he dazzled one very important person—director Henry King—who thought he'd be perfect for the lead role in Lloyd's of London. But this was no typical audition. The lead role had already been offered to Don Ameche, which meant that in order for Power to beat him out, he had to blow the test out of the water...

Power absolutely nailed the test, winning over Darryl F. Zanuck with flying colors. With his youth and handsome features, Power's undeniable star potential landed him the role of a lifetime. At the film's premiere, this nervous newcomer was practically unknown, but by the end of the night, his life would never be the same again...

For the next seven years, Tyrone Power absolutely dominated the box office. He absolutely entranced his female audience and fended off mountains of adoring fan mail. He was every girl's dreamboat, and as his career skyrocketed, the world of romance practically opened up to him. Not only did he become everyone's favorite romantic lead, but he also turned on his powers of seduction behind the scenes.

On the set of 1938's Suez, Power met one woman that he just couldn't get out of his head—the alluring Annabella. This French starlet had flown over from France to star in an American film, and before long, she'd captured Power's special attention. After he asked her to dinner, the rest was history: This gorgeous couple became practically inseparable.

However, not everyone was thrilled with this blossoming romance.

Zanuck was far from happy with this new development. He recognized that Tyrone Power was a lot more valuable if he maintained his bachelor status. His singledom was pure gold and allowed young girls to cling to the hope that the dreamy actor could one day be theirs. In this way, Annabella posed a huge problem and Zanuck couldn't wait to be rid of her.

As such, he came up with a clever plan to squash this love affair as quickly as it had begun.

To get Power's new lover out of the way, Zanuck offered Annabella multiple movie deals that would send her straight back to Europe. However, he soon learned that he'd sorely underestimated the stubborn French actress, and she absolutely refused to be banished. More than anything, she wanted to stay with Power—and she was willing to pay the price.

When Annabella put her foot down and turned down Zanuck's proposal, he suspended her. Later, Annabella confessed that Tyrone Power didn't have quite the same gall as she did: "Tyrone, he had maybe one little fault. He didn't know enough to say, 'No,' to somebody like Mr. Zanuck." However, Zanuck wasn't the only problem standing in Power and Annabella's way.

You see, Tyrone Power's girlfriend was more of a paramour: Annabella had a husband waiting for her back home. Of course, after falling for Power, she couldn't wait to snag a divorce from the French actor, Jean Murat. And that's exactly what she did. Finally free to wed her American beau, Annabella gleefully faced down Zanuck once and for all...and won.

On April 23, 1939, Tyrone Power wed Annabella, destroying his bachelor status and inciting Zanuck's revenge. The enraged film producer refused to cast Annabella in anything. But as this couple would soon learn, this might have been the least of their worries. Although they didn't know it, their marriage was in for a bumpy ride filled with betrayal.

With the dawn of the new decade fast approaching, Tyrone Power and Annabella began scoping out a home to plant some roots. Unfortunately, this exciting venture only ended in a startling revelation...Tyrone Power was practically broke and couldn't afford to buy the house. The news blindsided Power, and when he got to the bottom of this bizarre situation—he couldn't believe it.

As it turns out, Power's trusted business manager, Uncle Frank, had been stealing much of his income. But Power was never one for confrontation and instead of making a scene, he did his best to keep this scandal on the down-low. Instead, Annabella stepped up and financed their dream home—but as the years passed, another heart-wrenching conflict arose.

About four years into their wedded bliss, Power and Annabella faced a monumental disappointment. With a grand dynasty behind him, Power wanted a son to carry his legacy forward. Unfortunately, however, Annabella just couldn't seem to bear him a child, and it weighed heavily on her. But that wasn't all. Beyond this frustration, rumors of infidelity began to circulate.

Both Power and Annabella were not faithful to one another. While Annabella pursued a tryst with author Roald Dahl, Power set his sights on a very popular leading lady—Judy Garland. Garland fell head-over-heels for the married actor and as their illicit romance grew serious, she tried to convince Power to leave his wife. Of course, Annabella being Annabella, she wasn't about to grant a divorce that easily.

Besides, as the Power family struggled to find their footing, an even greater horror began to overshadow the entire nation.

With the dawn of a new decade came the beginning of WWII. And by 1942, Power found himself caught up in military obligation. He served honorably as a talented pilot. But for his French wife, however, the war had started far earlier than that. In fact, she cited it as one of the reasons for the collapse of their relationship. This trying chapter made her increasingly unhappy, and soon, the couple began drifting away from one another.

Although his homelife suffered, Tyrone thrived as a pilot. He was an exceptionally good one and even had a penchant for danger. After he returned home from his time in the army, he decided to get his act together and patch up the cracks in his failing marriage. He enjoyed a happy reunion with Annabella and a hit film with The Razor's Edge—but this promising new chapter was never meant to last.

After the huge success of The Razor's Edge, Power wanted to make a film that challenged him. He wanted to veer away from the charming, lovable characters he usually played and try his hand at something much darker and dramatic. Zanuck was reluctant to let Power star in 1947's film noir, Nightmare Alley, but eventually caved and let his star act in what he considered a B film.

Unfortunately, Power should never have trusted Zanuck to have his back...

Although Nightmare Alley wasn't a box-office success, Power still reaped some of the most glowing reviews imaginable. He was rather pleased with himself. However, Zanuck was not. Instead of properly publicizing the film, he went ahead and dealt his "darling boy" a terrible betrayal: The film barely had time to take flight before Zanuck pulled the release.

As Power grappled with this stunning disappointment, he also faced trouble on the homefront.

Despite their efforts to make it work, Power and Annabella came to standstill and separated. Later, she commented, "We were terribly sad about it, both of us, but we knew we were drifting apart. I didn't think then—and I don't think now—that it was his fault, or mine." The divorce was amicable as it could be, and once again, Tyrone Power became an eligible bachelor.

And when it came to romance, there was more heartbreak in the cards.

Soon, Tyrone Power had charmed his way into the heart of the leading lady, Lana Turner. But it soon became clear that her feelings for him far outweighed his feelings for her. It was destined for disaster. While Turner considered Power the love of her life, he had no intention of making her his wife. And then, in 1947, a huge problem arose.

As a result of their passionate affair, Lana Turner became pregnant with Power's child. But if she'd hoped to become one big happy family, she was sorely mistaken. Eventually, she opted to terminate the pregnancy and the relationship started spiraling. You see, Power had his sights set on the horizon and his next big project took him farther away from Turner than ever before.

That very same year, Power decided to spread his wings. He wanted to travel around the world. And so, on September 1st, he and his flying mate, Bob Buck, set off in Power's personal plane, "The Geek." Together they traveled far and wide, through Europe and South Africa, dogged by adoring fans wherever they went. But, in the end, it was Rome that truly stole his heart.

While in Rome, Tyrone Power clapped eyes on the stunning Mexican actress, Linda Christian. Just like that, any thought of Lana Turner flew out the window. Christian remembers Power's phone ringing in his suite with Turner on the other end. Allegedly, Turner asked Power, "Where have you been all evening? Tell me that you love me." Power's response was both brutal and romantic in equal measure.

With Lana Turner in one ear, he turned to his new lover, Linda Christian, and said, "I love you." However, that wasn't the only drama. Turner claimed that there were many forces working against her. According to her, news of her spending an evening with Frank Sinatra got passed on to Power, who became rather upset that she had resorted to "dating" while he was away. And that wasn't all.

Turner also claimed that Power's new intrigue, Linda Christian, was far sneakier than she seemed. In Lana's jealous eyes, it seemed far too coincidental for both Power and Christian to have chosen the same hotel. Christian must have gotten her hands on Power's itinerary and planned the whole interlude...allegedly, of course. However, Lana Turner's heartbreak was the last thing on Tyrone Power's mind when he asked Linda Christian to be his wife.

In 1949, Linda Christian arrived late to her own wedding. Outside the church, throngs of hysterical fans barred her way to the altar as the groom waited patiently inside. Thankfully, the fairytale nuptials came to pass and the newlyweds were over the moon. However, as happy as the day proved to be—the marriage itself was another story.

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For Power and Christian, having children was rather an uphill battle. Tragically, Christian suffered through three miscarriages before finally welcoming a baby girl, Romina Francesca Power. As happy as Power was to welcome his first child, his career kept delivering disappointment after disappointment. And as his frustration grew, his popularity fell.

Power, yearning for more freedom, turned down his next film role and took to the stage—a choice that baffled his wife. She couldn't understand why he'd opt for reaching such a small audience when his films had the power to reach millions. Of course, that wasn't the only thing that ruffled her feathers. Distracted by theater and far from his family, Power gave in to his forbidden desires.

Throughout Power's run with theater, a sordid trickle of rumors reached the ears of his wife. He wasn't being faithful to her and it didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. According to Christian, when Power arrived home, he told her, "Why do you worry? Why don't you get yourself a lover too?" This, of course, was a bad idea.

As he entertained the company of other women, Power's wife also took a lover, Edmund Purdom. However, this behavior only poisoned the marriage, until eventually, it was beyond repair. Despite welcoming another daughter in 1953, both Power and Christian had lost one necessary component of their relationship—trust.

That same year, Power returned to Hollywood with his first independent film, The Mississippi Gambler and it led to an awkward debacle that further enraged Linda Christian. You see, both she and Power were supposed to star in it together—a dream team both on-screen and off...that is until another beautiful actress strolled in for a screen test.

The casting for The Mississippi Gambler hit a snag when Piper Laurie nailed her audition and beat out Tyrone Power's own wife. Later, she remembered, "I had to walk on the burning coals to get the part." Stung by this blatant rejection, Linda Christian believed that her husband hadn't stood up for her and that he should have been "firmer."

By 1955, Power's marriage had crumbled beyond repair, and he and Christian split. However, there was one dream he still hadn't achieved—a son. Although he entertained affairs over the next couple of years, he had no desire to marry again, citing his own failed marriages as a reason to remain a bachelor. However, there was one woman destined to change his mind.

Two years after leaving Christian, Power met the woman who would make all his dreams come true, Deborah Jean Smith. This young woman had a bohemian spirit and had even courted Elvis Presley. After meeting Tyrone Power, however, she promised to give him a son, and only months after their wedding in 1958, she excitedly announced her pregnancy.

Little did Power know, he wouldn't live to witness the birth of his third child.

One of Power's friends, Terry Moore, remembers Power making a rather eerie statement: "There are only two things that I'd like: I would like a son and I would like to die on stage." As the actor prepared to take on his next huge project, Solomon and Sheba, he seemed to be a vision of health. Having grown out his beard for the role, Power was as dashing and handsome as ever.

Sadly, he was headed straight for tragedy.

Solomon and Sheba brought Power overseas to Spain where it dragged him through some stressful paces. You see, it was Tyrone Power's own company producing the film, and the weight of expectation lay heavily on his shoulders. Not only that, but as one of the lead actors, the work taxed his body and emotionally exhausted him.

While filming was underway, warning signs began surfacing. After giving the actor a mandatory checkup, Power's doctor seemed worried. He wanted to run another cardiogram, but shockingly, Power refused the procedure. In fact, his response was downright chilling: "If there's something wrong, I don't want to know." In retrospect, this may have been a fatal mistake.

During a dueling scene with his costar George Sanders, Tyrone Power began to tire. You see, Sanders wasn't an expert swordsman and they just couldn't get the scene right. By the 20th take, however, disaster struck. Tyrone Power suddenly fell to the ground. Something was seriously wrong. But this was only the beginning of the nightmare.

You see, Power's grueling dueling scene had brought on a massive heart attack. The surrounding crew watched in horror as he began to slip away before their eyes. To make matters worse, there was no doctor on set. Although the stricken actor was rushed to the hospital—it was already too late. At the startlingly young age of 44, the legendary actor closed his eyes forever.

Perhaps even more heartbreaking was the aftermath of Tyrone Power's passing. His burial took place at the Hollywood Forever Cemetary, and during the funeral, one of his greatest friends, Cesar Romero, delivered a heartwrenching eulogy: "He was a beautiful man—beautiful outside and beautiful inside. We shall all miss him. Rest well, my friend." However, the story of Tyrone Power wasn't quite over.

Two months after that fateful day, his wife welcomed the dream he didn't live to see—a son named Tyrone Power Jr. With this little boy, his legacy could continue on. Of course, he also left behind his two little girls. Later, his daughter Taryn Power heartbreakingly said, "I would have liked to have talked to him. I would have liked to hug him. I would have liked to just have a daddy."

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Gayatri Devi was equal parts saucy and charming, and so was her birth. Her mother was the renowned beauty and socialite Indira Devi, who had notoriously broken off her previous engagement to marry Jitendra, the Maharaja of Cooch Behar. This bit of romantic rebellion caused an immediate high society uproar, and by the time Gayatri came into the world in 1919, it still hadn’t calmed down.

But Gayatri would follow in her mother’s high-heeled footsteps—and then some.

As Gayatri grew up, it was clear she going to become a great beauty like her mother. And more unconventional traits were emerging, too. At the time, the royal family in Cooch Behar were liberal and indulgent with their children, but no one took to freedom quite like Gayatri. She grew into a reckless tomboy who loved horse-riding as much as hunting, even shooting her first panther when she was 12.

In many ways, it was an ideal childhood. Still, she would have to grow up far too fast.

Everything may have looked glittering on the surface of Gayatri’s life, but nothing could be further from the truth. Alcoholism ran deep in her family on her father’s side, and the Maharaja had only come to the throne upon the premature loss of his alcoholic brother. When Gayatri was just a toddler, the disease tragically killed him too.

The loss left the entire family grieving and Gayatri without a key role model. Instead, she started looking for love in shocking places.

When Gayatri was just 12 years old, she turned from tomboy to lovesick fool in 10 seconds flat. That year, her mother hosted the infamously dashing Maharaja of Jaipur at their family estate. Nicknamed “Jai,” at 21 years old he was already one of the foremost polo players in the world—and although Gayatri had already met the likes of Prince Aly Khan and Douglas Fairbanks Sr., she was particularly starstruck by the handsome and athletic ruler. Er, but the feeling wasn’t instantly mutual.

While Gayatri strutted around the Maharaja and tried her best to act like an adult, she ended up getting into a mortifying situation. While Jai had been indulgent with the children on his visit and let them win at tennis games and other activities, the overconfident Gayatri assumed she was just that good, and that’s why she won. She only realized her mistake when the Maharaja challenged her to a bicycle race and trounced her.

For the infatuated tween, nothing could be worse than her crush seeing her as a pipsqueak. But the next year, her whole world did a 180.

The next time polo season came around, Jai visited Gayatri’s family again—and what a difference a year makes. Gayatri may have still been very underage, but that didn’t stop the Maharaja from noticing her blossoming good looks this time around. Jai had been eyeing her all trip, and after he won the India Polo Association Championship, Gayatri’s mother promised him “anything you want ” as a friendly prize. Two guesses what he answered…

Presented with carte blanche from the matriarch, the ruler’s response was jaw-dropping. He turned right to Gayatri, who had been waiting on the sidelines, and said he wanted her—just her—to come to dinner with him that very night. She was so young she didn’t even have proper adult clothes to wear to the soiree, and her reluctant mother had to wrestle up a formal sari for her to go out on the town. Believe me, though, this got more bizarre.

While at dinner in one of the most sophisticated restaurants in Calcutta, poor Gayatri showed her age yet again. For their main dish, the Maharaja chose a tray of partridges…but the 13-year-old didn’t even know how to begin eating them, and had to ask her older companion to cut them up for her as if, well, she was a baby. Somehow, this didn’t put him off…and there are some disturbing reasons for this.

If Jai seemed completely unfazed by how young his prospective girlfriend was, that’s because he had his own dark history. In fact, the Maharaja already had two wives back home in Jaipur, and had married his first, Marudhar, when he was only 12 and she was 24. Meanwhile, his second wife, Jo, was the niece of his first.  In other words, some twisted family dynamics weren’t going to scare him off.

Which was handy, because he was about to get a lot more where that came from.

Before long, Jai discovered that his new love interest was no obedient little girl. At one point, Gayatri and her family were visiting him in Jaipur when he decided to take her out on a solo horse ride. While trotting together, he made some small corrections to her riding, which she promptly refused to listen to. When he relayed this to Gayatri’s mother, she then admonished her daughter…who was having none of it.

Gayatri responded pertly, “I’ll do what he tells me, but not in his presence.” All the same, the pair of them were definitely falling in love—which presented some huge obstacles.

Soon after Gayatri turned 14, the Maharaja made a confession. He told her mother that he intended to marry the girl when she grew up. The answer was not what anyone was expecting. The dowager did not take it well—or rather, she didn’t really take it at all. The matriarch refused to consider it as more than even a joke, saying, “I never heard such sentimental rubbish!” And she had good reason to scoff.

Although they were both beautiful, wealthy royals, Gayatri and Jai were also more than a little star-crossed. For one, their home lives couldn’t have been more different: Jai’s other two wives both strictly practiced purdah, where women hid from view and kept themselves separate from men, while Gayatri enjoyed an independent upbringing that chafed against these very traditions.

Fearing that her daughter would be miserable in Jai’s court if he also wanted her to follow purdah, her mother wanted to protect her from the match. Little did she know, that train had already left the station.

In the end, the Maharaja waited until Gayatri was a whopping 16 years old before he proposed to her. But when he did, he did it in absolute style: When they were both in London, he took her out to Hyde Park and popped the question in the back of his Bentley. Gayatri’s head spun with the possibilities…until he kept speaking, and whispered a dark premonition.

Gayatri had finally gotten her supposedly fairy-tale ending. Only, there was a disturbing detail about that day. While the Maharaja confessed his love for her and began making plans for the future, he also warned her several times that “I play polo and ride and fly and I may have a horrible accident,” just so she knew all the risks before she jumped in. As we’ll see, this would end up coming all too true.

For a time, Gayatri thought nothing of the dangers inherent in her engagement. But then again, she had much more immediate problems to deal with—namely, concealing it from her disapproving mother. Unwilling to spill the beans about her relationship status, she would constantly sneak out to see her fiancée, and they even bought one another incognito engagement rings.

Eventually, however, the truth had to come out. And when it did, it was a doozy.

Throughout these heady days, Gayatri knew she had to write her mother and confess that she was engaged to the Maharaja. But, terrified, she kept putting it off—until the worst happened. Thinking she already knew, Jai broached the subject with the dowager, who immediately grew confused and insisted Gayatri had told her nothing. The fallout was nearly disastrous.

After this awkward exchange, the Maharaja sent an angry telegram to Gayatri demanding why she hadn’t said anything. The girl immediately worried that he thought she had changed her mind, and that’s why she’d kept her mouth shut. Beside herself, she sent off a flurry of dispatches, one apologizing to the Maharaja and the other finally confessing everything to her mother.

The cat was out of the bag, but that didn’t mean things were resolved. Far from it.

Now that everyone knew Jai and Gayatri were betrothed, it went from illicit to excruciating. See, Jai’s second wife, Jo, was in the same city at the time with the Maharaja’s children, and it was awkward for everyone involved. Both Gayatri and her mother were on edge around the official royal family, with the dowager fearing hurt feelings on all sides if her daughter went through with the marriage. And yet more complications were in store.

A few months into their official courtship, Gayatri got news that shook her to her core. Jai, ever the daredevil, had been flying around in his plane when a vulture collided with his craft. His worst nightmare ensued: The pilot lost control and crashed, dying on impact. The force of the impact threw Jai from the wreckage, leaving him clinging to life.

By the time Gayatri got wind of the accident, her fiancé was unconscious and in critical condition. It would be a fateful day.

After a sleepless night where Gayatri threatened again and again to run to her love’s side only to have her mother stop her, the family finally got another telegram. Jai was doing better, although he had pulverized both his ankles in the crash. However, the tragedy had a surprising outcome. Rather than warding Gayatri off, it made her more determined than ever to become Jai’s third wife. And she wanted it right now.

After Jai’s brush with death, the couple fast-tracked their marriage plans, ignoring the continued protestations of everyone in Gayatri’s family, now including not just her mother but her older siblings, too. And, uh, they were not kind. Her mother, apparently feeling desperate, snapped that Gayatri was the “newest addition to the Jaipur nursery,” while her sister Ila called her “spineless” whenever she was around her fiancé.

But her eldest brother Bhaiya saved the cruelest for last.

Gayatri’s brother had grown close to Jai himself over the years, and he seemed a mite jealous that his sister had captured his BFF’s heart. It produced an astonishingly brutal exchange. Half spiteful, half trying to be helpful, Bhaiya took his little sister aside and informed her that Jai was a handsome, flirtatious man who many women lusted after.

As a result, she couldn’t expect him to stay faithful to her (and from hints in Gayatri’s memoirs, he didn’t). It was a rude awakening for the naïve girl, and it was only the first of many.

Just bare weeks before her 21st birthday, Gayatri married her Prince Charming in something that was both a fairy tale wedding and a huge extravaganza. The festivities lasted days, with each dawn bringing a new ritual, a new costume, and more guests for her to entertain. When it was all over, Gayatri was a married woman and a Maharani, and the newlyweds set off on their honeymoon. It was there that Gayatri discovered what she was really in for.

At one of the waystations to their final destination, Gayatri got a chilling taste of her future. As the new Maharani of Jaipur, she learned the hard way that Jai initially did expect her to observe purdah like all his other wives. Accordingly, when they stopped in Calcutta, attendants covered the coach in canvas screens then rushed her out onto the railway, making sure no outside eyes could see her.

Gayatri and her brother Indrajit, who was accompanying her for this leg of the trip, were deeply alarmed. And more disturbing signs kept coming.

Once in Calcutta, the newlyweds elected to spend a night at Gayatri’s childhood home—only, the moment she stepped down from her transport, she knew nothing was ever going be the same. Again acting under the sway of purdah, her Jaipur attendants immediately ushered any male servants out of her sight, even though, as Gayatri remembered, “I had known most of them all my life.” Upset and apprehensive, the new Maharani broke.

The next morning, Gayatri’s brother finally left their party to let the new couple have their honeymoon in earnest. It set off a disastrous chain reaction. Even in her familiar surroundings, Gayatri could feel how different things were now, and she must have worried she made a mistake. She began sobbing in front of her husband, who coolly quipped that “he had thought I wanted to marry him.” Unfortunately, her greatest trials were ahead.

Gayatri may have been a princess since birth, but she was still woefully unprepared to be a maharani. Intimidated by her new social circle, she often became shy at the parties she began to attend or host. At one, she didn’t even see her guests to the door, irrationally feeling that it might be presumptuous to do so. Well, she wasn’t under that mistaken impression for long—her husband made sure to humiliate her.

After the party had dispersed, Jai came striding up to her, displeased and angry. His words cut her to the core. First, he exclaimed that he couldn’t believe her elegant mother hadn’t instilled impeccable manners into her daughter, spitting “What’s the matter with you?” Then he continued in stronger language, “Who the hell do you think you are to stay behind in the drawing room and not go to the door to see your guests off?”

Chastened, Gayatri swore to do better. So Jai really made her work.

Shortly after the honeymoon, Gayatri had to face a dreaded task: To meet Jai’s second wife Jo for the first time since she had married the Maharaja. Ever considerate, Jai decided to take off to play polo on the day he summoned her to the family home, leaving her alone with the elder wife to make awkward small talk until he came home.

Nonetheless, the women managed to pull it off, and soon became close friends. But as always, one enormous thing divided them.

When Gayatri settled in Jaipur, nothing could have prepared her for the culture shock. The city was formal and forbidding, and purdah truly extended to all parts of women’s lives. Although Gayatri’s new friend Jo was only three years older than her and modern by many of the culture’s standards, Jo also couldn’t even let a doctor examine her, instead needing to use her maids to act as go-betweens while the medic stood in the halls.

That was what Gayatri was dealing with. So once she was comfortable, her mind turned to rebellion.

Throughout her time following purdah, Gayatri had a secret weapon: Jai really was head over heels in love with her. Knowing he was eager to please, she started working on pushing the boundaries of her freedom and independence, and eventually extracted from him a promise that after a transition period of a year, she could drop purdah altogether.

Once she did, Gayatri didn’t stop.

Within just a few years of her time as maharani, Gayatri underwent a stunning transformation. Helped by the ravages of WWII, which loosened up so many social mores, she slowly became one of the most public figures in India. Soon, she was internationally renowned as a socialite, famous as much for her chiffon saris as for her wit and, yes, impeccable manners. Only, this society darling had scandalous tastes.

Once out of her forced purdah, Gayatri made it clear she wanted to be seen. She drove around the streets of India and Europe alike in eye-popping, expensive cars—she likely imported the first Mercedes-Benz W126 to India—played polo like a champion, and loved wearing trousers and smoking whenever she could. But just as she hit her stride, tragedy hit her family.

In 1944, Jai’s first wife Marudhar passed right smack in the middle of the royal Christmas celebrations. With Jai away and his second wife Jo tied up with funeral arrangements, Gayatri was left to look after the gaggle of children around the palace, all while trying to make their Christmas Eve as minimally morbid as possible. Little did she know, this was just the start of the onslaught.

The very next year, catastrophe ripped through Gayatri’s life again. This time, it was even closer to home: Her eldest sister Ila had come down with a serious case of food poisoning. Although it was cause for worry, no one expected it could be fatal. It was. The next telegram that came announced Ila’s extremely premature passing at 30 years old.

And then Gayatri’s problems exploded onto the world stage.

Before she turned 30, Gayatri had already lived through more turmoil than most see in a lifetime. But in 1947, that turmoil took on unprecedented dimensions. That year, the British partitioned a newly independent India—and this had a direct effect on Gayatri and the royal family. See, after independence, India also abolished the princely states…effectively stripping Jai and his wives of their realm.

Suddenly, Gayatri stepped out into a brave new world. It was not a kind one.

During the period where Gayatri was losing her realm, she got a terrifying omen of things to come. One day, she and Jai had plans to travel together, but by the time she arrived at the airport, he had met some Americans and taken a joy ride in their aircraft. At first, Gayatri was amused. But when she suddenly heard an alarm and smoke rising in the distance, the feeling instantly turned to dread.

Gayatri rushed toward the smoke and found her biggest fear: Jai had crashed the plane again. He was lying in the wreckage, his head on the lap of a helpful passerby and blood coming out of his mouth. Although he was alive, he was very much still in danger. Just seconds after Gayatri managed to haul him away on a cot, the rest of the wreckage exploded.

Gayatri spent the next days praying her husband would never be so unlucky again. But soon enough, she had other lives to worry about.

In the spring of 1949, Gayatri received some long-awaited news. After several miscarriages and nearly a decade of marriage, she was finally pregnant. In October 1949, she gave birth to a baby boy she and Jai named Jagat, complete with much rejoicing from both her family and her former subjects. Yet when one good thing happened in Gayatri’s life, it seemed horrific disaster always followed.

Still bouncing her toddler on her leg, Gayatri got word that her brother Indrajit had passed—and once more, it was no ordinary demise. The prince had perished violently in a fire at the home he was staying at in Darjeeling. Stunned, the family numbly proceeded through the mourning period. In the wake of her grief, Gayatri distracted herself in an extreme way.

In the 1960s, the beautiful Gayatri Devi decided she wanted to stop merely being a socialite and start entering the frenzied fray of politics in India. The results were gob-smacking. When she ran for parliament, she won in literally the world’s largest landslide, cementing her popularity in India and giving her a new sphere of power to play with.

The next half a decade was full of meetings with figures like Queen Elizabeth II, Jackie Kennedy, and other luminaries. But looking back, Gayatri realized these were the golden years before the great fall. And what a fall it was.

By the end of the decade and the beginning of the next, Gayatri’s glittering world had fallen to pieces. In 1968, her beloved mother passed at the age of 76, and although Gayatri was due to visit her on her deathbed, she had to delay her flight by one day—the very day that Indira Devi passed. Gayatri’s inspiration and mentor was gone...but soon, her love would be too.

As Gayatri’s husband Jai entered his late 50s, his body started slowing down and he even suffered a mild heart attack. Doctors begged him to stop over-exerting himself, from the daredevil adventures right down to his polo playing. But the Maharaja simply couldn’t accept that age was wearing on him; he scoffed that it was a bunch of “silly fuss about nothing.” Only, it wasn’t nothing.

For months, Jai kept playing polo despite worrying signs that his health was failing. It came to a horrific climax. One day in 1970, Gayatri was watching him in a polo match when she took her eyes off the field for a moment. When she looked back, Jai had suffered an accident and was on the ground. She tore toward him, only to receive the worst news of her life.

Although a Red Cross nurse had managed to attend to the former Maharaja and send him to the hospital, doctors pronounced him deceased shortly afterward. In shock, Gayatri pleaded with the medic to give her a different diagnosis, but he could only shake his head. With nothing left to do, a shattered Gayatri brought his body back to Jaipur for a traditional funeral.

The next days passed in a blur of tears and consolation for Gayatri, as sympathies poured in from everyone from Prince Philip to Jai’s old gardener. In her memoirs, Gayatri herself could barely discuss her feelings during this time, and when she watched from her window as Jai’s funeral pyre went up, she remembered that “grief seized me almost like a physical spasm.”

Gayatri thought she had hit rock bottom—but then again, she didn’t know what was to come.

After a lifetime of tragedy coming upon tragedy, fate had one more cruel twist in store for Gayatri. Starting in 1975, Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi infamously trigged the “The Emergency,” canceling elections, censoring the press, and suspending many civil liberties. And as it happened, she had Gayatri Devi all picked out for punishment.

In the middle of The Emergency, government officials shockingly had Gayatri arrested, citing false accusations of illegal tax activities. And former Maharani or not, they hardly gave her special treatment: Gayatri spent five months in the notorious Tihar Jail, one of the largest prison complexes in the world. And although, unlike many, Gayatri finally secured her release, it came with a very high price.

While inside of her cell, Gayatri began to feel some disturbing symptoms. Her intestines grew troublesome, and eventually, she’d developed full-blown gastric problems. But that wasn’t the worst part. These issues continued long past when the government finally released her, developing into a chronic condition and marring the last decades of her life.

After a youth in the spotlight, the widowed Gayatri spent her final years largely in seclusion, avoiding politics entirely and attending only the most exclusive parties—and even then, only when she felt like it. In the end, although so many in her family died young, she lived until the ripe old age of 90, passing in 2009. Her final request? To die in her regnal city of Jaipur.

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Born around the year 1505, Jane Boleyn, Viscountess Rochford, originally went by the much plainer name of Jane Parker. Don’t let that fool you though: her family was well-connected, wealthy, politically active, and a part of the English upper class. She was a very distant relative to King Henry VIII, and eventually ended up being a part of the court.

It wasn’t the distant family connection that got her in though—she had her mom to thank for that.

In her time, Jane’s mom would’ve likely schemed and plotted to get Jane into the royal court to become educated in the ways of being a lady. While we’re not sure exactly what kind of backstabbing and political maneuvering her mom had to do to get her daughter in, she definitely succeeded. When Jane hit her early teens, she joined the court of King Henry VIII.

Needless to say, court life completely blew her away.

Jane had a pretty cushy childhood, but life at Henry VIII’s court was on a whole other level. At court, the King treated Jane and the rest of his courtiers to the finest of exotic foods, which she partook in while dressed in the glitziest of court fashion. She spent the rest of her time watching jousts or dancing at balls.

All Jane did in exchange was occasionally look after the King’s wife, Catherine of Aragon. What could possibly go wrong?

As Jane settled into court life, her beauty and “winning manner” began to garner some attention from members of the court. This made it clear that Jane was ready for her next career move: getting hitched. Of course, like most other women of her time, Jane didn’t get to choose the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with.

No, that choice was in the hands of her father, and boy, did he choose for her a doozy of a husband.

Sometime between late 1524 and early 1525, Jane married George Boleyn. All seemed pretty awesome on the surface: the marriage got Jane respect from society, a sweet mansion out in Norfolk, and it made her a member of the influential Boleyn family. Not only did being a Boleyn make her politically affluent, but it even gave her access to their lands and riches. Unfortunately, the marriage came with a major downside: her actual husband.

In many ways, Jane kind of lucked out when it came to George. It wasn’t uncommon for women around Jane’s age to marry men who were much, much older, and George was, thankfully, right around her age. That’s where the praise ends, though. Otherwise, George was an absolutely vile man. He allegedly slept around with anything with a pulse, which makes for an unhappy marriage in any era.

Whether true or not, Jane was stuck with her new husband, and now that she was a member of the Boleyn family, everything about her life was about to change.

Jane Boleyn was there to witness the scandalous affair unfolding between King Henry VIII and her sister-in-law, Anne Boleyn. Jane and the rest of the Boleyn family jumped at the opportunity to get Anne married to the King himself, envisioning the prestige the union would bring them. When Anne and Henry wed on January 25, 1533, Jane got a small taste of what being a member of the King’s family meant for the Boleyns.

After the marriage of Henry and Anne, Jane and the Boleyns reaped the rewards of their union. One reward was the transfer of the title of Viscount Rochford over to her husband, making Jane the Viscountess Rochford by association. Her lifestyle became downright lavish as the King showered the Boleyn family with wealth. Despite this, not all was well between Jane and her sister-in-law.

Despite Anne being Jane’s key to a fabulous lifestyle, Jane allegedly wasn’t too fond of her sister-in-law. One reason may have been plain old jealousy of all the attention the King gave to Anne. Another may have been that Jane didn’t like how so much of her own financial independence relied on Anne’s success as the Queen.

Whatever the case may be, Jane still had a duty to help Anne, so when Anne called on her for help, Jane put her personal feelings aside to join her in a bit of good old-fashioned courtly scheming.

In 1534, Anne caught the King having an affair with a member of the court. Furious, she roped Jane into a devious plan. She wanted to get rid of the King’s new flame. Jane agreed to pick a fight with the King’s new mistress, raising such a ruckus that “Henry, finding the fracas all too tiresome and preferring a quiet life, would dismiss the girl from court.”

And okay, this wasn’t exactly a flashy or exciting scheme, but it should’ve gotten the job done without any repercussions to the Boleyn family. Instead, their plot backfired on Jane in a big way.

What Jane hadn’t accounted for was Henry’s temper. Henry didn’t just roll his eyes and dismiss Anne’s rival—no, the man flipped his lid. And not even at Anne’s rival, but at Jane herself! Henry ended up exiling her from the court for several months as a result of her little plot. Jane likely spent these months bouncing between the different Boleyn households as she waited for things to cool down before trying to win the King’s favor once again.

What Jane didn’t know was that her return would be quickly followed by some of the worst days of her life.

When the King forgave Jane Boleyn for her little scheme, she quickly returned to court, only to receive terrible news. Anne had miscarried, and the King was beside himself with anger. Worst still, his eyes started wandering to a lady in court named Jane Seymour. Well, that shouldn’t have been a problem, right? Anne just needed to get pregnant again!

Well, Anne ended up confiding a dark secret to Jane that threw a wrench into that plan.

Anne confessed to Jane that the King had some trouble, well, performing, in the bedroom. The news shocked Jane, and worried her deeply. If Henry decided he needed a different wife to spice things up in the bedroom and got rid of Anne, Jane’s fortune would disappear—poof!—just like that. Like a good Boleyn, Jane brought the news back to the family—in particular, to her husband, George. As a result, Jane, at least partially, sealed her husband’s fate.

May 2, 1536, was one of the darkest days of Jane’s life. Scheming courtiers had accused George and Anne Boleyn of being in an incestuous relationship with each other. As a result, Henry VIII’s guards imprisoned them in the Tower of London. As someone close to them both, Jane became a person of great interest to Minister Thomas Cromwell, who led the investigation into this supposed relationship.

When he summoned Jane for her testimony, she knew what she said next would decide her entire future.

The testimony of Jane Boleyn was utterly cold-blooded. She spoke against her husband and sister-in-law, but accounts as to why Jane did this differ. Some say that, between her husband’s infidelity and her jealousy towards Anne, Jane provided testimony against the two of them out of spite. Others say that Anne only testified against them due to the pressure from Cromwell’s incessant questioning, and her fear of losing her station.

Whatever you believe, it’s clear that there was very little Jane could do to stop the King’s wrath—but she tried anyway.

Getting a letter directly to her imprisoned husband was near impossible, but Jane Boleyn managed to do it. In the letter, Jane asked after George’s health, and promised that she would “humbly [make] suit unto the king’s highness” on his behalf. Unluckily for Jane, this was an empty promise—by now, the Boleyn family did not have the favor of the King, and he wasn’t about to listen to Jane’s pleas.

When the trial for Anne and George began, Jane had no choice but to sit back helplessly and watch it unfold.

The trials found both Jane’s husband and sister-in-law guilty—and their sentence was truly disturbing. Both were beheaded to great ceremony. Jane and the Boleyn family now truly lived in disgrace. Being a widow didn’t even get Jane any sympathy or comfort—no one wanted to hang around the ex-wife of a man who engaged in incestuous relations with the Queen. Finding no friends in court, her life came crashing down around her.

King Henry’s officers immediately set to work seizing the Boleyn family’s belongings, and that applied to Jane as well. They took all her beautiful silks and dresses, along with her jewelry. She lost all the land and estates the family worked so hard to get. Even any debts owed to George went straight to Henry and the royal coffers. This wasn’t the only thing either—the humiliation just kept getting worse.

You might be wondering why Jane didn’t go back to her original family. After all, weren’t the Parkers doing pretty well for themselves? Yeah, you can scrap that idea. Even her father got in on the action, swooping in to take some of the offices that the Boleyn family originally held. There was only one person Jane could turn to: Thomas Boleyn, her father-in-law. And even that came with its own set of problems.

The biggest issue Jane faced was that she had no children with George. No children meant she had nothing to bargain with, and no way to gain sympathy from her father-in-law. As far as Thomas saw it, Jane was just some girl he was stuck with now. Jane received the bare minimum Thomas legally owed to give her, which was a bit of land and a very small annual salary. She needed more if she didn’t want to become a destitute widow, so she turned to an unexpected source.

Jane decided to make a heartbreaking plea, and began to pen the most important letter of her life to Minister Thomas Cromwell. Even though he had essentially shaken her down for information, leading to her husband and sister-in-law’s executions, she couldn’t deny that he held a lot of power in court. If Cromwell couldn’t get her out of this mess, no one could.

She begged him to ask Henry to help her out, and surprisingly, he did.

At Cromwell’s prompting, King Henry managed to pressure Jane’s father-in-law to increase her yearly allowance. Jane was grateful. At 30 years old and as a part of a disgraced family, Jane didn’t have many people to turn to. Now, she could only depend on herself. With her increased yearly allowance in hand, Jane set out to carve herself a new life in the English court. And that was exactly what she did.

After a year of hard work, Jane returned to the King’s court. This time, she became a lady-in-waiting to none other than Jane Seymour, the lady who had usurped her sister-in-law’s position as the Queen. While it’s hard to say whether Jane felt any sort of ill-will towards the new Queen, one thing was for sure: her appointment as Seymour’s lady-in-waiting happened for a twisted reason.

When Jane originally asked Cromwell for help, she promised him two things in return: her “prayers,” and her “services.” A shrewd man, Cromwell realized that the Seymour family hungered for power, but he couldn’t keep an eye on them all the time. Jane, however, had direct access to the Queen’s private chamber, making her an effective spy. While this meant Jane had to play a dangerous game of espionage, the perks certainly made up for it.

As Seymour’s lady-in-waiting, Jane Boleyn had her own servants, stayed in the swanky palace, and kept her title of “Lady Rochford.” The Queen herself paid for Jane’s lavish meals. All in all, Jane managed to keep herself fed, warm, and with a very fancy roof over her head—definitely not too shabby. However, she lived in fear. 

There was one thing about her life she had little control over, and it worried her constantly: how long Seymour could hang onto her position as the Queen.

Much to Jane’s relief, the Queen managed to get herself pregnant by Christmas of 1536, giving birth to a male heir in October of the following year. As her lady-in-waiting, and with her job on the line, Jane stayed with the Queen every step of the way, tending to her every whim and making sure she recovered from the ordeal.

When the Queen showed every sign of recovering, Jane must have breathed a sigh of relief, but the relief turned out to be short-lived.

Eight days after the Queen’s son went through his christening, things suddenly took a turn for the terrifying. Seymour fell deathly ill. Cromwell very quickly pointed the finger at Jane and the rest of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, saying that they “suffered her to take cold, and eat such things as her fantasy in sickness called for.” Was this unfair?

Totally, but fighting Cromwell’s accusations probably wasn’t the best idea, so Jane kept her mouth shut. In any case, Jane had other ways of defending herself.

It turned out that there was at least some justice in Jane’s world. Despite Cromwell’s accusation, Jane’s decades of experience in court and as a lady-in-waiting saved her from his accusations.  Unfortunately, they couldn’t save the poor Queen. On October 24, 1537, Jane witnessed the passing of the Queen. With her fate tied so closely to Seymour’s, Jane knew that the tragedy meant that her own life was about to change again.

For a while, Jane Boleyn did alright for herself after the Queen’s passing. She no longer had a job at the court, but she managed to live off of her yearly salary and the lands she held. Still, she wasn’t happy living a quiet, idyllic life. She loved the excitement of King Henry’s court, and living out in the countryside must’ve been mind-numbingly boring for Jane.

So, when her father-in-law contacted her out of the blue, she took the chance to spice up her life a bit, and to get a bit of revenge.

You see, Jane had some Boleyn family mansions in her possession, and Thomas wanted them for himself. He figured taking them from Jane would be like taking candy from a baby, but boy, was he wrong. Years of court intrigue made Jane a master negotiator, and by the end of negotiations, Jane gained a huge sum of his money, plus lands and titles that he had not at all planned to hand over to Jane.

While this was a huge win, Jane missed the bustle of court life. A few years later, she got a chance to return.

Jane always kept one ear on the ground for news of a new queen coming to town—after all, a new queen needed a skilled lady-in-waiting, and Jane was one of the best. Eventually, Jane caught a lucky break. Henry married the German Anne of Cleves on January 6, 1540, meaning Jane once more had her old post back. She looked forward to a nice, long career of being this new Queen’s lady-in-waiting.

Except this is King Henry VIII we’re talking about here, and—spoiler alert!—his queens didn’t tend to last long.

There was a veritable laundry list of issues that Henry had with Anne, but one of the biggest ones was the language barrier. While Henry didn’t bother trying to break through it, Jane and the rest of Anne’s ladies-in-waiting did their best to communicate with one another. Unfortunately, as Jane got to know her queen better, one thing became clear: this marriage, and thus Jane’s job, wasn’t going to last, for one huge, awful reason.

What’s the most important aspect of the married life of a King and Queen? If you said “steamy bedroom action,” you’re right! And that’s something that Jane knew wasn’t happening between King Henry VIII and Queen Anne of Cleves, which was bad news for Jane. How did she know? Well, Jane got her first clue that not all was well in the marriage of the King and the Queen when Anne told her a very strange story…

During a conversation between Jane Boleyn and Anne of Cleves, Jane made a saucy, if pointed, joke about Anne still being a virgin. After all, a queen’s job was to consummate the marriage and to start popping out an heir, and Anne really should get on that. The king’s wife’s answer was shocking. Like a blushing teenager, Anne replied that she totally wasn’t a virgin, thank-you-very-much!

In fact, the King—gasp!—kissed her. Sometimes. So she should be getting pregnant soon, right? And that was how Jane ended up having to teach her 25 year-old Queen about the birds and the bees. A couple of months later, this funny little story took on a dark twist.

Henry soon fell in love with Catherine Howard, one of Anne’s ladies-in-waiting, and started divorce proceedings. To approve the divorce, Henry needed to prove that he and Anne never consummated the marriage, and it was none other than Jane who provided the testimony. During the proceedings, she relayed the story of the conversation she had with Anne, and her testimony was enough to annul the marriage.

To make things even more awkward, Jane was at the Queen’s side when she got the news about the divorce.

Anne got the news of the divorce while she was staying in Richmond Palace, with Jane at her side—this probably made Jane more than a little uncomfortable. Anne consented to the divorce—not that she actually had a choice—which meant that Jane, once again, was out of a job. Luckily, her testimony earned her the approval of King Henry, so she found herself employed soon enough to the new Queen.

Catherine and Jane immediately hit it off when Catherine became Queen on July 28, 1540. They had a lot in common: both used to be Anne’s ladies-in-waiting, and were very distantly related. Jane became Catherine’s confidant, and the Queen showered her with gifts and favors. Jane once more had all the money she ever wanted, but the treasures didn’t come without a dark and heavy price.

It all started innocently enough. As Catherine’s attendant and most trusted servant, Jane frequently carried messages back and forth for the Queen. One day, the Queen asked Jane to carry a message to one Thomas Culpepper, a courtier and close friend of the King’s, asking for him to meet her for some “company.” Innocent Jane, not knowing the contents of the message, did as commanded—and thus began the journey to her doom.

What started out as a one-time flirtatious message quickly spiraled out of control. Jane found herself becoming the go-between in a steamy and dangerous affair between Catherine and Culpepper, running messages for them as much as three or four times a day. One particularly salacious letter even asked Culpepper to “Come when my Lady Rochford is here, for then I shall be best at leisure to be at your commandment.”

And for poor Jane, things didn’t just stop at messages.

Soon, the secret messages became full on trysts. Once, during a three-day-long stay in the city of Lincoln, Jane helped Queen Catherine to find “secret nooks and crannies” where Catherine and her lover Culpepper could have some “alone time.” In the evening, Jane acted as lookout while Culpepper visited the Queen’s chambers.

With no other choice, Jane had to repeat this during their visits to other cities too. While Jane could have tried to report the Queen and Culpepper, an awful reason kept her from doing so.

Jane Boleyn was truly stuck between a rock and a hard place. If she reported to the King and he believed her, a divorce meant no more Queen, which meant that Jane would lose her job. If the King didn’t believe her, and thought she was lying, she would still lose her job—no one wanted a perceived liar in their court, after all.

With no other choice, Jane kept her head down and mouth shut, hoping against hope that the secret wouldn’t get out… But her hopes were soon dashed.

None of these events went unnoticed by the members of the court, and some began gathering evidence against the Queen—along with, of course, evidence of Jane’s involvement with the affair. In November of 1541, it finally blew up in Jane’s face. The King received a letter containing these findings, and he learned that not only was the Queen having an affair, but she had a long, scandalous history of being with a variety of men.

On top of that, Jane knew everything and hadn’t told him. Furious, the King left the Queen and Jane to the mercy of the law.

Catherine immediately went under intense questioning and scrutiny. They also, of course, questioned Jane, harshly and mercilessly. Jane was ready to deny everything—the Queen, after all, made a vow to never crack under pressure if her affair with Culpepper came out. Unfortunately, the Queen broke that vow as quickly as she broke her marriage vows.

Without hesitation, the Queen dealt Jane a brutal act of heartbreaking betrayal. She placed the blame squarely on Jane. Yep. Apparently, it was totally Jane’s fault that Catherine and Culpepper had an affair. Jane, Catherine claimed, “begged her to speak with Culpepper,” and even went so far as to force the Queen to send Culpepper gifts and tokens of love.

Catherine further claimed that Jane, unprompted, found secret hiding places for Catherine and Culpepper to meet. And as if this betrayal wasn’t enough, other people placed the blame on Jane too.

Then, somehow, things for even worse for poor Jane. In the Tower of London, an imprisoned Culpepper also blamed the affair on Jane. Now, Culpepper admitted that he and Catherine were totally in love, and totally planned to sleep together. The affair was still absolutely Jane’s fault though, according to him, because she carried the messages between them that led to them falling in love.

Yeah, that’s some mental gymnastics for you—and poor Jane didn’t get much of a chance to defend herself either.

Jane, also imprisoned in the Tower of London, confessed to the truth as she saw it. Yes, the Queen asked her to set up clandestine meetings with Culpepper. Yes, she carried tokens and messages between them. She confessed that she absolutely believed that Catherine and Culpepper slept together. This, she believed, was the truth, and she believed that the truth would save her. Unfortunately, Jane was wrong.

Jane underestimated the depths of King Henry’s anger. Henry felt betrayed by Catherine, and in his heartbroken state, unleashed his ire on all who had a hand in her salacious deeds. This included Jane. Soon, Jane discovered that the King planned to execute her, and the pressure became too much. By the beginning of 1542, Jane went insane—and while this was terrible, her insanity almost saved her life.

Due to Jane’s insanity, she could not legally stand trial for her role as the go-between for Catherine and Culpepper. Henry, in an ironic move, was so determined to legally execute her that he made his own doctors tend to her mental health. He actually sent her out to another family’s estate so she could recover in an environment healthier than the bleak walls of the Tower of London.

However, there was a cruel twist. After several months and no signs of improvement, an impatient Henry did what he did best: he changed the law to suit his needs. This sealed Jane’s fate.

Henry enacted the Act of Attainder in January of 1542, allowing for the execution of the insane for high treason, which Jane just so happened to fit the bill for. They set her execution date for February 13, 1542, the same day as the former Queen Catherine. With nothing left to save her, Jane faced her execution with a surprisingly calm dignity that earned her the approval of the onlookers.

With that small comfort, Jane placed her head down on the chopping block. They beheaded her, and buried her in the Tower of London alongside Catherine and her husband.

Unfortunately, Jane’s story has become twisted over the years. Some people looked to defend the actions of the past queens that Jane had acted as lady-in-waiting for. In the process, they made Jane out to be a total witch of a woman to strengthen their arguments. Tons of present-day media, like The Tudors, took this concept and ran with it, making her out to be cruel, petty, and hateful.

Although Jane wasn’t exactly a saint, she likely wasn’t a cartoon villain either—as ever, the truth likely lies somewhere in between.

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Steve Clark had an inauspicious beginning. Born to Barrie and Beryl Clark on April 23, 1960 in Sheffield, England, his quiet infancy couldn’t have been further from his hard rock future. Clark’s father was but a humble taxi driver, meaning that music would have to be something that Clark discovered all on his own.

It didn’t take Steve Clark very long to find his true calling in life. When he was just six years old, he attended a Cliff Richard and the Shadows concert. It was his first time hearing live music—and the experience left quite the impression. At that moment, he knew that he wanted to pursue music. He just needed a little support.

Clark’s interest in music continued to grow as he grew older. But it wasn’t until he was 11 that he finally got his first real chance to explore his talents. His hardworking father saved up money and bought the aspiring musician his very first instrument: a shiny new guitar. It’s fair to say that it came with “strings” attached.

Steve Clark was lucky enough that he had his parents’ full support in his musical pursuits. In fact, Clark might never have become a legendary guitarist had it not been for his father. You see, Clark’s father had only given him the new guitar on one condition: he had to learn to play it “properly”.

Suffice to say, he wasn’t shredding from the beginning.

When he first learned to play the guitar, Clark wasn’t exactly a rock and roll prodigy. In fact, he was basically the opposite. To learn the guitar as his father had instructed and to really understand music, Clark studied classical guitar. He was riffing some Rachmaninoff and shredding Chopin for a year before fate intervened.

It was at a friend’s house that Clark’s musical world shifted from sleep-inducing concertos to head-banging rock and roll. After listening to Led Zeppelin’s “How Many More Times”, Clark allegedly chucked his classical guitar through a window and declared, “That’s what I’m going to do”. It would be…eventually.

Once he left school, Steve Clark didn’t leap into music as he had hoped. Instead, he punched a clock. Before he was recording with Def Leppard, Clark worked as a lathe operator. The humble, honest job offered him stability and income. Of course, Clark was craving something a little more rock and roll than a factory job.

He would spend his evenings and weekends “chickening” out.

Clark would eventually become famous with Def Leppard—but they weren’t his original band. As he worked his factory job, he moonlighted with a Sheffield cover band with the unforgettable (if regrettable) name Electric Chicken. Before long, however, a chance encounter would introduce Clark to his true bandmates.

Steve Clark met his future co-guitarist and Def Leppard founder Pete Willis in the least rock and roll way imaginable. It wasn’t in a rowdy bar or a raucous concert venue. Not even in a trashed hotel room. Willis spotted Clark at a technical college, flipping through a guitar book. Noticing Clark’s reading material, Willis had to introduce himself.

After confirming that Clark was, indeed, a guitarist, Willis invited him to audition for his band. At the time, no one had ever heard of Def Leppard—and Clark seemed strangely loyal to his chicken-themed cover band. So, when the time came for Clark’s audition, he didn’t show up and Willis wrote him off.

But fate had other plans.

Steve Clark might have skipped out on his first Def Leppard audition, but it was destiny that he be in the band. So, when Willis ran into Clark yet again at a Judas Priest concert, he knew what he had to do: give Clark another chance. Willis once again extended an invitation to Clark to audition for the band.

This time, Clark delivered.

When Clark finally auditioned for Def Leppard in 1978, he picked the perfect song to show off what he could do. The aspiring guitarist tackled Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird” start to finish—alone. No backing band, no safety net, just pure technical stamina. Clearly, his effortless strumming of the guitar strummed something up in his would-be bandmates.

Steve Clark had gone into his audition as an electric chicken—but he walked out of it as a deaf leopard. The Def Leppard bandmates were so impressed with Clark’s “Free Bird” solo that they accepted him immediately, pairing him with Willis as the group’s two-guitar engine. The new lineup would soon power their meteoric rise to fame.

It didn’t take any time for Clark to find his place in the band. Impressed with his “catchy and complex guitar riffs”, Clark’s bandmates dubbed him “The Riffmaster”. His distinctive guitar playing immediately gave Def Leppard their signature sound: towering, melodic, irresistible. In fact, Clark remade Def Leppard in his own image.

Steve Clark wasn’t just shredding guitar for Def Leppard—he co-wrote nearly every major Def Leppard track during his time with the band. It was Clark’s songwriting that made Def Leppard’s early albums, Pyromania and Hysteria, the global successes that they were. However, there wasn’t enough room for two guitarists.

When Pete Willis flamed out of Def Leppard in 1982, Clark felt like he had lost his guitar buddy. But, when Phil Collen stepped in to fill Willis’ spot, he gained more than a fellow guitarist. The two rock guitarists immediately meshed, becoming guitar soulmates. But, while they brought out the best in each other’s music, they brought out the worst in other ways.

Steve Clark and Collen were more than bandmates; they were twins. Together, they pushed the limits of rock and roll. Their onstage antics were only overshadowed by their booze-fueled off-stage escapades, earning the pair the nickname “Terror Twins”. In reality, however, there was only one twin that you couldn’t separate from Clark.

Clark’s musical ax of choice was almost always a Gibson. He slung heavy Les Pauls low on his frame and occasionally hauled out a twin-neck EDS-1275 for extra drama. By 1987, Clark made his love of Gibson guitars official, endorsing only that one brand. It’s too bad the guitars didn’t give him nerves of steel.

Turns out, he really needed them.

When on stage, Clark was a hard rock legend, full of energy and antics and always playing to the crowd. But all of that bravado masked a deep insecurity: he had crippling performance anxiety. Def Leppard’s big shows and even bigger crowds didn’t excite him; they terrified him. And, as one bandmate would later reveal, he went to extreme lengths to avoid the spotlight.

Even if he was terrified to perform, Steve Clark did it anyway. After meltdowns backstage (the details of which we'll get into later), he mustered up the courage to get out there and do what he did best: shred. Still, after the show, his confident rock and roll swagger vanished and he went back to being “subdued and insular”. There was, perhaps, one more person who could bring him out of his shell.

As Def Leppard shot to fame, powered by Clark’s riffs, he could have had any woman. But, for seven long years, he only wanted one: the American model, Lorelei Shellist. Together, the Def Leppard guitarist and the runway rebel endured the ups and down of fame. However, Shellist later revealed just how low those lows really were.

In her memoir Runway Runaway, Shellist revealed the heartbreaking truth about why her seven-year-long relationship with Steve Clark ended. She described how his alcoholism seeped into every corner of their life together, turning tenderness into tension and caresses into chaos.

Sadly, it was even worse than she revealed.

In the span of a few short years, Clark’s drinking habit had gone from rock ’n’ roll cliché to daily ritual. From as early as the 1980s, Clark’s friends recalled that he would wake up every morning, shaking from withdrawal. The only cure? Another bottle of whatever he hadn’t finished the night before. Clearly, it was time for a change.

In the winter of 1989, Clark’s lifestyle finally caught up with him in Minneapolis. When good samaritans found him unconscious in a local bar, they rushed him to the Hazelden Addiction Treatment Center. When he opened his eyes, he was in rehab. And what the doctors told him changed the course of his life.

When doctors examined Steve Clark after his Minneapolis collapse, they found something horrifying: his BAC was a staggering 0.59. A stunned physician told the band that John Bonham, Led Zeppelin’s drummer, had passed with just a 0.41 BAC. Clark had blown past a legendary danger zone—and somehow survived.

But his bandmates couldn’t take any chances.

When Def Leppard’s manager, Peter Mensch, heard about Clark’s condition, he rushed to Hazelden for an emergency intervention. He had each of Clark’s bandmates read him a letter, detailing how his alcoholism was impacting them. Phill Collen said it best: “Steve,” the musician pleaded, “you’re scaring the [daylights] out of us”.

The intervention seemed to work.

After his bandmates’ tearful intervention, Steve Clark finally agreed to enter a rehab facility. But only one condition: his spot with Def Leppard had to be there when he got out of rehab. To help their bandmate, Def Leppard agreed to give Clark a six-month leave of absence as he sobered up. Rehab, however, was where he really fell off the rails.

While in rehab, Clark met the second love of his life, Janie Dean. Dean was, herself, a recovering addict. Although her poison of choice was smack, she and Clark hit it off immediately. Within weeks, they were engaged and left rehab together. Unfortunately, what was meant to be a fresh start for both of them was only a relapse into old habits.

Clark and Dean didn’t keep each other sober—they enabled each other’s addictions. In fact, together, they were even worse than when they were apart. Clark’s bandmates complained that Dean was such a bad influence on him that they couldn’t even keep track of his movements. It seemed there was no one who could stop his runaway train of self-destruction. 

Sometime between the end of 1990 and the beginning of 1991, Clark cracked a rib. When he went to the doctor, the doctor gave him pain medication—and a stern warning. While his doctor understood Clark’s pain, he warned him not to mix the pain medication with booze. Clark nodded—but he knew he couldn’t stay away from the bottle.

In early January of 1991, Clark went to a London pub with his friend Daniel Van Alphen. There, they shared jokes, laughs, stories, and (of course) drinks. Then, around midnight, Clark headed home with the stated plan to watch a video. The tragedy is that the video would be watching him instead.

The next morning—January 8, 1991—Clark never woke up. At just 30, the brilliant, tortured guitarist slipped away quietly in his sleep in the solitude of his home, leaving behind a haunting legacy of triumph, tragedy, and unrealized potential. What happened next, however, is a matter of some dispute—except that it was a pure tragedy.

Various sources give different accounts of who, exactly, discovered Clark’s lifeless body. Most sources state that it was (appropriately) Janie Dean who found Clark. She was, after all, his fiancée and the reason that he had relapsed. The other versions of the story, however, tell of a somewhat more heartbreaking and wholesome discovery.

Another source provides a different account of the person who discovered Clark that dreadful morning. According to this other account, the one who walked in to find Clark’s lifeless body on the morning of January 8, 1991 was Clark’s ex-girlfriend, Lorelei Shellist. She had left him because of his addiction, and he had left the world because of it.

She might have known something that no one else did.

Despite the fact that they were broken up, Shellist still kept tabs on Clark. And she seemed to know how much danger he was in. “He was mixing alcohol, Prozac, Valiums, coke,” she later recalled. Then she lamented, “his little heart was beating so hard to try and stay alive, but really he was slowly trying to [end] himself”.

The autopsy backed up her insights.

When the coroner examined Clark’s body, his findings painted a grim picture. The coroner revealed that what ultimately ended Clark’s life was “respiratory failure brought on by a compression of the brain stem”. In other words, Clark had a dangerous mixture of booze, Valium, and codeine in his system.

And that wasn’t all.

The coroner’s findings confirmed that Clark had disregarded his doctor’s warning not to mix booze with his pain medication. In fact, he had thrown that advice totally out the window. At the time of his passing, Clark’s BAC was a jaw-dropping 0.30 and his blood work contained “traces of morphine”. The grief was more than his band could stand.

Clark’s passing didn’t just leave Def Leppard down one guitarist—they were out two. Once the dust settled, Phil Collen made the painful decision to step down from Def Leppard, believing that it was “wrong to continue” without his guitar soulmate. It wasn’t until Joe Elliott spoke to him that he convinced Collen to return to finish the album they had been working on.

But Collen’s protest continued.

Collen might have agreed to rejoin Def Leppard to finish the album—but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Despite his close friendship with Clark, Collen “refused” to go to his funeral. His reasoning was simple. He was irate at all of the glommers-on, the “sycophants”, who showed their love and respect only after Clark’s demise.

Amidst the controversy over who had found his body and his band splitting up and getting back together, Clark was finally laid to rest. His remains were buried in the Wisewood Cemetery in Sheffield. After his guitar shredding had taken him all over the world, he ended up right back at home. 

But this was exactly what his father had been afraid of.

At the family gathering for Christmas in 1990, Clark’s father pleaded with his son to stop drinking. He worried that if Clark didn’t stop, he would land himself in an early grave. Clark’s response was the most chilling thing a father could hear: “Oh well,” Clark shrugged, “I’m not bothered anyway”. It was the clearest sign yet that he’d lost the fight inside.

But even from the grave, he had some riffs to share.

Sadly, Clark didn’t live long enough to see the completion of Def Leppard’s 1992 album Adrenalize. Even so, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still rocking out from the great beyond. A fair amount of Clark’s “songwriting demos” and unmistakable guitar riffs found their way onto the final pressing of the album.

In many ways, the album was all about him.

It wasn’t enough just to use what Clark had left behind on the album Adrenalize. To help themselves and their fans process the tremendous loss, Def Leppard recorded a song just for their fallen bandmate. “White Lightning” (the term being a slang for booze) was the band’s addiction-themed tribute to “The Riffmaster”.

It seemed the whole music world mourned alongside them.

Def Leppard wasn’t the only band to write a tribute song to Clark. Tesla—a band that had previously toured with Def Leppard—prepared and recorded a touching tribute themselves. They dedicated their song “Song & Emotion” to Clark’s memory, including the track on their album Psychotic Supper.

The best tribute was, perhaps, Clark’s own songs.

Clark’s guitar solos and original riffs had made him and Def Leppard famous. So, it was only fitting that he left the world with one last ear-splitting shred. Just days before he took his final bow, Clark had finished recording a demo of “When Love & Hate Collide”. The rock ballad contained The Riffmaster’s last guitar solo.

No one could fill those shoes—but someone had to try.

For Def Leppard fans—and for Def Leppard’s band members—there was just no replacing Clark. Still, without that second guitar, the band just wasn’t the same and the missing sound was only a reminder of what they had lost. So, in 1992, Vivian Campbell, formerly of the band Dio, picked up Clark’s ax and shred in his honor as Def Leppard’s latest guitarist.

Almost two decades after his untimely demise, Clark cemented his place in rock and roll history. When Classic Rock Magazine released their list of the “100 Wildest Guitar Heroes” in 2007, there was no question that Clark would be on the list. But, when he claimed his #11 spot, it was official: he was a rock legend—even if there was once a time he'd do anything to avoid such a bright spotlight. 

Remember how we mentioned Clark's crippling stage fright? Well, Joe Elliott, Def Leppard’s lead singer, recalled an incident involving Clark that sent shivers down his spine. Just before going on a tour, Elliott had walked in on Clark as he smashed his own knuckles against a sink to avoid having to perform. Clark revealed to Elliott that he was “scared to [his grave]” of going on stage.

But he went anyway, and made history in the process.

Clark’s posthumous honors kept rocking and rolling in. In 2019, however, he received an honor that  everyone wished he would have lived long enough to enjoy. Long overdue, he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of Def Leppard. For all of his posthumous accolades, however, his truest legacy lives in the hearts of his bandmates.

Collen never truly recovered from Clark’s untimely and tragic demise. And, in a way, Clark still lives on through him. Collen later revealed that he “continues to have dreams” in which he has conversations with his old fellow guitarist. “It feels totally natural,” Collen confessed, “and that’s fine with me”.

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Sources: 1, , 3, , 5, 6

Campbell’s father, a man of Jamaican-Chinese heritage, left her mom when she was just four weeks pregnant with Campbell. Campbell never expressed any interest in meeting him—her mom, Valerie, asked her not to go looking for him, and his name is completely missing from her birth certificate! Not knowing her dad didn’t bother her though—after all, she learned everything she needed to know from her mom.

A modern dancer, Valerie encouraged Campbell to follow in her footsteps. At age 3, little Naomi was already attending a prestigious dance school, and at 10, Campbell received her acceptance into the Italia Conti Academy of Theatre Arts, where she chose to study ballet. At a young age, Campbell already knew that she wanted to be a dancer, just like her mom. Life, however, had other plans for her.

While window shopping with friends in Covent Garden one day, Campbell’s life suddenly took a sharp turn. That was the day that the head of the Synchro Model Agency, Beth Boldt, scouted her. Campbell was surprised—there were two other girls with her, so why would Boldt choose the girl that was “all angular arms and legs?” Excited nonetheless, Campbell shared the news with her mom… Who was less than thrilled.

Already paying a hefty sum for Campbell’s schooling and lessons, her mom, Valerie, was suspicious of these agency people. Valerie had heard stories of con artists posing as “agents” who approached girls with the promise of modeling jobs in exchange for a “fee”—only for them to take the money and run. Besides, Valerie wanted Campbell to concentrate on finishing school, so she was against the idea. This didn’t stop Campbell though.

Naomi Campbell was never one to sit idly by while something she wanted was within reach! Determined to meet Boldt again, Campbell snuck off to see Boldt on her own a couple of weeks later. During the meeting, Boldt took Campbell’s first professional photos in black and white. Valerie, after some convincing, relented, letting her daughter model, as long as it didn’t interfere with school.

Just three months later, Campbell got her big break.

At just 15 years old, Naomi Campbell shot her first big assignment with British Elle in New Orleans. Blown away by her “glorious smile” and unabashed displays of emotion from the Elle shoot, she soon got calls from agencies from as far as the US, who hoped to recruit her. Her career was taking off, and a year later, she was called to Paris to shoot for French Elle…where she ran into a bit of trouble.

During a shoot in Paris, Campbell faced a heartbreaking setback. She had neglected to lock her stuff away and had all her money and valuables taken from her. She was on her own—her mom trusted her to be able to take care of herself—and didn’t know anybody in Paris. Taking pity on her, fellow model Amanda Cazalet guided her for the day and took her to a fitting with a designer—who became one of the most important people in her life.

Through Cazalet, Campbell met Azzedine Alaïa, a high-end Tunisian fashion designer. Alaïa intimidated the young teen at first, but his patient demeanor caused her to open up. He suggested that she should stay at his home while she was in Paris, and after a phone call with her mom, Campbell moved in the next day. From then on, Campbell called him “papa,” and through him, she met even more people that shaped the future of her career.

As she made more connections in the industry, Campbell soon began to model for fashion magazines all over the world. This made her a household name, and she, along with five other girls, became a part of the “Big Six,” the first elite group of what the fashion industry decided to call “supermodels.” Unfortunately, being a supermodel didn’t stop her from being a victim of prejudice.

Due to the color of her skin, Campbell found herself barred from modeling in certain shows. Big names like Calvin Klein, Donna Karan, Armani, and others, while not overt in their discrimination, tended to only use one, or even zero, models of color. To this, Campbell said, “I understood what it meant to be black…You had to be twice as good.”

Determined, Campbell used this attitude—along with her connections—to smash through the barriers in the modeling world.

Campbell wasn’t alone in fighting back against discrimination. Her modeling friends, Christy Turlington and Linda Evangelista, stood up for her by giving designers a fierce ultimatum. They repeatedly told industry professionals that, “If you don’t use Naomi, you don’t get us.” Thanks to their support, more doors opened for Naomi, and in 1987, she graced the cover of British Vogue, becoming the first black model to do so since 1966.

Of course, things weren’t smooth sailing all the way…

In June 1988, Campbell got to shoot for the cover of Italian Vogue. Unfortunately, the makeup artist on set was unable to do her makeup correctly because he had not brought the correct color of foundation for her skin. Disappointed by the blunder and by the resulting photos, Campbell made sure to always bring her own makeup with her from then on. This would be just one out of many events that sparked Campbell’s desire to change the modeling world.

Naomi Campbell modeled regularly for French Vogue, but never appeared on the cover. When she asked about being on the cover, the editor’s response was devastating. She was told that “a cover wasn’t a possibility”—in fact, the magazine never had a black model on the cover before! Knowing how important it was to push for minority representation in the industry, Campbell continued to fight for a spot on the cover, and would get some help from a famous friend.

After hearing of her rejection, famed designer and friend Yves St. Laurent threatened to withdraw advertising from the magazine if they continued to refuse to put black models on the cover. Soon after, Naomi Campbell became the first black model on the cover of French Vogue, where it made a huge impact on cultural representation in the fashion world. Her magazine success soon started to trickle into her runway success as well.

With no formal trainer, Campbell had to teach herself how to work the fashion runway. Drawing on her dance experience, Campbell soon created her signature, fierce walk. Her accompanying gorgeous, beaming smile turned her into one of the most sought after runway models in the world. The runway wasn’t always kind to her though, and it was there where she made one of her most famous blunders in her career.

High-end fashion shows often have models dressed head-to-toe in weird, wacky, and sometimes impractical pieces of clothing, and Campbell was no exception to this! During a show where she was showcasing Vivienne Westwood’s 12-inch high platform shoes—you read that correctly—disaster struck. Campbell took one wrong step and ended up tumbling onto her backside in front of the entire crowd. Her reaction to this was priceless.

Campbell ran backstage, where a very concerned Westwood arrived to check in with her. Campbell cheekily told Westwood, “Vivienne, I am going back on that catwalk now, but if I fall down again, I am not getting up, and you [will have to] come and get me!” True to her word, Campbell went back onstage and finished her walk—without falling this time!

The resulting press attention meant the event took a strange turn.

The next day, Campbell’s tumble on the stage was all over the front of the British newspapers. Soon, Campbell got some very strange calls from several designers, asking if she would be willing to fall down on stage wearing one of their outfits too! It turned out that her fall received so much attention that other designers wanted the free press as well!

Campbell rejected the offers, but it wouldn’t be the last time that she got negative attention from the press.

September 22, 1993, would become an infamous day for Campbell. After many years of working with Elite Model Management, they fired her. John Casablancas, the head of the agency, called her “crazy, irrational, and uncontrollable,” and that “no amount of money or prestige could further justify” what Campbell was putting their poor staff members through. What exactly did Campbell do?

When people asked Casablancas why he fired Campbell, his response was chilling. “She has been having people around here in tears,” he explained. Furthermore, according to Casablancas, the staff lied about Campbell’s behavior to cover for her. Campbell, after receiving the news of her being fired, allegedly waved off Casablancas’s accusations, saying it was just “sour grapes.”

With her superstar status, Campbell wasn’t without an agency for long.

Naomi Campbell quickly joined Ford Models Inc., and insisted that she had walked away from her old agency, not fired. President of the agency, Kate Ford, said in a statement that “Naomi is a top star. She’s expanding her career into other areas and thought we could handle her better.” With that last bit of oh-so-subtle shade thrown at Casablancas, Campbell did indeed start expanding her career…with disastrous results.

In 1994, Campbell released a music album called Baby Woman. Unfortunately, critics mocked the album and it failed to make a splash in the United Kingdom. The album was so bad, in fact, that it inspired the Naomi Awards, with “awards” going to those who made terrible pop music. The “awards” included categories like “Outstandingly Bad Contribution to Music.”

And her other ventures didn’t do much better…

In the same year that she released her album, Campbell published a book called Swan, about a supermodel being blackmailed. This, too, received poor reviews. To make things worse, Swan was ghostwritten by Caroline Upcher—Campbell said that she “just did not have the time to sit down and write a book.” This was definitely a less-than-flattering reveal and a precursor for more bad news to come.

Alongside several other models, Naomi Campbell invested in the Fashion Cafe, a restaurant that used fashion icons as its theme. Unfortunately, the image of tall, skinny models, alongside large portions of food, didn’t make a ton of sense to diners, and Campbell’s name wasn’t even spelled right on the menu, which offered “Noami’s Fish and Chips.” This was small potatoes compared to an even bigger problem, though…

The difficulties for the restaurant didn’t stop piling on—and one day, they reached a disturbing breaking point. Campbell discovered that one of the founders, Tommaso Buti, was taking about $10,000 per day from the restaurant to cover his personal debts and lavish, playboy lifestyle. After reporting it, the federal government ended up charging Buti with conspiracy, money laundering, and more.

Soon though, Campbell also found herself on the wrong side of the law.

Quick to anger, Campbell didn’t just let her words fly during heated arguments—she let objects fly as well, including several instances of throwing her cell phones (yes, she kept more than one on hand!) at staff members who raised her ire. In 1998, Campbell pleaded guilty to attacking a personal assistant in Toronto, agreeing to anger management classes. Not that they seemed to help much…

By the early 2000s, several employees had stepped forward to accuse Campbell of instances of physical attacks on their person, forcing her to pay damages to some, and to attend more anger management programs. She clearly didn’t learn her lesson, because Campbell’s next move was mind-blowingly tone-deaf. Adding more fuel to the fire, Campbell walked around in a shirt that said “Naomi Hit Me… And I Loved It.”

It was a forehead-slapping moment of decision-making, but this didn’t even come close to how shocking her next move was.

As a part of her sentence, Naomi Campbell did five days of community service for New York’s sanitation department, where she swept the floors and scrubbed the walls of New York’s sanitation system. Not wanting to look drab though, Campbell showed up to her shifts in furs, fedoras, and—most famously—a silver gown worth $300,000. The press was in an absolute tizzy, but as for Campbell herself…

Despite the dirty and unglamorous work, Campbell liked the change in routine, calling it “pleasant” and “peaceful.”. In an interview, Campbell said that, “Maybe doing this service at the Sanitation was meant to be like a humiliation punishment, but it isn’t at all.” This softer side of Campbell—despite her faults—would make her a powerhouse in the world of charity and activism.

Campbell, along with other famous black models, created the “Diversity Coalition,” an advocacy group that fought for minority representation in the fashion industry. Through the Coalition, Campbell successfully created policies and guidelines for diversity, even going so far as to personally call designers who neglected to use models of color in a meaningful way. She soon took her advocacy work to the international stage.

Inspired by her own fight for diversity, Campbell decided that she wanted to support Nelson Mandela and his fight against apartheid during a trip to South Africa. She did a photoshoot in Tanzania, donating the proceeds to the cause. To her surprise, she got a call soon after saying, “You are leaving tomorrow for Johannesburg. The president wants to meet you.”

And just like that, she met Nelson Mandela. The two formed a deep bond…deeper than even Campbell expected.

Campbell began working closely with Mandela as a part of the Nelson Mandela’s Children Fund. She frequently visited sick children in Africa, on top of donating regularly to the fund. In recognition of her work and their bond, Mandela decided to make a surprising and heartbreaking announcement. One day during a press conference—and without her knowledge—he told those gathered that she was his “honorary granddaughter.”

Touched by the honor, Naomi became a close member of the family—which made the next bit of news all the more heartbreaking.

In 2010, Campbell received a devastating call from Mandela’s family—he was bedridden and very ill. Campbell had always thought of her granddad as practically immortal, so she knew this was serious. Unfortunately, Campbell didn’t make it to his bedside, and his passing left her feeling adrift. Purposeless without her adopted granddad, Campbell didn’t find her feet again until many years later.

Naomi Campbell slowly found a way to support Mandela’s cause—in her own way. Campbell started connecting up-and-coming designers in Africa with industry professionals in the Western world, bringing the fashions and colors of Africa to the global stage—and with it, she brought to light the issues of poverty and women’s rights in Africa as well. Not content with just Africa, Campbell turned her eyes to other countries as well.

Marrying her deep love of fashion with her deep love of philanthropy, Campbell founded “Fashion For Relief,” a charity that runs fashion shows and donates the proceeds to different causes all around the world. Campbell raised money to combat poverty, improve education, and to help those struck by natural disasters. Through her charity, she met a ton of world leaders—and a ton of trouble.

In 2010, charges against Charles Taylor, former President of Liberia, came to light. He was accused of selling blood diamonds to fuel a conflict in Sierra Leone—diamonds that he allegedly gifted to Campbell during a charity dinner event. Campbell initially refused to testify in his court case—she was afraid for the lives of her friends and family. A subpoena forced her onto the stand, and she became embroiled in Taylor’s high-profile criminal trial.

Campbell testified that she had simply received “dirty-looking” stones after the dinner party from two unidentified men, and didn’t realize that they were probably from Taylor until the next morning. She later gave the mystery rocks away, and had absolutely no idea they were uncut blood diamonds. However, fellow dinner attendees Mia Farrow and Carole White told a different story…

Farrow and White testified that Campbell and Taylor flirted throughout the evening, with Taylor promising her the diamonds by the end of the dinner party. Furthermore, they testified that the blood diamonds excited her, and she planned to donate them to the Nelson Mandela Children’s Fund. Campbell denied these claims, and under cross-examination, Farrow and White’s testimony came under fire.

Campbell’s defense questioned the legitimacy of Farrow and White as witnesses. Attorneys brought Farrow’s memory into question—she had trouble with recalling basic info, such as her son’s age. On top of that, White was in the middle of filing a lawsuit against Campbell for a “breach of contract.” With both witnesses compromised, in the defense’s opinion, it took a fourth party to clear up what really happened during that dinner party.

Jeremy Ractliffe, ex-director of the Nelson Mandela Children’s Fund, finally stepped forward and made a jaw-dropping revelation. He confirmed Campbell’s story, revealing that he had taken the illegal diamonds off her hands and had been holding onto them this entire time. Campbell had done nothing illegal. This was an end to one problem in Campbell’s life, but another one surfaced soon after.

Naomi Campbell had dated numerous men throughout her career, but the relationship that might have given her the most trouble was her relationship with the Russian billionaire, Vladislav Doronin. After breaking up in 2013, Doronin sued her, stating that she was hanging onto $3,000,000 worth of his personal possessions. The case is still ongoing…and of course, her troubles didn’t end there.

Naomi Campbell was on vacation off the north coast of Sicily when Gaetano di Giovanni, a member of the Italian paparazzi, started taking photos of her. Less than pleased, Campbell started hitting di Giovanni with a handbag, allegedly scratching his eye. For that, the Sicilian Court sentenced Campbell to six months’ probation in July 2015. This wasn’t her first time getting in hot water while traveling either.

Campbell was going through London Heathrow Airport on a routine trip when she lost her luggage. She approached two officers, demanding assistance, but the conversation soon took a dark twist. Campbell wound up attacking the two officers. For her behavior, Campbell served 200 hours of community service, and British Airways banned her for life. Sadly, her airline shenanigans didn’t end there…

Naomi Campbell is a quirky airline passenger—before taking her seat, she thoroughly sanitizes everything she can during flights. Donning a mask, gloves, and sanitizing wipes, Campbell completely wipes down everything she might possibly touch on the plane, stating “I do not care what other people think of me. It’s my health.”

In later months, she took her routine to a whole new level.

Campbell kicked her sanitization up a notch. On her next flight, she donned a $16 hazmat suit she bought off of Amazon, along with a face mask and goggles. The dramatic outfit caused quite a stir, with passengers on the flight moving uncomfortably away from her—to which Campbell said, “... that’s cool. I don’t wanna be around them either.”

Campbell had no issues with breaking convention!

Campbell continued to expand her modeling career and used her expertise to create the TV series, The Face. A modeling competition show, The Face pitted supermodel coaches and their team of models against each other to find the next “face” of a major brand. Practicing what she preached, Campbell opened the competition up to anyone in the world and used an interesting method to choose models for the show.

In the first episode, Campbell and the other judges chose girls purely on their skill. Competitors hid their faces, forcing the judges to pick their girls based on the ability to walk on the runway, not their looks. The result was a show that featured several models of color, confirming Campbell’s belief that, “If you've got the right talent, you should be there having the opportunity to do the job.” Other TV roles opened up to Campbell as well.

Naomi Campbell is legendary for being late to her meetings. So, when she arrived three hours late to an audition with producer-director Lee Daniels, she didn't expect his harsh reaction. He immediately told her to go home. This resulted in a screaming match between the two. When things calmed down, Daniels actually offered her a role in his show, Empire, and the two became fast friends. Her media presence continued to expand.

Campbell soon took to Youtube, with the goal of sharing more of her personal life with others. A notoriously private individual, this was a big step for Campbell. The newly-minted, one-year-old channel sports both videos about herself, and interviews with several celebrities, such as Whoopi Goldberg, Paris Hilton, and James Charles.

In a recent interview with Sean Evans in Hot Ones, Evans asked her which of the magazine covers that she’d appeared on was her favorite. In typical Campbell fashion, she noted that her favorite covers were the ones where she was the “firsts”—first black woman on Times magazine, first to be on the cover of French Vogue, just to name a few—and celebrated their role in “breaking barriers.” Here’s to Campbell breaking more barriers to come!

Naomi Campbell has been linked to many famous men, including Leonardo DiCaprio, Mike Tyson, Michael Fassbender, Skepta, and Liam Payne. But few people remember her relationship with Robert De Niro. The duo got together in the late 80s and apparently, Campbell never quite gave up on the romance. In 2003, years after they first split, rumors claimed that Campbell wanted to get back together with a newly single De Niro. She allegedly wanted to have his babies, felling that his “calm” demeanor was the right thing for her.

In 1997, the unflappable Naomi Campbell made headlines when she suddenly started crying on the runway. At first, the crowd was confused. But when they learned the heartbreaking reason for her tears, everything changed. Campbell was wearing a dress from the last collection that her friend Giovanni Versace would ever design. Versace and Campbell became close in the 1990s, only for their bond to end in tragedy. The serial killer Andrew Cunanan shot Versace at the designer’s home. He died instantly.

Although she was a hit on the Paris runway, Tyra Banks claimed that her early modelling days were tough because of one person: fellow model Naomi Campbell. According to Banks, Campbell absolutely hated her and even used her clout to “throw her off fashion shows.” It took over a decade for the supermodels to finally end their feud.

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The daughter of King Philip IV of Spain, and his wife, Queen Elisabeth of France, Maria Theresa was born into privilege but had a tragic childhood. In 1644, when she was only six years old, her beloved mother sadly perished—but that was just the start of her nightmare. Before she could recover from this heartbreaking loss, her older brother passed unexpectedly after contracting smallpox. The loss left Spain without a male heir.

As her father’s only living child, Maria Theresa suddenly found herself in a very powerful position.

Following her brother’s passing, it looked like Maria Theresa would be the one to inherit her father’s crown—as long as he didn’t have a son. The princess grew up hoping she would someday rule Spain and the vast empire it controlled. However, Philip’s second marriage to a much younger woman meant Maria Theresa’s position as the next heir was anything but secure.

Maria Theresa had a complicated relationship with her stepmother. In 1649, Philip married the fourteen-year-old Mariana of Austria in the hope that she would bring him a male heir. Not only was Mariana close in age to her 11-year-old stepdaughter, but she was also King Philip’s niece and Maria Theresa’s first cousin.

The Habsburgs’ tendency to marry each other to keep wealth in the family would have devastating consequences for future generations. But at that moment, the consequences of this marriage for the young Maria Theresa were also devastating—for vastly different reasons.

In 1657, Queen Mariana gave birth to the son everyone in Spain had been waiting for—everyone except Maria Theresa. The birth of Prince Philip, followed by the births of two more sons in the years to come, dashed the princess’s hopes of ascending to the Spanish throne. But by this time, it had begun to look like Maria Theresa’s destiny lay outside of Spain.

After 24 years of constant fighting, the leaders of France and Spain were eager to secure a peace treaty—so they made Maria Theresa a pawn. The plan involved a marriage between Maria Theresa and the young King Louis XIV of France. Although the Spanish princess barely spoke any French, the end of the war depended on her. She had to a new life in a country she had never visited…with a man she had never met.

Maria Theresa and Louis had a proxy marriage, meaning they were legally bound to each other before ever meeting in person. The advisors of both kings were so eager to ensure peace between the two countries that they couldn’t even wait for Maria Theresa to travel to France. Not long after, Maria Theresa left Spain forever to begin an exciting new chapter of her life.

Although Maria Theresa had never met Louis before arriving in France, they were closely related. Louis’s father, Louis XIII, was the brother of Maria Theresa’s mother, and his mother, Anne of Austria, was the sister of Maria Theresa’s father. But despite the intimate connection between the two royal families, Philip had some trust issues. He was definitely worried about Louis’s motives for marrying his daughter—she was, after all, a princess with claim to the Spanish throne.

For the first year of their marriage, Louis wanted to spend as much time as possible with his new bride. However, this state of devotion didn’t last for long. After they married, Louis made a vow to spend every night by Maria Theresa’s side. But about a year after their marriage, he began a pattern of unfaithfulness that would last for the rest of Maria Theresa’s life.

Maria Theresa and Louis shared the same religion, but they expressed their faith in very different ways. Having grown up in the conservative Spanish court, Maria Theresa was a very devout Catholic. She valued her virtue, modesty, and devotion to prayer above all else. Her strict religious upbringing led to major culture shock when she arrived at the French court.

As a Spanish princess living in France, Maria Theresa had trouble adapting to the customs of her new country. The decadence and frivolity of the French court shocked her religious sensibilities. Although she adored her new husband, his scandalous behaviour with other women upset her, and her poor language skills made fitting in even more difficult.

Although Maria Theresa lived in France for more than half her life, she never mastered the language. She could barely understand French and avoided speaking it whenever she could. Her difficulties speaking French made it impossible for her to follow the witty banter of the French court and led to people mocking her behind her back. Luckily, there was one powerful woman at court she could turn to for support.

Unlike some people, Maria Theresa was lucky enough to have a great relationship with her mother-in-law, Anne of Austria. Anne was Maria Theresa’s aunt on her father’s side and one of the only people she could speak Spanish to in the French court. But after Anne’s demise in 1666, Maria Theresa felt more isolated in France than ever—and their her husband added insult to injury. 

Louis began flaunting his mistresses more publicly at court.

Unfortunately for Maria Theresa, Louis’s fondness for beautiful women was an open secret throughout their marriage. He had many lovers in addition to official mistresses, and after his mother was no longer living, he brought Louise de La Valliere to live permanently at court. Maria Theresa had to endure the humiliation of living with a woman everyone knew had an intimate relationship with her husband. And it only got worse from there.

Maria was used to betrayal from Louis, but never expected that her only friend would stab her in the back, too. Madame de Montespan had been Maria's only confidante in the French court, yet it turns out that she'd only played the role of friend to get closer to the king. Her plan worked.

After Madame de Montespan became the king’s preferred paramour, Louise de La Valliere decided to become a nun and leave court forever—but not before making a heartfelt apology to Maria Theresa. Louise threw herself at the queen’s feet and begged her forgiveness for the pain she had caused her. Maria Theresa not only graciously accepted the apology but also regularly visited Louise at her convent and was even present when Louise took her vows as a nun.

Unfortunately, Maria Theresa would never get such an apology from Madame de Montespan.

While Louise had always respected the queen’s position at court, Madame de Montespan was different. She openly mocked Maria Theresa for her failure to hold the king’s attention. Her disrespectful behavior toward the queen was so flagrant that even Louis sometimes felt the need to put his haughty mistress in her place. Maria Theresa would have to wait another ten years before karma finally caught up with Madame de Montespan.

One of the reasons Maria Theresa was so distressed by Louis’s affairs was because she was completely infatuated with him. While his interest in her cooled quickly, she adored her husband, and it pained her to see him fooling around with other women. Even after years of enduring life surrounded by his mistresses, she still hoped that he would someday turn faithful and realize she was his destiny.

As Louis’s wife, Maria Theresa could do one thing for Louis that none of his mistresses ever could—give him a legitimate heir to the throne. In 1661, only a year after her marriage, Maria Theresa gave birth to healthy son, named Louis after his father. Unfortunately, he would be the queen’s only child to make it past his sixth birthday.

When it was time for Maria Theresa to give birth, she had to partake in a bizarre tradition. She gave birth in front of an audience. In the French court, courtiers attended royal births to witness the arrival of the new heir and ensure that no one tried any funny business like switching out a girl for a boy or a healthy baby for a stillborn child. Maria Theresa finally gave birth to Louis after 12 hours of excruciating labor in front of a crowd of eager French noblemen. While this time her ordeal had a happy ending, the public nature of royal births would later end up involving Maria Theresa in a scandalous rumor.

While other French queens became known for their patronage of the arts, Maria Theresa preferred less serious forms of entertainment. She was especially fond of playing cards, especially games involving gambling for money, a habit that some members of the court considered undignified and beneath the station of a queen. But her love of games didn’t prevent her from rising to the occasion when she did get a chance to wield some political power.

Maria Theresa never involved herself too much in political affairs, but she played a powerful role while her husband was away fighting in his many wars. When Louis was away from France, he appointed Maria Theresa regent in his absence, making her the official head of state. One of these occasions occurred when Louis decided to fight to restore the rights that Maria Theresa believed she had long since given up.

Maria Theresa had signed away her right to inherit the Spanish crown when she got married, but Spain hadn’t held up its end of the bargain. Philip had agreed his daughter and her heirs would only lose their right to inherit the throne if Spain failed to pay her dowry, and according to Louis, Spain had never paid up. When Maria Theresa’s half-brother Charles took the throne, Louis jumped into action. 

He seized some of Spain’s territories and reasserted his wife’s inheritance rights, leading to a war. Although Louis didn’t manage to keep the territories, he ultimately won the bigger fight over whether Maria Theresa’s heirs could rule Spain.

When you hear the phrase “let them eat cake,” you probably think of Marie Antoinette, but Maria Theresa may actually have been the one to say it. Although she was queen of France 100 years before Marie Antoinette, some historians believe Maria Theresa was the out-of-touch royal who suggested peasants who couldn’t afford bread should eat luxurious “brioche” instead. While it’s impossible to know if Maria Theresa really made this infamous remark, we do know she had a serious obsession with sweets.

Maria Theresa was a bit of a chocoholic, and she even helped make chocolate popular in France. Made from cacao from the South American colonies, chocolate had become popular in Spain by the 17th century, but was still a novelty in France. Maria Theresa loved chocolate so much that when she became engaged to Louis, she gave him a chest full of chocolate as a gift.

Because of Maria Theresa’s sweet tooth, chocolate became a staple of life at Versailles. Unfortunately, her love of chocolate also had some not-so-sweet consequences.

Maria Theresa was not known as much of a beauty, and there was one physical feature that particularly gave her trouble. The seventeenth century didn’t have great dental hygiene, but even by the standards of the day Maria Theresa had a gruesome smile. Her teeth were already badly decayed by the time she married and only got worse over the years due to her love of sweets. And her teeth weren’t her only insecurity when it came to her appearance.

Maria Theresa wore high heels to compensate for being short, but she couldn’t quite pull them off. The queen couldn’t walk comfortably in high heels and often fell in public due to the height of her shoes. Maria Theresa’s insistence on wearing heels despite her lack of grace led to people laughing at her behind her back. Unfortunately, she also had some other quirks that made her easy to mock.

Maria Theresa was so terrified of ghosts that she had difficulty sleeping and had a very peculiar bedtime routine. Each night, she would have one of her ladies-in-waiting tell stories to help her fall asleep and hold her hand all night while she slept. Maria Theresa even insisted that this companion remain in the room when Louis was in bed next to her. It’s no wonder some members of the court found the queen a bit childish.

Maria Theresa didn’t have it easy living with Louis, but she did get to live in one of the most of iconic palaces of all time. Throughout much of the 1660s and 1670s, the top architects in France were busy turning the king’s modest hunting lodge at Versailles into the magnificent palace that Louis envisioned for his court.

By the end of her life, the court had moved permanently to Versailles, and Maria Theresa was living in lavish chambers, playing cards and drinking hot chocolate to her heart’s content.

Maria Theresa was a true animal lover. Like the Sun King himself, Maria Theresa loved dogs and had many pet lapdogs over her time as queen. But in addition to dogs, she also had some more unusual pets, most notably a monkey and parrot. Her pets helped to console her through the many tragic losses that she endured as queen.

On top of the pain of her husband’s betrayals, Maria Theresa had to endure the agony of losing a child—five separate times. Although she gave birth to two more sons and three daughters over the next ten years, all her children except Louis failed to survive either infancy or early childhood. One of these losses was particularly devastating for Maria Theresa.

The loss that affected Maria Theresa the most was the passing of her five-year-old daughter, Marie Thérèse. It was the cherished hope of Maria Theresa that her namesake would someday become queen of her beloved Spain. The loss of young Marie Thérèse to tuberculosis broke Maria Theresa’s heart, especially having lost three children during infancy before her.

While many children in this era didn’t live to adulthood, modern historians believed one disturbing factor led to her children’s short lifespans. They think it was because their parents were closely related. Not only were Maria Theresa and Louis double first cousins, but they also came from generations of intermarrying between the Habsburg and Bourbon families. Given what we now know, it’s possible the genetic consequences of inbreeding caused the early demises of Maria Theresa’s children with Louis.

However, there was a rumor that one of her children had survived after all—and was the result of a scandalous liaison.

Maria Theresa was famous for her piety, but there was one rumor that threatened her virtuous reputation. According to gossip, Maria Theresa had given birth—in public, of course—to a dark-skinned daughter who disappeared after her birth. Some claimed the father of the child was a dark-skinned courtier while others suggested the queen’s excessive consumption of chocolate caused the baby’s dark skin. Historians believe this infant was probably Maria Theresa’s daughter Marie-Anne, who only lived a few weeks, and that oxygen deprivation at birth caused her dark skin.

But this doesn’t explain the origins of the mysterious woman who would later come forward claiming to be the sister of the prince…

Despite the nasty rumors about an illegitimate child, people mostly felt sorry for the put-upon queen. She wasn’t as beautiful or quick-witted as her husband’s many lovers, and she lost most of her children and close allies during her first decade as queen. Plus, her accent and weakness for sweets, heels, and gambling often made her the subject of ridicule. However, some justice was finally served when her long-time rival fell from favor at court.

After years of humiliating the queen, the reign of Madame de Montespan as the king’s mistress came to an end. Not only had she gradually lost the king’s affection, but she was also publicly accused of practicing black magic and conspiring to eliminate one of her rivals. Although she vehemently denied the charges, the accusations ruined her reputation, and it soon became clear that a new woman had captivated Louis’s attention.

Maria Theresa found a friend where she least expected it. After Madame de Montespan’s fall from grace, Louis became infatuated with Madame de Maintenon, the governess of his children with Madame de Montespan. Instead of accepting his advances, she encouraged him to pay more attention to his neglected wife.

Maria Theresa was grateful for Madame de Maintenon’s thoughtfulness and warmly welcomed her into her inner circle. She had no idea that the governess would prove to be the king’s most significant favorite yet.

After grieving the loss of five other children, Maria Theresa’s son, the Dauphin of France, became the focus of her attention. She devoted herself to his religious education in the hope that he would grow up to be more devout than his philandering father. Unfortunately, King Louis didn’t share her adoration of their son.

Maria Theresa had dealt with her husband’s infidelity—but there was one aspect to it that caused her untold pain. Her husband preferred many of his illegitimate children to her beloved son Louis. According to one account, Louis found his eldest child “indolent, fatuous, and dull,” and the only thing they had in common was their love of hunting.

He also limited Maria Theresa’s control over her son’s life after he reached a certain age and didn’t even consult her when choosing a princess for young Louis to marry.

Maria Theresa and her daughter-in-law, Maria Anna of Bavaria, didn’t have the affectionate relationship that the queen had enjoyed with her mother-in-law. Maria Theresa had wanted her son to marry Maria Antonia of Austria, the daughter of her half-sister, and was jealous that the wedding celebrations in Maria Anna’s honor were more extravagant than her own.

To make things worse, everyone raved about the German princess’s perfect command of French. Still, there was one aspect of her son’s marriage that Maria Theresa couldn’t help but enjoy.

Maria Theresa lived just long enough to see her only child welcome his first child. In August 1683, just a month before Maria Theresa’s 44th birthday, the younger Louis’s wife gave birth to a son named, you guessed it, Louis. Soon after, Maria Anna became pregnant again, but unfortunately, Maria Theresa would never meet her next grandchild.

Despite her quiet life, Maria Theresa did not have a quiet end. The French queen fell gravely ill after returning home to Versailles following a trip with the court. An abscess on her arm led to severe complications. None of the treatments of the court doctors were able to relieve the intense pain and worsening symptoms.

On July 30, 1683, Maria Theresa passed on at the age of only 44, leaving behind a grieving son as well as some shocking rumors.

The loss of Maria Theresa was a shock to the French court. There were even rumors that someone had poisoned her. Although it is unlikely these claims were true, speculation that someone at court may have wanted the queen gone persisted—until a more shocking rumor began to circulate.

When Maria Theresa passed on, Louis XIV’s reaction was heartbreaking. Louis remarked that her ever-loving and patient wife’s passing was “the first chagrin she has ever given me”. If only she had been able to say the same about him! Despite his failures as a husband, Louis made sure Maria Theresa had a funeral worthy of a queen. It came complete with a royal burial in the Basilica of Saint Denis. But it became clear that he hadn’t taken the loss too hard.

Soon after the passing of the queen, the king found a new woman to take Maria Theresa’s place. Two months after losing his wife of over 20 years, Louis married Madame de Maintenon in secret. They remained inseparable for the rest of his life. Louis was finally ready to commit to one woman…but unfortunately, that woman was not Maria Theresa.

Maria Theresa’s bad luck didn’t end with her unfortunate demise. During the French Revolution, revolutionaries looted her final resting place along with other royal tombs in the Basilica of Saint Denis. They then threw her remains into a mass grave nearby. After the restoration of the French monarchy, Louis XVIII had the bones of Maria Theresa and his other royal ancestors reburied in the church crypt.

Louis XIV outlived not only his first wife but also his first two heirs, Maria Theresa’s son and firstborn grandson. Both these princes met early demises. Som it was eventually Maria Theresa’s great-grandson—obviously also named Louis—who would become the next king to rule France from Versailles.

While Maria Theresa’s son didn’t live long enough to become king of France, her grandson Philip inherited the throne Maria Theresa had once aspired to as a young girl. As the second son of the heir to the French throne, Philip never expected to become king of anywhere. But when his uncle Charles II of Spain failed to produce a son, he named Philip heir to the Spanish crown. As king of Spain, Philip fulfilled the destiny denied to his grandmother.

After the queen’s passing, France became fascinated by the story of a nun with dark skin who claimed to be related to the royal family. Many people believed that this woman, Louise Marie-Therese, better known as the Black Nun of Moret, was the dark-skinned child Maria Theresa had given birth to in 1664. Others suspected she was the daughter of the Sun King himself. This is a theory that makes sense given how many children Louis fathered over the years.

We may never know the truth about the Black Nun’s royal origins...but the belief that she was Maria Theresa’s long-lost daughter continues to this day.

Remember back when Maria Theresa first got married to Louis? Well, despite arranging the marriage, her father grew some concerns about the pair. Philip believed Louis might have set his sights on the Spanish Empire. He thought the young king might use his marriage to Maria Theresa to take control of Spain. To make sure this couldn’t happen, Philip gave Maria Theresa a devastating order. She had to renounce her right to inherit the throne. There was one condition, however. The agreement was void if Spain didn’t pay Maria Theresa’s dowry.

The question of whether the dowry was ever paid would cause drama in the years to come.

King Louis XIV was notorious for his many mistresses. The trouble started soon after he and Maria Theresa tied the knot. And it only got worse with time. A few years into her marriage, Louis completely humiliated Maria Theresa by bringing his mistress to an event supposedly held in his wife’s honor.

Two years before his mother’s passing, Louis hosted an extravagant spectacle, known as the Les Plaisirs de l’Île enchantée, to launch the building of the Palace of Versailles. Although he dedicated the performances to his wife and mother, his mistress, Louise de La Valliere, publicly accompanied him. The same mistress who he'd started seeing when Maria Theresa was pregnant, and who had once been one of her maids of honor. Though he'd initially tried to keep his infidelity a secret, he had begun to grow less and less discreet about it—and now, he was flaunting it in her face. 

This public display of infidelity horrified Maria Theresa and Anne, and Louis decided he’d better keep Louise away from them—at least while his mother was alive.

After the loss of her beloved mother-in-law and the arrival of Louise de La Valliere at court, Maria Theresa was grateful for the friendship of Madame de Montespan—until the beautiful noblewoman stabbed her in the back. Madame de Montespan went out of her way to befriend the king’s wife and mistress, but when Maria Theresa and Louise both became pregnant, Madame de Montespan took advantage of their condition to get closer to Louis.

Before long, Madame de Montespan was throwing her position as the king’s new favorite in Maria Theresa’s face.

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John Edgar Hoover was born in Washington DC, on New Year’s Day 1895. If ever a kid was born exactly where they needed to be, it was young J Edgar. He would remain living in the nation’s capital for his entire life. But despite living in the heart of bureaucracy, Hoover’s parents shunned it.

Interestingly, Hoover had no birth certificate filed upon entering the world, despite the fact that his siblings did and that it was a requirement in Washington DC at the time. In fact, he would not file a birth certificate at all until he was 43 years old. This has given rise to some conspiracy theories around Hoover’s actual origins, and there may be something to them, considering his mother’s nature.

Growing up, J Edgar Hoover was very close to his mother, though she was not always easy to deal with. Hoover would later diplomatically describe her as “inclined to instruction”, implying she was quite strict. She also reportedly showed great affection towards her son, however. The result was a model young pupil.

Hoover attended DC’s Central High School, where he performed well and was active in many extracurricular activities. These included singing in the school choir and taking part in the Reserve Officers’ Training Corps program. But where Hoover succeeded the most was on the debate team.

Hoover’s favorite topics to debate signaled early what would become his lifelong conservative values. He passionately argued against women’s suffrage and in favor of capital punishment. His unrelenting personality was on display for all to see.

Regardless of how people felt about Hoover’s views, no one could deny his skill at debating. Indeed, his school newspaper applauded the young man’s performance, praising his “cool, relentless logic”. It was an accomplishment for Hoover on another level too.

As a boy, Hoover had struggled with a stutter, something he felt deep shame about. He was determined not to let it limit him, however, and paradoxically, overcame the impediment by teaching himself to talk rapidly. He may have overcorrected.

In later life, most knew J Edgar Hoover for his signature fast talking style. Indeed, as an adult, he spoke with such rapid ferocity and speed that even stenographers had a hard time recording what he said. And considering the career path he undertook, stenographers would not be a rare necessity.

Hoover got his first job at the age of 18, working as a messenger in the orders department of the Library of Congress. It would be a formative experience for the man and his profession: he later spoke about how the experience of gathering information and evidence would help to create FBI profiles. But before all that, he had to get a degree.

J Edgar Hoover attended George Washington University Law School, graduating in 1916. While a student, he joined a chapter of the Kappa Alpha Order fraternity, an infamous Southern fraternity that was known for its passionate association and nostalgia for the Confederacy. Hoover’s passion for a bigoted campaign was somewhat ironic, considering he avoided battle himself.

The Justice Department hired Hoover right out of law school, accepting a clerkship position in the War Emergency Division. Hoover was 22 at the time and started the job the day before the outbreak of WWI. Conveniently, his position made him exempt from the draft. He quickly climbed the ranks.

J Edgar Hoover soon got promoted to the head of the Division’s Alien Enemy Bureau, where he received authorization to arrest and imprison, without trial, any allegedly disloyal foreigners during the national emergency. It would be the first of many of Hoover’s deeply unconstitutional acts.

In 1919, at the age of just 24, Hoover got assigned head of the Bureau of Investigation’s new General Intelligence Division, though it was more commonly known by its nickname: the Radical Division.

The Bureau tasked Hoover and his team with disrupting the work of what the government deemed domestic radicals, and his undemocratic tactics against supposed communists ushered in America’s First Red Scare. Ironically, Hoover had associations with shady organizations himself.

At 25 years old, J Edgar Hoover got initiated into the Freemasons at the Washington DC lodge. The Freemasons have been the subject of conspiracy theories over the years, but one thing that is undeniable is that its membership comprises powerful, elite figures. The contacts he inevitably made there may have contributed to Hoover’s next leg-up.

Hoover rose to deputy head of the Bureau of Investigation in 1921, and just three short years later, President Calvin Coolidge appointed him head of the Bureau following his predecessor’s involvement in the Teapot Dome scandal. Hoover set to work remolding the organization to fit his reactionary vision.

With the Bureau of Investigation, J Edgar Hoover took over an agency with approximately 650 employees. But his first major act was to cut that number significantly, and in a detestable way: he fired all female agents and banned them from being hired in the future. That wasn’t the end of his tyranny, however.

Hoover was a chaotic and unpredictable leader, and he would often fire agents for the most ridiculous of supposed offenses, including “looking stupid”. He was also punitive towards incredibly effective agents whom he felt threatened by or envious of. He managed to get some work done, however.

Throughout the 1930s, J Edgar Hoover was engaged in a public cat-and-mouse game with many of the Depression era’s most famous bank robbers, including John Dillinger and Machine Gun Kelly. The Bureau floundered at first, but realizing his job was on the line, Hoover doubled his efforts, which resulted in highly publicized captures of the outlaws. It bought him some sway.

The Bureau of Investigation was renamed in 1935, becoming the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The agency did not just get a name change, however; it was a complete restructuring, an undertaking that Hoover helped to shape. It therefore became near-synonymous with his name.

J Edgar Hoover became the first Director of the FBI, the pre-eminent organization in US domestic intelligence. The changes he made would become signature qualities of the FBI for decades to come. He started by modernizing.

Hoover greatly expanded the FBI’s scope and capabilities. This included founding the agency’s massive forensics lab, expanding and centralizing fingerprint files, and significantly upping recruitment. And with this modern overhaul, the surveillance state expanded alongside.

Hoover also established and expanded the FBI Index, which was essentially a national blacklist. This helped him keep better track of dissidents and, indeed, his personal enemies. There were some significant omissions from his target list, however.

With their rise during Prohibition, the Mafia were an established force in the American underworld by the 1930s. And though they would have been the perfect target for the FBI’s purported goals, J Edgar Hoover refused to pursue them, or even acknowledge their existence. His reasons for this were, ostensibly, because pursual involved excessive man hours for little actual arrests. But there may have been other reasons behind the scenes…

Some believe that Hoover’s refusal to pursue the Mafia was because he was being blackmailed by the mob. Specifically, some suspected that top mafiosos Meyer Lansky and Frank Costello possessed incriminating photos of the FBI Director that called his sexuality (more on that below) into question. It was not the only theory, however.

J Edgar Hoover had a reputation as a horse racing enthusiast and enjoyed gambling on races. Because of this, some theorize that he let the Mafia’s nefarious activities slide in return for horseracing tips. So, why would such a corrupt officer of the law pursue corrupt criminals when there was another scapegoat so easily available?

Reflecting once again how he was driven by political ideology more than a sense of justice, Hoover was more interested in stopping alleged Communist subversion than anything else. With the dawn of the Cold War, he redirected most of the FBI’s resources away from law enforcement and toward this needless task. It paid off.

J Edgar Hoover greatly exaggerated the danger of supposed subversives in the USA in an attempt to increase funding for the FBI, which was largely successful. He relentlessly pursued his political enemies, flagrantly violating the civil rights of anyone he considered sympathetic to left-wing causes. It reflected a larger issue of deep corruption.

Though most of the info would not come out until later in Hoover’s life and after his passing, during his time with the FBI, the Director engaged in endless abuses of power. The scope of these abuses was vast, but could be summed up with one series of projects.

By the 1950s, Hoover was growing increasingly frustrated at the checks being put on the Justice Department’s ability to prosecute people for their political opinions. He formalized his unlawful covert methods under a program named COINTELPRO. The results were scandalous.

COINTELPRO’s prime target was initially the Communist Party of the USA, but its scope would greatly expand over the next decade. The methods used to harass and sabotage political dissidents included burglary, infiltration, unlawful wiretaps, planting forgeries, and spreading false rumors. Other rumored methods included inciting riots and political assassinations. Rights were being violated left and right.

Hoover’s harassment of political dissidents knew no bounds. He amassed an extensive collection of information on private citizens through the use of unlawful surveillance and wiretaps, a precursor to the later NSA scandal exposed by Edward Snowden. Hoover’s hit list included some notable figures.

No one was safe from Hoover’s spying, regardless of status. In fact, he grew especially worried about prominent public figures who questioned American hegemony and anti-communist values. Among those surveilled by Hoover and the FBI were John Lennon, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr, and Muhammad Ali. Hoover cared not one jot about the law.

If it wasn’t abundantly clear by now, Hoover’s actions as FBI Director were shockingly unlawful, violating the agency’s own policies and the very laws the FBI was charged with enforcing. Indeed, President Truman opined Hoover had transformed the FBI into his own private secret force. How did he get away with such blatant violations?

Hoover’s unlawful actions were self-reinforcing, ironically solidifying his position. He amassed an unmatched level of power in Washington, to the point where he could intimidate and menace high-ranking political officials if they did not comply with his vision for America. His influence went all the way to the top.

No one was off limits for Hoover’s wiretaps. He even approved the surveillance of President Richard Nixon, damning recordings of whom forced him to resign the Presidency during the Watergate Scandal. In a recording, Nixon even stated that he would not fire Hoover for fear of reprisal. And while all we know for certain about the FBI Director is scandalous enough, there are some unconfirmed conspiracies that suggest even shadier dealings…

J Edgar Hoover was personally responsible for the FBI’s investigation into President John F Kennedy’s shooting in 1963. The Warren Commission, a separate investigation, later criticized Hoover’s investigation, claiming reluctance on the Director’s part to consider the possibility of a conspiracy against JFK. This has led many to conclude that Hoover was involved in some kind of cover-up. If that were the case, Hoover took the secret to his grave.

After President Lyndon Johnson removed the mandatory government service retirement age of 70, J Edgar Hoover remained FBI Director right up until the end of his life. On May 2, 1972, Hoover suffered a fatal heart attack at the age of 77. His influential position in American politics was immediately recognized.

Congress opted to allow Hoover’s body to lie in state in the US Capitol rotunda. This was an honor previously only reserved for Presidents and former Presidents, confirming Hoover’s larger-than-life presence in American history. It was no wonder, considering the length of his tenure.

Between his time as Director of the Bureau of Investigation and then the FBI, Hoover served a whopping 48 years in that leadership position. Serving under a total of eight Presidents, his powerful presence in American politics for nearly half a century means he was arguably more influential than all those Presidents put together. And his influence was far from positive.

Of course, after his demise, secrets emerged around Hoover’s unlawful conduct during his tenure as FBI Director. Having passed, the odious man had escaped true justice. However, the revelation of his abuses of power during his unchecked tenure led to the FBI implementing ten-year term limits on directors of the agency. Still, Hoover has not been completely erased from their history.

To this day, the official name of the FBI’s headquarters in Washington DC is the J Edgar Hoover Building. Since the revelations about his controversial legacy, there have been numerous attempts to change the name, but to no avail. Very few agents refer to the building by its real name, reportedly, instead opting for simply “the FBI Building”. But it was not just professional secrets that came out after Hoover’s demise…

As early as the 1940s, rumors circulated Washington that J Edgar Hoover was gay. Hoover denied the allegations until the end, of course, and allegedly hunted down and threatened anyone who alluded to his homosexuality. But there were certainly signs.

Over most of his life, J Edgar Hoover had a close personal relationship with FBI agent Clyde Tolson, whom the Director referred to as his “alter ego”. The men spent endless hours in one another’s company, for work and pleasure, even going on vacations together. Many suspect they were lovers, though others attest they were merely incredibly close friends. Either way, Tolson benefitted.

After Hoover’s passing, he left his entire estate to Tolson, further suggesting their relationship was more than just colleagues. Tolson even moved into Hoover’s now-vacant house after the Director’s funeral, and after Tolson’s own passing, he was buried mere yards away from his companion. The debate around Hoover’s sexuality doesn’t end there, however.

What is undeniable is that Hoover never married, and certain historians have taken this as an indication of another orientation. John Stuart Cox and Athan G Theoharris, in their book on the Director, concluded that “the strange likelihood is that Hoover never knew sexual desire at all”, implying he was asexual. But a certain collection of Hoover’s may call this into question too.

Hoover allegedly kept a large collection of lurid photos, films, and written materials. Many of the photos were of celebrities and other notable figures. Some claim that Hoover used these for his own titillation; others suspect he held them for blackmail purposes. Hoover had other interesting habits too.

According to numerous sources, Hoover had a private affinity for dressing in drag. He would allegedly do so at private, all-male parties in the 1950s, attended by the likes of Roy Cohn, and by several male workers. These rumors have even called Hoover’s gender identity into question. 

His ethnicity has been debated too.

Despite his staunch opposition to civil rights in the mid-20th century, 21st century claims have been made about Hoover’s ancestry, with some alleging that he may have been part-Black. The possibility was the subject of the 2000 book, Secrets Uncovered: J. Edgar Hoover — Passing for White? The claim remains unproven, however. What is undeniable is that Hoover was a deeply flawed and hateful person, but did he have any redeeming qualities?

Hoover had a lifelong adoration for Man’s Best Friend. After receiving a dog from his parents as a young child, he was never again without one for the remainder of his days. He even had a great knowledge of dog breeding, and would gift dogs to notable figures, including at least two Presidents. Perhaps it was this one soft spot that a Hollywood actor attempted to draw on.

Hoover was the subject of the 2011 biopic, J Edgar, which was directed by Clint Eastwood and starred Leonardo DiCaprio in the eponymous role. Though DiCaprio’s portrayal was praised, critics and audiences largely panned the film. For a figure as larger-than-life as J Edgar Hoover, perhaps the big screen was simply not big enough.

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La Toya Jackson, the fifth of ten Jackson children born to Joe and Katherine Jackson—and sister of Michael Jackson—was born in 1956 in Gary, Indiana. La Toya was shy as a child but still managed to go door-to-door preaching with her mother and siblings in Los Angeles, spreading the word of Jehovah. She definitely broke out of her shell as a teen…

When La Toya Jackson turned 16, she began to perform alongside her brothers, doing tap routines in Las Vegas or wherever their father could arrange shows for them. While La Toya would go on to perform in a variety of capacities throughout her life and not just tap-dancing, she aspired to do something else in life, not just perform.

La Toya’s father, Joe Jackson, insisted that she go into show business instead of pursuing a degree in business law. Because of this familial pressure, La Toya appeared in all of the episodes of The Jacksons, alongside her siblings Rebbie, Janet, Jackie, Tito, Marlon, Randy, and Michael. Not only did she have to dance, but she had to sing and perform skits—but that wasn’t all she was getting up to.

Although La Toya was relatively busy singing and performing alongside her family, she also had a scandalous side. La Toya dated a number of famous men throughout her young life. In fact, she dated Diana Ross’s brother, Chich, as well as David Gest—yes, the one who was with Liza Minelli. La Toya went on to have a troubled path when it came to dating—but it wasn’t always tempestuous and dramatic.

La Toya must’ve had a pretty big impact on R&B singer Bobby DeBarge during their relationship considering he wrote a song about her. He wrote “I Call Your Name” in 1979 for Switch, which La Toya inspired. Could you imagine having such an influence on someone that they write a hit song about you? She must’ve really done a number on him—but he wasn’t the only one.

La Toya’s father, Joe, pushed her and her sister Janet to form a musical group alongside their brother Reggie. Unfortunately, it blew up in his face. The group hardly got along, citing creative differences as the reason that they eventually broke up. The group never even made it to performing live, and not a single song was ever released by the three siblings. That wasn’t the only time that family drama prevailed either…

After the music group that her father formed between the siblings failed, La Toya decided that she wanted to go solo, similar to some of her siblings. In 1980, she began to work on an album that she wanted to be self-titled, hoping for success as an individual. However, La Toya didn’t have the support that she wanted from her family.

La Toya desperately wanted her album to be self-titled, with just her first name. She thought that if she dropped her last name on the album, she would be able to distinguish herself from her more famous brothers, like Michael. Unfortunately, La Toya’s father had other ideas.

Joe Jackson forced La Toya to use her last name on the album, even though she protested. Despite the production of La Toya’s first album being riddled with family drama, she did have some success when it came to her two singles, “If You Feel the Funk” and “Night Time Lover.” Notably, “If You Feel the Funk” reached the R&B Top 40 chart in the US. Over the years, La Toya earned huge numbers and released two more albums. But the success wouldn’t last...

Just as La Toya Jackson was gaining significant popularity and becoming an international success, her record label, Private-I, went bankrupt. The bankruptcy resulted in poor promotion for La Toya’s 1986 album. Despite this failure, La Toya was able to further her career with two duets, one with Cerrone and one with the artist Jed. But her new management would change everything...

In 1987, La Toya’s father hired Jack Gordon to help co-manage her, which resulted in a significant change in her look. Gordon ensured that La Toya’s public image would be sexier, having her dance provocatively. This radical change in behavior shocked her mother Katherine, which she noted in her autobiography. This wasn’t the only time Gordon would change La Toya…

There was a chilling dark side to La Toya’s relationship with Jack Gordon. The entertainment manager ultimately dominated La Toya and had her distance herself from the Jackson family. She ended up permanently moving out of her family’s residence in Encino and into a residence in New York City. For the first time in her life, La Toya had autonomy from her family.

Sadly, it wasn’t real freedom that she was experiencing. Gordon was pulling the strings like a puppet master.

Since La Toya faced “independence” for the first time in her life, she finally had the ability to release a self-titled album with just her first name. She also declared her independence from her parents by posing shirtless in a 1989 issue of Playboy magazine, stating that she was in control of her life. But she was hiding a heartbreaking truth…

While La Toya was more than happy to pose for Playboy the first time, the second time wasn’t as sweet. Initially, she didn’t want to pose for the spread or for the video—and Gordon’s reaction was utterly disgusting. He beat her until she agreed. This traumatic experience turned her life into a waking nightmare. It sadly wasn’t the last time Gordon brutalized her.

Despite Gordon’s violent behavior, La Toya’s professional connection with him turned into a relationship. In 1989, they tied the knot in Reno, Nevada. This marriage came as a shock to many of her closest friends, as she had been dating another man named George at the time. Well, La Toya’s marriage to Gordon went on to produce many more shocking moments…

Later in life, La Toya stated that Gordon horribly forced her to marry him against her will. However, Gordon clapped back, stating that he was only protecting her from her family. Gordon tried to convince La Toya he married her so that her family wouldn’t kidnap her. That wasn’t the only depressing thing about their marriage…

Not only did Gordon force La Toya to marry him, but she actually didn’t have any feelings for him whatsoever. Because she didn’t love him, she refused to consummate the marriage, even when he tried to force himself on her. Eventually, La Toya tried to convey her lack of feelings towards him—and it went absolutely horribly.

About six months into La Toya and Gordon’s marriage, she decided that she wanted an annulment. She asked Gordon for one while they were in Rome, Italy. This infuriated the controlling and dangerous Gordon—and his reply was so disturbing, it’s unforgettable. Gordon told her that he would never let her go. Unfortunately, he didn’t only use his words to relay the message to his wife.

When La Toya requested that she and her husband get an annulment, his terrifying reply was just the start of the nightmare. Gordon went on to beat her in their hotel room. He hit her head against the corner of a table, resulting in black eyes. Of course, Gordon did not admit that he had brutalized his wife, and instead stated that they had an intruder in their hotel room who caused the bruises—but the ordeal wasn’t over yet.

After the horrible incident in Rome, La Toya penned an autobiography. In the book, she wrote that she faced physical trauma at the hands of her father, Joe. While she was already incredibly distanced from her family, this book must’ve put the nail in the coffin for their relationship. I’m sure La Toya felt extremely lonely—and her horrifically abusive relationship just made things worse.

Unfortunately, La Toya faced the terror of harm at the hands of Gordon every single day for roughly the next 10 years of her life. Through this terror, La Toya’s husband Gordon controlled her. He even went as far as taking away her passport and taking control of her funds. Gordon monitored every single one of La Toya’s moves—and even professional success couldn’t save her.

In 1992, La Toya had the chance to perform at the Moulin Rouge in Paris, France, starring in Formidable. Even though the show was successful and La Toya was being paid extremely well, she decided to ditch the contract nearly six months in. This decision resulted in La Toya owing the Moulin Rouge just over half a million dollars—but that wasn’t the only trouble she was in.

Only a year later, La Toya’s husband Gordon hit her multiple times with a dining room chair. This trauma gave La Toya two black eyes, many cuts which required stitches, a swollen lip, and a swollen chin. The authorities detained him for the incident, but released him after he stated the attack was out of self-defense. He was a master manipulator, and law enforcement weren’t his only victims.

In the same year that Gordon faced prison time, he forced La Toya to speak out against her younger brother Michael Jackson, stating that she believed there was truth behind the allegations that he harmed children. Gordon tried to sell La Toya’s “proof” for half a million dollars, which incited bidding amongst US and UK tabloids. But there was a sad truth behind this episode.

It seems that La Toya never wanted to speak out against her brother Michael—and the reason why she’d done it was absolutely devastating. She said that her husband had threatened to kill her siblings if she didn’t do it. When the tabloids realized that La Toya didn’t actually have any “proof,” the bidding between the tabloids fizzled. Sadly, she could’ve used the money…

Over time, thanks to Gordon’s poor entertainment management, La Toya’s career steadily declined. He had her take a series of horrible jobs, then had her participate in a number of publicity stunts that framed her as the Jackson family’s “black sheep.” After everything she had already been through, she would go through even more.

La Toya’s career and finances had tanked so badly that she needed to file for bankruptcy to avoid needing to pay what she owed to the Moulin Rouge. She ended up taking exceedingly random jobs such as performing at a Polish festival, releasing a step aerobics video, appeared in a Playboy video, and releasing a country music album.

After everything she’d been through, La Toya finally reached a horrifying breaking point. She found out that her husband Gordon was planning to have her star in racy film. La Toya finally decided to reach out to her brother Randy, who ultimately helped her to escape her abusive relationship with Gordon. I bet she must’ve breathed a sigh of relief when she finally got away from her abuser. It was an important turning point after a decade of misery.

After a horrible marriage to a terrible man, La Toya finally filed for divorce from Gordon while she was in Las Vegas. She separated herself legally and in name. She changed her name back to La Toya Jackson from La Toya Jackson-Gordon, which signified that she would eventually rebuild her relationship with the Jacksons. And that wasn’t all she did.

Not only did La Toya divorce Gordon, but she actually sued him under the Violence Against Women Act too. She did so in civil court while claiming that he mistreated her for many years during their marriage. The duplicitous Gordon denied these claims for the rest of his life. In any case, La Toya was able to return home to her family—and finally talk about what had happened.

After ending her marriage, La Toya returned back home to her parents in Hayvenhurst. La Toya was also not blamed for her treatment of Michael. Apparently, he knew Gordon forced her to speak against him. Forgiveness was one step, but La Toya had a long way to go yet…

The aftermath of La Toya’s marriage to Jack Gordon was absolutely devastating. After filing for her divorce and her lawsuit against Gordon, La Toya never left her home. While she lived alone for the first time, she was still entirely horrified to leave her place in case she ran into her dangerous ex-husband on the street. At the same time, La Toya struggled greatly on a personal level...

After years of working horrible jobs set up by her ex-husband Gordon and being viewed negatively in the public eye, La Toya felt nervous to get back to performing. She faced issues with her confidence after the media spoke poorly of her singing skills, dance skills, and talent in general. Despite these problems, La Toya eventually got back on stage…

Before La Toya and Gordon’s marriage ended, Gordon racked up a significant amount of debt under her name which she attempted to pay off by performing in Europe and South America. Then, La Toya began to write music for the first time after her traumatic divorce. I’m sure she must’ve been happy to get back to what she loved—but then tragedy struck.

Watching the horrible events of 9/11 had a dire effect on La Toya Jackson—but she turned her profound grief into healing. She composed a number of songs, and when she performed them to a close group of her friends, she received positive compliments, which pushed her to write more and more music. La Toya wrote so much music that she had a full album at the end, called Startin’ Over. It was time to see how the public would react to her…

La Toya publicly re-emerged for the first time since her divorce in early 2003 on Larry King Live. It was during that show that La Toya announced her newest album to the public for the first time in six years. Based on her previous experiences and self-confidence issues, La Toya must’ve felt so free—but in one sense, she was still hiding from the world.

La Toya had some songs from Startin’ Over released independently and under a secret name to avoid prejudices in the DJ world. She also had her label distribute the album through the Universal Music Group—but it led to a near-disaster when the music accidentally leaked online. As a result, La Toya actually re-recorded the album with entirely new music.

She was like a new woman—but the past was about to catch up with her.

In 2005, La Toya faced the loss of her sadistic ex-husband Gordon. As a result, La Toya was finally able to speak out against him, and also to express her own opinions without his influence. She was free to speak how she wanted and when she wanted. Finally, she had so much more control over her own life and her own actions.

Without Gordon’s pressure, La Toya finally defended her family members against her previous statements and even defended Michael when new charges emerged against him. After everything that she had been through, La Toya’s allegiance stuck with her birth family.

La Toya spent the next part of her career appearing on reality television shows such as Armed & Famous and Celebrity Big Brother. On Armed & Famous, La Toya completed basic training as an officer, which she used while volunteering as a deputy. I bet that Gordon would have never allowed her to appear on a television show like that.

A few years after her brother’s passing, La Toya starred in a reality series called Life With La Toya. The show chronicled her daily life while also showcasing her newest business ventures, her new home, and her attempt to start dating again after her disastrous marriage to her ex, Jack Gordon.

La Toya also made multiple appearances on Donald Trump’s Celebrity Apprentice. In La Toya’s first season on the series, she appeared twice and Trump fired her both times. The third time she appeared on the series, Trump fired La Toya after she lost a challenge where she had to be a project manager. Trump refused to allow her to return to the show. Probably for the best…

In 2013, rumors spread that La Toya Jackson had married Jeffre Phillips, her new business partner. At the time, the pair weren’t actually married or engaged. It was all false. However, not too long after the marriage rumors spread, Phillips caught La Toya off-guard.

During an episode of La Toya’s own reality television show, her business partner Phillips proposed to her. After being friends for 15 years, Phillips decided to ask La Toya’s father for her hand in marriage—and her reaction was even more surprising. She said yes. After years of hurt by her ex-husband Gordon, La Toya finally was with someone she could truly trust.

Unfortunately, La Toya and Phillips never married. They broke off their engagement, but they are still great friends despite it all. La Toya and Phillips remained business partners with Phillips still managing La Toya’s public appearances and them both acting as producers of a documentary together.

In 1992, both La Toya and her sister Janet happened to be in Minneapolis. La Toya, still married to her abusive manager Jack Gordon, was taping an Exotic Club Tour, while Janet was recording an album. La Toya decided to seek out Janet, looking for help out of her abusive relationship. When they met, La Toya made a heartbreaking plea to her sister. Janet’s reaction was utterly cold-blooded. She believed that La Toya was recording them, and viciously smacked her.

While on the show Armed & Famous, La Toya exposed one of her great fears. She was afraid of cats due to an unfortunate incident when she was a child and a cat attacked one of her family members. She kept on appearing on TV—until a very tragic loss upended her life.

La Toya lost her younger brother Michael after he suffered from cardiac arrest in 2009—but few know her strange role in what happened that day. La Toya was the family member who signed Michael’s death certificate…but only after Conrad Murray, Michael’s physician, absolutely refused to do so. However, La Toya felt like something was fishy.

She decided to look deeper into Michael’s tragic and sudden death.

La Toya felt that there was something wrong with how the authorities ruled Michael’s passing. This was intensified after she found weird objects in his house and discovered that a large amount of money had disappeared. As a result, La Toya asked for a second autopsy on her brother’s body. La Toya became the driving force behind getting justice for Michael’s passing, as the coroner ultimately ruled it a homicide.

In her tell-all, La Toya Jackson revealed the details of her father Joe Jackson’s cruel treatment of his children. However, years later, when Joe died, her reaction was utterly heartbreaking. In an Instagram post, she wrote: "I will always love you! You gave us strength, you disciplined us in your own way, you made us one of the most famous families in the world. I am extremely appreciative of that." 

She also revealed that she'd spent extensive time with him in the hospital before his passing. It appears that after all these years, La Toya Jackson finally found her way back to her family. 

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Jeanne was born in July 1756 near Bar-sur-Aube, a long way from the glitzy Palace of Versailles where she believed she belonged. Where, in all fairness, her ancestors had once lived. She might not have had much, but she had noble blood running through her veins. If her genealogy didn’t bring her wealth, then her greed would.

Even though Jeanne was descended from kings, she did not grow up like a princess. Her father, Jacques I de Saint-Rémy, Baron de Saint-Rémy, traced his lineage all the way back to King Henry II. Sadly, as a descendant of Henri de Saint-Rémi, King Henry II’s illegitimate son, Jeanne’s family had fallen from grace and it was a long way back to the top.

Jeanne’s family hadn’t just lost their social standing, wealth and titles. They had, apparently, lost their courtly manners and aristocratic morals. Both of Jeanne’s parents disgraced their once-great family name. Her father developed a reputation as a heavy drinker who would do anything for a penny. Ironically, so would she.

With her good-for-nothing parents, Jeanne and her two surviving siblings grew up in dire conditions. Her parents—probably too busy knocking back drinks—frequently neglected her and she had to beg for food scraps from strangers in her bare feet. Growing up in these conditions, she would do anything to escape poverty. Anything.

Jeanne and her two surviving siblings would likely have perished from starvation if it hadn’t been for the mercy of those around them. Different sources give different accounts of exactly who saved Jeanne and her family from starvation, but she was just lucky someone cared for her plight. Thankfully, her family’s fortunes took a dramatic turn.

A genealogist at Versailles managed to validate Jeanne’s royal Valois ancestry. While the confirmation didn’t restore her family’s prestige or get her a castle, it did have some perks. Her family received a healthy stipend from the royal purse and she finally got the education that she needed. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to live like the Queen of France herself.

After completing her education, Jeanne returned to Bar-sur-Aube where she moved in with the Surmont family. Shortly thereafter, she married Marc-Antoine-Nicolas de la Motte, a nephew of the Surmont family. Just like Jeanne, he suffered from delusions of grandeur and a desire to climb the social ladder by any means necessary.

Both Jeanne and de la Motte had tenuous claims to nobility—and an even more tenuous grasp on reality. That didn’t stop them from putting on airs and vociferously reminding everyone that they were, in fact, descended from royalty. Despite their low rank in social circles and even lower reputations, they insisted on calling themselves Comte and Comtesse.

Jeanne and de la Motte clearly shared a little folie a deux. But that wasn’t the reason for their sudden wedding. When Jeanne said her “I dos” she was heavily pregnant with twins. Sadly, this illegitimate branch of the Valois family would not see another generation. Although, given how much trouble she was about to cause, that wasn’t a terrible thing.

Jeanne gave birth to twins just one month after marrying de la Motte. For reasons that no one really knows for certain, the children passed just a few days later. Tragic as it was, it must have been a relief for the greedy Jeanne. Given her ambitions and meager means, she couldn’t exactly afford more mouths to feed.

Thanks to the generosity of Queen Marie Antoinette, Jeanne was no longer destitute. But, she wanted a more lavish lifestyle than what her humble stipend allowed. Furthermore, even though her husband, de la Motte, liked to call himself Comte, he was just a lowly officer with the gendarmes. But Jeanne was nothing if not resourceful.

Jeanne hatched her first plan to get more money from the royal purse. Dressed in her finest clothes, she began to frequent the gardens at the Palace of Versailles, hoping to catch the attention of Queen Marie Antoinette. She planned on appealing to their shared femininity to boost her stipend. But there was a problem with this plan.

Unfortunately, Jeanne’s reputation preceded her. By the time that she started strolling around the gardens of the Palace of Versailles, Marie Antoinette had already heard of her—for all the wrong reasons. Marie Antoinette believed that Jeanne had a “questionable lifestyle” and distanced herself from the upstart to preserve her own reputation.

Jeanne had failed to gain an audience with Marie Antoinette. But, while strolling through the gardens at the Palace of Versailles, she managed to get someone else’s attention. Jeanne sparked up an affair with Armand Gabriel Rétaux de Villette. Far from nobility, de Villette was a notorious forger, procurer, gigolo and…well, did basically anything to make money.

Jeanne’s husband, de la Motte, shared his wife’s ambition but lacked her ingenuity and venal nature. Rétaux de Villette, on the other hand, shared Jeanne’s ambitions and total lack of morals. If there was anyone who could help claw her way back up to the top of the social ladder, it was the forger de Villette. They just needed a mark.

With her new partner, Jeanne hatched a far more lucrative plan than her original idea. She just needed an “in” at court. Thankfully, de Villette was able to get Jeanne into the French court where she met Cardinal de Rohan. In no time at all, she sparked up an affair with Rohan and became his confidante, learning all of his secrets.

Jeanne learned that what Rohan wanted more than anything in the world was the approval of Marie Antoinette. With de Villette’s help, she convinced Rohan that she had, in fact, successfully sought the Queen’s favor. She promised that she would put in a good word for him. Her word counted for about as much as her watered down bloodline.

Jeanne might not have had wealth or (real) titles but she did have looks. And she used them on Rohan to devastating effect. Contemporary sources described her as “slender” (probably because she was starving half the time) with a small, but shapely bosom. Her real assets, however, sparkled like the diamonds she always wanted.

Jeanne possessed flawless white skin, chestnut-brown hair, crystal clear blue eyes and a “winning smile”. One of Rohan’s servants remarked that Jeanne possessed the “wiles” of an ancient enchantress. She used all of those wiles and her sparkly blue eyes to pull a veil of deception down over Rohan. By the time he lifted that veil, he’d be flat broke.

Jeanne and de Villette created mostly convincing fake letters. But there was one very glaring mistake that, as a courtier raised in the highest royal etiquette, Rohan should have seen. Jeanne and de Villette signed their fake letters with “Marie Antoinette de France”. Real royalty—which Jeanne was not—only ever signed with their given names.

The letters might not have been good forgeries, but Jeanne was a gifted liar. She was such a convincing conman that Rohan didn’t notice the mistake in the letters. Jeanne began boasting openly about her totally made up relationship with Marie Antoinette. With Rohan’s blind confidence in her, she could now cash in.

Jeanne convinced Rohan to give her massive sums of money in the misguided belief that he could buy his way back into the Queen’s favor. But while Jeanne pretended that the money went to Marie Antointte’s various charities, it really only went to one charity case. The Jeanne de Valois-Saint-Rémy Give Me More Money Now Charity.

The money was pouring in and Jeanne didn’t want it to end. But, the more money that she swindled out of Rohan, the more elaborate lengths she had to go to to maintain her lucrative ruse. Even when Rohan requested an audience with Marie Antoinette, Jeanne refused to give up the gig. She needed to get the Queen to meet Rohan.

Of course, there was no way that Jeanne could arrange a private audience between Rohan and Marie Antoinette. But that didn’t stop her from trying. She hired a well-known courtesan, Nicole Le Guay d'Oliva, to help her keep the lie going. With a little powdered make-up, a wig, a big dress and some favorable lighting, she could continue the lie.

At long last, Jeanne was living the lavish life that she had always wanted. The life that her ancestors had lived. With Rohan’s money, she successfully bought her way into Paris’ upper society where she believed that she belonged. But it was just chump change. She wanted a much bigger pay day—and she was about to get one.

The famed jewelers, Charles Auguste Boehmer and Paul Bassenge, approached Jeanne with a rare opportunity. Believing that she had a close relationship with Queen Marie Antoinette, they asked Jeanne to help them sell her a 2,000,000 livres ($15 million) diamond necklace. They even offered her a commission. Jeanne wanted the whole thing.

The diamond necklace that the jewelers wanted to sell to Marie Antoinette was almost as famous as the French Queen herself. Marie Antoinette’s deceased father-in-law, King Louis XV, had commissioned the necklace for his mistress. But the spectacular piece of jewelry contained so many diamonds that, by the time the jewelers procured all of the stones, Louis XV had passed.

The diamonds sparkled almost as much as Jeanne’s greedy blue eyes.

With the help of her loser husband, de la Motte, and her ne’er do well lover, de Villette, Jeanne hatched one of the biggest diamond heists in history. The jewelers’ desperate situation, the provocatively expensive necklace, and Jeanne’s deception of Rohan made for the perfect storm. The perfect $15 million dollar storm, that is.

Jeanne produced letters from “Marie Antoinette” to Rohan, ordering him to act as her secret agent in purchasing the necklace. The letters talked about the Queen’s desire for discretion in the matter in order to avoid scandal. Fooled once again, Rohan made arrangements to purchase the wildly expensive diamond necklace.

Rohan showed the forged letters to Boehmer and Bassenge with the “Queen’s” instructions and conditions. Relieved that they had finally found a buyer, the jewelers agreed to the terms and handed the controversial piece of jewelry over to Rohan. They would never see it again. At least, not all of it and not in one piece.

As per “Marie Antoinette’s” instructions in the letter, Rohan made a down payment on the necklace. The jewelers then gladly handed it over and Rohan promptly took the most expensive necklace in France to Jeanne’s house. Once there, an unidentified man whom Rohan thought was one of the Queen’s valets, took the necklace.

And that’s the last anyone ever really saw it.

Once they got their greedy, grubby, grifting little hands on the infamous diamond necklace, Jeanne de la Motte and de Villette knew they had finally struck it big. They immediately set the rest of their plan into motion. Frankly, as to why the jewelers hadn’t thought of this genius scheme themselves is a scandal all its own.

Jeanne and her no-good associates got to work finishing their her master plan. They “picked apart” the stunning piece of jewelry and began selling the gems individually at markets all over Paris and London. Their elaborate diamond heist seemed to be working perfectly as the money rolled in. But they should have chosen a richer mark.

Rohan had agreed to purchase the necklace for Marie Antoinette in installments with the expectation that she would pay him back through Jeanne. Truthfully, he didn’t have millions tucked beneath his mattress. So, when the time came for the next installment, Jeanne found herself coming up short and with empty pockets.

When Boehmer and Bassenge knocked on Jeanne's door for the next payment, she had to confess she didn't have the money. She only had the Cardinal's notes, but it wasn't enough. Facing their own financial hardship, the jewelers did exactly what Jeanne had always feared. They went to the real Queen of France.

The jewelers complained directly to Marie Antoinette about the late payment from her intermediaries, Jeanne and Rohan. But they were in for a surprise. Marie Antoinette told the jewelers that she had never arranged to purchase the necklace and certainly didn’t have it in her possession and never had. Just like that, Jeanne’s elaborate lie came crashing down.

Enraged at Jeanne’s deception, Marie Antoinette had all of the conspirators clamped in irons and the affair turned into a public scandal. But while Marie Antoinette was certain that everyone would see her as the victim of Jeanne’s unscrupulous lies, the public actually sided with Jeanne. Jeanne’s final lie would lead to a revolution.

Even though the public saw Jeanne as the victim, she didn’t escape punishment. In fact, the more punishment she received, the more the public sympathized with her. After a jury found her guilty, she could have lost her head. Fortunately, she got off with a light whipping and a permanent reminder of her unscrupulous behavior.

As part of her punishment, Jeanne received a gruesome reminder that would mark her for life. She was branded with the letter “V” on each shoulder for voleuse (French for thief). Now, no matter where she went, everyone would know not to trust her lies. Unless, of course, she left France altogether and found new targets.

As if a whipping and a couple of brands from burning irons weren’t enough, Jeanne’s punishment got even worse. The last part of her harsh penalty was life behind bars. Marie Antoinette ensured that the con artist went to the worst lock-up possible, Salpêtrière. That’s where they kept all of the, shall we say, ladies of ill-repute.

In 1789, Jeanne reappeared in London, far from Marie Antoinette’s powerful wrath. She published her memoirs, Memoires Justificatifs de La Comtesse de Valois de La Motte, in which she fueled the growing hatred for the Queen of France. Her incendiary revelations helped to light the fuse that sparked the French Revolution.

Too bad she wouldn’t live to see it.

After her escape from Salpêtrière, it seems that Jeanne picked up where she left off. Lying and thieving. On August 23, 1791, however, her schemes finally caught up with her. While hiding from some debt collectors, she fell from a hotel window and hit the pavement below. The Times described the scene: “terribly mangled, her left eye cut out—one of her arms and both her legs are broken”.

It was a brutal fall from grace from the top of the social ladder.

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Belafonte was born in Harlem, New York, in 1927. Like many immigrants, his Jamaican parents probably came to the United States in search of a better life, not expecting the hardships that the remaining prejudice in the US brought. In fact, his mother found the city so intense and scary that she made a heartbreaking decision.

Just a little over a year after his birth, Belafonte’s mother made a devastating choice. She took Harry to Jamaica and left him there with his grandmother. He stayed there for about eight years, learning and growing in a very different environment from the city he left behind. Belafonte’s parents must have thought this the best place for their child to grow up—but he still saw and experienced hardship that never left him.

Britain still owned Jamaica when Belafonte lived there, and he witnessed firsthand the effects of colonization on the Black locals. Most of his family worked on plantations, and he experienced the back-breaking work and poverty that characterized the lives of those who looked like him. Belafonte eventually left the challenges of that life behind him to return to his parents—but even more challenges waited for him on the mainland.

Back in New York City, Belafonte attended George Washington High School. He spent a lot of time alone in his mostly Italian corner of Harlem, as his mother worked long hours to provide for him. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough, Belafonte hid a secret struggle behind closed doors. When he had trouble in school, it wasn’t because of a lack of willingness to learn, but because he battled dyslexia. Finally, still just a freshman, Belafonte decided to end his traditional education.

After all, he had much bigger plans.

Harry Belafonte left school to join the Navy, enlisting just in time to serve in World War II. Black men like himself in the Navy did mostly menial work. However, Belafonte found much more than work with the Navy, as he was among intellectual Black men who introduced him to the work of W.E.B. Dubois. On top of that, he found himself in the presence of someone who would push him to make a life-changing decision.

In 1944, Harry Belafonte first met Marguerite Byrd while stationed near Hampton Institute, which she attended. The two were very different. Belafonte grew up rough, and his experience with prejudice and colonialism showed. Byrd grew up in a community of Black elite, and somewhat ascribed to the potential of being “separate but equal.” But, as they say, opposites attract—and the pair moved quickly.

Even though Byrd called their relationship “one long argument over racial issues,” their disagreements didn’t keep them apart. They married in 1948, when Belafonte was just 21 years old. They had their first child in 1949—shortly before a kind gesture turned Belafonte toward a new goal.

Harry Belafonte worked as a janitor in a New York City building to make ends meet. After one of his jobs, a tenant gave him two tickets to a local theater as a tip. This performance absolutely inspired Belafonte—so much so that he volunteered as a stage manager at the theater. He caught the acting bug quickly, but he’d have to be extra clever in his pursuit of such an elusive dream.

While working as a stagehand, Belafonte met Sidney Poitier, the man who would ultimately become the first African American to win an Academy Award. The two became fast friends in their pursuit of acting careers. Both yearned for success—and they came up with an ingenious way to perfect their craft. They’d often pool together their small funds to buy one ticket to local plays, then switch places between acts, so each could watch a portion.

Belafonte and Poitier both saw success over time, but their early days together weren’t always easy.

In 1958, Belafonte landed a starring role in a play called Days of Our Youth. Poitier played his understudy and went on in Belafonte’s place one night when he couldn’t find someone to take care of his other job. Belafonte had no idea he was making a grave mistake. It just so happens that recruiters attended the play that night, and cast Pointier in his first film, No Way Out.

Belafonte likely found the situation incredibly unlucky, and realized he’d have to work harder to make a name for himself in the world of acting.

When Belafonte began singing in nightclubs around New York City, he was only doing it to make money to pay for acting classes. He definitely covered his acting classes, learning alongside people like Marlon Brando. But his singing voice paired with his good looks and easy charisma turned out to be an impressive combination filled with potential—one that would soon pay off big time.

The Roost Label signed a fairly young Belafonte in 1949. He sang mostly the pop music of the time in those earlier years. He experienced some success with this first label, but his musical interests soon changed, turning to folk music. It was this new love for folk music, along with the way he incorporated the hardships and experiences of his Caribbean upbringing, that took Belafonte’s music career to places he’d never even imagined he could go.

By 1953, Harry Belafonte signed with a new label and released his first album, Calypso. The album featured some of his most famous singles ever, including “Day-O,” often known as the “Banana Boat Song.” It’s hard to overestimate what a blockbuster it was. It became the first album to sell one million copies in a year, but even more than that, it brought a new sound to listeners around the world.

His Caribbean folk style had originated in Trinidad and Tobago—a fact that made one of Belafonte’s new titles surprisingly uncomfortable.

Many critics called Belafonte the “King of Calypso” for his album’s wide-reaching success. However, Belafonte didn’t boldly claim the title. Back in Trinidad, calypsonians routinely competed for the actual title of calypso monarch, something Belafonte never did. Still, Belafonte’s Caribbean roots held strong, and his musical success took him to new places—and often, to places that weren’t particularly welcoming.

Now equipped with money and a taste for the luxurious things he could finally afford, Belafonte moved his family to a new, white neighborhood in Elmhurst, Queens. It should’ve been a dream come true—but instead, he faced a nightmare. His neighbors felt less than pleased with the presence of a Black family in their midst, and many moved out.

However, with the problems that Belafonte experienced on the road with his music, his neighbors’ opinions were likely the least of his worries.

Harry Belafonte toured the country performing his music, now in demand by both white and Black audiences. The success, however, turned out not to be all he had expected. He often couldn’t even stay at the posh hotels he sang at, who allowed him to perform but didn’t provide lodging for colored people. It must have been both embarrassing and distressing—but Belafonte responded by using his platform in powerful and often provocative ways.

Belafonte experienced great success, but he still had to navigate an America rife with injustice and discrimination. He decided to use his art and access to make statements about his political and social ideals. In that very spirit, he absolutely refused to perform in the southern United States from 1954 to 1961 due to the segregation there.

Belafonte found not only the power in his refusal—but also the power in his newfound status.

Perhaps fate destined Belafonte and activist Martin Luther King Jr. to meet during this era when both men’s voices had the potential to move civil rights in the US forward. Destiny or not, the two men became good friends. Belafonte helped King with money and even bailed him out of the Birmingham City Jail in 1963. Belafonte never seemed to fear allying himself with the powerful activist—but sadly, it would come back to bite him.

Belafonte was never afraid to speak up—but unfortunately, that meant he faced some devastating consequences. During the McCarthy era, some politicians blacklisted Belafonte for his activism. Many Black artists came under suspicion, as some thought these charismatic Black leaders dangerous and called them out as being communists.

While the accusations proved repeatedly false, Belafonte himself showed no signs of pulling back on his activism—something that trickled into his career choices. He took a big step into the film world, but it was a move that came with a whole new set of trials.

Belafonte landed his first film role—Bright Road—in 1953. But his second film, Carmen Jones, really made a name for him in the film world. He starred alongside Dorothy Dandridge, but, in a move that might have surprised Belafonte, producers determined that his own singing voice wouldn’t match the role. Production dubbed his voice with a professional opera singer instead.

The film didn’t gross huge profits, but many critics still consider it a success. Belafonte continued to work in film, often in roles that attracted hateful attention.

In 1957, Belafonte starred in Island in the Sun, a movie that carefully explored multiple interracial relationships. By today’s standards, nothing in the film was explicit. But even the hints at a relationship between Belafonte’s Black character and his white woman love interest, played by Joan Fontaine, caused a stir. In fact, the film angered some so much that they took shocking action.

Belafonte lived through the prejudice and hate of the civil rights era, and probably expected the backlash from his role with Joan Fontaine. Fontaine, however, was in for a surprise of her own. Disgruntled white audiences targeted her, sending threats and poisoned mail. Interestingly enough, the risks didn’t stop another white co-star from taking things with Belafonte much further than anything that actually made the movie’s final cut.

During the filming, a very married Belafonte allegedly had an affair with another white woman in the cast—Joan Collins. Collins herself wrote that she found the incredibly handsome Belafonte hard to resist. While the romance fizzled out quickly, it likely played a role in the impending and dramatic end of Belafonte’s first marriage.

Things between Belafonte and his first wife had been rocky for a while, but the situation allegedly reached its peak when she found he was keeping love letters from another woman. Byrd, then pregnant with their second child, decided to end the relationship. The two divorced in 1957, and Belafonte was free to move on with the writer of the aforementioned love letters…and it wasn’t Joan Collins.

Julie Robinson—the only white dancer in her company—had met Belafonte while they worked on Carmen Jones back in 1953. There must have been a spark between the two, because the love letters his first wife found had all been penned by her and kept carefully by Belafonte. But it was more than just a torrid affair. The two married secretly in 1957.

This was scandalous enough, but the biggest outcry came from somewhere Belafonte might not have expected.

Belafonte’s new marriage made headlines, with some news sources declaring Belafonte’s choice to be with a white woman some sort of status symbol. This rubbed many Black people the wrong way, with even famed performer Eartha Kitt saying his choice was “something that no [Black] performer can afford.” Belafonte, however, seemed undeterred by his controversial love life choices.

He proved to be no stranger to further controversy in his film choices, either.

Belafonte staunchly refused the leading role of Porgy in the film adaptation of Porgy and Bess in 1959. Some artists, like musician Duke Ellington, praised the story’s artistry. But Belafonte thought the story promoted dangerous, irrelevant stereotypes about the Black community. Belafonte turned down multiple roles, and often critiqued the Black men who took them up—including a supposed close friend.

Belafonte did plenty of film work, but he also rejected many roles in the name of what he believed. One particular role—the lead in Lilies of the Field in 1963—went to his friend, Sidney Poitier, only after he turned it down. Poitier won an Academy Award for the role, but Belafonte hated the role and the way it required its only Black character to be completely “noble, selfless, saintly.”

Belafonte used his artistic refusals to make a statement about his political opinions. Still, he didn’t shy away from making these implicit opinions very overt when he had the chance.

In 1960, Belafonte made his support for the Democratic presidential candidate John F. Kennedy public knowledge. He starred in a campaign commercial for the liberal politician. In a trend that continued to reappear in his life, Belafonte found ways to intertwine his politics with his art. And, when Kennedy won the presidency—in no small part thanks to Belafonte’s campaigning—he repaid the singer with a lavish gift.

With the effort for civil rights in full swing, more artists began to cross over to both white and Black audiences. In a performance that reflected the changing face of America, Belafonte sang for the inaugural gala of President John F. Kennedy in 1961. Belafonte’s singing career created more success for him than he ever expected. Unfortunately, all good things do come to an end.

Belafonte’s music career began to wane in the 1960s. He experienced a bit of success with his last hit single, “A Strange Song,” but new musical acts like The Beatles eventually pushed Belafonte down the charts. Belafonte eventually moved on from music—but not without giving one last final “screw you” through his music. 

In 1965, Belafonte released one of his final albums, An Evening with Belafonte/Makeba. The album directly targeted the South African apartheid, a social system that kept races separate and treated darker people unjustly. The album didn’t receive as much success as others, but it served a deeper purpose than just earning money.

After all, Belafonte had more than enough money at this point. And he sure found unusual ways to invest it.

Belafonte enjoyed traveling, especially throughout the Caribbean. One of his very favorite islands to visit was Bonaire. He loved it so much that he decided to build his own luxury private community there in 1966—a community that remains a lush paradise for its inhabitants today. Belafonte turned toward many business ventures, but still had a ways to go in making his mark on the entertainment industry. Then, in 1968, he made his most memorable foray yet.

When Johnny Carson took a short break from hosting The Tonight Show in 1968, Belafonte took his place, becoming the first Black person to host late-night television. Belafonte invited both Black and white guests, including Martin Luther King Jr. and Senator Robert F. Kennedy. Belafonte’s presence on late-night TV gave him the opportunity to reach a diverse audience.

Nonetheless, he still had enemies—powerful ones.

In one particular instance in 1968, Belafonte landed a spot on an NBC special with Petula Clark, a white British singer. When Clark inadvertently touched Belafonte’s arm during their performance, the aftermath was chilling. The show’s sponsor requested they retape the entire segment to avoid the interracial touching. Clark, however, refused this retape, and the show went on as aired.

It turned out to be extremely successful. Sadly, Belafonte wouldn’t always be so lucky when he tried to buck the system.

In a CBS special later in that same year, Belafonte chose to perform in a Mardi Gras number. The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour Special was set to open with Belafonte’s rendition of “Don’t Stop the Carnival” against footage of riots from the 1968 Democratic Convention. CBS cut the number, replacing it with a Republican campaign ad instead.

Belafonte’s fearless pursuit of politics and art continued to push him forward, and ultimately toward a surprising—and controversial—friendship.

When Fidel Castro—the communist leader who led the Cuban revolution and assumed control of the island for decades—invited Belafonte to a film festival in Cuba in 1974, he happily accepted. This initiated a long-time friendship between the two. It was a friendship that many of Belafonte’s fans found scandalous, considering Castro’s authoritarian and often violent governing choices.

Still, Belafonte saw Castro as a revolutionary, and publicly opposed the US Embargo on the island nation. And that wasn’t all he did for Cuba.

Belafonte visited Cuba many times throughout his life. Before one of his visits with Castro in 1999, he connected with the Cuban rap community. His endorsement of the music to the dictator provided an opening for hip hop to grow and integrate itself with Cuban culture in a way the local hip hop community gratefully credited him for. Provocative or not, Belafonte made a point of reaching out, and refusing to neglect even the most unlikely fans.

In 1978, Belafonte hit TV screens with a famous group of kids’ characters—the Muppets—with a performance that became one of the show’s most memorable. He sang his then classic “Day-O,” but his rendition of “Turn the World Around” made a bigger impact as the Muppets danced along in tribal African masks. He must have realized his capacity for making a difference, as he found more ways to reach out to people in need.

Belafonte continued to use his status to help others and engaged in multiple humanitarian efforts. In one of his most visible humanitarian activities, he played an important role in bringing together the celebrity-studded vocal performance of “We Are The World.” The Grammy-winning song raised funds for the less fortunate on the continent of Africa. But just as Belafonte was on top of the world, a deadly disease tried to slow him down.

Belafonte’s prostate cancer diagnosis in 1996 was shocking. He remembers worrying about how others would view him when they knew his diagnosis. Luckily, doctors caught his case early, and performed life-saving surgery. Belafonte became a strong advocate for prostate cancer awareness, taking advantage of every opportunity to educate others. Soon, though, the claws were coming out again.

Upon the Bush administration’s entrance into the Iraq war in 2002, Belafonte made multiple statements about the President that did a lot more than rustle a few feathers. He opposed the conflict and Bush’s handling of multiple other issues, calling the sitting President “the greatest terrorist in the world.” These comments were especially inflammatory during the atmosphere of that era.

On top of that, Bush wasn’t the only person to come under fire from Belafonte.

Belafonte also verbally denounced Colin Powell and his role in the Bush administration. He declared Powell “committed to come into the house of the master, as long as he would serve the master, according to the master’s purpose.” In other words, Belafonte called Powell the President’s yes man—a statement neither Powell nor many others in the Black community took lightly.

Powell responded to Belafonte’s fiery comments with little words, simply calling the artist’s thoughts “unfortunate.” Condoleezza Rice, another Black politician, responded by declaring, “I don’t need Harry Belafonte to tell me what it means to be Black.” The opinions within the Black community likely wavered between the two, as many agreed with Belafonte, even as others took into account the strides Powell and Rice had made.

But they weren’t the only ones he was facing…

With his outspoken political statements and controversial friends (ahem, Castro), Belafonte has long been a target for government surveillance...but few would agree that he deserved the brutal betrayal that two of his closest confidantes dealt him in the late 50s. Not only did his manager act as an informant, conveying information about Belafonte to the FBI—but so did his psychiatrist. Hmm, I think that violates a number of professional conduct standards...

They told officials that Belafonte was a "double agent" who was "controlled by Peking..." 

Belafonte called Bush a terrorist again while giving a speech on Martin Luther King Jr. Day at Duke University. He felt that the Bush administration overall was held down by “arrogance wedded to ignorance.” When interviewers asked him why he made such comments when he knew he would be harshly criticized, Belafonte simply replied that “Dissent is central to Democracy.”

And throughout his history, just as often as his public comments brought him under fire, his private life also caused trouble.

Belafonte’s affair with Joan Collins sent scandalous ripples through Hollywood—but sadly, it wasn’t the only time he stepped out of his marriage. In the early 50s, Belafonte’s press agent felt the counterintuitive need to fix him up with another one of her gorgeous clients, Dorothy Dandridge. Seriously, if your job is press agent, wouldn’t you try and avoid encouraging your client to cheat?

Either way, when the pair met, sparks flew.

Even though Belafonte was technically still married to his first wife, Dandridge was a-ok with it. But soon enough, the cracks began to show…in a seriously hilarious way. Both Dandridge and Belafonte were very into psychoanalysis, and this shared passion soon turned every instance of bickering into a barrage of therapist’s lingo like “boundaries,” “dependence,” and “castration complex.”

They broke up, only to end up cast in Bright Road together. Dandridge wound up in a torrid relationship with the film’s director, while Belafonte, of course, went home to his wife.

Despite the damage that his outspoken nature often wrought in his professional life,  Belafonte’s personal life seemed tranquil—but under the surface, trouble was brewing. In 2004, after 47 years of marriage and two children with Julie Robinson, Belafonte once again filed for divorce. The then-77-year-old’s decision was surprising, and not much detail exists on the reason for the divorce.

However, Belafonte did say that he felt “angry and trapped.” Still, the failure of his second marriage didn’t stop him from being on the lookout for his next romance.

Four years after his second divorce, at the age of 81, Belafonte joined himself in matrimony with his third wife, Pamela Frank. He remained married to Frank, a photographer, until his death in 2023. As unpredictable as his love life seemed to be, Belafonte was unchanging in one area: his willingness to critique those in power. And he made sure nobody forgot it.

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Eva Marie Saint was born in Newark, New Jersey, on July 4, 1924. Saint’s parents, John and Eva Marie, were both part of the Quaker religion, and Saint attended Bethlehem Central High School. While Quakers have a reputation for being a little on the dour side, Saint had her own thing going on. 

According to the 1942 Bethlehem Central High School yearbook, Saint was class secretary, and she wanted to become a teacher. But there seemed to be a more free-spirited side to Saint. She was also a cheerleader, and her nickname was "Bubbles".

When Saint headed to university, her free-spiritedness took over. 

Eva Marie Saint planned to study to become a teacher, but she ended up graduating from the acting program at Bowling Green State University in Ohio. Saint then headed to New York City, where there were more acting opportunities. To get close to the action, Saint joined the NBC page program. She would be earning next to nothing, but she would be in show business. 

But before success, she’d have to feel her first sting of rejection. 

In 1947, Saint thought she had her big break after getting a part in a play called Mr Roberts. That is, until the director dashed her hopes when he came to her with bad news: they were replacing her with another actor. Apparently, she came across as too vulnerable. 

The woman who replaced her was Jocelyn Brando, and it wouldn’t be long before Saint met up with another, even more famous Brando. 

Getting in at NBC was a good idea because Eva Marie Saint soon got small roles in TV productions like Campus Hoopla and Bonnie Maid’s Versa-Tile Varieties. In 1949, Life magazine did a feature about her, and her struggles working for low wages and trying to make it big in New York City. While it may sound like an idea for a sitcom, this was Saint’s real life, and she desperately needed a break. 

If Saint’s life in New York sounds like a sitcom, her romantic life was more like a rom-com. One day, Saint was on the subway, and she was carrying her modelling book. At the bottom of the book’s cover was her name written in gold letters. Some random guy standing behind her became curious about her name. 

And when she walked away, his curiosity grew even stronger.

There was something about Saint’s name and the way she walked that prompted Jeffrey Hayden to make the move to meet this lovely creature on the subway. As it turned out, Hayden was a struggling TV director. When the two started talking, sparks flew. On October 28, 1951, they became husband and wife. 

In the meantime, Saint was still looking for a way to advance her struggling career. 

A break came on Broadway. In 1954, Eva Marie Saint appeared in The Trip to Bountiful and received the Outer Critics Circle Special Award. Two more breaks came when she won an Emmy for her role in the televised play Middle of the Night and a second Emmy for the 1955 musical version of Our Town. Here, her co-stars were Frank Sinatra and Paul Newman. 

Now, Saint could trade her nickname from the silly “Bubbles” to something more career-oriented. 

Saint was getting so much recognition that the media decided it was time for a nickname. At this time, most thought of Helen Hayes as the queen of the stage. So, Saint became the “Helen Hayes of television”. But the small screen could not contain Saint’s huge talent. 

It was time for her big film debut, and it would be a doozy. 

One of Saint’s first auditions for a feature film was for On the Waterfront. Director Elia Kazan, who had already wowed audiences with A Streetcar Named Desire, had two actors lined up for the lead female role: Saint and Elizabeth Montgomery. With such an esteemed director at the helm, this was sure to be a hit film. 

Saint needed this part to get her film career in motion. 

The character that Saint and Montgomery were vying for in On the Waterfront was Edie. Edie grew up literally on the waterfront in Hoboken, New Jersey. Saint also grew up in New Jersey, and her competitor, Montgomery, was a California girl. This gave Saint an edge. 

But there was something that Montgomery had over Saint. 

The character Edie in On the Waterfront is 19 years old. Eva Marie Saint was already 30 by this time, and it was going to be a struggle playing someone so young. Montgomery, on the other hand, was 21. Luckily, Kazan thought that Saint’s background trumped her age, and she got the part. 

Now all she had to do was convince audiences that she was still a teenager. 

In On the Waterfront, Marlon Brando played Saint’s co-star and love interest. Remember, his sister, Jocelyn, had taken Saint’s first Broadway role. Now, brother Brando was already a superstar in Hollywood, and Saint was in her first film. There certainly was a big chance for Saint to feel completely intimidated by this huge star. 

But Saint had a way to feel sure about herself as an actor. 

The thing was, Eva Marie Saint actually had a connection to the Streetcar Named Desire star. Both Brando and she had attended the Actors Studio, and so there was a sort of academic bond. Saint knew he was a great actor, and she knew that a lot of other actors may have felt intimidated. Thankfully, she felt confident in her abilities as well. 

In fact, working with him quickly became very natural.

While preparing for one scene, Saint accidentally dropped her glove. Without thinking, Brando picked it up and then, to Saint’s surprise, thoughtfully put it in his own hand. The cameras weren't rolling, but Kazan loved the interaction. In fact, he asked them to do it again in the scene, and it stayed in the picture. 

Saint was so surprised by Brando’s sensitivity that she made an odd comparison. 

While Brando had a reputation for playing macho guys, Eva Marie Saint said he reminded her of a hummingbird. She said it was his sensitivity to the material and other actors that made her think that. But also like a hummingbird, Brando was hard to grab and impossible to hang on to. 

And it wasn’t always so easy with Brando. 

While Saint was confident enough to act opposite Brando, there was something that got under her skin. She said it was like “he understood me more than I understood myself, knew more about me than I felt I knew myself”. It sounds like an intense working relationship, but the proof would be in the pudding. 

Saint had to see how her acting measured up compared to Brando. 

After viewing On the Waterfront, a critic in The New York Times called Eva Marie Saint “pretty and blond”,  which sounds like one of the worst reviews of an actor ever. Except the reviewer went on to say that Saint’s acting skill meant she didn't have to rely on being a gorgeous blonde. This was a glowing endorsement of her talent.

Now all she had to do was wait for awards season. 

To say On the Waterfront was a success is a vast understatement. Critics sang its praises, and audiences went to theaters in droves. Of course, a lot of the talk was about the great Marlon Brando giving the performance of his life. Naturally, everyone was thinking about awards. To Saint’s surprise, producer Sam Spiegel put her name forward for Best Supporting Actress. 

Wait a minute—Saint’s huge role was not a supporting one. What was going on? 

As it turned out, Spiegel had a plan. He thought that if he put Saint’s performance forward as a supporting actress, she had a better chance of nabbing a nomination. Spiegel had concerns because the Best Actress category was sure to have huge stars like Judy Garland and Grace Kelly. Spiegel was playing a dangerous game with Saint’s career. 

Now, they just had to wait for the announcement of the nominees. 

Spiegel’s plan worked, and Eva Marie Saint got the nomination. A nervous Saint attended the ceremony and felt the thrill when they called her name as the winner. Imagine: it was her first film, she starred opposite Brando, and she took home an Academy Award. 

But there was something else going on that awards night. 

On the night she received her Oscar, Eva Marie Saint may have had trouble getting into her gown. You see, she was nine months pregnant at the time. In her acceptance speech, she even took a moment to joke that she may have the baby on stage. 

Pregnant or not, Saint had her trophy, and she was ready to take on Hollywood. 

Believe it or not, Eva Marie Saint received a measly $7,500 for appearing in On the Waterfront, while Brando got $100,000. Okay, maybe Saint was paying her dues, but with her Oscar tucked under her arm, she was ready to start making the big bucks. 

She decided to try comedy. 

In On the Waterfront, Saint played a teenager. In her next film, her love interest was 53-year-old Bob Hope. It was a huge leap, and so was the change over to comedy—and to a $50,000 paycheck. That Certain Feeling, besides including a cameo from Saint’s husband, was not a huge success.  

Maybe it would be a good time to return to something a little more serious. 

There aren't many films more dramatic than Raintree County. It also boasts a stellar cast including Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift. Off-camera also had its share of drama, especially when Clift got into a terrible car accident after partying with Taylor. Luckily, Saint seemed to steer herself clear of all the shenanigans. 
But she couldn’t steer clear of this dud of a movie. 

It may be that Raintree County was going for a Gone with the Wind kind of vibe, but it failed to compare in any way, especially with critics. Most of the complaints focused on the script rather than the performances, which was good news for Saint. She made $100,000 for this film, but it lost the studio money. 

Saint was probably starting to worry that On the Waterfront would turn into her one-hit wonder. All she could do was keep trying. 

Saint’s next film, 1957’s A Hatful of Rain, seemed ahead of its time. It tells the story of a veteran dealing with drug addiction. The story and cast received praise from critics, but maybe it was just too heavy. The box office was a huge disappointment, and there was Saint's name, right at the top of the list. 

Saint needed to show the studio she could earn them money. 

Saint was waiting around for her next project when the phone rang. The call was a prestigious invitation to dinner. The host would be none other than Alfred Hitchcock. Of course, Saint must have assumed that this was about a movie, and it was. The dinner went off without a hitch.

Then Hitchcock asked for a second meeting. 

Between the two meetings with Hitchcock, Saint got a call from her mother, who knew a little-known fact about the famous director: when giving roles to women, Hitchcock liked them to be wearing white gloves and beige clothes. While this may sound a bit weird, Saint wanted the role, so she obliged. Her reward was a part in North by Northwest. 

But Hitchcock’s interest in what Saint wore didn’t stop there. 

As usual, MGM’s costume department provided all the clothes that Saint required to play Eve Kendell in North by Northwest. Strangely, Hitchcock wasn't a fan of any of their choices. To fix this, he took Saint on a shopping spree at the very elite Bergdorf Goodman, so the two could choose what she should wear. 

There was a reason why Hitchcock wanted Saint to look extra elegant. 

One of the reasons why Hitchcock felt he had to control Saint’s wardrobe in North by Northwest was due to her past roles. She tended to play frumpish and often tearful women who stayed at home by the kitchen sink. Hitchcock assured her that this role wouldn’t be similar. In North by Northwest there was no sink, and she didn't have to cry. 

So, if she wasn't crying by the sink, what was she doing? 

North by Northwest was Saint’s first chance to play the role of the femme fatale. This was a sought-after part for movies considered film noir. It called for Saint to be a devious temptress that no man could say no to. Hitchcock gave her personal lessons on how to lower her voice and make it sound husky. 

But there was a good chance that Saint and Hitchcock would not see eye to eye. 

While many actresses have later come out to accuse Hitchcock of all kinds of mistreatment, Saint has not. Yet, there was the opportunity for them to clash, as Saint was a method actor and Hitchcock wasn’t a fan of that style at all. In fact, his advice for her as an actor was ridiculously simple. He told her to lower her voice, always look her co-star in the eyes, and stop using her hands. 

But Hitchcock did have some naughtiness in store for Saint. 

There’s a scene in the dining car of a train that some thought got out of hand. Co-star Cary Grant is trying to seduce Saint, and her response is the suggestive line: “I never make love on an empty stomach”. Although it seems tame today, the censors required a change. In the new version, she doesn’t “discuss love on an empty stomach”. 

But there was something else naughty about this film.

At the end of North by Northwest, Saint and Grant’s characters, now lovers, are speeding off in a train. Just as they are about to get intimate, the train enters a tunnel. Hitchcock later called it “probably one of the most impudent shots I ever made".

But there was something even stranger on the set of North by Northwest. 

Saint was still relatively new to making films, and she had a lot to learn. While filming on Mt Rushmore, she noticed something strange. As it turned out, big star Cary Grant was charging fans 15 cents in exchange for his autograph. 

While this seemed very weird, Grant did have some serious advice for Saint. 

Grant's advice to Saint was that she should stop doing the serious drama roles. He suggested that she didn't have to “cry in a movie to have a good time”. Hitchcock chimed in with his opinion as well. Referring to her love of kitchen sink dramas, he said that audiences “don’t want to see you at the sink”. 

For her next film, Saint would be as far from a sink as possible. 

Saint slowed down her career in favor of time with her husband and two children. But she did manage to land a part in the fabulously expensive Exodus. This was a star-studded epic—Paul Newman and Peter Lawford were her co-stars—that tells the heartwrenching story of the founding of the State of Israel.  

And with the heavy theme, came some disturbing antics behind the scenes. 

During the filming of Exodus, director Otto Preminger was unhappy with how a kissing scene involving Saint was turning out. Shockingly, he didn't try to explain it to his actors—he did something much more disturbing. Preminger strode over to Saint, elbowed her co-star Paul Newman out of the way, and kissed her himself to demonstrate how he wanted it done. 

Her experience with Preminger (understandably) left a bad taste in her mouth, especially coming after her glowing experience with another famous director. 

Director Elia Kazan was, according to Saint, the best director she ever worked with, and he helped her out with a key love scene in On the Waterfront. Saint recalls being in her slip and feeling a little bit self-conscious, so Kazan came over to her and whispered something intimate to her: he said her husband’s name. That did the trick, and Saint was able to complete the scene by pretending that Brando was her beloved husband.

After Brando and Newman, it was time for Saint to move into the arms of another handsome star. 

Exodus was a big success, and it doubled its budget of $4.5 million. Her next film wouldn’t be so fortunate. Warren Beatty had only made a couple of films when he co-starred with Saint in All Fall Down. For this reason, Saint’s name got top billing, but this film was all about introducing Beatty as the new hot star. 

It looked like Saint would be crying at the sink one more time. 

All Fall Down is a real tearjerker with Beatty playing a narcissistic womanizer who falls for an older woman, Saint. Of course, it all goes wrong and, like in her previous films, Saint spends a lot of time crying. Sadly, this movie also made the studio execs cry. All Fall Down lost almost $1.5 million. 

Next, Saint would match with the power couple of the decade. 

For 1965’s The Sandpiper, Saint had the dubious opportunity of working with power couple Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. Most saw this film as a cash grab for Taylor and Burton, who were capitalizing on their sizzling off-screen affair. Unfortunately, the reviews didn’t sizzle at all.  

Saint would go from being a third wheel to being behind the wheel. 

The car racing movie Grand Prix had already begun shooting when Saint got a call. For some unknown reason, leading man James Garner wanted someone replaced. Suddenly, Swedish actress Harriet Andersson was out, and Eva Marie Saint was sitting pretty in the capable arms of handsome French superstar Yves Montand. This film was another huge success under Saint’s belt. 

Saint’s career carried on until she reached this next blip. 

In the late 1990s, future president of the Academy John Bailey was filming a story set in a nunnery. He got Saint on board to play Mother Saint-Raphael. However, if you want to see Saint in Mariette in Ecstasy, it might be difficult. Before they could properly release the film to audiences, Savoy Pictures went bust. 

The film has some supernatural elements, but it was Saint herself who seemed to have a premonition from a higher power. 

While working on Mariette in Ecstasy, Eva Marie Saint channeled some divine inspiration. She made friends with co-star Geraldine O’Rawe and had a suggestion for her. She pointed at the cinematographer and told her it would be a good idea to marry him. O’Rawe initially laughed it off, but they married in 1998 and have been together ever since. 

And speaking of the supernatural, Saint was about to meet up with a ghost from her past. 

It had been many years since Eva Marie Saint and Marlon Brando had won Oscars together in On the Waterfront. Since then, Brando had passed, but this didn't mean that the magic of Hollywood couldn’t bring them back together. In Superman Returns, Saint plays the Man of Steel’s adoptive mother, and Brando appears—through archival footage and CGI—as the hero’s biological father. 

If only she could make this next film disappear. 

Saint’s final film before retirement looked like it would go down in history. The star-studded cast for Winter’s Tale included Russell Crowe, Will Smith, Colin Farrell, and Jennifer Connelly. For Farrell, it was “a dream come true” to work with Saint. Sadly, the movie was a nightmare with the critics. 

Luckily, there are some much better films for Saint’s legacy. 

In her career, Eva Marie Saint appeared in two very significant films. The National Film Registry by the Library of Congress chose both On the Waterfront and North by Northwest for being "culturally, historically or aesthetically" significant. She also received a Lifetime Achievement Award from The Greenwich Village Film Festival.

And let’s not forget the records she set. 

When Olivia de Havilland passed in 2020, Eva Marie Saint became the oldest living actor to have won an Academy Award. When producer Walter Mirisch passed in 2023 at 101 years old, she became the oldest living recipient in any category. When Saint’s husband passed in 2016, she may have set another record: a Hollywood marriage that lasted 65 years. 

And she carries on. 

It’s hard to believe that someone known for the golden years of Hollywood is still alive. Saint certainly is, and she saw everything from black and white films to CGI and everything in between. On July 4, 2025, she made the milestone leap to the age of 101. She was still young enough to celebrate with her family members, as four generations of Saints gathered for the festivities. 

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Despite growing up in a modestly well-to-do family, Vincent van Gogh did not enjoy his childhood. One of six children, he only fostered a lasting relationship with two siblings, and even his relationship with his parents remained difficult; their parenting choices left a lasting impact on Van Gogh.

Van Gogh’s childhood seemed to have brought him little joy. One of the few positive things history credits his parents with is teaching him to draw and giving him access to the art world. However, even this caused Van Gogh much suffering before it gave him anything close to joy.

Van Gogh spent his youth listless, moving from city to city, constantly followed by failures and heartbreak. By April 1881, he’d fully committed himself to his art, yet had been forced to return to his parents. There, he reconnected with his recently widowed maternal cousin, Cornelia “Kee” Vos-Stricker—yet another disappointment for Van Gogh.

Vos-Stricker quickly caught Van Gogh’s eye—he became completely infatuated. Unfortunately, she did not feel the same. When Van Gogh shocked everyone with a proposal, Vos-Stricker replied with a vehement “No, nay, never”. Vos-Stricker had no interest in Van Gogh, nor any idea why he’d thought she did. Yet, Van Gogh didn’t take the hint.

Instead of moving on, Van Gogh continued to persist in his pursuit of Vos-Stricker until her father, his uncle, made it abundantly clear that the marriage would never happen. What effect this had on Van Gogh is difficult to assess. While Van Gogh eventually moved on from this heartbreak, he continued to set himself up for failure.

The next object of Van Gogh’s affections became Clasina Maria “Sien” Hoornik, a woman of the night with one daughter and a second child on the way, neither of whom was fathered by Van Gogh. This relationship sent a shockwave throughout Van Gogh’s community, with many of those closest to him telling him to give Sien up or face the consequences. Van Gogh chose Sien. Yet he chose her for nothing. 

While Van Gogh initially chose Sien over all others in his life, the relationship eventually soured. Poverty plagued them, likely pushing Sien back to her less savory career options. In the end, it seemed Van Gogh lost the appeal of playing house. He left Sien and her family, once again returning to his restless movement, unable to settle.

The year after leaving Sien and the city behind, Van Gogh found himself in Nuenen. Although he focused on painting and drawing during this period, he wasn’t entirely alone. Margot Begemann, a neighbor’s daughter, joined Van Gogh on his painting journeys, and soon something more than art began to develop.

Love bloomed between Margot and Van Gogh. It finally seemed Van Gogh had gotten it right, even if Margot seemed fonder of Van Gogh than he of her. However, yet again they faced a hurdle. Margot was 10 years older than Van Gogh, and no one but the young couple wanted to see them together. The consequences were horrifying.

Both families refused to allow the young couple to marry. Van Gogh may have been able to bear yet another obstacle in his love life, but Margot could not. Distraught at being denied her love, Margot consumed strychnine with only one thought in mind: ending her own life.

Discovering Margot in distress, Van Gogh rushed her to a nearby hospital, saving her life. Yet, he did not save their relationship. Margot became yet another failed attempt at love. Yet, it did not end his time in Nuenen. In fact, Van Gogh proved extremely productive while in Nuenen—until he got into even more trouble.

While in Nuenen, Van Gogh completed many paintings of the various peasants who lived within the village. Trouble arose in September 1885 when one of his younger models became pregnant. An outsider with no real clout within the community, Van Gogh became the prime target for rumors.

The village accused Van Gogh of forcing himself upon the girl, though this has never been proven. Yet, the village priest banned the community from sitting for Van Gogh. Without any models, Nuenen no longer held anything for Van Gogh. He once again found himself on the brink of poverty with no home to speak of.

Van Gogh spent several years moving from location to location until he finally settled in Paris, sharing a flat with Theo, his closest sibling. While in Paris, Van Gogh developed many relationships with prominent artists, including Paul Gauguin. However, life in the city eventually became too much for Van Gogh—he needed to seek a quieter life elsewhere.

Fleeing the vices that Paris brought to him, Van Gogh sought refuge along the southern coast. In February 1888, Arles became Van Gogh’s sanctuary, providing him with the allure of a world entirely foreign to what he’d previously known. Arles gave Van Gogh new life. However, that couldn’t last long.

Shortly after arriving in Arles, Van Gogh invested in property, indicating his intention to make Arles his home. He rented out four rooms at 2 Place Lamartine, which later became known as the Yellow House, thanks to Van Gogh’s painting of his rooms by the same name. For Van Gogh, the Yellow House proved to be so much more than merely a place to live. It held the promise of his heart’s desire.

Since leaving Paris, Van Gogh remained in touch with the fellow artists that he had met there, including Paul Gauguin. In Gauguin, Van Gogh saw someone that he could connect with on both a personal and artistic level; he craved a connection to Gauguin that Gauguin did not necessarily return.

Van Gogh often suffered from dreams that were too lofty to actually achieve. Gauguin proved to be one of Van Gogh’s biggest dreams, and also, possibly, his biggest disappointment. In Gauguin, Van Gogh didn’t just want friendship—he dreamed of a relationship that offered creative satisfaction to each of them. Not that Gauguin got the message.

Gauguin appeared initially resistant to Van Gogh’s hopes and dreams. Only after much pleading from Van Gogh did Gauguin agree to arrive in Arles. Yet, now Van Gogh had another problem. The Yellow House had little to no furniture. Where, exactly, did Van Gogh expect his coming guest to rest?

Van Gogh quickly bought two beds under the guidance of the station’s postal supervisor, and one of his models, Joseph Roulin. However, Van Gogh wanted to create a space that proved truly enticing to Gauguin. Therefore, Van Gogh decided that to prepare for Gauguin’s arrival, the Yellow House needed something truly special.

In a letter to his brother, Van Gogh wrote, “In the hope of living in a studio of our own with Gauguin, I'd like to do a decoration for the studio. Nothing but large Sunflowers". In the span of a week, before Gauguin’s arrival, Van Gogh changed the world forever.

Two paintings are, arguably, Van Gogh’s most recognizable. One of them is a painting of bright yellow sunflowers in a vase. This painting came into existence as part of Van Gogh’s preparation for Gauguin’s visit—it remains one of the few good things to come out of Van Gogh’s dreamt collaboration.

Gauguin finally arrived in Arles on October 23, and by November, Van Gogh achieved what he’d dreamt of. The two artists began painting together. Initially, things went smoothly enough, with Van Gogh taking advice from Gauguin. However, it did not take long for their two personalities to begin to clash, with epic effects.

Van Gogh admired Gauguin. He respected his talent and desperately wished for Gauguin to do the same with him. He wanted Gauguin to treat him as an equal—Van Gogh wanted friendship, not mentorship. However, Gauguin didn’t see things in quite the same light.

To Gauguin, Van Gogh appeared to be someone inferior. He behaved with arrogance and controlled each situation with an intimidating attitude that ultimately frustrated Van Gogh. As such, they began to argue often. It should’ve been clear that the pair needed to separate, yet that was the last thing Van Gogh wanted.

Despite the tension that existed between them, Van Gogh remained desperate for Gauguin to stay. This only caused further problems in their relationship, as the more desperate Van Gogh became for Gauguin’s companionship, the further he seemed to push Gauguin away.

As 1888 marched doggedly on into winter, the weather turned. Early December saw a long period of rain that forced the Yellow House to contain both men without a means to escape. Their problems escalated. However, what exactly happened in the days leading up to Van Gogh’s most dramatic act remains something of a mystery.

According to Gauguin, Van Gogh attempted to follow him when he left the house for a walk, and, supposedly, “rushed towards me, an open razor in his hand”. With no other witnesses to this supposed event, no one has ever been able to corroborate Gauguin’s claims. Yet, something certainly happened to push Van Gogh towards the edge.

Whether Van Gogh rushed Gauguin with a razor or not, Gauguin almost certainly did not return to the Yellow House that night, likely remaining in a hotel. Leaving Van Gogh on his own only seemed to make matters worse. Van Gogh could feel his fellow artist pulling away—and the resulting distress led him down a dark path.

Van Gogh’s descent started in the evening of December 23, 1888. A fiery fight with Gauguin seemed to be the final straw. Desperation only appeared to strengthen Van Gogh’s pre-existing condition—and that's when his grasp on reality truly began to slip. What happened next would go down in history.

The hours between the evening of December 23 and the morning of December 24, 1888, remain a bit of a mystery; evidence suggests what Van Gogh got up to that night. However, the reality is that no one is certain beyond one truth: The next morning, a policeman found Van Gogh unconscious and bleeding. So what actually happened?

Upon returning to his rooms after his altercation with Gauguin, Van Gogh was in a terrible state. Supposedly hearing voices, Van Gogh defied logic as he grabbed a razor and reached for his ear, either severing it entirely or only in part. As mad as that sounds, Van Gogh was just getting started.

After severing either part of all of his ear, Van Gogh wrapped it in paper and delivered it to a young maid at a local brothel that he’d visited often with Gauguin during his visit. For many years, the identity of this woman remained unknown, adding further mystery to the incident. Who could have prompted Van Gogh to go to such lengths? 

In more recent years, a researcher and historian has identified Van Gogh’s mystery woman. Gabrielle Berlatier passed in 1952 at the age of 80. However, in 1888, she was 17 years old and nothing more than a cleaning girl at the brothel. Why on earth did Van Gogh choose her?

The truth is that no one knows what prompted Van Gogh to go to such dramatic lengths, nor why Gaby, as she’d been known in her youth, became the target of Van Gogh’s attentions—not even Van Gogh himself. Rushing Van Gogh to the hospital the next morning only added more confusion to the entire affair.

Van Gogh had no memory of the incident. The official diagnosis from the hospital at the time was “acute mania with generalised delirium”. Modern professionals looking back on the incident believe that it’s possible that Van Gogh experienced a severe mental breakdown that evening. Now only one question remained: What of Gauguin?

During his first days at the hospital following the incident, Van Gogh only had one consistent request. He wanted to see Gauguin. However, no matter how many times Van Gogh asked for his supposed friend, Gauguin never materialized, and he would never materialize again. 

Gauguin left Arles before Van Gogh ever woke up. He asked the policeman responsible for the case to “be kind enough, Monsieur, to awaken this man with great care, and if he asks for me, tell him I have left for Paris”. Gauguin couldn’t remain in the same place as Van Gogh.

Despite the complexity of their relationship, Gauguin appeared to still have some sentiment for Van Gogh left in his heart. While he fled before Van Gogh woke up, according to him, he did so because “the sight of me might prove fatal for him”. He also ensured that Van Gogh would not be alone, even if he couldn’t be by his side.

Gauguin immediately contacted Van Gogh’s brother, Theo, who rushed to the train station despite having just proposed to his future wife that same day. After a day of travelling, Theo arrived at Van Gogh’s side. However, he did not remain there for long. Van Gogh quickly found himself on his own again. 

Theo left in the evening of the same day that he arrived. Despite spending the next few weeks in the hospital, Van Gogh quickly gained freedom once more, shocking everyone. However, far from being cured, he could only delay the inevitable. The village eventually displaced him from his beloved “Yellow House”. Everyone knew Van Gogh needed help, even Van Gogh.

Van Gogh voluntarily entered Saint-Paul-de-Mausole asylum at the start of May 1989, roughly five months after the incident in Arles that started his clear downward slide. At the asylum, Van Gogh’s rooms were sparse—two cells with barred windows. Yet, this drab place forced Van Gogh to dig deep, finding his greatest inspiration.

Other than the sunflowers already mentioned, Van Gogh is best known for one other painting. The Starry Night, a captivating painting full of deep blues and swirls, depicts the view Van Gogh had out of his window in the asylum. The confines of the asylum could not deter Van Gogh. Yet it also couldn’t save him.

Van Gogh left the asylum in May 1890, roughly a year after entering it. He moved to a Paris suburb to live closer to both Theo and Dr Paul Gachet, an amateur painter who was familiar with treating other artists. Van Gogh may have appeared to be planning for the future, but his demons continued to follow him.

Only two months after leaving the asylum, those same demons finally caught up with Van Gogh. At the age of 37, Van Gogh went to either a wheat field he’d been painting in or a local barn (stories differ) and shot himself in the chest—and then he turned around and walked home.

Remarkably, the bullet deflected off one of Van Gogh’s ribs and went through him without doing any immediately lethal damage to his organs. As a result, Van Gogh managed to return to the Auberge Ravoux where he’d been staying. Finding Van Gogh covered in blood, the people there jumped into action.

Van Gogh’s friend Dr Gachet had worked as a surgeon during the Franco-Prussian conflict, giving him great knowledge of wounds of this nature. This enabled him, along with help, to stabilize Van Gogh long enough for Theo to rush to his beloved brother’s side. 

Initially, Van Gogh appeared in good spirits. Theo stayed by his side during this period. However, infection quickly set into the wound, and Van Gogh’s health rapidly deteriorated. With his brother by his side, Van Gogh left the world two days after taking his own life, leaving only haunting words behind.

According to Theo, Vincent Van Gogh left the world with five words that seemed to embody his short, tragic life: “The sadness will last forever”.  Six months later, Theo van Gogh left the world too, leaving only Theo’s widow behind to attempt to carry on the legacy that Van Gogh deserved to have.

During his lifetime, Vincent Van Gogh’s talent went largely unappreciated and unnoticed. Suffering from an episodic mental disorder that greatly inhibited his ability to carry on, Van Gogh suffered greatly in his lifetime. However, in the years since his passing, his artwork has gone on to inspire generations of artists. 

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This might just be Hollywood’s most horrifying story.

The life and ultimate demise of Jenny Maxwell has fascinated Hollywood historians and internet sleuths alike for the better part of five decades. Her sudden rise to fame and familial connections to A-listers made her fodder for the tabloids. But it was ultimately her brutal demise at the hands of an alleged burglar that really made her famous.

Jenny Maxwell had very humble beginnings as the daughter of a Norwegian construction worker. We don’t know much about her childhood except that she was an only child and her parents “coddled” her. But to really understand Maxwell’s story, we have to start at the end: the brutal, bloody, and barbaric afternoon of June 10, 1981.

Maxwell’s estranged husband, Ervin “Tip” Roeder, surprised her with an uncharacteristic display of chivalry. He offered to drive the 39-year-old former starlet home following some minor surgery at Cedars-Sinai hospital. 

By all accounts, Maxwell and Roeder enjoyed a pleasant afternoon together—one of the few times they were not fighting like cats and dogs. Roeder had taken Maxwell to lunch and then drove her back to her condo where she had been living for almost a year as their divorce played out. 

As a true gentleman, he made sure to walk her through the lobby to the elevator. But they were both going down.

Without warning, a burglar appeared in the lobby. The unidentified assailant confronted a stunned Maxwell and Roeder. Then the situation quickly deteriorated. Within minutes, Jenny Maxwell’s lifeless body lay on the ground in an ever-expanding pool of blood, with a dire head injury.

When she did, eventually, find her way into Hollywood it didn't take Maxwell long to dazzle audiences. Her blonde hair, “wide-set eyes,” and “thin, mischievous smile” fascinated movie and television audiences alike. They just couldn’t help but feel like they had seen her distinctive look somewhere else before. Perhaps in another blonde beauty.

Without even knowing it, Maxwell was practically Hollywood royalty—even before she stepped in front of a camera. Newspapers and television shows revealed that Maxwell’s mother had been born in the same remote Norwegian town as another famous blonde’s mother. Between her familiar looks and similar heritage, there was no denying a connection.

Maxwell got her big break before she got her driver’s license. In 1958, famed Hollywood director Vincente Minnelli spotted Maxwell at her drama school in Brooklyn. He knew immediately that he had found a star and invited her to Hollywood to audition for a role in Some Came Running. She definitely did go running.

Running right to fame, fortune, and a fatal finale.

Minnelli wanted Maxwell to audition for the role of Dawn Hirsh in Some Came Running. If she landed the role, she would have starred alongside none other than Frank Sinatra—in her on-screen debut, no less. The film would have turned her into an overnight sensation. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the role. But she did get a taste of fame.

Even though she didn’t get to star opposite Sinatra for her big screen debut, Maxwell still hung around in Hollywood. With her blonde locks and vivacious personality, she easily landed roles in some of the biggest hit television series of the time. The only thing more important than landing TV roles, however, was landing a man.

Those who knew Maxwell even before she became famous described her as a “bubbly, strong-willed, and charismatic imp”. Her somewhat devious charms made her an instant success in the City of Stars and she made friends with some of the biggest stars in the sky. Or, technically speaking, on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Even though she was married, Maxwell was still a “party girl”. As her career took off, she began hanging out at all of the hottest Hollywood haunts in the company of her famous friends. The tabloids frequently spotted her out and about with the likes of Sharon Tate and Peggy Lipton. Much like Tate, Maxwell would meet her end in a pool of blood thanks to a crazed madman.

Maxwell finally got her big break in 1961 when she starred alongside none other than Elvis Presley in the hit film, Blue Hawaii. In the movie, Maxwell shares an iconic cinematic moment with the King of Rock and Roll that was sure to make her husband, Rapp, turn Hawaiian blue with jealousy. She had a habit of making her husbands jealous.

It wasn’t until Maxwell filed for divorce in 1963 that the world learned how horrible her marriage to Rapp had been. She testified that, during the four years of their marriage, Rapp had been “extremely possessive and overly jealous, to the point of being fanatical”. The only good thing to come out of their marriage was their son, Brian.

Maxwell quickly put the pieces of her broken life back together again. She reconciled with her parents and landed major roles in Take Her, She’s Mine and My Three Sons. With a more stable career, she regained custody of her son and secured monthly support payments from Rapp. Her sudden resurgence in film, however, only confirmed one thing for her.

By 1968, Maxwell had Hollywood eating out of the palm of her hand. With a breakthrough role in the hit television series The Wild Wild West, she was on her way to superstardom. Then she stunned the world when she announced that she would be stepping back from the limelight in order to focus on raising her son. 

She had less time with him than she imagined.

Maxwell’s film and television career ended just as abruptly and unexpectedly as it had begun. But just because she had retired early didn’t mean that she had given up on life in the fast lane. Following her early retirement, Maxwell began dating a man who was wrong for her in every way. She had no idea how wrong he truly was.

While Maxwell hung out around at the trendy places in Hollywood, her new beau frequented more seedy joints. One of Roeder’s favorite hangouts was La Cienega, a steakhouse with ties to the mob. For his part, Roeder did nothing to dispel the rumors that he had mob connections. In fact, he even used them to his advantage.

Regardless of how she viewed Roeder’s possible mob connections, Maxwell still wanted to marry him. And marry him she did. The two got married in February of 1970. We can only imagine that the guest list would have included some of Hollywood’s biggest stars (minus her bestie, Sharon Tate, whose own bloody demise had occurred mere months earlier).

A going theory in the untimely and unexpected demise of Nick Adams paints Maxwell’s husband as a man desperate to retain money and power. Allegedly, Adams had become aware that Roeder had been misappropriating his money. To silence Adams, Roeder is then supposed to have arranged for the former child star’s demise—apparently, something he did well.

In his 1992 book More of Hollywood’s Unsolved Mysteries, the author John Austin fingered Roeder for Adams’ demise. He claimed that Roeder, likely with the assistance of his mob associates, gave Adams a lethal dose of paraldehyde and promazine. True or not, it speaks to the fact that Maxwell had unwittingly married a monster.

Following their nuptials, Maxwell and Roeder moved into their Cherokee Lane home in Beverly Hills. At first, it seemed like wedded bliss. Maxwell settled into her newest role as a Beverly Hills housewife. She redecorated the home with a safari theme. It’s pretty safe to say that she had entered the lion’s den.

Maxwell spent the early years of her marriage to Roeder doing what her role required of her. She raised her beloved son, Brian, hosted family dinners, and planned vacations at their holiday home in Idyllwild. It all seemed so peaceful. But there was trouble brewing beneath the surface of their ostensibly perfect Beverly Hills life.

Friends and family suspected that there was something not quite right about Maxwell’s marriage to Roeder. Despite their outward appearance of normalcy, there was some obvious tension between the two. Maxwell frequently hosted Hollywood parties at their Beverly Hills home but Roeder rarely, if ever, attended. He clearly had better things to do.

Even as they kept up appearances, Maxwell and Roeder were both leading almost completely separate lives. While they managed to keep the details of their marriage out of the papers, they did confide in their friends. As it turns out, they were both keeping some truly shocking secrets. Secrets that would help shed light on the events of that one fatal afternoon.

In interviews given decades later, Maxwell’s and Roeder’s friends revealed what the couple had confided in them. Throughout their marriage, both Maxwell and Roeder had carried on extramarital affairs. The real kicker? Maxwell used to brag about her romantic conquests to Roeder, giving him the “blow-by-blow” details, as it were.

By 1978, Maxwell had had enough of her toxic marriage. She wanted out. But she also wanted a massive payday. Acting on the advice of her attorney, Maxwell remained married to Roeder for another couple of years in order to increase her alimony payment. There was just one catch. She would have to be alive to cash those cheques.

When the ten-year mark of her marriage to Roeder finally rolled around in 1980, Maxwell immediately filed her divorce papers. Roeder, however, filed papers of his own. He wrote a new will, excluding Maxwell altogether. “It is my intention,” he wrote, “that Jennifer Helene Roeder will receive nothing upon my passing. I do not want a lying, cheating, deceitful woman to profit”.

He would go to extreme lengths to prevent her from getting a red cent.

Shortly after Maxwell filed for divorce, Roeder’s behavior began to raise some eyebrows. He showed up one day with a wound that sources described as a “superficial graze”. As Roeder explained it, a prowler in his backyard had opened fire on him but he refused to report the curious incident to the authorities. Then things got really suspicious.

Roeder’s mysterious injury came shortly after he had changed his will to exclude Maxwell. And his reluctance to report the alleged attack to the authorities had everyone wondering. Many of his associates began to suspect that Roeder had, in fact, inflicted the injury on himself in a botched attempt to end his life and deprive Maxwell of his fortune.

Maxwell’s divorce proceedings had pushed Roeder over the edge. When his apparent attempt on his own life failed, he decided that he needed to shift the focus—to Maxwell. Decades later, associates of Roeder’s came forward and shared shocking new information with a detective named Mike Thies with the Los Angeles Police Department.

Fortunately for Maxwell, all three of those associates had turned down Roeder’s totally unhinged offer. Furthermore, when Roeder offered to take Maxwell home from the hospital after her surgery, she had no reason to be suspicious of him. Except, perhaps, for the fact that he would do anything (anything!) to prevent her from getting his money.

Roeder’s former associates later confessed to Thies that they believed Roeder had found someone to carry out the deed. Only, he had to alter the plan to avoid suspicion of wrongdoing. As per Thies’ theory, Roeder arranged to have this unknown assailant dispatch Maxwell before turning on him and inflicting a non-fatal wound.

But the plan went south.

As Maxwell’s lifeless body continued spilling blood in the lobby of her condo building, Roeder lay bleeding out. Within just minutes, he, too, had drawn his last breath. The alleged burglar fled the scene without taking any valuables off the deceased couple. Unfortunately for Maxwell, she wouldn’t be taking any valuables off of Roeder either.

Because Maxwell passed away minutes before Roeder, he technically inherited all of her considerable assets. Subsequently, because Roeder had written her out of his will, all of his assets (which now included hers) passed to his children from a previous marriage when he bled out on the lobby floor. Brian, Maxwell’s beloved son, was left with nothing.

Thies’ theory, however likely, was never tried and proven in court so Maxwell’s savage demise technically remains unsolved. Decades later, however, her extended family launched an investigation of their own that came to many of the same conclusions as Detective Thies. “I feel,” Thies said, “we achieved a level of satisfaction in ferreting out the underlying issue in the case”.

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Whether it’s a fake inheritance, catfishing, or email scams, modern technology puts us face to face with con artists almost every day of our lives. But let’s go back to a simpler time. Klondike era con artist Soapy Smith had one really great thing going for him. Countless naive, 19th-century Americans who were gullible as could be.

Sure, he left a heartbreaking trail of destroyed lives in his wake, but watching him do it is such a guilty pleasure.

Soapy Smith was born Jefferson Smith on November 5, 1860 in Coweta County, Georgia. His father was an attorney and his grandad was a politician who also happened to own a plantation. Let’s just say this family was not hurting for cash and, for his childhood anyway, Smith grew up chomping on a silver spoon.

A Southern, plantation-owning family in the 1860s? You do the math. Before the decade was out, the Smiths had lost almost everything they had. The now desperate family moved to Round Rock, Texas and Smith immediately missed the luxuries he’d known all his life. At the tender age of 17, he started on his path to being a con artist.

Just a couple of years after financial ruin, the Smith family lost their mother. This once-wealthy family was literally falling apart, and Smith took this as an omen to get out. As he was planning his escape, he witnessed a disturbing sight. Texas Rangers fatally shot and outlaw right before Smith’s terrified eyes.

Surely, this event would serve to scare Smith straight. Right?

Soapy Smith had seen a lot in his short life; Witnessing Bass's demise seemed to have little effect on this cold hearted teenager. Smith headed to Fort Worth, Texas and hit the ground running. He quickly pulled together a group of likeminded—ie. immoral—men.

6. He Promised Them Cash

Smith started selling soap on the street corner, incorporating an unusual gimmick to increase sales. While his customers watched, Smith wrapped some of the bars of soap in bills, $1 up to $100, then wrapped all the bars in the same plain paper. Smith had certainly grabbed his audience's attention: A chance for free money with soap? It seem too good to be true!

Eventually, one customer shouted out that he’d found a bill wrapped around his soap and the crowd went wild. The only thing was, he hadn’t won at all. This “winning customer” was one of Smith’s collaborators, and he had secretly produced the bill from his pocket. The other customers were now convinced, and a sales frenzy began.

When Smith had sold most of the soap, he dramatically announced that the sought after $100 bill was still somewhere in the pile. Now, the frenzied customers were willing to pay even more, so Smith “spontaneously” set up a makeshift auction. The last few bars sold to the highest bidders, and the one wrapped up in the $100 bill went safely to one of Smith’s gang members.

Officer John Holland saw that there was something fishy about these soap sales and pulled Smith down to the station. Holland had forms to fill out, but had forgotten Smith’s first name. As a joke he filled in the blank with “Soapy Smith,” and the nickname stuck. The downside for Smith was that everyone in Fort Worth now knew about his soapy scam.

In 1879, Smith moved over to Denver, Colorado and in three short years he essentially owned the city's entire underworld. There was a surprising reason for his speedy ascension to the top. You see, officers in Denver gave him no trouble at all. Smith was paying off the politicians and it was like having a “get out of jail free card”.

One day, Smith was in “Big Ed” Chase’s Palace Theater in Denver and heard a woman singing. Her name was Mary Eva Noonan and there was something about Mary that made Smith stop in his tracks. The ruthless con artist had fallen in love at first sight and within a year of meeting, the two were husband and wife. You’d think that Smith was now ready to settle down.

Nope, his scheming days were just getting started.

On the surface Smith’s next enterprise, The Tivoli Club, seemed perfectly law abiding. On closer inspection it was anything but. There were dirty poker games and corrupt lotteries. He even branched out into the stock market. Of course, Smith’s stocks came with a guaranteed return, even though they were, like the watches he sold, mostly fake.

Soon, an incriminating article in a local newspaper made it crystal clear what Smith was, and who he had working for him. Due to this exposure, the city's mayor got the old heave ho, but this was just the beginning. The government introduced sweeping reforms that put a cap on gambling, and enforced strict control over saloons.

The media was scary, but not nearly as scary as the shady characters who wanted to oust Smith from his position as the boss of the underworld. These attempts soon turned violent, and Smith barely escaped the city with his life. He'd had his fun, but it was now impossible for Smith to stay in business in Denver.

Mining was a huge money maker, and Smith knew that where there was money, he could trick people into giving it to him. When he heard about a massive silver strike in nearby Creede, Colorado, he devised a plan to take the town over.

When Smith entered Creede for the first time, it wasn’t with scary looking men. At his side was a collection of Denver’s finest ladies of the evening. The plan was for these beguiling women to get cozy with business owners and use their charms to get their leases. The plan worked, and Smith scooped up the town's stores and quickly rented them to people on his payroll.

Smith gathered the townspeople of Creede and told the astonished citizens that he was now the camp boss. Residents likely prepared for absolute chaos, but surprisingly it was the opposite. You see, Creede was still a very wild town, and Smith’s influence—even though it was crooked—added a sense of order.

Smith got a taste of doing good in the world, and he wanted more. To everyone’s surprise, he started using his dirty money to build churches and help the poor. His heart had warmed so much that he even paid for the funerals of some of Creede’s more desperate, and recently deceased, citizens. Creede residents hoped this was a permanent change.

Sadly, temptation would soon shake him back into his old, demented self.

While still in Creede, Smith got a message from some of his corrupt cronies back in Denver, saying that the reforms that had ruined Smith’s business were on the chopping block. At the same time, Creede's financial boom from the silver mines was on the decline. Smith had to decide. He could continue the good guy routine in Creede, or return to the more lucrative Denver.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, selfish Smith chose to return to Denver. What was a surprise was what happened just after he departed. On June 5, 1892, a massive fire broke out in little Creede and it destroyed many buildings. Smith’s club burnt to the ground, and that inferno could have taken Smith to an early—and fiery—grave.

This event signaled a change for Smith. But it wasn’t one for the better.

Once back in Denver, Smith started taking ownership of his position in society. He even went so far as to tell a reporter that his profession was “con man”. He even claimed that scamming had more honor than being a politician! Smith was cleverly redefining what a con man was—but not everyone was buying it.

In fact, there was one politician out there who was preparing to turn Smith’s world upside down.

In 1894, Colorado citizens elected Davis Hanson Waite as their new governor. Waite wanted to end the corruption in his state and immediately fired three Denver officials who had joined forces with con men like Smith. The three outraged officials decided to fight against Waite and, of course, Smith had to put himself right in the middle of it.

The three fired state officials decided to take a drastic stand. They locked themselves in their offices and refused to leave. Smith realized that his businesses were at risk, so he joined the men holed up in the city office. Governor Waite now had a volatile situation on his hands.

The city officials were nervously looking at the militia and their weaponry outside city hall, and they offered to make Smith a deputy sheriff right then and there. Of course, now Smith had to make the madness of facing a heavy armed militia go away.

As the newly appointed deputy sheriff, Smith had to act fast. He located some arms and dynamite and then enlisted the toughest of his men. The group of men then began their ascent of the middle tower of City Hall. Smith and his armed cohorts were soon looking down on the militia and their cannons.

The stage was set for a spectacular battle. Except, someone was looking out for him that day.

From the top of the tower, Smith watched in disbelief. The militia was packing up to leave. Governor Waite had seen the writing on the wall and had no interest in a potentially fatal battle. Smith had beaten the governor without firing a single shot.

To Smith’s surprise, Governor Waite had wisely decided to move his battle into the safety of a court of law. Strangely, the court only called Smith in as a witness—not as one of the accused. But, in a dramatic turn of events, it was actually the governor who faced reprimand. The courts did not approve of his use of excessive force (though they didn't make him give the officials their jobs back).

Smith, however, had gotten off scot-free. But Waite wasn’t through with him. He’d soon wreak his revenge.

To make it clear that Smith was no longer wanted in Denver, Governor Waite brought down his iron fist. He closed all the saloons, bordellos, and houses of gambling. This move would destroy all of Smith’s business dealings in Denver.

While Waite was wreaking havoc on Denver’s dens of vice, Smith remembered that he was still deputy sheriff. As a member of law enforcement, Smith did something outrageous. He entered his own gambling establishments and prepared to apprehend some of his own customers.

When Smith entered his own gambling house as deputy sheriff, he only targeted the customers who had lost big time in his own dishonest poker games. On the outside it looked as though Smith was doing his job—apprehending gamblers. The truth was that these guys were happy to play Smith’s little game, just to avoid paying their sizable debt.

Smith was running circles around the law—but it was about to catch up with him in a spectacular way.

At this time, Smith was hanging out with his brother Bascomb, and the two shared a very hot temper. When an argument with a salon manager turned violent, the brothers found themselves in trouble with the law. Smith and Bascomb had beaten the manager up, and the judge called it attempted murder. Smith turned to his friends in high places to get him off the hook.

As it turned out, Smith’s corrupt officials drew the line at attempted murder. No one stood up to help Smith and his brother, so it was time to pay the piper. But before Smith actually got behind bars, he abandoned his brother and made a dramatic escape. Smith was a free man, but now he had a new problem.

If Smith wanted to find a place “where nobody knew his name,” he couldn’t have found a better place than Alaska. To make this remote location even more enticing, some towns were experiencing a gold rush. This was exactly Smith’s kind of scene. There were men who were raking in bags of money and in search of unhealthy ways to spend it.

Maybe Skagway didn’t know who Smith was, but they knew what kind of person he was. When Smith set up one of his typical schemes, he didn’t get very far with it. A committee that represented the miners had a not so pleasant conversation with Smith where they “encouraged” him to leave.

Smith traveled to Washington DC and to St Louis, but nothing could help him forget the potential of Skagway, Alaska. He knew he needed to return, but he also needed to “go big or go home”. With a fire in his belly, Smith decided to use what he learned in Creede and Denver to conquer Skagway.

In 1989, when Smith showed up in Skagway for the second time, he played his cards much more carefully. First he found an easily corruptible US Marshall for help with the law. Next, he decided on a much grander than usual scam. This would be—on the surface anyway—a very legitimate business.

At this time, what Skagway desperately needed was a telegraph service. Smith saw this as a way to make money, so he opened a telegram office. It was an elaborate set up with impressive looking wires that one assumed carried messages to other parts of the country. There was just one little hitch: Smith’s telegraph lines went absolutely nowhere.

39. He Got Them Twice

Smith pretended to send out his customers’ telegrams, but customers started to notice that they never received a reply. Thinking quickly, Smith created false return messages. The funny thing is, they all had one thing in common: They were asking the recipient to send money. Of course, Smith valiantly offered to wire the money, which meant even more cash in his pocket.

Skagway, Alaska had a steady influx of new people looking to strike gold. Smith’s diabolical plan was to use his fake identities to welcome these newcomers to Skagway. As a “trusted friend”, Smith or a member of his gang would point newcomers in the direction of his own nefarious businesses and scams. Before long, Skagway’s newest arrival would be flat broke.

When people complained to Smith about his mean-spirited treatment of newcomers to Skagway, Smith had a ridiculous defense for his behavior. He said he was helping the newcomers. His rationale was that anyone stupid enough to fall for his scams had no hope of striking it rich in the gold rush.

Smith was now letting his minions do the dirty work, and he was busy doing things like creating a program to help stray dogs and even opening up the town's first church. Smith was secretly robbing the town blind, but to many citizens he appeared to be positively philanthropic. Next on Smith’s positivity agenda was serving his country.

In 1898, Smith heard of the conflict raging between the US and Spain, and he wanted to serve his country. He received approval from then president William McKinley and created an army of volunteers, which he called the “Skagway Military Company”. It looked like Smith had turned into an absolute angel.

Of course Smith knew that his army way up in Alaska would not see any military action. What he wanted these men for was control. As commander, Smith now had the power to call for “martial law” if a need ever arose. An added perk was seats next to dignitaries at parades. Smith was working hard to become a respected citizen of Skagway.

Douglas Stewart arrived in Skagway on July 7, 1898. His arrival might have been nothing special...except for one thing. He brought a bag of gold with him that was worth $2,700—that’s over $100,000 in today’s money. When Smith’s thugs got word of the gold, they set on Stewart, but he bravely refused to hand over the gold.

A group of vigilantes called the “Committee of 101” heard about Stewart’s bag of gold and wanted to do something about it. The committee came together in huge numbers on the Juneau Co Wharf to figure out what to do about Smith and the gold he’d taken. To the committee’s shock, Smith himself turned up near the wharf. He’d been drinking and was carrying a rifle.

Vigilante Frank H Reid blocked Smith’s entrance to the wharf, and the two men argued. Someone heard Smith call out: “My God, don’t shoot” and then a bloody battle ignited. Smith received three hits. In his left leg, his left arm, and a final shot in the heart. Soapy Smith’s devious life had come to a dramatic end at the age of 38.

The character of Soapy Smith has appeared in many TV shows and movies, but his true fans aren’t necessarily interested in fictional portrayals. To witness the loyalty to the real Smith that still exists, attend one of the five wakes for him that still occur annually. There you can raise a glass and repeat these ominous words: “Here’s to Soapy’s ghost”.

Almost 30 years after his burial, an image of Smith emerged. In 1926, residents of Skagway noticed something in a rock formation. It was a skull made of huge slabs of granite. For some reason, the ones who discovered it immediately assumed it was Smith’s skull and made it into a monument.

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Before the Louvre was Paris’ foremost art museum, it was a palace and, on May 29, 1627, it was also the rather charmed birthplace of Anne Marie Louise d’Orleans, Duchess of Montpensier. Anne Marie’s father was Gaston, the Duke of Orleans, and quite a big deal. Everyone had to call him Monsieur as he was the oldest brother of King Louis XIII—at least the oldest surviving one.

As it turned out, however, Anne Marie’s mother was even a bigger deal than her father.

Anne Marie’s mother was important because she was the end of the line. After her, there would be no more Montpensiers at the House of Bourbon. What this meant for Anne Marie was that she was completely set up: She’d inherit untold fortunes, including five entire duchies. Wow! So, when her mother was someday resting in peace, Anne Marie would be resting in absolute luxury.

But there was plenty of time for that to happen, wasn’t there?

On June 4, 1627, something dreadful happened. Just five days after Anne Marie’s birth, her mother took ill. Mom was just 21 at the time, but in these days problems around birthing were common—and often didn’t turn out well. By the end of that day, Anne Marie’s mother was no more. Anne Marie was just five days old and she'd already lost her mother.

Of course, it wasn't all bad: This also made her one of the richest five-day-old babies the world has ever seen.

At just five days old, Anne Marie was now the Duchess of Montpensier. Since she was the granddaughter of Henry IV—the King of France—everyone had to call her Mademoiselle. I can just imagine the poor nannies: “Does Mademoiselle want her diaper changed?” If that wasn’t formal enough, Anne Marie had another title: the Granddaughter of France. She had impossible shoes to fill, and such tiny feet to do it.

That’s why they called in the best nanny in all the land.

French authorities hired a full-time governess for our little duchess, but she was a controversial choice: Madame de Saint Georges had just returned from England, where she’d gotten into a heap of trouble for being a meddler. This snobbish nanny helped teach Anne Marie just how important she was—and Anne Marie learned quickly. When she was just a toddler, she told someone that her grandmother simply could not possibly be her grandmother. Why? Because her real grandmother must have been a queen.

That’s a pretty haughty statement for a toddler. Imagine how bad she'd get when she was a teenager...

Even though she was growing into quite the holy terror, Anne Marie was devoted to one person: her father. They didn’t live together, but Anne Marie visited him often. One thing her father Gaston didn’t let his daughter know was that he was looking for a new wife. When he found someone he wanted to marry, there was a scandal in the making.

Anne Marie’s father was not exactly on good terms with the royal court, and so when he applied to marry Marguerite of Lorraine, Louis XIII and the infamous Cardinal Richelieu refused to let him. Gaston married his love anyway, only in secret. When the King and the Cardinal found out they did two rather harsh things: First, they annulled his marriage, then they sent the lovebirds into exile.

Anne Marie had already lost her mother—now her father was gone too.

While her father was in exile, Anne Marie didn’t see him at all. Not for two full years. The poor girl was so devastated that when she did finally see him again, at the age of seven, she ran at him and threw her little body into his. Later she somehow found out that it was Cardinal Richelieu who had exiled her father, and so she devised a special punishment for him.

Once Anne Marie had decided that Cardinal Richelieu was public enemy number one, she thought up a way to pay him back. Whenever she saw the Cardinal, she would break out in song. It wasn’t that she had a bad voice, but it was the songs she chose. She sang the kinds of bawdy songs usually reserved for peasants on the street. It was that, or songs that explicitly made fun of the Cardinal. Not bad for a seven-year-old.

In 1638, Anne Marie’s uncle Louis XIII had a son. Since Louis XIII was then the King of France, it was a sure thing that this baby would be next in line. Eleven-year-old Anne Marie took one look at the baby who would be King and made a shocking announcement: She said she would marry him. Louis XIII thought it was hilarious and laughed even harder when Anne Marie called the baby “her little husband.”

Does anyone else feel that an 11 year-old-girl saying she wanted to marry a baby is creepy? Well, Cardinal Richelieu did, but he also had another reason for not liking it...

Richelieu had a serious grudge against Anne Marie’s father Gaston. He believed Gaston was not loyal enough to the King, and he would not accept the man's daughter anywhere near the throne. Though the King laughed, Richelieu gave Anne Marie a serious chastising for even imagining marrying the young prince. As it turned out, Anne Marie didn’t seem to be very afraid of Richelieu—or any other adult for that matter.

This little duchess was growing into a little devil.

All this time, Anne Marie had the same governess: Madame de Saint Georges. Well, in 1643, when Anne Marie was 16 years old, Madame passed. After 16 years together, they’d grown quite fond of each other, and it was clear that Madame's replacement was going to have her work cut out for her. Anne Marie’s first act of rebellion was to lock her new governess in her room—and then lock the governess’ grandson in another room.

The girl was out of control, which could only mean one thing: She was ready for marriage.

In 1643, Anne Marie’s uncle—King Louis XIII—croaked. It was now Anne Marie’s “little husband’s” turn to be King. He was just six years old at this time, and I’m sure Anne Marie was a little embarrassed at suggesting she marry him. Anne Marie was now 19 years old and the court expected her to find a suitable husband. Fortunately, there was one guy who Anne Marie seemed keen to marry: Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand III.

It was an odd match for a young woman. Ferdinand was newly widowed and twice Anne Marie’s age. But love is blind and all that...

For some reason, Anne Marie desperately wanted to marry the much older Ferdinand. She took her request straight to her aunt, Queen Anne, who had stepped in as monarch until her son was old enough to reign. Queen Anne saw what most people saw—that Ferdinand wasn’t a great match for Anne Marie. When Anne Marie got a big fat “no,” her response was to throw a question back at Queen Anne: “So, who do you want me to marry?”

The child king was too young, so Queen Anne proposed her own brother. This made no sense at all.

Queen Anne had said no to Anne Marie marrying Ferdinand, who was 19 years older than Anne Marie. In response, Queen Anne offered up her brother: A man also named Ferdinand who was a mere 18 years older than Anne Marie. Ummm…okay. Of course, Anne Marie said no to Ferdinand #2 just to spite the Queen. But she was playing a dangerous game: Her shelf life as a young bride was soon going to expire.

Would the greatest heiress of Europe end up single?

Anne Marie was about to get a curveball. In 1648, the French Government wanted to raise taxes on judicial officers. Unsurprisingly, said officers weren't happy and fought miserably against the tax hike. Emerging as the hero of the fight against high taxes was Louis de Bourbon, the Prince of Conde. Louis took hold of Paris in order to protest the tax. This protest got the rather strange name: the Fronde Parlementaire.

This sort of political squabble seems of little interest to a spoiled duchess like Anne Marie—but she was interested for one particular reason, and his name was Louis.

Anne Marie had developed a big crush on the hero of the Fronde: Louis de Bourbon, the Prince of Conde. Louis was certainly an eligible bachelor, except for one thing: He was already married. However, as it turned out, Conde was not so fond of his own wife. Anne Marie thought there may be hope that she could somehow sink her claws into the dashing prince. She needed a strategy—and it had to be devious.

Instead of making Conde’s wife her arch enemy, Anne Marie did the opposite; she made the woman her bestie. Anne Marie manipulated her way next to Claire Clemence, and the two quickly became fast friends. Anne Marie and Claire were hanging out together in Bordeaux and, with their proximity to the Prince of Conde, got all wrapped up in the Fronde. They even helped to end the siege of Paris in 1650.

While this sounds like a good thing, ending the Fronde Parlementaire made Anne Marie look like she was against the Queen—and that was most definitely not a good thing.

Whether there was any true friendship between Anne Marie and Conde’s wife is unclear. Was Anne Marie simply keeping her enemy close? When Claire became ill, Anne Marie’s true colors came through—and they were lurid. She heartlessly assumed that Claire would not survive her illness and she would have Conde all to herself. All Anne Marie had to do was wait for her friend to pass and voila, she’d have a husband. There was only one problem with her plan.

The only problem with Anne Marie’s sneaky plan was that Claire might survive her illness—which she did. So much for Anne Marie’s scheme to marry a hero. No matter, it was now time for Fronde number two. During this period of unrest, the city of Orleans wanted to “pull a Switzerland” and stay neutral. Now, Orleans was Anne Marie’s namesake, so she wanted to help them in any way possible.

The city had asked for her father’s help, but instead, they got hers.

Instead of trying to help Orleans from afar, Anne Marie got it in her head to actually go there. When she arrived, she found that there were huge locks on the city gates. All her shouting and rattling of the gates didn’t help—there was no way in. Anne Marie was not about to turn around and go home, but how could she save the city if she couldn't even get in?

When a local boatman offered to take her in by the river, she threw decorum to the wind and clambered aboard his dingy. Mademoiselle or not, Anne Marie was getting into Orleans by any means necessary.

You have to understand how Anne Marie’s behavior was not at all typical of someone in her position. Mademoiselles like Anne Marie just didn’t climb on strangers’ boats or shake heavy gates. But for whatever reason, no one could come between Anne Marie and her helping Orleans. She ended up jumping off the boat, climbing over a hedge, then squeezing herself through a gap in the gate.

And even more bizarre, she did all these things without knowing one important thing: Did the locals even want her there?

When Anne Marie finally strolled into Orleans, she probably looked a little less than regal. She’d been through an ordeal and now had to face the people of Orleans. Their reception was nothing short of astonishing. They took one look at her, picked her up, put her on a chair, and paraded her around the city. Anne Marie was used to people treating her with respect, but this kind of adoration was something new to her, and she ate it up. Anne Marie ended up staying in Orleans for five weeks, and she started calling the city “my town.”

Anne Marie had finally found something she was passionate about—and that passion was about to get her into big trouble.

The five weeks in Orleans changed Anne Marie—she now had a desire to get involved. When she arrived back in Paris, she saw that the city was again involved in a battle. Conde, her hero, was trying to enter the city, and Anne Marie saw it as her duty to help him. She decided her part in the plan was to fire a cannon from the Bastille, directly at the Queen's collected forces. Sure it helped Conde, but—in helping Louis—she was once again fighting against her own Queen.

Needless to say, Anne Marie was in for a whole heap of trouble.

Once she realized what she’d done, Anne Marie knew she had to get herself out of harm’s way, and that meant "as far from Paris as she could get." As the wealthiest heiress in France, she had more than a few options. She decided on her residence in Saint-Fargeau. Even though Saint-Fargeau was hers, she’d actually never been there before—wow, that’s a problem I’d like to have.

When she arrived at her residence, she realized things were not quite up to her standards.

Anne Marie’s time at Saint-Fargeau was supposed to be a time in exile. While the word exile sounds like something dreary, not in the case of Anne Marie. She spent the time with wallpaper swatches and paint chips. It was DIY time at Saint-Fargeau and Anne Marie really got into it. She even had time for a new hobby: writing.

Though she wasn't much for correct grammar or spelling, she was writing about something she loved: herself.

In 1652, Anne Marie reached the age of majority, and she took the opportunity to take an interest in something near to her heart: her money. However, when Anne Marie did take a look at her finances, she found something unsettling: Instead of being the wealthiest heiress in the land, she realized she was in crippling debt. But, that didn't make any sense—unless she'd been betrayed.

It didn’t take Anne Marie long to figure out who had basically robbed her blind: Her dear old dad. But he wasn't the only family member with a knife in Anne Marie's back.

Anne Marie had had it with her father and vowed to never forgive him. Well, this didn’t last very long. She forgave him for taking her money and then the Queen, also in a forgiving mood, welcomed Anne Marie and her father back to court. The Queen, however, did have one zinger ready for Anne Marie’s arrival. When the Queen saw her niece for the first time in years, she simply remarked: Well, your “looks have improved.”

When the Queen gave her such a backhanded compliment, Anne Marie had to take a good long look at herself. She noted that she was neither fat nor thin, she had a well-formed bosom, and that even though her arms and hands weren’t beautiful, she did have good skin. Who needs psychotherapy when you can look at yourself so deeply?

But it wasn’t just Anne Marie who was eyeing herself—she had a few guys looking her way too.

Anne Marie’s little cousin, Louis XIV, was now all grown up. At 19 years old, he was an eligible bachelor for Anne Marie. Anne Marie was now 30, but what did it matter? Age may not have mattered, but something else did: Anne Marie’s horrible reputation. Remember when she fired that cannon at the Queen’s army? Well, the Queen hadn’t forgotten, and that deed made her ineligible to marry her cousin.

Luckily, there were two cousins.

So, Louis XIV had a younger brother—Philippe, Duke of Anjou—who was 17 years old. Even though there was a rather large age difference—13 years—Philippe was starting to consider Anne Marie as a person of interest for his wife. Anne Marie liked the idea of marrying the King's brother, but then she realized something shocking about Philippe.

Philippe was certainly putting the moves on Anne Marie, but it may have been just a show. It turned out that Philippe was more interested in men than women. It wasn’t just that he was gay, Anne Marie didn’t like something else about Philippe: He was a momma’s boy. Anne Marie gave Phillipe a hard no. Sure a much younger gay man didn’t seem like a good match for Anne Maire—but was she just being too picky?

The problem may have been that Anne Marie just couldn't find a man that was as good as her dear old dad. If she was indeed daddy’s little girl, that bond was about to end. It was a stroke that brought down Gaston in 1660 and left Anne Marie without any parents. While the passing of her father was a great loss for Anne Marie, it was also a great gain for her finances. It made her richer and an even more desirable wife.

In the meantime, Anne Marie’s cousins had quickly married other women. Philippe, the gay one, had even gone on to have a child—and he weirdly named her after Anne Marie. Our Anne Marie was attending weddings left right and center, but it never seemed to be her turn to be the bride. Then, in 1670, Philippe’s wife unexpectedly passed—though not before suffering some major humiliations concerning her husband’s orientation.

Phillipe was single and ready to mingle: and the person he wanted to mingle with was Anne Marie. Unsurprisingly, this was not a recipe for a fairy tale ending.

One woman hadn’t minded being married to the gay Philippe, but Anne Marie had her principles—and she also had her own money. She said no to Phillipe once again because she just didn’t need a husband that badly. She instead amused herself with friendships. Her newest friend was her half-sister, Marguerite Louise.

The two quickly became BFFs but, as it turned out, Anne Marie would not be the best influence over the naive Marguerite.

Marguerite asked Anne Marie to help her arrange a marriage to a possible husband—the Grand Prince of Tuscany. Anne Marie quickly put it in Marguerite’s mind that it was a poor match. What was Anne Marie up to? Trying to keep everyone around her as single as she was? Though Marguerite did end up marrying her Tuscan Prince, Anne Marie wasn’t through meddling yet.

When Marguerite was under Anne Marie’s influence, her behavior turned bizarre. When diplomats came to congratulate her on her marriage, Marguerite rudely chose to go hunting instead. She also openly took her cousin as a lover, even though she was already married. It’s not exactly clear that Anne Marie caused this rude behavior, but it did all happen right after the two had become friends.

Anne Marie seemed to be sabotaging both weddings and marriages. But what about her own romantic life? Was it a hopeless cause?

In 1663, Anne Marie was moving on to bachelor number…at this point, there are too many to count. Her cousin Louis XIV had a great catch for her: Alfonso VI, the King of Portugal. But this was no Prince Charming. It didn’t take Anne Marie long to get the low down on Alfonso: He was a boozer, a paralytic, and possibly impotent. Thanks Louis, but no thanks.

Anne Marie was happy to remain single as long as she had her money.

Anne Marie may have been happy being single, but Louis XIV was angry that she had rejected Alfonso. He was so angry that he sent poor Anne Marie back into exile. Of course, like before, exile meant doing some home improvements and taking up her writing again. This situation went on for about a year until Anne Marie, probably bored silly, begged Louis to let her return to court. Louis was a bit of a softy and said yes.

He hadn’t, however, given up on getting his cousin married—in fact, he had another suitor all lined up.

This time, Louis brought forward Charles Emmanuel II, the Duke of Savoy. Charles was not exactly a fresh prospect. He’d already had a wife and she’d been Anne Marie’s younger half-sister. In spite of him being her half-sister’s leftovers, Anne Marie was quite interested in marrying Charles. What a shocker. The wealthiest single girl in France had finally met someone she’d consider marrying.

There had to be a problem, right? Was he gay? Was he poor? What was the deal?

The deal with Charles was that he was damaged goods. He’d been quite devastated when he lost his first wife just a year after marrying her. This meant that he wasn’t so keen on marrying Anne Marie. She asked, but he told her he just wasn't ready. That's fair, but what came next must have hurt: Anne Marie was later shocked to find out Charles had turned around and married someone else just a year later. Ouch.

Did this mean that Anne Marie was plumb out of chances? Not quite.

In 1666, Anne Marie met Antoine Nompar de Caumont, who later became Duke Lauzun. In spite of his fancy-sounding name, Lauzun was an impoverished nobleman. Besides that, there are a few other important details to know about Lauzun: He was very opinionated, he was a renowned soldier, he made women go wild, and he was physically very, very small.

This rare combination of characteristics somehow made Anne Marie go bananas. She was finally in love!

When Lauzun saw Anne Marie one day wearing a red ribbon in her hair, he told her that the look was too youthful for her. Anne Marie snapped back: “people of my rank are always young.” The juvenile flirting confirmed it: these two smitten kittens were in love. She was 39 and he was 34, and nothing was going to stop Anne Marie from finally marrying someone she truly wanted to be with.

All she had to do was get the King’s permission to marry and it would all be set. What could go wrong?

Getting the King’s permission would be easy, because Louis XIV was good friends with Lauzun. There was the small problem that Lauzun would be marrying out of his class, but who could say no to the greatest heiress of Europe? Louis happily gave Anne Marie permission to marry the love of her life, then he turned to his wife and waited for her to agree with him.

Queen Marie Therese’s response was not exactly what Anne Marie wanted to hear.

Anne Marie and Lauzun had already set the wedding day for Sunday, December 21, 1670. All they needed was the signatures of the King and Queen. Anne Marie later said that December 15 to 18 were three of the happiest days of her life. Well, at least she got those days. Not only did the Queen not sign the certificate, she convinced the King not to sign as well. The engagement and wedding were off.

Anne Marie was so despondent she went into her apartments, closed the doors, and didn’t emerge again for weeks. She only came out because she had gotten some horrible news: Lauzun was under arrest. Outraged, Anne Marie made it her business to see to it the King released him. However, to make this difficult, the authorities moved Lauzun to Pignerol Fortress and kept him under tight security.

Anne Marie’s beloved Lauzun was in prison and there was little she could do to get him out. She approached the King and Queen and asked them what she could do to get Lauzun freed. Was there some price she could pay? As it turned out, there was. King Louis XIV and his wife offered a brutal bargain: They'd release Lauzon if she gave up two of her properties—the two most profitable. These would go to their son.

Anne Marie had an agonizing decision to make: save her love, or keep her fortune.

Anne Marie had only found true love once, and she would do anything to save it. She handed over her land and bought her true love’s freedom. But what kind of freedom had she purchased? She and Lauzon married in secret and they were ready to finally make it official, but how did the King feel about this? Cruelly, even after all the hoops Anne Marie had jumped through, Louis still wouldn't let them officially be husband and wife.

In 1681, Lauzun was free from prison and lived at Bourbon castle for a short time before they let him return to Paris. Once in Paris, Lauzun did not get permission to return to court, so he was stuck at Hotel de Lauzun. Through all this, there were bad feelings between Anne Marie and Lauzun. When the Queen passed in 1683, they got together for one last time. It seemed their spark of love had fizzled out. After their meeting, Anne Marie left for her residence in Paris.

Anne Marie was still at her residence when, in 1693, she became ill. Lauzun was desperate to see her and begged for an audience. Though her old lover's desire for one last meeting touched Anne Marie, her pride prevented her from seeing him. She refused. Then, on April 5, 1693, Anne Marie Anne Marie Louise d’Orleans, Duchess of Montpensier, passed.

She had lived to 66 without ever having a husband, and at her funeral, they simply called her “the wealthiest single princess of Europe.”

Because Anne Marie was the “Granddaughter of France,” her body was put out for mourners to see. The custom of the time was to put the deceased's entrails in an urn and place them alongside the body. In the middle of the ceremony, disaster struck. The urn containing her entrails exploded. The smell from this was so disgusting that mourners fled the ceremony in chaos.

Even the afterlife appears to have been an ordeal for Anne Marie—history's original poor little rich girl.

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Ann Woodward was supposed to get a fairy tale ending. Going from working in seedy clubs to marrying America’s most eligible bachelor and swanning about with Truman Capote, the beginning of her story was pure Cinderella fantasy. But one sudden—and mysterious—twist sent the socialite down a dark path. One that ended in blood, betrayal, and her own ghastly death.

From the beginning, all Ann Woodward wanted to be was important. Although born Evangeline Crowell in 1915 in small-town Kansas, by the time she was 23 she’d moved to New York City, changed her name to “Ann Eden,” and was trading in her already gorgeous looks to work as a model with the influential John Robert Powers agency.

While working at FeFe’s one day, Ann had a date with destiny. The wealthy banker William Woodward Sr walked in, and the whole room likely went a-titter. Woodward wasn’t just rich; he came from an old money family that demanded respect everywhere they went. According to some accounts, Ann jumped at the opportunity and became his mistress.

As the only son, Billy was the pride and joy of his family, and especially of his domineering, immaculate mother Elizabeth Cryder. When Ann met him, the young Billy was valiantly serving in the Navy and had earned a Purple Heart for his bravery in WWII—so almost no one thought she was good enough for him. His mother wasted no time labeling Ann as a gold-digger, and urged her son to dump her.

If New York society thought they could break the new Mrs Woodward, they soon realized how wrong they were. Ann waited them out, all the while learning the manners, fashions, and references she needed to circulate even the chilliest rooms. It also helped that she gave Billy two sons and heirs—William III (“Woody”) and James (“Jimmy”)—in quick succession.

Ann’s late 1940s New York was a who’s who of socialites, and the top among them were the “Swans”—a term the writer Truman Capote, himself a fashionable figure, used to describe his leggy, coifed inner circle of It Girls like Babe Paley, Gloria Guinness, and Slim Keith, among others.

In truth, despite their many galas and society events, the Woodwards didn’t even make it out of the 1940s before Billy told Ann he wanted a divorce. Her reply was stone cold. Even with the private pains of her marriage, Ann didn’t think she could face the end of her reign of New York, nor give up her social status. She refused his request.

Ann may have clung to her prestigious husband, but that didn’t mean it was good for her. Between the constant arguments, cheating, and utter loneliness, it was ultimately too much to handle. Soon, she was drowning her sorrows not just in well-made martinis but also prescriptions pills.

Whatever Ann claimed her reasons were, the cold, hard truth was that she had offed her husband. But in the swirling, heady hours after the apparent accident, an unsettling sign pointed in another direction. After calling the authorities and the ambulance, Ann then had the wherewithal to call her high-powered lawyer, Sol Rosenblatt.

In the end, officers only formally questioned Ann a full 48 hours after Billy’s demise. When the press found out, it went wild. This clearly biased treatment of one of the shining stars of Manhattan wasn’t just infuriating to them, it seemed clear evidence of her true guilt. Life magazine immediately dubbed it “The Shooting Of The Century”.

Ann’s mother-in-law Elizabeth had never liked her for her beloved son, and the grieving woman now utterly blamed her for Billy’s violent end. It didn’t matter who came forward, Elizabeth knew Ann had done it. Perhaps more than that—at least in the hardened socialite’s eyes—Elizabeth despised Ann for bringing such embarrassment to the Woodward family and having their business splashed all over the papers.

Soon enough, Ann was facing a grand jury trial on charges of her own husband’s murder. In the court house, a pitiful-looking Ann testified to her innocence, asserting again that she had only thought Billy was a burglar—besides, hadn’t they found the real burglar? 

Even though the official court proceedings had wrapped up, Ann wasn’t exactly scot-free. It wasn’t just that people didn’t believe her innocence, they also believed Ann’s mother-in-law Elizabeth had rigged the case, paying $400,000 to get Ann off the hook and even bribing Paul Wirths to make his confession about being the burglar.

Almost as soon as Ann was out of the courthouse, her mother-in-law handed down a cruel command. Get the heck out of New York, you’re not welcome here anymore. Sure enough, all of Ann’s hard-earned friends turned their backs on her once more, and she fled to the continent to sip away her sorrows in Venice and elsewhere.

Throughout all of this, Ann still had two young boys, Woody and Jimmy, she was supposed to take care of. Only, her mother-in-law also made sure that was foreclosed to her too. After the shooting, Grandma Elizabeth packed the boys off to boarding school in Switzerland. As one commenter noted, “There were no explanations”.

Capote, who spent most of his New York career gossiping about women inside and around his circle, was very aware of Ann’s fall from grace. Just a few months before spotting her in Saint Moritz, he’d written to a friend noting, “Ann Woodward continues to occupy the front pages”. Seeing Ann out in the wild, then, only intrigued Capote more.

Mischievous, haughty, and with a high opinion of himself, Capote reportedly loped over to Ann’s table and interrupted her little tête-á-tête with her younger man. Ann’s response was vicious, and it would ruin the rest of her life. According to at least one version of events, an annoyed Ann called Capote a rude name for a gay man.

Capote clearly had a way with words, and had once described himself as “about as tall as a shotgun, and just as nasty”. Accordingly, he spared no niceties for the already socially disgraced Ann. In that moment, perhaps deciding she was guilty of her husband’s offing after all, Capote reportedly called Ann “Mrs Bang-Bang”.

Over the next years, Ann tried to push herself back into New York high society just as she had done right after her marriage to Billy. This time, no one was buying it. She may have had the money now, but she had none of the power—and her looks were fading. Instead, she had to settle for the outskirts of influence even after she dared to move back to the city.

Although Ann’s sons Woody and Jimmy had been living mostly apart from her, first in boarding school and then living with her hated mother-in-law Elizabeth, they still meant the world to her. But while Woody seemed to be thriving from the outside, going to Harvard and then working as a journalist, Jimmy had already gone down a much darker path.

After serving in Vietnam, Ann’s youngest son came back a different person, and a wrecked man. Jimmy became addicted to very hard substances and was barely making it through life. Then one day, Ann got gut-wrenching news. In 1972, Jimmy had made an attempt on his own life by jumping from the 10th floor of his friend’s apartment.

In 1975, Ann Woodward was still picking up the pieces of her life and family when another complete bombshell hit. She got wind that her old acquaintance-turned-enemy Truman Capote was writing a thinly-veiled exposé of the New York socialite world, and that the worst night of her life and the ensuing trial would appear in it—no doubt with very little empathy from Capote.

“La Cote Basque” was a chapter from Capote’s full book, Answered Prayers, and proved itself beyond vicious when it appeared in the November 1975 issue of Esquire. In the excerpt, a woman relates to a Capote stand-in all about “Ann Hopkins” (aka Ann Woodward), who was a “jazzy little carrot-top killer” and a “malicious Betty Grable” who had offed her husband to make sure she got his money.

In “La Cote Basque,” Capote was essentially confirming to everyone that Ann was guilty of Billy’s death, and made sure to deal her a few choice insults on top of that. He also gave away a bedroom secret. According to “La Cote Basque,” this fictional Ann also earned the name “Lady Marmalade” because of a little “trick” she’d learned to do with jam.

Before “La Cote Basque,” Truman Capote was still in touch with his swans. Afterward, he all but ruined his professional and social career. One of the most influential swans, Babe Paley, completely cut Capote out of her life as a result of the publication and led the charge in completely ostracizing him from “good” society, just as Ann had experienced.

In truth, Ann never actually got to see the publication of “La Cote Basque” in Esquire. By then, she had already surrendered to her tragic fate. It appears that upcoming publication of Capote’s second-hand dirty laundry was too much for her to handle, and in October 1975 she took a single cyanide pill and ended her life.

Ann was gone, but her memory and curse lived on. In 1994, her son Woody began to experience serious mental illness, with his wife Lisa filing court papers that stated he would often sleep on park benches and speak in tongues. “I don’t want to use the word crazy,” Lisa’s lawyer said at the time, “but there were episodes”.

In addition to Woody’s mental health “episodes,” he also turned into a “compulsive philanderer,” much like both of his parents. In a cruel twist, he also reportedly taunted his wife Lisa by leaving love notes from his various affair partners—and sometimes even leaving evidence around that he’d been with someone else.

In 1999, the final act in Ann Woodward’s tragedy came at last. That year, her eldest son William Woodward III also took his own life, bringing the illustrious and doomed family line to an end. Ann Woodward was a lost “swan,” and her American dream transformed into a nightmare all too fast—and then continued long after her own passing.

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Lady Jeanne Campbell was born into a life of luxury. The daughter of the heir to the 10th Duke of Argyll and granddaughter of newspaper tycoon Lord Beaverbrook, nothing was out of her reach financially. However, that lavish lifestyle came with a steep price that Jeanne started paying immediately.

A wealthy playboy, Jeanne’s father, Ian Campbell, believed in indulgence at every turn. Campbell possessed charm in spades; however, judgment, particularly when it came to the gambling tables, proved to be another matter. Even as Jeanne took her first breaths, her father attempted to sink the family into deep trouble.

Jeanne’s mother, Janet Aitken, struggled to bring her into the world. As she gave Jeanne life, severe hemorrhaging almost snuffed out her own. Not that her husband cared. Supposedly, as Aitken lay in bed recovering from this trauma, Jeanne’s father had other matters on his mind entirely.

The story goes that Campbell demanded his bedridden wife give him her jewels to sustain his gambling problem. Aitken, the more reasonable of Jeanne’s parents (at least in the moment), refused. That’s when Campbell took his demands to the next level.

When Janet Aitken told Jeanne’s father no, he refused to back down. Instead of admitting defeat, Ian Campbell escalated the situation. He threatened to end his own life; Aitken attempted to call Campbell's bluff, so Campbell put his money where his mouth was… sort of.

Aitken reportedly heard two shots from outside of her room; the story goes that Campbell missed (or perhaps never intended to succeed at all), but Aitken relented anyway. Thus, Jeanne entered the world surrounded by her parents’ chaos. While the marriage did not last, it did not end soon enough to spare Jeanne from her parents.

Ian Campbell and Janet Aitken divorced within a year of Jeanne’s birth. Over the next couple of decades, Jeanne suffered a series of step-parents from both sides. These step-parents appeared to have little to do with Jeanne’s life, at least until it came to her father’s third wife.

Unsurprisingly, Ian Campbell’s marriages did not last long. When it came time to end his third marriage to Margaret Whigham, Campbell enlisted the help of his daughter. You see, much like Campbell, Whigham enjoyed her affairs. Unlike Ian, as a woman, Whigham didn’t have the luxury to get away with it.

Campbell needed proof of his wife’s affairs to extricate himself from his marriage. So, he enlisted the help of his daughter. Supposedly, Jeanne Campbell, “disguised” only in pants and a headscarf, snuck into her step-mother’s rooms to secure what Campbell needed: scandalous diary entries.

Depending on which version of the story you believe, things did not go smoothly for Jeanne’s heist. Some claim that Jeanne and her father encountered Whigham in her bedroom; when Whigham attempted to call for help, Jeanne jumped into action—no one thwarted her.

Apparently, at this point, Jeanne’s father (who may have been with her) took charge, pinning Whigham’s arms down as Jeanne took the latest volume of her step-mother’s diaries before both father and daughter took off. While Jeanne made it out of the apartment, it was not the last she heard of the incident.

The diaries supposedly contained graphic images of her step-mother and another mystery man that ended Ian Campbell’s third marriage quite nicely, just as he liked it. However, Whigham didn’t go quietly. She sued Jeanne Campbell for trespassing and theft; caught red-handed, Jeanne found her hands tied.

Jeanne Campbell must have had little defense against her former step-mother’s accusations, for she ultimately settled out of court. However, this proved to be the least of Jeanne’s problems as she appeared to take after her parents in the worst ways possible. If it weren’t for one person, who knows what might’ve become of Jeanne’s life?

Jeanne’s grandfather, Lord Beaverbrook, remained a looming presence in her life. While both her parents involved themselves in sin and chaos, Beaverbrook took a liking to his young granddaughter. Unfortunately, his attempts to rein in her impulses rarely saw the success he likely hoped for.

Taking after her parents, Jeanne Campbell quickly developed an endless appetite for all things carnal. She caught the eye of men, and they appeared to catch Jeanne’s eye in return. This may not have been a problem if Jeanne didn’t have a liking for the worst men possible.

One of Jeanne’s first conquests might have been Oswald Mosley, a disgraced fascist politician roughly 30 years older than her. Jeanne’s grandfather disapproved of this supposed affair, warned he would cut his granddaughter off. Unfortunately, he couldn’t control Jeanne that easily.

While Jeanne Campbell appeared to have a strong relationship with her gr. andfather, she did not fear him or his demands. Realizing that he needed to do something more drastic, Beaverbrook sent Jeanne away instead. If Beaverbrook thought a change of country would curb Jeanne’s appetites, he needed to think again.

Jeanne arrived in New York at the age of 29 and began working for one of her grandfather’s newspapers, the Evening Standard. Jeanne took the offered role; however, Beaverbrook quickly realized his error as Jeanne began to dig into controversial issues with a sharp tongue.

One of Jeanne’s early pieces with the Evening Standard took a dramatic stance against the very people who housed her. When Jeanne wrote a critical piece about the CIA in America, Beaverbrook realized that he needed to offer his granddaughter more guidance, lest she sink everything he built with her pen.

Aware of her position as a guest in America, Beaverbrook warned his granddaughter to choose her words more carefully in the future. He encouraged her to “emphasize human interest” and to “keep widening [her] circle of acquaintances”. As far as widening her circle went, Jeanne certainly always kept her options open, in more ways than one.

In 1959, Jeanne Campbell made the most advantageous relationship with Henry Luce II, founder of Time-Life Inc. At this point, Jeanne was in her thirties. Luce was in his sixties. However, this did not stop Jeanne from enjoying Luce’s company—intimately.

If her grandfather thought that sending Jeanne to New York would curb her carnal impulses, then he had another thing coming. Just like Mosely supposedly a few years before, Jeanne took up with the senior Luce, carrying on with him for several years. She only stopped when something else caught her eye.

As Jeanne’s affair with Luce drew to a close, her eye strayed to another man: Norman Mailer. An author, Mailer, likely wouldn’t have held onto Jeanne’s attention for long if it weren’t for one teeny, tiny inconvenience. Unlike her previous affairs, Jeanne learned the consequences of “loving” a man with Mailer.

At some point during her affair with Mailer, Jeanne Campbell discovered her pregnancy. Her grandfather supported Jeanne in seeing the pregnancy through to the end. However, he never liked Mailer and advised against marrying him. Jeanne rarely listened to orders from her grandfather or otherwise, even when she should’ve.

Despite her grandfather’s disapproval, Jeanne did what she wanted to do. She married Mailer and, several months later, gave birth to a little girl, Kate Mailer. Unfortunately, little Kate couldn’t erase the truth at the heart of Jeanne’s new marriage: very little love or loyalty appeared to exist there at all.

Jeanne Campbell may have got some satisfaction out of disregarding her grandfather’s warning and marrying Mailer anyway, but Beaverbrook won out in the end. Jeanne’s marriage to Mailer proved to be short and volatile. Barely a year later, the marriage ended, and Mailer had a thing or two to say about it.

Much like, it seems, the marriage itself, Mailer’s view of Jeanne shifted over the years. While he later went on to compliment her, calling her a “dear pudding of a lady,” insisting that she’s “almost as interesting, complex, and Machiavellian” as himself, he could not erase the lasting impression of Jeanne Mailer put into print.

Before laying the egotistical praise of comparing Jeanne Campbell to himself at her feet, Mailer put what one can presume to be his sour grapes over the end of the marriage into his novel American Dream. Many believe Mailer personified his recently ex-wife as the character known only as “The B**ch”. Jeanne, however, had the last laugh.

Perhaps Mailer wasn’t too far off in comparing Jeanne to himself, for her remarks upon their brief affair remain nearly as cavalier as his own. Sometime after the marriage ended, the writer Gore Vidal asked Jeanne why Mailer attracted her. Jeanne’s response proved as scandalous as the woman herself.

When Vidal asked Jeanne Campbell what drew her to Mailer, she gave a sinfully simple answer: “I had never gone to bed with a Jew before”. This cavalier answer suited Jeanne perfectly, for she treated the end of her marriage just as flippantly. No sooner had she fallen out with Mailer than did she find herself in the bed of another—or several others, depending on which story you listen to.

During this period, Jeanne Campbell kept herself very busy, or so the story always seems to go. The antidote about Jeanne that proves the most popular insists that in roughly a year, somewhere between the end of 1963 and start of 1964, she fell into bed with not just one but three influential men.

The quote that comes up time and time again in conversations about Jeanne Campbell involve John F Kennedy’s funeral, in which Jeanne wrote that his widow, Jackie, had, “given the American people from this day on the one thing they always lacked: majesty”. A stunning compliment, to be sure, but could it have come from Jeanne’s own guilty conscience?

Aside from her famous quote about Jackie, there is one other story that Jeanne seems to be known for, which is more difficult to prove, yet is intimately tied to Jackie Kennedy’s tragic story. This second story starts a mere month before President Kennedy’s tragic end. In this story, Jeanne gives Kennedy a very different ending.

If one is to believe the famous rumor about Jeanne, only a month before she was reporting on his passing, praising his widow for her majesty, Jeanne and President Kennedy were together in her Georgetown house, betraying his marriage vows. Who knows if Kennedy would’ve remained a one-time fling if his life hadn’t ended. Yet, it seemed Jeanne had no shortage of powerful men ready to take her to bed.

The story starts with John F Kennedy in October 1963 and then, supposedly, moves on to Nikita Khruschev, leader of the Soviet Union, in April 1964. People say that Jeanne and Khruschev enjoyed each other (intimately) at his country home. Jeanne didn’t stop here. No, she apparently had one more conquest.

If we’re keeping track, supposedly, Jeanne had Kennedy in October, Khruschev in April, and finally, one month later in May, she enjoyed a lovely time with Fidel Castro in Havana. Of course, the entire thing hinges on the word of one man (James C Humes). However, true or not, while Jeanne had many affairs, only a few led to marriage.

Not long after her divorce from Mailer (and sometime around her trifecta of affairs, if one is to believe they occurred), Jeanne married John “Jakie” Cram, an American who claimed “old wealth” from his railroad baron great-great-grandfather. While Jeanne and Cram’s backgrounds held great similarities, these did little to smooth out their marriage.

Much like her previous marriage, Jeanne’s marriage to Cram struggled. Jeanne, perhaps, liked the idea of a wedding far more than she liked the actual marriage. During their brief and troubled marriage, Jeanne gave birth to a daughter, Cusi Cram. However, even this event did not lead to marital bliss.

Jeanne and Cram couldn’t disguise the cracks in their marriage. Another story appeared to have taken place at a family dinner. It’s unclear what started it, but it seems that Jeanne dared to suggest a divorce from her husband over dinner. This was something that his father, Sergeant Henry Cram, did not take kindly to.

Upon hearing his daughter-in-law’s declaration (and likely fearing her bringing disgrace to his family), Cram decided to throw his weight around, presuming that money would always be the answer. He promised to cut not just Jeanne but her daughter Cusi out of his will if Jeanne followed through. Unfortunately for Cram, Jeanne had a reply already loaded for him.

The story suggests that Jeanne’s father-in-law didn’t intimidate her. Rather than being cowed into submission by Henry’s demands, Jeanne simply got up from the table and delivered her devastating secret with utter calm: “Well, [Cusi]’s not Jakie’s anyway”. Of course, now the question became: who was Cusi’s father?

Given Jeanne’s outlandish behaviour, assuming she lied simply to get under her father-in-law’s skin seems possible. However, eventually Jeanne revealed the truth that “Jakie” didn’t father Cusi. Instead, a nameless Bolivian Ambassador to the United Nations gets the credit. Yet he was just another conquest in Jeanne’s endless line of discarded men.

Although Jeanne remained a favourite of her grandfather throughout her life, her outlandish behaviour eventually pushed him to action. At one point, Jeanne found herself at the receiving end of a Beaverbrook rant, making it very clear how he felt about his granddaughter’s behaviour, and what she should do instead.

During this rant, Beaverbrook pointed to a maid scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees, insisting the maid was a “real woman” that Jeanne should emulate. Jeanne, however, remained unimpressed with her grandfather’s grandstanding. She understood who her grandfather was—the apple didn’t fall very far from the tree, after all.

Jeanne understood who her grandfather was, later claiming that Beaverbrook’s “great flaw was his inability to treat his women with dignity. Slowly he would turn on them and devastate them. He made them feel they had no right to exist”. However, despite the contention that existed between grandfather and granddaughter, Jeanne knew how to get what she wanted in the end.

When Beaverbrook passed, he remembered his granddaughter in his will. He left her $500,000. While not a fortune, this money remained enough to sustain Jeanne’s lifestyle, at least for a time. However, following her divorce from Cram, Jeanne needed more. In classic Jeanne style, she found a creative way to get it.

Most stories about Jeanne seem to involve a certain amount of hearsay, perhaps because her life seemed too sensational to be true. And perhaps a life as sensational as Jeanne’s deserved to be immortalized in writing. That’s exactly what Jeanne thought, too. At least, it’s sort of what she thought.

The last great story of Jeanne Campbell’s life involves her memoir. At some point, later in life, Jeanne required cash to continue to support her lifestyle. She figured that the time had come to cash in on her sensational life. Supposedly, she signed on to write a memoir, taking a large advance for the project. That’s where things get… well, sensational.

The rumor is that Jeanne took the advance for her memoirs and then never actually wrote the book. One source suggests she spent the money on a villa in Greece. Hopefully, it was something she enjoyed, for Jeanne’s life ended far differently than it started. Left with only stories to her name, Jeanne couldn’t sustain her lifestyle forever.

Despite her lofty start in life, it is said that Lady Jeanne Campbell ended her life far differently. Living in a tiny walk-up flat in Greenwich Village, Jeanne lost most of the luxury that had previously surrounded her. For a life filled with high-rolling scandal, none of it kept Jeanne warm in the end. Hopefully, her memories sustained her where money no longer could.

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If you’re wondering why Alice Roosevelt turned into a wild child, look no further than the hour of her birth. Although she was the daughter of future President Theodore Roosevelt and his wife, banking heiress Alice Lee Roosevelt, the little baby was in for an immediate tragedy. Just two days after her birth—on Valentine’s Day 1884, no less—Alice’s grandmother died of typhoid fever. And this was just a prelude to the horror to come.

Believe me when I say that Alice was born with a lot of baggage. That’s because, mere hours after Grandma Roosevelt passed, Alice’s young mother also died in the bloom of her youth, succumbing to kidney failure that no one had even known existed. No sooner had she drawn her first breaths than Alice was a harbinger of doom. Oh, but it got ten times worse.

As if it wasn’t enough to have your grandmother and mother drop dead within hours of your birth, Alice’s father then dealt her a heartbreaking blow. He had loved his young, beautiful wife dearly, and now couldn’t even stand to be in his daughter’s presence after the tragedy. He immediately escaped to his remote North Dakota ranch, while sending Alice to live with her Aunt Anna for years on end. And that wasn’t all.

Theodore Roosevelt was so torn up, he wouldn’t even call his little girl by her name, since “Alice” was also the name of her late mother. Instead, he called her “Baby Lee” and almost never mentioned Alice’s mother again, period. Alice herself followed suit: She avoided using her own name as well, calling herself “Mrs. L” in adulthood.

A dead mother, an absent father, and a whole bunch of repressed feelings. I mean, what could possibly go wrong? Answer: EVERYTHING.

Alice’s life was already something of a tragic fairy tale. Then it turned into a catastrophe. When she was just two years old, Alice’s father remarried, this time to his old high school sweetheart, the stately and proper Edith Kermit Carow. The one problem? Cold, distant, and intellectual, Edith was about as far from Alice’s warm, romantic mother as you could get, and the transition was nothing short of disastrous.

As Alice grew up, she blossomed into a young, delicate beauty who looked astonishingly like her mother. Well, her new stepmother Edith did not like this, and she made sure Alice knew it. Edith had actually known her mother before marrying Theodore, and found the elder Alice both strikingly gorgeous and unforgivably simple. Accordingly, Edith once sneered that if the woman hadn’t passed prematurely, she would have “bored Theodore to death.”

With this cruel volley, what else could Alice do but strike back? With a vengeance, that is.

While this was going on, Alice’s father did still occasionally spoil her and seek out her affection, and Alice didn’t hesitate to take advantage of it. One day, she gave a brutal ultimatum. When Theodore—then the Governor of New York—and her stepmother insisted she attend a girls’ school in New York City, Alice wrote back a scathing letter.

She wrote, "If you send me I will humiliate you. I will do something that will shame you. I tell you I will.” This likely didn’t go the way she wanted.

As time wore on, Alice’s charms wore thin even on her indulgent father, and she came to believe that he preferred her new, younger half-siblings with Edith over her. Not that this changed her behavior. Perhaps lashing out, she became even more stubborn and wild, taking up the habit of “running the streets uncontrolled with every boy in town,” or so her stepmother thought.

Alice Roosevelt was clearly no shrinking violet—and she was about to find herself front and center on the world’s stage.

In 1901, Alice’s father Theodore was serving as Vice President of the United States when a national nightmare shook Washington’s foundations: President William McKinley was assassinated. Suddenly, Roosevelt was acting president, and the teenaged Alice, still just 17 years old, became the First Daughter. Her reaction was…well, pretty ghoulish.

Despite the grim circumstance, she reportedly heard the news with “sheer rapture.” It only ramped up from there.

In 1902, Alice officially came “out” as a debutante. She was an instant sensation. That evening, she decided on wearing a slightly unconventional pale blue gown as opposed to a white frock and sparked a fashion trend in the process. Admirers dubbed the icy hue “Alice blue,” and women across America started wearing it. Yet behind her picture-perfect looks at these functions, Alice was already showing disturbing tendencies.

Women of Alice’s day and age were expected to make polite appearances at parties, but Alice was having none of that. Brash, witty, and beautiful, she lit up every room she walked into…and she did a whole lot more than that. She became notorious for smoking, drinking, gambling, and staying up way later than was proper with gentlemen callers.

To add to her wild mystique, she also owned a pet snake she dubbed “Emily Spinach.” Believe me, though: her most infamous moments were yet to come.

With all of her in-your-face partying, Alice was something of an acquired taste. While her father grew actively ashamed of her, others were enraptured. Kaiser Wilhelm II, for example, let her christen his boat and then kept her photo in it at all times. Agog at her antics, the press also nicknamed her “Princess Alice” for her outsized popularity. And Alice found a diabolical way to capitalize on her fame.

In between partying with the Vanderbilts and napping well into the day, Alice was also hard at work building her own myths. President Roosevelt used to complain that gossip about Alice’s comings and goings would make the headlines above the actual news…and that’s just how Alice wanted it. In fact, she used to phone into tip lines and tell them where she was about to go so they could snap photos, earning a nice cash bonus in the process. This was a slippery, slippery slope.

While Alice was fun to be around in her best moods, she had a terrifying mean streak. At one point, she was bored in a White House gathering and decided to put a tack on a “middle-aged” and “dignified” man’s chair, then watch as he sat down and promptly bolted by up “like the ball from the cannon” while she acted innocent beside him. Very funny, Alice.

But when it came to family members instead of strangers, she could go from mean to downright insufferable.

As Alice grew into a fully-fledged woman, she cultivated a whopping set of brains to match her beauty, and her father Theodore started relying on her to offer presidential advice from time to time. He may have regretted it. Alice, never shy about sharing her opinions, loved flying in and out of his Oval Office for anything ranging from the lightest triviality to the heaviest political musing. One day, this led to an infamous altercation.

On this particular day, Alice must have been feeling particularly opinionated, because she interrupted her father no fewer than three times while he was trying to have a conversation with his friend, the writer Owen Wister. Finally, the president broke. Pushed to his wit’s end, he threatened to throw Alice “out the window” unless she left him alone, then famously huffed to Wister: "I can either run the country or I can attend to Alice, but I cannot possibly do both.”

How prophetic those words turned out to be.

In 1905, Alice joined a handful of congressmen on a diplomatic cruise bound for Japan and China, among other destinations. But one evening, it went from stately to scandalous. Bored (as usual) with the serious crowd, Alice bounded into the ship’s pool with all her clothes on, and even took a reluctant congressman with her. The consequences were immediate.

Like so much Alice did, this antic caused an immediate uproar, and years later Bobby Kennedy ribbed her about her impropriety. Alice’s response? She clapped back at Kennedy that it would have been even more scandalous if she’d done the prank with her clothes off. Still, even with all this late-night pool jumping, that wasn’t even the most outrageous thing to happen on that ship.

While sailing around the world relatively unsupervised, the vivacious Alice happened to get extra friendly with one congressman in particular: Nicholas Longworth III, a self-serious Republican with something of a hang-dog face and a reputation as a playboy. Although she’d met him before, Alice only really noticed him on the ship.

Then again, she did have a compelling reason to fall for him…

Longworth was a whopping 14 years older than Alice, and more than that, he creepily bore quite the resemblance to her father Theodore Roosevelt. For reasons Freud would probably find fascinating, Alice found Longworth irresistible and admitted lukewarmly that she was “more or less” in love with him. If that sounds shaky, well, Alice started making some very shaky decisions from then on.

By the time the diplomatic ship docked back in the United States, Alice had some news that set the gossip rags atwitter. She was engaged to Nicholas Longworth, perhaps as unlikely a groom in her sea of suitors as she could get, minus his political bona fides. Still, Alice threw herself into wedding planning with a gusto only she could muster—and she did not disappoint.

Alice Roosevelt’s wedding was going to be the social event of the season no matter what happened, but the socialite really made sure all eyes were on her. Not only did she wear a light blue wedding dress—a nod to the “Alice blue” that she herself had coined—she also cut her massive, gorgeous wedding cake with a sword she borrowed from a military aide during her reception. Mmm, might be a bit much, Alice.

After a honeymoon that included visits to the likes of King Edward VII and Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany, Alice and Longworth settled into a quiet, happy life of domestic bliss. JUST KIDDING, it was an absolute nightmare.

For the first years of her marriage, Alice and Longworth got along famously, but the ties that bound them were already fraying at the edges. The two loved to party until all hours of the morning, but while all that was fun and games during their courtship, the strain began to show once they were husband and wife. In other words, there was nowhere to go but down.

In 1912, Alice dealt Longworth one of the worst betrayals she could: She publicly opposed his run for election. Instead, she supported her father’s preferred candidate, appearing on stage alongside the rival and using her fame to drum up interest in him. The damage was enormous and irreparable. Longworth lost—and when he did, Alice proudly boasted that she was the reason.

For some couples, maybe this love-hate thing would get their rocks off. For Alice and Longworth, it created an enormous rift. One that grew wider with Alice’s next move.

Just when Alice’s eyes started straying is hard to pin down, but it’s an absolute fact that she carried on multiple affairs behind Longworth’s back—or heck, even in front of him. Her paramours were an open secret amongst the White House elite, and given her powerful father, Longworth pretty much had to grin and bear it. Of course, Longworth carried on his own dalliances, too…but then came the most devastating blow of all.

One of Alice’s most prominent and long-term affairs was with Senator William Borah, a man who, like Longworth, was decades older than her but apparently much steamier in the bedroom. Although Borah had also long been a married man, he and Alice were frequently sneaking about town with each other. Until, that is, they got a very harsh wake-up call.

Around 1925, Alice found out shocking news: After more than a decade in her childless marriage to Longworth, she was pregnant. Those in the know in Washington suspected that Borah—whose own marriage was equally childless—was the father, and Alice’s own diaries all but confirm she was about to have his lovechild. But when the child was born, well, Alice took it right up a notch.

Fun-loving and smart, people often described Alice Roosevelt’s humor as “brilliantly malicious,” and she saved her cruelest dig for her cuckolded husband. Although she ended up naming her baby girl Paulina, she once quipped that she initially wanted to name her “Deborah,” as in “de Borah.” Ouch. As it was, anyone who knew the girl nicknamed her “Aurora Borah Alice.” Double ouch. Still, Alice was just getting started.

Truth be told, Alice was about as good a mother to Paulina as she had been a faithful wife to Longworth. Wrapped up in her glittering world of social events—at her height, she went to over 1,000 events in just 15 months—Alice didn’t have much time to raise Paulina, and they never developed a close bond even in adulthood. As we’ll soon see, this would come back to haunt her.

In 1919, Alice was only really just getting on her feet as a bona fide adult when loss hit her like a speeding truck. That January, her father Theodore suffered from a fatal blood clot that had traveled to his lungs, dying suddenly at the age of just 60. The horrible news came with just one devastating line. Her half-brother Archibald telegraphed the siblings, “The old lion is dead.”

Unfortunately for Alice, the hits just kept on coming.

In the 1930s, Alice suffered a blow unlike any she’d ever felt before. With the infamous stock market crash, her high-flying life also took a complete nosedive, and she and her husband lost a great amount of their wealth. So much so that the once untouchably elegant Alice started making tobacco commercials to supplement her income. But if she thought she’d hit rock bottom, she was very wrong.

In the 1940s, Alice became a grandmother after her daughter Paulina marred the American artist and author Alexander McCormick Sturm and had a child, Joanna, with him. It looked like the great American golden family were back in their glory, yet as with so much in Alice’s life, appearances could be deceiving. In reality, she was about to go through a dark crisis.

Ever since her cold and distant childhood, Paulina had difficulty maintaining any kind of happiness, and her marriage had no happy ending, either. In 1951, when baby Joanna was still a young girl, Alexander Sturm passed suddenly of hepatitis, leaving Pauline grieving and Alice struggling to pick up the pieces of her family. But she had never been good at caregiving…

Soon enough, Alice’s private life had reached a disturbing climax. Paulina was so depressed and bereft that she almost couldn’t go on, and she confessed as much to her icy mother. It must have taken everything in Paulina, but she begged Alice that if anything should happen to her, that Alice would take over the care of little Joanna in her stead.

When Alice agreed, she may not have known she was helping seal her daughter’s tragic fate.

In 1957, Alice received the most dreaded news: Paulina had passed from an overdose of sleeping pills, just six years after losing her husband. But while Alice may have been a good time gal when it suited her, she was also a woman of her word, and she immediately fought to gain custody over Joanna, just as she’d promised Paulina during her last days. Then everything changed.

Whether out of guilt for her previous maternal go-round or a newfound maturity, Alice treated Joanna almost the opposite of how she treated her daughter. She doted on and spoiled the young girl, and the pair became inseparable. As one friend put it, Alice “has been a wonderful father and mother to Joanna: mostly father.” Of course, this doesn’t mean Alice was losing her edge…in fact, as some powerful men soon found out, she was sharpening it.

As “Princess Alice” grew older, she practically became Dowager Empress of America, and she wielded a terrific amount of political power. When a man named Thomas Dewey tried to become president, it was Alice who made sure he would be forgotten in the annals of history. When she unfavorably compared his looks to “the bridegroom on the wedding cake,” it was enough to almost singlehandedly lose him two presidential elections in a row.

As always, though, Alice saved her worst vitriol for those closest to her.

Alice had a sharp tongue, and it got her into a nasty family feud. When her distant cousin Franklin Delano Roosevelt—who was married to her even closer-knit cousin Eleanor Roosevelt—started aiming for the presidency, Alice made no bones about how much she disliked him and his bid for the top spot. She even gave a public interview where she sneered that, “the same surname is about all we have in common.”

Nonetheless, there was one Washington family she got very close to.

As the star-spangled Kennedy family rose to the top of the American power game in the 1960s, Alice was right there along with them. Although she didn’t vote for John Kennedy, she took a shine to the clan’s innate glamour and developed a particularly tight friendship with Bobby Kennedy as she entered her twilight years. Except, well, this is Alice. So she managed to muck that up…

Although Alice and Bobby Kennedy were unlikely but intimate friends, they often had rifts with each other—and Alice was usually at fault. One of her ice-cold barbs went deep. At one point, Bobby Kennedy had performed the none-too-shabby feat of climbing the newly-minted Mount Kennedy in Canada…and Alice didn’t hesitate to ridicule him for it, creating yet another big strain. And this wasn’t even her worst friend breakup.

One of Alice’s most famous friends was then-Vice President Richard Nixon. Not only did Nixon act as one of her pallbearers when her daughter Paulina suffered her tragic end, but Alice also encouraged his political career, consistently and insistently inviting him to all the right parties until he did become President. Instead of gratitude, however, Alice only got betrayal.

In the 1970s, the Watergate scandal hit, and Nixon’s name was permanently tarnished. But that was just the beginning of the nightmare for Alice. At his resignation, the disgraced Nixon decided to quote from one of Alice’s published diary entries, specifically the one recalling her father’s grief over her late mother, where she wrote that "Only if you've been to the lowest valley can you know how great it is to be on the highest mountain top."

In case you’re wondering how Alice felt about that, the answer is: She went wild with rage.

Never one to miss a beat, Alice made sure to watch Nixon’s resignation on her television, and when she heard her now ex-friend using her own words to justify his shady actions, she did not take it lightly. Um, not at all. Reacting in with the classic Alice gusto, she reportedly let out a string of curses at her screen and denounced him as her friend. She did, however, leave her best snub for last.

After a lifetime of infamy for her sharp wit, Alice had made a whole series of Presidents quake in their boots, kick her out of their sight, or both. But when it came to President Jimmy Carter, he never had the chance to do either—because Alice refused to meet him. Her reasons were classically cruel. She thought he was uncouth, so didn’t want to give him the honor.

Alice had a complicated relationship with her father—although, which one of her relationships wasn’t complicated?—but she also identified with him on a deep level. Like her, Theodore Roosevelt craved attention and was smart enough to get it whenever that craving hit. As she once said of him, "He wants to be the bride at every wedding, the corpse at every funeral, and the baby at every christening.”

Alice Roosevelt’s bon mots had lit up the American public gossip mills since she was a teenager, but few people realize she took her instinct for drama right into her own private home as well. Roosevelt famously had a pillow on her living room settee that proclaimed, “If you can’t say something good about someone, sit right here by me.” Don’t mind if I do, Alice.

Eventually, all good things come to an end—and although Alice’s miserable marriage kept going against all odds, her father Theodore’s tenure as President didn’t. In 1909, he left the White House to make way for the 27th president, William Taft. But after all her years as First Daughter, Alice was none too happy to give up her privileges…and she let the new occupants know it in a terrifying way.

As she was leaving the White House with her father, Alice left a disturbing goodbye “present.” She had made a voodoo doll in the likeness of the incoming First Lady, Nellie Taft, and upon her exit, Alice buried the grim doll in the front yard of the property. Evidently, Alice never quite clicked with the Tafts, and they even later banned her from the White House. And that wasn’t the last time she got into Washington hot water…

If Alice didn’t get along with the Tafts, she really didn’t play nice with the next president, Woodrow Wilson. In fact, they were downright enemies. In 1916, Alice decided to crack a bawdy joke making fun of the current President, who then immediately kicked her out of his sight and his property, making it her second dis-invitation to the White House.

In the end, Alice outlived all her younger siblings, as well as so many other giants of American history who she had met and even shaped. Still, even she couldn’t live forever. On February 20, 1980, she passed in her Embassy Row house in Washington D.C. The cherry on top? She made it just eight days past her 96th birthday. An overachiever until the end.

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In Los Angeles, California, on January 25, 1938, 14-year-old Dorothy Hawkins gave birth to a baby girl, who she named Jamesetta. Hawkins didn’t have a husband and wasn’t telling anyone who Jamesetta’s father was. Some thought—judging by Jamesetta’s light skin and almond eyes—that dad was Italian. Later Hawkins would tell her daughter that her father was a pool hustler named Rudolf Wanderone: also known as Minnesota Fats.

Could Jamesetta believe her mother? Well, she was quite a questionable character.

Hawkins lived in the dangerous and impoverished Watts neighborhood of LA, but she had no problem leaving her young daughter alone in their apartment. When Hawkins left her baby alone, she was usually out cavorting with men. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. Soon, young Jamesetta came to the attention of social services, who took her from her mother and placed her with various foster parents. When Jamesetta talked about her mother, she simply called her “the Mystery Lady”.

But if you think foster care was a positive change for Jamesetta, you’ve got it wrong.

Two of Jamestta’s semi-regular foster parents were Sarge and Mama Lu. Sarge had a problem with drink, but he also liked music. When he noticed that Jamesetta could sing, he liked to show her off to his poker buddies. In the middle of the night, if Sarge felt like hearing music, he would wake up Jamesetta and demand that she sing for him and his buddies. If Jamestta didn’t comply with his demand, there would be a beating until she did.

The poor girl needed to get away from Sarge: Maybe the church would help?

One of Jamesetta’s escapes from a horrible home life was at church. She attended St. Paul’s Baptist church, and people there soon noticed her for her beautiful singing voice. The music director of the church took Jamesetta under his wing and decided to train her to be a real singer. The director’s name was James Earle Hines, but he wasn't a savior either. He helped make James a better singer—but his methods were cruel and unusual.

Hines’ wanted to get Jamesetta’s voice to come from her gut, not her chest—and he had a brutal method to make it happen. Whenever Jamesetta would sing from her chest, he’d punch her. Jamesetta’s escape from her home life had now turned into a new nightmare. Luckily, Hines was gay, or it might have had an even darker turn.

Yet, despite the chest pounding, James had great respect for Hines and what he did for her voice. Because of her work with Hines—or in spite of it—Jamesetta’s voice became extraordinary.

The “Chitlin Circuit” was a series of venues around America that provided Black entertainers a place to perform for Black audiences. This was hugely important because of segregation, which severely limited opportunities for Black performers. Through this circuit, Jamesetta got a chance to perform in Nashville, Tennessee at R&B clubs.

She grew up performing on the Chitlin Circuit, but Sarge and Mama Lu were still her guardians. This went on until tragedy struck.

Jamesetta was just 12 years old when she was working in clubs and bars. This was only possible while the lenient Mama Lu and Sarge were her guardians and allowed it. In 1950, however, Mama Lu passed. So who would take care of James now? Well, out of the woodwork popped Jamesetta's real mother. She lived in San Francisco, and she wanted Jamesetta with her.

Jamesetta’s mother Dorothy Hawkins had migrated with many African Americans to the Fillmore District in San Francisco, California. There was some tension there, as white residents were unsure about having such a large influx of African Americans. Jamesetta didn’t take notice of the race relations. Instead, she started skipping school and drinking. There was something else delinquent about Jamesetta’s behavior: she liked Doo-wop music.

You’d think mom would be happy about this interest in music. Instead, she hated it.

Jameseeta’s mother was a fan of music but not of the doo-wop that her daughter was listening to. Hawkins thought jazz was the only way to go, and her favorite singer was Billie Holiday. Hawkins believed that jazz brought out more sophistication than what Jamesetta was trying to do. Jamesetta respected performers like Holiday, but her heart was in a different sound.

Jamesetta put together a girl group and they started performing on street corners. Because the young women in the group were mostly light-skinned like James, they chose the name the Creolettes. Jamesetta was still barely a teenager, and her dream was already coming true. But this was only the beginning. Her career would move forward because of one man: the multitalented Johnny Otis.

Jamesetta met Otis in one of two ways—the story is unclear. Either Otis heard the Creolettes playing in LA, or Jamesetta pursued Otis at his hotel room after a performance and begged for an audition. Knowing James, I’d put my money on the latter. Whichever it was, Otis took the Creolettes and decided to make them into stars. The first thing they had to change, however, was their name.

Otis arranged to get the Creolettes signed up to Modern Records—but there was a catch. He thought the group’s name was a little on the nose and offered up Peaches as an alternative. The name stuck and Modern Records signed them up. But that wasn't all he gave her: Otis also thought that the name Jamesetta was a bit of a mouthful. His solution was simple: just reverse the two parts of her name and put a space between them. Voila! Etta James was born.

At this time, answer songs were extremely popular. An answer song was when one artist wrote and performed a song in answer to the lyrics of another artist’s song. Otis had an idea to answer a Hank Ballard song called “Work With Me, Annie,” and he wanted James to help him with it. Well, “Work With Me Annie” already had some very racy lyrics, but James and Otis had a plan to go one step further.

Now remember, James was just 16 years old at this time, while Otis was in his 30s. Together their goal was to outdo the innuendo in “Work With Me, Annie.” The result was “Roll With Me, Henry”. Forget the lyrics, even the title was too risque for the time. Many thought it referred to a roll in the hay—which it probably did. To avoid the expected censorship, they renamed the song “The Wallflower”. This was so it sounded like the planned activity was dancing and not something more horizontal.

So where was mom in all this? Did she approve of her daughter writing dirty songs with an older man?

James’ mother wasn't doing much of a job of raising her daughter, so James moved in with Otis, who was paying James $10 for every performance and keeping the rest. But as far as her writing skills went, Otis was much more generous. Her $14,000 for writing “The Wallflower” went into a trust fund that James could have when she turned 21.

After all, what would a young woman need that much money for? It would likely just get her into trouble. Well, just you wait and see.

James eventually recorded “The Wallflower” with Peaches and it became a hit. By February of 1955, the Hot Rhythm & Blues Tracks put it at number one. James had her first taste of stardom, and she was ready for more. What she probably didn’t see coming was when superstar Little Richard took notice of her and her group Peaches.

When James heard that Little Richard was interested, she decided to give herself a makeover.

At this point in her career, James wanted to change her look. She said she’d always been a tomboy, but she knew deep down that this wouldn't work for the music world. So, she decided to be a “glamor girl”. She donned high heels, rhinestone earrings, and even a fishtail gown. She may have been a teenager, but she looked like someone much older.

James was about to take her new gussied-up look on the road—and there was sure to be trouble.

Little Richard would go on to get the title the Architect of Rock and Roll, but at this point, he was just a very popular musician. He’d heard Peaches perform and he wanted them for his national tour. They set out in 1956 and played all over the United States. This was a dream come true for James, but something closer to a nightmare happened while she was on tour.

Being on tour often meant driving from one gig to another in a car. James was in Texas in a car full of men, when they became lost. When the driver pulled over to ask an officer for directions, it became a dangerous situation. The officer looked into the car and saw what he thought was a white girl in a car full of black men. This was Texas in the 50s—so he decided to make a big deal about it.

The problem was that James’ skin was so light, the officer thought she was white. Not only was the officer not used to seeing this situation, it was actually against the law in Texas. The officer had to repeatedly ask James if she was Black or white—and not in such nice terms. Finally, James told the officer the truth, and they were free to go. Apparently, a Black girl alone in a car full of men was fine.

James got out of this predicament unscathed: but bad things were happening back at home as well.

Back in those days, it was common for white artists to “borrow” songs from Black musicians and make them popular to a white audience. Georgia Gibbs was one star who had built a career on crossover hits. Gibbs took "The Wallflower”, renamed it “Dance With Me, Henry”, and made it into a huge hit. In fact, it topped the Billboard Hot 100 that year.

Clearly, James was full of talent: and it seemed everyone wanted a piece of it.

Next, James pulled a Beyonce—or a Diana Ross for that matter—and walked away from her group Peaches and went solo. She soon had her own hit with “Good Rockin’ Daddy”. The next hit, however, didn't come so easily. Soon, James was likely regretting her decision to go out on her own. In a desperate move, she decided to leave Modern Records and join Chess Records. The move quickly paid off.

While with Chess Records, James had a string of hits: she also got a man.

While touring with Little Richard, James occasionally performed alongside The Moonglows. Now the Moonglows’ founder, Harvey Fuqua, was also with Chess Records. James and Fuqua sang a couple of duets and the chemistry was obvious: Soon, James had her first serious boyfriend—at least, that's what she claimed. But was this actually James’ first relationship? Some of her past acquaintances say no.

James toured with Bobby Murray for more than 20 years, and he has something different to say about James’ first boyfriend. He swears that when James was just 16 years old, she dated musician BB King, who would’ve been 29 at the time. If this just sounds like idle gossip, consider this. A few years later, King released a single called “Sweet Sixteen”. Even James herself said that she thought the song was about her.

Next, James was about to go from one king to another.

While she was hanging around with BB King, James met a future king: Elvis Presley. As it turned out, the 19-year-old Presley was a huge fan of BB King’s. Presley also impressed James—and not just his singing talent. James often commented on his good manners. Eventually, James teamed up and performed with the future King of Rock and Roll just outside Memphis, Tennessee.

James seemed to always be at the center of everything happening in music. She still, however, hadn’t made an album yet.

James had two hit singles doing duets with Fuqua, and then it was time to once again strike out on her own. What followed was 1960’s “All I Could Do Was Cry,” which hit the number two spot on the R&B charts. Leonard Chess—of Chess Records—saw something in James. He thought she could cross over from R&B to pop. His idea to make this happen was to bring in string instruments.  The result was “My Dearest Darling”, which hit the number five spot.

James's singles clearly had the juice. It was now time for her to make her debut album.

James’ first album was At Last! The response didn’t quite match Chess Records’ prediction but, over time, critics have come to see it as hugely significant. In fact, AllMusic gave it five stars out of five, and Rolling Stone eventually put it at spot number 191 for their top 500 greatest albums of all time. The album also contained what many would later see as James's signature song: “At Last”.

But if you think James was getting rich with all this, you don’t know record companies.

In all, James worked for Chess records for 14 years, and they manipulated her all that time. Sadly, the only money she saw from Chess over those years was a meager $10,000. Instead of paying what their artists actually deserved, Chess records gave them Cadillacs. That’s actually where the title of the 2008 film Cadillac Records took its name. Most of the money she earned came from her performing live.

However, maybe it was a good thing that she didn’t get all the money. If she did, she’d probably be using it for a very destructive purpose.

James continued to record and perform throughout the 1960s. She added a gospel sound to her repertoire, but not everything was godly in her life. Like a lot of musicians at this time she had a substance problem—and it was a costly one. James’ need for her substance of choice cost her more than she was making. This led her to do some pretty horrible things.

At one point in her career, James lost the need to hide her dependency. At one concert, members of the audience could easily see bandages on her arms when she was on stage. This could only mean one thing: the bandages covered the scars from where she had been injecting. It seemed that James didn’t care who knew her dirty little secrets anymore.

James needed someone to give her guidance—and a famous person was about to provide it.

At one point in her life, James got a chance to meet the woman who her mother thought was the queen of jazz sophistication: Billie Holiday. Holliday, who had her own dependency issues, saw James and knew where her career was heading. She told James flat out: Don’t get involved in drinking and partying and staying out late. Sadly, James didn’t listen to Holiday—not even a little bit.

James’ dependency made her do terrible things; things like taking money from friends, making prescription forgeries, and even selling her body on occasion. Eventually, in 1966, the law caught up with her, and she was put on probation. Her fine for writing a bad check was $500. She later ignored her probation and had to spend a week and a half in prison.

Yet during this sad time in her life, she surprisingly sparked a new romance.

After making her first disco song, ”In The Basement '', James headed to Alabama. While there, she recorded “Tell Mama” and its b-side “I’d Rather Go Blind”. She wrote the song with Ellington Jordan, a prisoner she’d met, and decided not to have her name as the co-writer. Her idea was that this would save her money for herself—and keep it from the tax man. At the time, she was dating a guy named Billy Foster, so she wrote down his name as the co-writer. Foster will go down in history as the writer of this song—even though he didn’t do a thing.

In 1968, James shared more than a song with Foster: They had a child and named him Donto.

Back in those days, there were a lot more laws about what was right and wrong when it came to dating. One such rule was that a man and a woman could only share a hotel room if they were husband and wife. When officers found out James was in a room with a man, they hauled her into the station. Believe it or not, at this time this was a chargeable offense, and they threw the book at James.

In 1969, James was once again in rehab for her dependency, and she met Artis Mills, who was also an addict. The saintly Mills didn’t mind becoming a replacement dad to Donto, even though he wasn’t the biological father. Like her mother, James didn’t see the importance of keeping fathers involved in her children’s lives. Mills was obviously deeply in love with James—and later, he would pay for it dearly.

James continued to perform and record during this problematic decade of her life. In 1969, however, she received some horrible news. Leonard Chess, the man who had hired her at Chess Records—and scammed her—had suddenly passed due to a heart attack. Chess was only 52 when this happened and the shock of it devastated James.

The 60s were about to become the 70s: What would this mean for Etta James?

The 1970s may have been a brand new decade, but James was having the same old problems. In 1973, officers took her and her husband in for possession and in 1974, the court sent her to a treatment facility. Doctors there treated her with methadone—which she also became dependent on. Compared to her husband, however, she got off lightly.

Mills ended up getting a 10-year prison sentence. Being married to James was not working out in his favor.

James eventually found her way to the Tarzana Psychiatric Hospital, where she spent 17 months in care. At the hospital, she said that almost all of the other patients were white kids. One day in the common area some rock music was playing and a Rod Stewart song came on. It turned out that the song was a cover of James’ “I’d Rather Go Blind”. When the other patients heard that she had written it, they gained a new respect for their psych ward inmate.

Besides this one fond memory, her time at Tarzana remained a low point in her life.

Luckily, the only direction she could go after such a low was up. While still in the psych ward, James received a mysterious letter. It said it was from none other than The Rolling Stones’ Keith Richards—who also knew a thing or two about dependency. What would Richards want with her? In the letter he made her an offer: if you can stay clean, you can tour with the Stones. If that wasn't a reason to fight dependency, I don’t know what is.

In 1976, Richards followed through on his promise to James. James was now a much heavier girl than before, but it didn’t stop her from rocking with the Stones. The truth was that neither she—nor Richards for the matter—were free of substance use. Following working with The Rolling Stones, James stopped recording and spent almost 10 years dealing with her dependency issues.

Her husband was still in prison serving time, so James began a relationship with Sam Dennis, who was an ex-user who had become a therapist. In 1976, they had a son: Sametto.

As James got her own life back on track, she was keeping an eye on Janis Joplin’s career. In James’ mind, Joplin was building a huge fan base based on James’ own singing style. To remedy this she did something drastic: she went to Joplin’s producer in an effort to take back her own style. With Joplin’s producer, she made two albums: Etta James and Come a Little Closer.

While she was dealing with her issues, James still found the time and energy to perform—and sometimes in very unlikely places. For example, she did two appearances as a guest at Grateful Dead concerts. In 1984, she performed at the opening ceremony of something rather sporty: the 1984 Summer Olympics. I guess it's safe to assume she got to skip the usually mandatory substance testing.

Next up for James? Meeting the man she’d waited a lifetime to meet.

In 1987, James had a random encounter with billiard player Minnesota Fats. Now remember, James’ mother had told young James that Fats was her biological father. James must have been over the moon to meet him. Of course, she immediately told Fats that she believed he was her father. What James later said about his reply is this: he never confirmed it or denied it. I guess that’s as close as we’ll get to a yes.

Things were looking good for James—and it was just about to get even better.

By the end of the 1980s, James seemed to have dealt with her issues and was ready to record for the first time in almost a decade. She signed up with Island Records and in 1988 made “Seven Year Itch” which referred to her time of not having a contract with a record label. Two years later she made yet another album with Island Records: “Stickin’ To My Guns”. Clearly, this was a triumphant comeback for James.

In 1993, even though she did mostly R&B, James got a place in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. While she said that it was an honor, she had a quibble with the award. She questioned who decided these things. Who decided who was rock and roll and who was jazz? And who decided who was important or not? Even when she was receiving an honor, James was prickly—and that’s how her fans liked her.

With her next album, she was about to give those same fans a shock.

In 1993, James—with Private Music Records—made Mystery Lady: Songs of Billie Holiday. This was new for James. She’d always been a R&B star who also did rock and soul. Now, she was heading into jazz. She later said that until this time in her life, she’d thought of jazz as being very disciplined, in fact, a little too disciplined. She said that when she made Mystery Lady: Songs of Billie Holiday, she was now mature enough to do it. Incidentally, the name of the album was a reference to her mother. She was the “mystery lady” who loved Billie Holiday.

Later, James would have another chance to bring her mother back into her life.

In 2001, James did an album of jazz standards. Remember, this was the kind of music James’ mother had wanted James to sing way back when. To commemorate this occasion, James did something hugely sentimental: She asked her mother to sing one of the songs. Hawkins sang the title track, “Blue Gardenia”. It wasn’t a moment too soon, either, as Hawkins passed less than a year later.

One of James’ biggest fans was pop diva Christina Aguilera, who grew up listening to James’ music. When Aguilera did a cover of James’ signature song “At Last”, Aguilera made sure she told anyone who would listen, that the song really belonged to James. She wanted to make sure people knew who James was and help her career out in any way she could.

Not all the divas, however, were friends with James.

In 2009, super diva Beyonce had an amazing offer. She could sing at the inaugural ball for America’s first Black President: Barack Obama. Beyonce decided to sing “At Last” because she had just played James in the film Cadillac Records. When James found out about Beyonce’s music choice, she went ballistic and, in true James style, she didn’t hold back. She let loose a rant where she said she “couldn’t stand Beyonce” and even threatened to do her bodily harm. James’ son later said that James’ words against Beyonce had a predictable cause: “substance-induced dementia”. I think a more likely reason was that James was just being James.

Sadly, there wasn’t much more time for James to be James.

By January 2010, James was in poor health. She went into the hospital for an infection, but then her son revealed the really bad news: his mother had dementia. The next year she got an even worse diagnosis: James had leukemia. Believe it or not, James was still at this time married to Artis Mills—the man she’d married back in 1969. He’d been with her through it all. Because James was unable to care for herself, Mills got the job as sole conservator.

Five days before her 74th birthday—on January 20, 2012—James passed. Eight days later there was a funeral and it was a big deal. Stevie Wonder performed, then Christina Aguilera stunned the audience with her stirring rendition of James’ song “At Last”. It looks like Beyonce, however, kept her distance. They laid James to rest in Inglewood Park Cemetery in LA.

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Born into nobility in 1836, Marie Henriette was the fifth child of Duchess Maria Dorothea of Württemberg and Joseph, Palatine of Hungary. Given her father’s position, Marie’s younger years were largely spent in Hungary, and it took no time at all for her to fall in love with the country. 

Unfortunately, she experienced her first terrible tragedy early in life.

When Marie Henriette was 10 years old, she had to give up some of the happiest days of her life spent at the Buda Castle in Hungary, but that wasn’t the worst part. The reason she had to relocate was that, in 1847, her father passed due to intestinal issues, leaving her in the care of Archduke John of Austria and forcing her to move to Vienna.

Still, she tried her best to enjoy her life while she could.

In what little time Marie was able to spend with her parents, they quickly realized what kind of person she was going to grow into, and her mother was happy to encourage it. Many would recount that the Duchess raised her "as a boy," and as the years passed, Marie became a more enthusiastic, fierce, and self-reliant person.

While she enjoyed this freedom for a while, her life was about to change once again, and not for the better.

Although she seemingly couldn’t care less about such things, Marie Henriette was a descendant of the Habsburg line through her father’s side of the family, which made her highly sought-after as a potential wife. As such, King Leopold I of Belgium believed she would be the best fit for his son, also named Leopold, as it would help bolster the power of the Belgian Monarchy.

Needless to say, this was far from how she wanted to spend the rest of her life.

While arranged marriages had been common among the nobility of most nations for centuries, others in Marie’s shoes would have at least known about it beforehand. However, when John of Austria received a proposition from the Belgian king, they worked out the arrangement and finalized it all without mentioning anything to Marie.

Unsurprisingly, this wasn’t the end of their tactless and insensitive behavior.

John of Austria and the King of Belgium had already gone behind Marie’s back to set her up with Prince Leopold, but they could have at least broken the news to her gently and in private. Instead, they waited until both she and Leopold were at the Imperial court ball in 1853, where they introduced the two and told them about their marriage in the same breath.

Of course, Marie had a few things to say about this plan.

To Marie’s shock and outrage, she learned that her guardian had given her away to marry someone she not only hadn’t met before, but also had quickly come to dislike. After her introduction to Leopold, it took only a few moments for him to leave a bad taste in her mouth, and she pleaded with the Archduke to change his mind. However, he wouldn’t budge, and after some discussion with her mother, Marie resigned herself to the marriage.

Nonetheless, it became obvious that it would never truly work between them.

Marie Henriette and Prince Leopold were relatively close in age, and as he also had no say in the arrangement, they had gained a shared struggle. These similarities weren’t enough, though, and just as Marie immediately disliked Leopold, so too did he find himself put off by her. Although they barely knew each other, it was clear that they simply had no common interests and little to talk about.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t enough to stop what was already in motion.

Like Marie, her new fiancé had also protested the marriage, only to succumb to parental pressure and eventually agree to it. So, with both bride and groom dragged kicking and screaming to the altar, the wedding proceeded in August 1853, and Marie gave up any claim she had to the Austrian crown—along with even more of her freedom.

Suddenly, her life was once again uprooted completely.

In marrying Leopold, who held the Duchy of Brabant, Marie Henriette became his Duchess and again had to make a home for herself in an unfamiliar land. Taking up residence with him in Belgium’s Palace of Laeken, she at least wasn’t alone with her new and much-disliked husband, as it was also the home of his father and two younger siblings.

Still, she intended to keep her independence—even in her unfortunate situation.

It seemed that the Belgian royal family wasn’t ignorant of how both Marie and Leopold felt about each other, and so had no issue with giving them as much space as possible. This meant that Marie received her own household, residing there with the comtesse de Mérode, who previously served Leopold’s late mother as her principal lady-in-waiting.

Thankfully, Marie was able to find someone there she didn’t absolutely despise.

Prince Leopold’s mother had passed a few years prior, so the only other royal family members around Marie Henriette were male, such as the King—whom she already disliked—and the younger prince, Phillipe. However, this was with the notable exception of Leopold’s younger sister, Charlotte, and since Marie herself was still only 17, the two got along famously.

Not to mention, she otherwise had everything she could ask for.

Despite being far away from her home and family, and forced into a marriage she wanted no part of, Marie wasn’t going to let her situation stop her from doing the things she loved. During this time, she began engaging the arts more and more, developing a love for painting, training her voice, and learning to play the harp and piano.

Even aside from these hobbies, there was a passion much closer to her heart that she managed to indulge in.

Throwing herself into anything that might take her mind off the royal family she had loathed to join, Marie especially found a passion for animals, eventually owning a sizeable menagerie. While these included more mundane pets, such as fish and dogs, she also owned several exotic animals, like monkeys and parrots.

However, there was one creature she loved above all others.

Since her days in Hungary, Marie Henriette had felt a profound love for horses and spent much of her childhood out riding for hours on end. Even now that she was older and in another country, she insisted on having her own stable of Hungarian horses. This made her stand out even more in contemporary society, as she tended to her horses and oversaw their breeding herself, which was unheard of for women of royalty.

That wasn’t the only thing that made her unusual to the rest of Belgium.

While Marie enjoyed riding in general, one specific place she loved to visit was Beverloo Camp in eastern Belgium, so much so that she even named her horse Beverloo. This was because she had become especially interested in the intricate workings of Belgium’s army, another uncommon aspect among royal women at the time.

Still, she couldn’t avoid her duties as Duchess forever.

Claiming that some time away from the palace might help both of their well-being, Leopold suggested to Marie that they travel together somewhere far off and sunny. She agreed, and in 1855, they embarked on a lengthy tour, visiting Greece, Egypt, and even the Paris Exposition.

As it turned out, however, this wasn’t the relaxing vacation either expected.

Others may have thought that Marie Henriette and Leopold would eventually overcome their differences and get along, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Traveling can bring out the worst in people, and their trip only served to highlight the things they hated about each other. Marie continued to be energetic with a desire to see and try new things, but Leopold remained a more reserved and solemn person, causing no shortage of disagreements.

These issues weren’t behind closed doors either—and were perfect for gossip.

Since they had protested their marriage from the very beginning, both Marie and Leopold were unwilling to pretend in any way that they were a happy couple. As such, it was easy for any of the nobles who met them to see how unpleasant their match was. In fact, the socialite Pauline de Metternich once compared their relationship to one “between a stable boy and a nun,” clarifying that Leopold was the nun in this scenario.

She wasn’t the only one who spoke about them—and there were more personal accounts.

Marie Henriette and Leopold wanted little to do with each other, but in Marie’s case, this manifested in her spending as much time as she could away from her husband. Leopold wasn’t as indifferent, and according to their daughter, Princess Louise, he could be downright cruel. As she wrote in her memoirs, “I cannot recall a single act of kindness or tenderness on his part towards my mother that I especially noticed in my youth”.

Having a front row seat to their dysfunction, she had much more to say.

Marie may have become invested in Belgium's militaristic goals, but that didn’t mean she kept up with the day-to-day dealings of the country’s politics. This also came up in Princess Louise’s memoirs, as she distinctly recalled her mother having no involvement in Leopold’s politics, likely because it would mean having to work with him more. 

To be fair, this wasn’t to say that she never had an opinion on his decisions.

One issue that Marie seemed to be more vocal about was Leopold’s plans to colonize the Congo in Central Africa, and it wasn’t out of respect or admiration. In her view, she couldn’t understand why Leopold continued the endeavor, seeing it as an impractical waste of time and even comparing it to the failed Mexican Empire.

At the same time, at least one person saw her situation in a positive light.

Receiving a visit from her cousin, Archduke Maximilian, in 1856, Marie Henriette was at an even worse place in her and Leopold’s relationship than when they first married. This wasn’t how Maximillian saw it, though, and he wrote that her superior intelligence and vibrant attitude were a much-needed addition to the comparatively austere Belgian royal family.

Unfortunately, the couple soon had something else that drove them further apart.

It wasn’t until 1858 that Marie and Leopold welcomed their first child, but to the Prince and his family, this was no cause for celebration. They had been hoping for an immediate heir to the throne, but Marie instead gave birth to Princess Louise, only frustrating her already miserable husband.

Suddenly, he wanted to be around her even less than before.

Leopold’s disappointment with Marie Henriette lessened a bit by the following year when they welcomed their son, also named Leopold, and he finally had his heir. Still, this didn’t stop him from leaving again in 1860 and 1864 on trips to aid his health, both times abandoning Marie to care for their children at home. To make matters worse, she endured two more pregnancies, both of which he just happened to miss while on these trips.

Nonetheless, the time came when they had to perform their duties together.

Despite wanting almost nothing to do with each other, Marie and Leopold had to at least appear as a royal couple when, in 1865, his father passed. According to records, although she may have resented him at one point, Marie was the one holding the King’s hand in his last moments. Not long after, both she and her husband stepped up and succeeded to the throne as Queen Marie Henriette and King Leopold II.

Even at this point, though, he couldn’t stop himself from humiliating her.

Seeing as Marie Henriette was taking the throne as Queen just as much as Leopold was succeeding as King, it would have been customary for her to participate in the coronation. However, the nature of their relationship complicated this, and when questioned, Leopold decided not to involve her. Instead, he ordered that she would simply sit with the rest of the spectators as he received the crown.

As a result, they became little more than strangers to each other.

As they had just become Belgium’s new monarchs, Marie and Leopold felt it necessary to live together as husband and wife, which they did for a shocking seven years. This didn’t mean their relationship had improved at all, but they weren’t even fighting all that much, only becoming colder and more distant from each other.

Luckily, she had a lively social life to get her out of the house.

Since Marie enjoyed doing most things away from the King and outside of the palace, she had cultivated a strong circle of friends that she often escaped to. While she loved many forms of art, she and her friends had a special fondness for theatre, and frequently used the royal box at the Royal Theatre of La Monnaie.

Unfortunately, one of the first friends she made in Belgium soon found themselves in quite the crisis.

Marie’s sister-in-law, Charlotte, had already gone through her own marriage by this point, but found herself in a serious predicament in 1867. Declared mentally unstable by her own in-laws, Charlotte ended up incarcerated, and Leopold wasn’t happy about it. Due to the friendship between his sister and his wife, the King tasked Marie with working out Charlotte’s release into their care.

Being a force in her own right, Marie wouldn’t take no for an answer.

It’s probably best that Marie Henriette went to negotiate Charlotte’s release instead of Leopold, since between the two of them, she was said to be the much more charming and practical one. Traveling to Vienna, they spent the next two weeks trying to secure her sister-in-law’s freedom, at the end of which she successfully returned to Belgium with Charlotte in tow.

Still, Marie didn’t stop there in helping her sister-in-law get better.

Rather than lock the reportedly unstable Charlotte up in a Belgian facility, both Leopold and Marie preferred to keep her close and allowed her to stay in the palace with them. Furthermore, Marie dedicated all of her energy to helping her recover, and allegedly rarely left her side.

Sadly, her compassion would only go so far.

Under the constant and loving attention of her sister-in-law, Charlotte seemed to be improving, and Marie thought she might make a full recovery. Unfortunately, even the care of Marie wouldn’t be enough, and Charlotte’s state of mind began to deteriorate again. Marie tried to stay sympathetic, but eventually couldn’t see any other option than to send her away in 1869.

However, she and the King were in for something much more horrific.

1869 was a horrible year for the royal couple, as, beyond having to send Charlotte away again, an unspeakable tragedy struck their family. Their only son, Prince Leopold—still only nine years old at the time—passed after falling into a pond and contracting pneumonia shortly after. Although Leopold mourned quite publicly, Marie chose to retreat into solitude, taking long trips back to Hungary and Switzerland.

As for the rest of Marie’s children, they barely knew her anymore.

Following the loss of her only son, Marie could hardly bear to look at her other children, and soon became just as detached from them as she was from the King. Instead, several tutors and governesses took Marie’s place as their caretakers, and reportedly were nothing but cruel towards the children, while the Queen remained either ignorant or seemingly approving of their methods.

Meanwhile, she and Leopold had to put their differences aside at least one more time.

Still reeling from the terrible loss, and now desperate for a new heir, Leopold urged Marie to try again for another son. The Queen became pregnant once again, but when she gave birth in 1872, it turned out to be another daughter—whom they named Clementine. Adding to their ever-growing rift, this caused both Marie and Leopold to live separately till the end of their days.

Just as before, she occupied herself with more important matters than pleasing the King.

Although Marie largely tried to stay out of Belgium’s politics, she still had a place in her heart for helping those in need, which became especially evident in the 1870s. Leopold may not have had involvement in the Franco-Prussian conflict, but that didn’t stop Marie from helping any foreign servicemen who came to Belgium seeking medical aid.

Even when things became ugly, she wouldn’t back down.

In her efforts to help as many wounded servicemen as possible, Marie not only transformed the palace in Brussels into an army hospital, but also got to work patching up men herself. Even beyond the conflict, she helped to treat those suffering from smallpox in Brussels during the 1871 epidemic.

This kind of selfless act from a monarch did not go unnoticed, even in her time.

At this point in their relationship, Leopold could hardly be bothered with most of what Marie got up to, and likely said very little about her efforts to help those in need. Luckily, others were more eager to recognize them, leading King John I of Saxony to grant her the Sidonie Order as a reward for her stunning generosity.

At the same time, Marie was able to retreat to a much more familiar comfort.

While Marie had taken a backseat to parenthood, she became far more invested in who her daughters might marry. Wanting dynastic matches for them specifically, she was more than pleased when her second-oldest, Stephanie, married the Austrian crown prince. However, she likely favored Louise’s marriage to Prince Philipp of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha—a Major in the Hungarian army—since it allowed her a reason to visit her homeland regularly.

Tragically, not all of her children’s relationships would work out.

Both Marie and Leopold were greatly pleased with Stephanie’s marriage to Prince Rudolf of Austria, but in a staggering turn of events, the relationship fared even worse than their own. Known as the Mayerling incident, both Rudolf and his mistress went to the Imperial hunting lodge in 1889 and took their own lives. Marie and Leopold were so distraught that, despite the Austrian Emperor banning them from entry, they still showed up at the funeral.

In another cruel twist, though, this wasn’t the end to their misery.

Princess Clementine’s birth had largely been a disappointment to Leopold, but both he and Marie saw a potential new heir in his nephew, the Crown Prince of Belgium, so long as Clementine married him. However, these hopes were also utterly destroyed when the Crown Prince then perished in 1891.

Following this, Leopold put the final nail in the coffin of their marriage.

The King and Queen had been living in an uneasy tolerance of each other, but after losing a chance at another heir, Leopold couldn’t contain his rage and uttered his most horrendous insult yet. He blamed Marie for their son’s passing, and although she had put up with his cold demeanor before this and even his many affairs, this was way too far. From then on, apart from public appearances as monarchs, she had absolutely nothing to do with him.

As a result, she made herself increasingly scarce as the years passed.

Marie’s role as Queen had become mostly symbolic, but even then, she often felt claustrophobic from being cooped up in the palace all the time. Taking a note from her husband’s travels while she was pregnant, Marie started taking trips to the city of Spa. Enjoying the relaxing and healing atmosphere of the region, Marie had longer and more frequent stays there, while Princess Clementine represented her back home.

As it turned out, this was the best decision she could have made.

Even beyond the features in Spa that drew in many visitors seeking rest and rejuvenation, Marie experienced a special bond with the area that she hadn’t felt since her childhood. Walking through the region and being so far away from her problems, she felt as if she were back in Hungary, before everything went wrong.

Meanwhile, someone had to pick up the slack in her absence.

Understandably, Marie loved being in Spa so much that in 1895, she decided to move there permanently—but this posed a bit of an issue. While in many ways, she was a Queen in name alone, she still had several ceremonial duties as first lady at the Court in Brussels. Still, she had made up her mind, and since Clementine had already been doing much of her mother’s work for her, she officially took the position as well.

This was a wise decision, as Marie clearly had no intention of returning.

Some of Marie’s family or others in court may have believed she was just taking a long vacation and would eventually resume her place beside the King. However, anyone under this delusion would have had a rude awakening when, as a final act of separation from Leopold, Marie purchased the Hôtel du Midi as her residence in Spa.

This was the closest she would get to her fairy tale ending.

Marie’s love for horses hadn’t diminished over the years, and in fact, had grown even stronger now that she had even more freedom to do what she wanted. She often visited the horse races in the area, installed eighteen horses near her residence, and truly was the most content she had been since before her father passed.

All the while, she continued to help however she could—from the comfort of Spa, of course.

While Clementine had taken over most of the responsibilities that Marie found particularly boring, she left her mother several other duties she could see to while still living in Spa. As Queen, some of these meant entertaining foreign nobles, but Marie mostly concerned herself with charity work, protecting artists, and helping local schools. Due to her continued actions as ruler, the people started calling her the “Queen of Spa”.

On the flip side, Leopold hardly noticed that she had left in the first place.

Marie Henriette had the biggest decisions of her life made for her, landing her in a marriage where, ironically, her only thing in common with her husband was a hatred for each other. Still, that never stopped her from enjoying life, and although a heart attack took her in 1902, she perished a happy woman. Meanwhile, Leopold had long since been seeing his mistress, Caroline Delacroix, and married her in 1909—despite breaking Belgian law by doing so.

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John Joseph Edward Cassidy burst through the curtains on March 5, 1927, not actually far from Broadway in Richmond Hill, Queens, New York City. The youngest of five in a big Irish-German household, Cassidy grew up in the hum of city life—though it would take years before the world learned his name.

Cassidy’s father, William, earned his keep as a Long Island Rail Road engineer. His mother, Charlotte, had immigrated to the United States from Hamburg, Germany. Together, they tried to build a home that would serve as a solid foundation for their young brood.

Too much of the responsibility, however, fell on Cassidy.

Like countless other Depression-era kids, Cassidy’s childhood came with calluses from hard work. Instead of playing hopscotch, he spent his boyhood hustling odd jobs to help keep the family afloat. But it wasn’t all bad. He learned the rhythm of hard work long before he learned the rhythm of applause.

And he really understood hard work.

Before his name ever graced a marquee, Jack Cassidy had just about every job imaginable. But his early “credits” were not exactly glamorous. To help his family, he worked as a “bellhop, counterman, dishwasher, chauffeur, clothing salesman, postal clerk, hotel clerk, stable boy”…you name it.

His true calling, however, could not be ignored.

Cassidy’s first foray into showbiz came from the unlikeliest of places: the circus. His ex-vaudevillian contortionist uncle—appropriately named “Ben Dova”—saw something in the eager teen. Dova arranged auditions for the young Cassidy, knowing that he would become a star.

He just had to commit. Fully.

By 15, Cassidy’s passion for showbiz burned brighter than his report cards. Determined to pursue a life in entertainment, he left school behind, trading textbooks for show tunes. Under the guidance of voice coach Polly Robertson, he trained his baritone until it was Broadway-ready.

It wouldn’t be long before he used it.

Cassidy was clearly a natural. At just 16, he landed his first Broadway gig—but it wasn’t in the spotlight. Instead, he joined the chorus of Cole Porter’s “Something for the Boys” at the Alvin Theatre. Decades later, his association with Porter (more than 30 years his senior) would become scandalous.

Jack Cassidy—just a regular kid from Queens—quickly became a Broadway regular. From “Sadie Thompson” in 1944 to “Around the World” in 1946 and “Music in My Heart” in 1947, Cassidy built his career one chorus line at a time. But something—and someone—was about to change that.

While performing in “The Firebrand of Florence”, Cassidy met the actress and dancer Evelyn Ward. She was sophisticated, talented, and had the kind of sparkle that rivaled his own. Their chemistry wasn’t just theatrical—it was electric.

On June 28, 1948, Jack Cassidy and Ward tied the knot in a Broadway wedding worthy of an encore. Surrounded by theatre royalty, the couple began their own showstopping act, welcoming son David Bruce Cassidy just a few years later. The family that acted together, stayed together.

For a while.

By 1952, Cassidy’s Broadway resume and fame was growing faster than his family. He joined the cast of “South Pacific” at the Majestic Theatre, stepping into the role of Richard West. He proved that he was ready for bigger things—and much brighter spotlights.

Later that same year, Cassidy snagged his first lead role in “Wish You Were Here” at the Imperial Theatre. As Chick Miller, he charmed audiences in what would become a Tony-winning musical, and the critics took notice. Broadway had just found its newest golden boy.

Jack Cassidy followed up his spotlight debut with the role of Johnny O’Sullivan in “Sandhog”. The story, about Irish immigrants building New York’s tunnels, hit close to home for the Irish-German New Yorker, and his heartfelt performance earned rave reviews. It also revealed his most personal side yet.

In 1955, Jack Cassidy stepped away from Broadway and took his voice overseas on a State Department tour of “Oklahoma!”, taking the lead role as Curly. The trip introduced him to more than just different cultures. It was while touring with “Oklahoma!” that Cassidy met a stunning young actress named Shirley Jones.

And then everything changed.

Cassidy and Jones didn’t just share a stage while touring through Europe—they shared sparks. Their chemistry on the set of “Oklahoma!” (and off of it) was impossible to ignore. By the time the final curtain fell, they were more than co-stars. They were falling in love— and fast.

Cassidy’s connection with Jones was undeniable. But there was one obstacle in the way: his wife, Evelyn Ward. Feeling his heart pulled away towards his “Oklahoma!” co-star, Jones filed for divorce from Ward. He didn’t waste any time getting back into the character of the doting husband.

After divorcing Ward, Cassidy wasted no time making his next grand romantic gesture. During a 1956 production of “The Beggar’s Opera”, he asked Shirley Jones to marry him before the final curtain call. In between acts, Cassidy got down on one knee and popped the question.

Of course, she said yes, and on August 5, 1956, they became Broadway’s golden couple.

A second marriage didn’t slow Jack Cassidy down—it only brightened his spotlight. From “Shangri-La” in 1956 to “Wonderful Town” in 1958, he performed everywhere from New York City to the Brussels World’s Fair. He was starting an acting and entertainment dynasty of his own.

In 1958, Cassidy and Jones welcomed their first son, Shaun, who would later become a teen idol with even more fans than his father. Not to be outdone, four years later came Patrick—born while Jones filmed The Music Man. During one scene, an in-utero Patrick embraced his family’s flair for the dramatic, kicking his mother’s co-star mid-embrace.

Cassidy, it seemed, was the very image of wholesomeness.

Cassidy’s talents went far beyond the Broadway stage. In fact, he was a pioneer in other forms of entertainment. In 1962, he voiced Bob Cratchit in Mister Magoo’s Christmas Carol—the first-ever animated holiday TV special. His warm, resonant voice gave the beloved character a touch of theatrical magic.

Still, Broadway was where he shone brightest.

Cassidy reached his theatrical peak in 1963’s “She Loves Me”, playing the slick Steven Kodaly. His performance earned him both a Tony Award and a Grammy for the show’s cast album in 1964. The awards practically made him Broadway royalty—but he wasn’t done yet.

Jack Cassidy proved his staying power with “Fade Out – Fade In” in 1964, dazzling audiences as Byron Prong. The following year, his sharp comedic timing and musical magnetism earned him yet another Tony nomination. For Cassidy, Broadway’s spotlight seemed endless.

In 1966, Cassidy showed audiences his bad side. Taking the role of Max Mencken in “It’s a Bird…It’s a Plane…It’s Superman”, Cassidy portrayed a character driven to evil by his jealousy of Superman. But, clearly, he was good at being bad. Cassidy’s turn in the production scored him a Tony nod for Best Leading Actor.

Suddenly, the stage felt too small for him.

Following his string of Broadway successes, for nearly two years, Jack Cassidy traded footlights for floodlights in the CBS sitcom He & She. As the pompous, “buffonish” Oscar North, he became a parody of every overblown leading man he’d ever played—and earned an Emmy nomination for the privilege.

Hollywood couldn’t resist him.

By 1970, Cassidy was blazing across screens big and small. After impressing in The Andersonville Trial, he turned villainous once again in an episode of Columbo, “Murder by the Book,” playing the evildoer Ken Franklin. Directed by an as-yet unknown, 24-year-old Steven Spielberg, it became one of TV’s most celebrated debuts.

His critics took note.

With a string of Tony awards and nominations, Cassidy had conquered the stage—and the TV was next. For his transformative performance in The Andersonville Trial, Cassidy earned an Emmy nomination, making him one of the rare stars to successfully cross from stage to screen. By the mid-1970s, he had developed a niche unlike any other.

Whether on Broadway or television, Cassidy carved out an on-screen persona that few could hope to match. With his patented expressions and body language, he made arrogance look charming. His trademark style—urbane, confident, and delightfully egotistical—was so polished that it landed him the role of John Barrymore in WC Fields and Me (1976).

He was utterly irreplaceable.

One of Cassidy’s more memorable characters was the role of Hal Baxter—the brother of Ted Baxter—in The Mary Tyler Moore Show. His one-episode appearance showed just how effortlessly he could hog the spotlight and leave audiences yearning for more, even when playing second fiddle. Still, the role was something of a consolation prize.

Ironically, Cassidy could have had the spotlight of The Mary Tyler Moore Show all to himself. The showrunners had actually created the character of Ted Baxter specifically for Cassidy. In a rare misstep, Cassidy turned the role down, thinking that it wasn’t the right fit. Still, there was a show he was perfect for.

Cassidy couldn’t resist revisiting his dark side. In 1974, he reprised his role as a ne’er-do-well in the Columbo series. This time, portraying the role of publisher Riley Greenleaf in the episode “Publish or Perish,” Cassidy once again proved that he was very much in touch with his dark side. Too in touch, perhaps.

, Jack Cassidy’s son, made a shocking revelation in his 1994 autobiography, C’mon, Get Happy. In his reflections, the younger Cassidy revealed how much his father’s behavior haunted him, saying that his moods had grown erratic and unpredictable. The truth is that the real drama was unfolding off-stage.

By the mid-1970s, Cassidy’s mental health had begun to deteriorate. In fact, his behavior had become so erratic that doctors diagnosed him with bipolar disorder. To make his situation worse, unbeknownst to many, Cassidy struggled with addiction to the bottle. There were, however, clear signs that he wasn’t all there.

One afternoon in 1974, Cassidy put on a show for his Los Angeles neighbors—though, not quite the show they were accustomed to. In broad daylight, Cassidy stepped out of his home and began watering his front lawn—in his birthday suit. The sight made headlines and confirmed what insiders already feared: something inside Jack Cassidy had snapped.

Years later, Cassidy’s wife, Jones, described similarly odd scenes at home. Once, she found Cassidy sitting in a corner, calmly reading a book…without any clothes. The most shocking thing is that that episode wasn’t even the most troubling in the drama of Cassidy’s unfolding personal life.

During one of Cassidy’s more confusing manic episodes, Jones tried to coax him into getting ready for a show. Cassidy, serene as ever, looked up from his book, and replied, “I know now that I’m Christ”. It was the chilling moment Jones realized how far gone he truly was—and that she couldn’t help him alone.

By late 1974, Cassidy’s mental collapse had reached a breaking point. After another alarming episode, he was admitted to a psychiatric facility for two full days. It was only then that Jones learned the full truth of her husband’s bipolar disorder diagnosis. That may have been the moment she knew that she couldn’t help him.

Cassidy’s mental health struggles were more than Jones could bear. By May 1975, the couple decided that the best thing for both of them was to go their separate ways. Their divorce marked the end of Broadway’s golden couple—and the beginning of a dangerous chapter for Cassidy.

Even as his private life crumbled, Cassidy kept working. It might have been the only thing keeping sane—and he had almost never been better. Shortly after his divorce, he co-starred in Clint Eastwood’s thriller The Eiger Sanction, playing a sly informer named Miles Mellough. The role suited him—a charming deceiver with too many secrets of his own.

In 1976, Cassidy returned to Columbo for a third time, this time as The Great Santini in “Now You See Him…”. His malicious magician character dazzled fans and put him among an elite few—actors who played multiple evildoers on the celebrated series.

No matter how bright his spotlight, however, he kept something hidden in the dark.

After his passing, Cassidy’s son, David Cassidy, revealed that his father had been hiding a big secret. Jack Cassidy, the beloved theater and TV star, he claimed, was bisexual. The stories of Cassidy’s affairs had, until then, only been whispered about in showbiz circles—but to his children, it was news from beyond the grave.

And there was more to it.

In her 2013 memoir Shirley Jones: A Memoir, Jones confirmed what Cassidy’s son had stated: that her husband had had numerous affairs. The most scandalous, however, was the revelation that Cassidy had, allegedly, had an affair with the composer Cole Porter—a man almost 40 years his senior.

It was still slightly more complicated than that.

Jones went on to explain her late-husband’s romantic life, saying, “Well, Jack was…he did it with men and women. He had an affair with Cole Porter and he told me about all this. I was very aware of it. But he loved women!” For all his contradictions, Cassidy had no illusions about who he was.

Following his second divorce, Cassidy was living alone. He occupied a Hollywood penthouse that spanned the entire top floor of the building, ringed with balconies overlooking the city that had made him famous. But isolation and excess rarely mix well.

On December 11, 1976, Cassidy phoned his ex-wife, Shirley Jones, to invite her over for drinks. It’s not clear what his intentions were, because Jones declined the offer, thinking little of it. But that small, seemingly harmless decision would haunt her for the rest of her life.

That evening, instead of reminiscing with his ex-wife, Cassidy dined at a local Italian restaurant before barhopping across West Hollywood. By the time he returned to his penthouse, he was alone—and not exactly sober. No one could have known it would be his last night.

Alone in his penthouse, Cassidy reclined into his couch and lit a smoke to take the edge off. Sadly, it worked too well. Between the hooch and the smoke, Cassidy drifted off to sleep, letting the coffin nail slip from his hand. In an instant, his sofa was engulfed in flames—and moments later, so was his apartment.

By the early dawn the following morning, Cassidy’s apartment was a raging inferno. The conflagration caught the attention of Deputy Sheriff John DiMatteo, who immediately began evacuating the building’s other residents to safety. There was just one person unaccounted for: Jack Cassidy.

Authorities discovered a “charred body, burned beyond recognition” right near the doorway. However, Cassidy’s car was missing, so his friends and family assumed—or desperately hoped—that he had simply absconded to Palm Springs, as he had been planning. When authorities learned that a friend had borrowed Cassidy’s car, they feared the worst.

The badly burned body found its way to the coroner who confirmed what everyone had feared. Through dental records and a gold signet ring engraved with the Cassidy family crest, authorities identified the body: it was Jack Cassidy. At just 49 years old, his star had burned out.

But he left a legacy of stardust behind.

After cremating the rest of his remains, Cassidy’s family scattered his ashes into the Pacific Ocean. But the shine of his star hadn’t truly faded. Cassidy’s sons, David, Shaun, and Patrick would all go on to glittering showbiz careers, owing their talents—and their success—to a father whose deepest, darkest secrets they had never truly known until it all went up in flames.

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It’s easy to say that Dorothy Dandridge was born to be a star. After all, her mother Ruby was a well-known actress and performer. Sadly, despite her family pedigree, the circumstances were against her from the very beginning. Well, that just meant that she’d have to become a fighter—and that’s exactly what she did.

The birth of a child is always a joyous event, but when Ruby Dandridge gave birth to Dorothy, she wasn’t in the best place of her life. Ruby had left Dorothy’s father just five months earlier, and had taken Dorothy’s older sister Vivian with her. She was now a single mother with two girls trying to make a showbiz career work. Ruby needed help—and soon enough, she found it.

When Dorothy was still just a little girl, Ruby began to push her to perform with her sister under the name “The Wonder Children.” She enlisted her friend Geneva Williams to help train them—but the pair were hiding a scandalous secret. Ruby and Geneva were actually lovers. Unfortunately for Dorothy and her sister, this relationship didn’t exactly instill a familial bond between them and Geneva.

While Ruby was busy with her own career, she left Geneva in charge of Dorothy and Vivian—and that was when Geneva’s dark side came out. She had a horrible temper, which she often took out on the girls, and her attempts to discipline the girls could get physical. On top of that, there was the fact that the girls rarely attended school due to their intensive touring schedule.

It wasn’t a typical childhood—and it was only going to get more unconventional.

By the time she was a teenager, Dorothy began getting small parts in films. Promoters at legendary clubs like the Apollo Theater and the Cotton Club were tripping all over themselves to book the Dandridge Sisters, as they were now called. At the Cotton Club, the pair met the Nicholas Brothers Dancing Team.

More specifically, Dorothy met and fell for teenaged dancing sensation Harold Nicholas. She was only 16—but this wasn’t just puppy love.

Dorothy fell head over heels for Harold Nicholas, but she had to make a heartbreaking decision. Fame and success were beckoning—and she had to answer the call. The Dandridge Sisters set off for a long European tour, and Dorothy said goodbye to Harold. However, they were all in for a major surprise…

It turns out that setting off for a European tour right then and there wasn’t exactly the best timing in the world. The Dandridge Sisters were in London during the Blitz, and had to take shelter with hundreds of strangers and wait out terrifying nights of noise and destruction. Ultimately, they cut the tour short and made a hasty escape back to the US, reuniting Dorothy with Harold Nicholas.

With that combination of success and young love, Dorothy was glowing with confidence—and ready to take her next steps.

Dorothy Dandridge was set on getting some independence. She began to drift away from her sister and concentrate on getting movie roles. And, although it sounds counterintuitive, marriage was one of the best ways for a girl to get out from under her family’s thumb back in those days, so she tied the knot with Harold Nichols in 1942.

It was a big change—but she was in for some even more unexpected surprises.

Hollywood was producing very few films with rewarding parts for Black actors, but there was a whole other film industry running alongside it—much of which has sadly been lost to time. These were films for Black audiences featuring Black actors, who got credit for their work. Dandridge appeared in one, Four Shall Die, but it was a flop.

And even if it had been a success, it wouldn’t have been enough. She wanted a starring role and a contract with a big studio—and she wasn’t willing to compromise.

On the surface, Dorothy’s marriage to Harold Nicholas seemed like a dream come true—teen sweethearts who lived happily ever after. But behind the scenes, it was a nightmare. Soon after they tied the knot, Harold began to treat Dorothy coldly, and his eye began to wander. In fact, it did a lot more than wander.

If he hadn’t been her first love, maybe Dorothy would’ve had the confidence to kick Nicholas to the curb. Instead, she blamed his terrible treatment on herself, and her inexperience in the bedroom. They weathered through the first year of marriage, and for a moment, it looked like they might turn things around—until their same old problems came roaring back.

Early in 1943, Dorothy Dandridge found out that she was pregnant. She prepared for the new addition to their family and hoped that it would bring her and Harold Nicholas closer together. Sadly, she was in for a brutal surprise. When the time came for her to give birth, she wanted Harold to be at her side…but he was nowhere to be found.

Okay, to be more specific, he was somewhere to be found—at the golf course. When Dorothy began to suffer labor pains at her sister-in-law’s house, Harold was off with the car playing golf. Dorothy insisted on waiting for him there before she went to the hospital. Eventually, she went and gave birth to a daughter, Harolyn—but considering the circumstances of the birth, it was clear that a baby wasn’t enough to save this marriage.

Dorothy suffered through indignities day after day. Some came from her own home—her husband’s womanizing—while others came from the industry that she loved. She faced terrible racism, and her inability to break into mainstream Hollywood on her own terms stung. But those weren’t the only barrier that she had to face…

Dandridge wouldn’t settle for maid roles—and it finally paid off when she got the part of Melmendi, Queen of the Ashuba, in Tarzan’s Peril. It was a dream come true, but just as the film hit theaters, Dorothy found herself at the center of a racy controversy. Censors complained about the film’s “blunt sexuality” and her character’s revealing costumes.

Now, the film and her career were the ones in peril—but Dorothy just made it work for her.

There was so much ongoing coverage of Dorothy’s well, lack of coverage in Tarzan’s Peril that she soon became a household name. It landed her on the cover of Ebony magazine, which was a huge accomplishment. Her star was finally beginning to rise to match her ambition—but holding it all together was becoming increasingly difficult.

By the time she made the cover of Ebony, it looked like Dorothy Dandridge had it all—but she was actually hiding a devastating heartbreak. After years of unhappiness and cheating, Harold had finally abandoned her and their child. She eventually filed for divorce, and the courts finalized it in 1951. Afterward, Dorothy picked herself up, ready to open a new chapter—and boy, did she make a splash.

For years, Dorothy had been under the guidance of her mother, her mother’s lover, or her husband. Now, she was adrift. She could’ve fallen victim to any of the shady Svengali types stalking Hollywood at the time—but in this instance, fortune was in her favor. Dorothy began to work with pianist Phil Moore. Whether he knew it or not, he soon became part of what I like to call the Dorothy Dandridge Path To Stardom Plan.

Dorothy was definitely famous, but she still wanted more. Specifically, she wanted studio recognition and a starring role in a film. The smaller parts Dorothy was getting weren’t cutting it, so she changed her approach. With the help of Phil Moore, she took on a sultrier, sexy persona and booked nightclub gigs that would get her far more attention than any bit part.

It turned out to be a stroke of genius.

Since its opening in 1941, the Mocambo was the hotspot in Hollywood—and what better place to capture the attention of Hollywood bigwigs? After putting together an act with Phil Moore, Dorothy opened at the nightclub in May of 1951 and quickly caught the eyes of all the right people. She was such a hit that gigs at other legendary clubs all over the world followed—not that they were all as fun as they seemed.

During her nightclub performances, Dorothy Dandridge wore sparkling gowns and enchanted audiences with her every word. But when the stage lights came down, what she faced was as heartbreaking as it was ugly. Dorothy was performing in segregated venues. That meant that she wasn’t allowed to address anyone in the audience, or use any common areas of the hotel—be it the lobby, the elevator, or even the bathrooms.

While white stars used a fully decked-out dressing room, Dorothy—the star of the freaking show—had to use a storage closet. Facing the duality of those experiences performing soon took its toll.

Her name was up in lights and the white audiences she performed for clamored for her—but the indignities that she had to go through backstage simultaneously confounded her, broke her heart, and made her angry (me too, Dorothy). To dull the pain, she took the sad path of so many artists before her, and turned to pills and booze.

Still, she was so focused on her career that she was able to keep it all under control—but as we’ll see, that wouldn’t always be the case.

A little cocktail wasn’t the only thing that Dorothy used to mend her broken heart. She had plenty of famous fans, but when Peter Lawford came to see her show in Vegas with friends, he stood out. After her experience during WWII, she had a soft spot for an English accent—and Lawford had that, and charm to spare. The two quickly struck up a romance…but as you can imagine, they faced their fair share of difficulty.

As they spent more time with each other and their bond deepened, Dandridge and Lawford had to face a heartbreaking truth. They were absolutely in love, but the happy little bubble they were living in couldn’t last forever. While they could trust close friends like Gary Cooper, they knew that there would be a media firestorm if they ever were to take their relationship public.

Still, Dandridge held out hope.

In the back of her mind, Dandridge held out hope that Lawford would come out and ask her to marry him. But at the same time, she was realistic. They sat down and talked it out, only to come to a terribly sad conclusion. Continuing the relationship would only hurt, if not outright destroy, each of their careers, and they broke things off.

But, as we’ll see, some love stories never end.

Despite the fact that she’d met Lawford in Vegas, Dorothy Dandridge hated the place. Sure, the gigs were lucrative—but the men were absolutely horrible. Still, she couldn’t say no to a paycheck or a chance to make connections. One night, a faceless flunky invited her to a party that studio exec Harry Cohn was throwing after one of her shows.

It seemed like a great opportunity—but she was in for a disturbing surprise.

When Dandridge showed up for the “party,” she was irked to find that it wasn’t a party at all. Instead, she found herself stuck alone in a hotel room with Cohn, a man known as much for his predatory behavior as his Hollywood bona fides. He started to talk about all the ways he could help her career. She knew exactly what he was doing and what he expected. Well, she had a surprise for him too.

Dandridge got up and walked out. It could’ve been the end of her career—but luckily, she had friends to count on.

It was after yet another show in Vegas that Dandridge met a new fan—blonde bombshell actress Marie Wilson. Within minutes, they were friends. Within minutes of that, Wilson was dragging an editor for Life magazine backstage to meet Dandridge. Whatever opportunities had been lost rejecting Cohn were more than made up with her subsequent photo spread in Life.

This time, they caught the attention of the right people.

It was around this time that Dorothy’s press agent came up with a great idea—but it wasn’t about her career. No, she came calling because Dorothy was the most beautiful woman she knew. In fact, her stunning looks were only matched by another one of her clients, Harry Belafonte. She put two and two together—or really, one and one—and suggested they meet.

Sparks immediately flew…but there was just one problem.

At the time, Belafonte was technically still married to his first wife. Still, by Dandridge’s standards, it was going a-okay for a low-key affair. When the cracks began to show…it was in a seriously hilarious way. Both Dandridge and Belafonte were hugely into psychoanalysis, and this shared passion soon turned every instance of bickering into a barrage of therapist’s lingo like “boundaries,” “dependence,” and “castration complex.”

They ended their romance—but their professional partnership was actually just beginning.

In 1953, Dorothy finally got the part she’d been waiting her whole life for—a starring role in an MGM film, Bright Road. And she wasn’t playing a “mammy” or some exoticized vixen part. Dandridge was going to play a new teacher struggling to reach a troubled student. And in the role of school principal? None other than Harry Belafonte.

It was the beginning of a beautiful partnership—and the best was to come.

Meanwhile, director Otto Preminger was making a highly-anticipated film adaptation of the opera Carmen. He was also in a seriously rebellious mood. Preminger had tangled with Hollywood censors and was ready to knock them off their feet. On top of that, he believed that there was a whole stable of talented Black actors out there who weren’t getting the starring roles they deserved.

Obviously, this was exactly the type of man who could take Dandridge into “superstar” territory. But first, she had to convince him.

After her buttoned-up role in Bright Road, Preminger thought that Dandridge might be too refined for the lead role in his film. If there’s one reason to wish for another Dandridge biopic, it’s for the potential of a makeover montage right here. To convince Preminger that she was right for the part, Dandridge mussed up her hair, pulled down her shirt, and smeared her eyeliner.

And, well…it had the desired effect.

This was basically the most desirable starring role for a Black woman that Hollywood had ever come up with. Dorothy was thrilled, as was Preminger, so he made an announcement about it all. When it came to her career, Dorothy had never hesitated before—but at that moment, she panicked. The pressure was immense, and she worried that her performance wouldn’t live up to the film’s potential.

Her agent called Preminger and told him she was out—and now, it was his time to panic.

Preminger rushed to Dandridge’s apartment to tell her that she couldn’t back out, and that he had every confidence in her ability. Eventually, he talked her off that ledge—but that wasn’t the only thing that happened that night. With the issue of the film settled, the conversation took a turn, and before long, Dandridge and her director were locked in a steamy embrace.

And it wasn’t just a one-night stand, either.

Dandridge and Preminger kept the flame going throughout the filming and release of Carmen Jones—despite the fact that Preminger was married. And they didn’t exactly hide their romance, either. Luckily, their not-so-conventional relationship didn’t interfere with the film or its publicity. It was a massive success when it came out, and when asked why, people could only utter one name: Dorothy Dandridge.

Carmen Jones didn’t only exceed expectations. It made history…and so did its star. Dandridge became the first Black woman to make the cover of Life magazine—but that was just the start. She finally got her coveted studio deal, three films starting at $75,000 each. And then, there was the cherry on top of it all.

The Academy nominated Dorothy Dandridge for Best Actress, making her the first Black actor to be nominated in a leading role. It was an incredible accomplishment—and as the big night approached, the pressure was on.

The competition was fierce on the night of the 27th Academy Awards. Dandridge was up against Jane Wyman, Audrey Hepburn, , and Judy Garland. Ultimately, she lost to Kelly—but one thing is for sure: Dandridge’s livewire performance has withstood the test of time. Despite her loss, it still seemed like Dandridge was on top of the world.

But, as we all know, appearances can be deceiving.

Preminger may have directed Dandridge to great success in Carmen Jones—but their professional victory hid fact that the director had a disturbing dark side. On set, he was so temperamental and tyrannical that actors nicknamed him “Otto the Terrible” and “Otto the Ogre.” Sadly, this behavior extended to his personal life—meaning that Dandridge was in the line of fire 24/7. But Otto the Ogre was just one of the many problems that popped up after her Oscar nomination.

Dorothy had stayed close with her sister Vivian, and even brought her to the Oscars in 1955. But then, the next year, Vivian moved away and stopped taking calls from friends and family. Dorothy was especially distraught, and even hired a private detective to track her sister down. What they found provided more questions than answers.

Vivian had been working in the South of France and living in New York City, but there was no apparent reason for her strange behavior. Their relationship suffered greatly—and it wasn’t the only one.

Otto Preminger had helped lead Dorothy Dandridge to great success with Carmen Jones, so it’s no wonder that when it came time for her to make a follow-up film, she turned to him for guidance. Unfortunately, it was a dire mistake. Much like Dandridge, Preminger had high standards—but his might honestly have been too high.

Every time the studio approached her about a film, he told her to hold out for something better. Unfortunately, this is where her luck began running out.

The studio came to her with two roles in surefire hits. On top of that, one of them was a part where she would have been playing a slave. When Preminger got wind of it, he insisted that she only take leading roles. This unfortunately gave her the career-killing reputation of being “difficult.” They tried hard to find something for her that fit—but as they struggled, she began to lose momentum.

Preminger’s exacting behavior wasn’t the only issue in their relationship. In 1955, Dandridge found out that she was pregnant with the director’s child. It should’ve been happy news—but both Preminger and the studio were horrified. They insisted that she terminate the pregnancy, which she did. It also forced her to face the fact that Preminger had no intention of leaving his wife for her.

Just like in her situation with Lawford, there was the understanding that an interracial relationship would be a career destroyer.

Sure, an affair with a married director was scandalous—but for Dandridge, the worst scandal was yet to come. At the height of her fame, Confidential magazine published a story titled “What Dorothy Dandridge Did in the Woods.” It detailed an alleged encounter between her and a white bandleader that had taken place in 1950.

Dandridge was furious—and she wasn’t about to take the defamatory accusation sitting down.

In 1957, Dandridge became part of a landmark case when she sued Confidential and its parent company for libel. While she settled for $10,000, her quest for vengeance didn’t stop there. Dandridge also testified in a criminal trial against them, and outlined how it would have been impossible for her to sneak off with a bandleader since segregation laws made it so that she couldn’t leave her hotel room.

It was her evidence that helped prove that Confidential had committed libel. It seems like a small victory, but it actually changed the way that gossip papers operated in Hollywood.

1957 saw another triumph for Dorothy Dandridge, as she returned to the screen in Island in the Sun, following a three-year absence. It was a win, but a restrained one. While the film did take the risk of portraying an interracial relationship, the censors took out almost every love scene. Plus, while the movie was a huge success, it hadn’t been a starring role.

Other films came up, but they didn’t have the cachet that Dandridge wanted. She would have to wait two more years for that.

The film adaptation of Porgy and Bess was hot property in Hollywood—at least for producers. However, when it came to casting, the reaction was cold as ice. Black actors just weren’t interested in it, thanks to the negative portrayal of its Black characters. Samuel Goldwyn had to offer Sidney Poitier $75,000 and then threaten him with breach of contract to do it.

With Dandridge, he just had good timing. She hadn’t starred in a film since Carmen Jones. Despite her disinterest in the movie, she agreed to play Bess—but she was in for a surprise.

Dandridge had recently ended her affair with Preminger, and hoped that the film would provide a distraction from her heartbreak. Well, when Goldwyn came into conflict with the original director of the film, guess who he chose as a replacement? Otto Preminger. Immediately, he informed Dandridge that her performance wasn’t great and that she needed coaching.

Gee, what a guy. Too bad those two lovebirds broke up, right?

A big-budget film with an acclaimed director and co-star should’ve shot Dorothy Dandridge right back into superstardom—but the movie really was doomed from the start. It took a long time to make and cost a lot of money. On top of that, a fire destroyed the sets and costumes partway through production, and they all had to be replaced.

By the time it made it to screens, its fate was sealed. Porgy and Bess was a flop.

Dandridge’s next film appearance would sadly be her last. She took a break to get back on stage and make some money—but that break unintentionally turned permanent. Dandridge’s unhealthy relationship with Preminger had worn on her and she was more dependent on pills and booze than ever. As a result, her health was suffering.

It was like a terrible chain reaction—due to her poor health and substance issues, her performances were lackluster. Her popularity suffered, her debts grew…and the cycle repeated itself.

Dandridge had also fallen in love again, this time with a man named Jack Denison. After so many failed affairs with men who wouldn’t take any risks to be with her, it seemed like she was finally getting her fairy tale. In reality, it was actually a horror story. Denison was a bad guy. Not only was he violent, but he was also quite the shady character.

On top of that, Dandridge’s heartbreak over the end of her relationship with Preminger had left her an empty shell. Now that Denison had latched onto her, it looked like he was going to suck her dry.

All that Dandridge had left to support herself was her nightclub appearances—but Denison even took that from her. He wanted her to perform at his restaurant, but it wasn’t on the same level as the clubs she normally performed in. As a result, demand for her at those types of places disappeared. Dandridge had a nest egg—an oil investment—but even that blew up in her face.

It turned out to be a scam, and she was left absolutely broke.

Dorothy Dandridge tried to pull herself out of the hole she was in and doctors treated her for depression. Still, she struggled with substance misuse and her health was failing. On top of that, she was terrified of Denison. In the depths of it all, Dandridge tried to take her own life not once, but three times. Her family and friends were scared for her—but Dandridge was the only one who could save herself.

In the early 60s, Dorothy Dandridge gathered all the fight she had left in her, divorced Jack Denison, and made plans for a comeback. She started with some gigs in her least favorite city, Vegas, and then made plans to start acting again. This plan was boosted with some talk show appearances and even talk of a book.

It was on one of those TV shows where she made a shocking revelation.

On The Mike Douglas Show in 1963, Dorothy Dandridge made a heartbreaking admission, finally revealing the devastating secret she’d been keeping hidden for years. Her daughter, Harolyn, or Lynn, had been born with massive brain damage. Lynn couldn’t speak and didn’t have the capacity to recognize Dandridge as her mother.

She needed constant care, and Dandridge had long employed a caretaker, but never spoke about her daughter publicly until that day. And that’s not the saddest part.

On the day that Lynn was born, Dandridge had delayed going to the hospital because she’d wanted to wait for her husband to take her. Ultimately, because of the delayed birth, doctors had to use forceps on Lynn, and Dandridge believed that’s what had caused the brain damage. Whether it was legitimate or not, Dandridge carried the guilt over her daughter’s condition with her every day.

As her substance misuse got worse, friends and family speculated that the root cause was the guilt Dandridge felt. And when she lost her money, the situation got even worse.

Dandridge had spent 20 years working to make money so that she could properly take care of her daughter. But then, her investment blew up in her face and she found herself penniless. She had to move out of her home, as she could no longer afford it—and that's when her daughter’s caretaker showed up on her doorstep with Lynn and left her. Dandridge didn’t have the ability or means to take care of Lynn, and had to admit her to a state mental institution.

This brutal setback only left Dandridge more bereft. She hoped that her comeback would put her back in a financial place where she could get proper care for Lynn—but it wasn’t meant to be.

Dandridge was rehearsing for her tour when she injured her foot. It was bad enough that she had to cancel dates—and she once again lost momentum, just as she had after her starring turn in Carmen Jones. Heartbroken, Dandridge turned back to pills and booze, as she had so many times before. She still had one more chance—a gig in New York, and she seemed determined to get there.

Sadly, she never made it.

The night before Dandridge was going to go to New York, she made one final, bizarre phone call to a friend. What she said was utterly chilling. Dandridge apparently sang Barbra Streisand’s “People” in its entirety over the phone, then, right before she hung up, she whispered, “Whatever happens, I know you will understand.”

Her friend was perplexed and worried—and the next morning, that feeling only intensified.

Just a few hours later, Dandridge’s manager Earl Mills entered her apartment. He found her cold, unclothed, and unresponsive. Dandridge died on September 8, 1965. She was only 42 years old. No one knew what happened in her final hours. Friends and family hoped that an autopsy would help answer their desperate questions. Sadly, they were in for a disappointment.

There are conflicting stories about Dandridge’s cause of death. A pathology institute has argued that a misuse of imipramine (an antidepressant) caused it. However, the Los Angeles County Coroner’s Office had insisted the cause was a fat embolism, caused by the fateful injury on her right foot. The exact circumstances of her sudden, tragic demise remain a Hollywood mystery.

However, some of those who’d been closest to her came up with their own theories. They believed that her second husband, Jack Denison, had murdered her.

While her funeral was small, most (but not all) of Dorothy Dandridge’s nearest and dearest were there—including her lost love, Peter Lawford. Not only did he act as a pallbearer, but he was actually supposed to give a eulogy. And although he’d been briefly married in the intervening years, it quickly became clear that Lawford’s feelings for Dandridge had never dimmed.

Lawford actually became so upset at the memorial that he wasn’t able to speak.

Lawford wasn’t the only one who was incredibly distraught at Dandridge’s passing. After her sister Vivian’s short disappearance the decade before, Dorothy and her had never been able to repair their relationship. She’d occasionally sent her sister and nephew money. However, at the time of Dorothy's passing, they still weren't speaking. Vivian was so upset that she was unable to attend the funeral. After that, she retreated from the public eye forever.

Dorothy Dandridge passed in the 1960s, but it wasn’t until the 1980s that mainstream Hollywood acknowledged her contribution to the canon of Black history. In addition to Halle Berry, performers like Janet Jackson, Whitney Houston, and have all publicly acknowledged Dandridge’s groundwork in establishing a place for Black women in American film.

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Sources: 1, 2, , 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

Fredi Washington didn’t start with much. Born in the American South in 1903, her father worked as a postman, and her mother worked as a dancer. She grew up with several siblings, and as the oldest girl, she helped take care of her brothers and sisters. Unfortunately, an unexpected tragedy soon shattered the cozy family dynamic.

Washington’s mother passed unexpectedly when she was only 11 years old. With the family shaken, the best option was to send her and her younger sister away to school. They attended a catholic school in Pennsylvania. While they received a reasonably good education at the convent, things at home continued to get messy.

While Washington and her sister studied, her father struggled to pull himself together back at home. He remarried twice, and ended up adding another four siblings to the family. Washington, though, had much bigger hopes for her future. And surprisingly enough, unbearable challenges ultimately pushed her in the right direction. 

Washington’s family became part of the Great Migration of the 1900s. During this time, Black people from all over the South fled the prejudice and tension there to seek a better life in the North. This landed her in Harlem at just the right time, when art of all forms started bursting at the seams. That didn’t make her path easy, though.

Just a teen when she got to Harlem, Washington already had an affinity for entertainment. Unfortunately, finding work proved a challenge. She helped provide for herself and her family with menial positions, to include work at a dress shop and at a records company. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she made a play for a life of stardom.

In 1919, Washington began her first job in entertainment at the Alabam Club in Harlem. She worked as a chorus girl, which placed her in the background of shows, dancing and singing alongside several other girls. Many girls in that position could easily go unnoticed, but with her talent and beauty, she soon caught the attention of a huge star.

Josephine Baker found herself enthralled with Washington when she saw her perform in the early 1920s. Already a household name in entertainment, Baker plucked up the young dancer and placed her in a cabaret group called the “Happy Honeysuckles”. It marked the beginning of her career, one with as much tragedy as triumph.

Lee Shubert, a well-known theater producer, fell in love with Washington’s talent next. In 1926, he selected her for a major role in the broadway production Black Boy. A dazzler onstage, Washington quickly became well known for her skill and beauty. But backstage, the young starlet found herself distracted by a certain male co-star.

On stage, Washington played the lover of Paul Robeson, an emerging musician and actor. Behind the scenes, though, the two allegedly began a sort of on-again off-again relationship that would go on for several years. Both the tendency to fall for a co-star, as well as the type of role she played in this piece, later came back to haunt her.

In Black Boy, Washington’s looks proved essential to her character. Born to both mixed race parents, Washington had very light skin and green eyes. This made the role an easy one. Her character pretended to be white, only to be discovered as Black later on. In real life, though, her growing fame began to start quite a controversy about her appearance.

Shortly after her Black Boy debut, her name started to float around the media, and seemingly never without a mention of her supposedly beautiful European features. One newspaper even called her “astonishingly pretty for a real Negro girl”. Washington seemingly ignored this attention on her looks, for the time being, anyway. 

With her star on the rise, Washington took advantage of every opportunity to perform and entertain. She played a role in the critically acclaimed 1926 Broadway show Shuffle Along, then followed that up by traveling through Europe with her dance partner, Al Moiret. Even worlds away from the US, though, her supposed racial ambiguity plagued her. 

While in Europe, Washington caught the attention of an extremely wealthy man, Otto Khan. A champion of the arts, he felt impressed by her talent, and wanted to pay for further education in the arts for her. He held one requirement, though—that she pass for French. She turned him down, but an even better opportunity soon came her way.

Washington landed her first movie gig in 1929. She played a dancer in the short film, Black and Tan. While it didn’t hit it big in a traditional sense, it served as her first onscreen appearance, alongside a huge music star at the time, Duke Ellington. Even more than all that, though, it set the stage for another chaotic era in her love life. 

While playing his dying wife and lover on screen, Washington fell hard for Ellington in real life. And as it turns out, Ellington allegedly fell hard for her too. Reports of their steamy romance became well known among their communities, especially as her next career move put her in just the right place to keep kindling their flame.

After the film, Washington began touring with Ellington’s band as a dancer. As such, she continued spending copious amounts of time with the band’s leading man. Even in the midst of this love affair, though, the inequality in the country forced Washington into unique situations—some helpful, and some downright disgusting.

As she traveled with the band throughout the country, they often faced places where Black people weren't allowed to patronize. This often became Washington’s moment. During this tour, she reportedly passed as white to enter whites-only ice cream places and get sweet treats for her bandmates. And yet, the sweet often turned quickly sour. 

People often cajoled Washington, thinking her a white woman spending time with Black people. Reportedly, on one of these ice-cream trips, whites yelled ugly slurs at her as they discovered her handing out the ice cream to her bandmates. This didn’t deter her though. In fact, she didn’t seem deterred in many spaces, including her questionable love life.

Washington’s romance with Ellington became well-known gossip in the world of Black music. Ellington, however, already carried a reputation with women. According to several reports, he dated women everywhere he went. Some reports even claim he kept multiple women in the same hotel on occasion. That wasn’t even the worst of it, though.

At this point, Ellington’s behavior doesn’t seem much different than any young musician and eligible bachelor of our current time. But one major fact stood in the way of what otherwise might be considered the recklessness of youth. Ellington did all his dating as a married man, leaving his wife home to deal with the fall out. 

It seems Ellington’s relationship with Washington appeared more serious than his usual flings, though, and eventually pushed his wife to the edge. Reports claim she got so upset that she even attacked him when she heard the news about his favorite mistress. The whole thing forced Washington to make a challenging decision about their future. 

Washington ultimately decided to end their relationship. According to her, she realized they had no real future, as she didn’t believe Ellington would ever actually choose to marry her. She decided to move on with both her career and love life, though not necessarily in the most healthy way… 

Despite the breakup, Washington didn’t take any time off from building her future. She soon landed another starring Broadway role in The Emperor Jones. Her illustrious co-star? None other than the “ex," Robeson. Though that wasn’t the most scandalous part of the show. 

Production required Washington to cover her skin for this role, using makeup to make herself appear darker. They did so to ensure no one actually mistook her for a white woman playing the main love interest of a Black man. Mixed race relationships wouldn’t fly with white audiences of the time, but it didn’t just come down to opinion—it came down to literal law. 

During this time, anti-miscegenation laws remained the rule of the land across the United States. These laws didn’t permit interracial marriage, making it both unlawful and taboo to display those couples onstage. Prejudices aside, Washington played her role with the usual acclaim. But perhaps it didn’t do enough to help her forget, judging by what she did next. 

Not too long after officially ending things with Ellington, Washington took up with another member of his band, Lawrence Brown. They dated for a short time and got married in 1933. Seems like rather suspicious timing, all things considered. But perhaps the stability of marriage is just what she needed. The very next year, her stardom hit its peak. 

In 1934, Washington’s face finally graced major screens across the country as one of the stars of the movie Imitation of Life. In the film, she reprised a familiar role, playing a young Black woman who decides to pass as white in order to have a more luxurious life. While the movie remains a classic, at the time, it definitely rocked the boat.

While a Black woman on screen ruffled the feathers of the prejudiced, Black audiences didn’t totally love it either. Some of these audiences felt that Washington must behave like the character she played. They assumed she actually passed as white in real life. Washington responded with some fire…

Washington staunchly refuted these claims. According to her, she could never lower herself to doing such a thing, saying “you don’t have to be white to be good…I am a Negro and I am proud of it”. While this came as a comfort to many in the Black community, it eventually became a huge obstacle on her path to stardom and success. 

After her success with Imitation of Life, Washington found herself primed for another leading role. Unfortunately, the landscape of Hollywood didn’t offer much to an actress of her talent and appearance. Granted, Black actresses did have a “typical” place in Hollywood, but it didn’t look anything like Washington wanted or thought she deserved.

Most darker skinned female actresses in Hollywood played the same type of role. They depicted subservient women, often as maids or nannies. These roles didn’t fit her look, but they also held no appeal for her, as she’d already played more complex roles that piqued the interest of a variety of audiences. The flip side of things didn’t work in her favor either. 

Seeing her potential, many Hollywood executives encouraged her to just pass as white in order to further her career and get the type of roles she wanted. While risky, this option definitely held its own appeal, and held the power to grant her everything she dreamed of. Furthermore, she wouldn’t be the first (or last) to fake their way to the top.

Several other mixed race actresses of the time passed as white to preserve their careers in entertainment. Famous actresses like Merle Oberon and Rita Hayworth concealed their true ethnicities to keep their roles with white male leads. And at this point, perhaps you might wonder what the big deal was anyway. Why couldn’t she just “act” in a role she looked like?

While Washington’s background definitely included some European ancestry, many of her ancestors were undoubtedly Black. By the Jim Crow laws of the time, that meant that regardless of how she appeared, Washington was legally “Black”. Thus, she refused to sell out her community, regardless of what she had to give up.

With her decision about her race set in stone, Washington soon found herself pigeonholed into roles very similar to the one she played in Imitation of Life. What may be even worse, though, is that she became the poster child for a well-known stereotype, one seemingly trickling down from the days of slavery—the tragic mulatto. 

The stereotype of the tragic mulatto displays the same type of mixed race women in every story. She’s tormented by her divided identity, and supposedly punished for being beautiful but not white. As such, in 1937, she played a woman pretending to be the mother of a white baby in One Mile From Heaven. But perhaps she tired of this, judging by her next move. 

Washington continued to perform, appearing in another notable Broadway show, Mamba’s Daughters, with other notable Black performers. And yet, despite her flash of success and promise with Imitation of Life, she just couldn’t make the stardom stick. With acting opportunities drying up, she made a major shift in direction. 

Although she never shied away from supporting the plight of her community, Washington made a marked entry into activism as her entertainment opportunities waned. She seemed to figure that what she couldn’t achieve herself, she could ensure other talented performers could someday be able to. With that, she rallied the troops.

In 1937, Washington became one of the founding members of the Negro Actors Guild of America. Along with other marginalized actors (including her old flame, Paul Robeson) she formed this organization to aid actors who struggled with inequality as she did. Even helping to create that organization wasn’t enough, though. 

Washington also heavily involved herself with the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. With this organization, she branched out from working primarily in the Black performer rights space, working to improve conditions for her people everywhere. But even with all the work she did, she just couldn’t forget her passions. 

Washington found herself left with behind-the-scenes work. She used her years of experience and performing prowess to work as a stage consultant. She contributed her expertise to major productions like Porgy and Bess and Carmen Jones. But considering her next move, it didn’t hit quite the same. 

In the 1940s, Washington tried her hand at radio. She landed a role on the radio drama, Heroines in Bronze. This served her well for a short time, but even radio drama felt the effects of the country’s prejudice. With very few roles for Black women available on radio, she found herself forced to dig deeper, and finally let go of her starry dreams. 

Deprived of the acting roles she truly deserved, Washington focused more attention on using her words to make a difference. She spent several years working as an editor on The People’s Voice, a magazine made by and for the African American community. Unfortunately, her career didn’t turn out to be the only dream that fell apart. 

Washington’s marriage to Brown ended in divorce in 1948. Reports on the reason for the divorce remain sparse, though it seems it should take something serious to end fifteen years of marriage (whether or not she only married him to upset Ellington). Whatever the reason, Washington didn’t take too long to get back on the horse. 

Just a few years after the divorce, Washington married Hugh Anthony Bell in 1951. This time she took a very different approach to her life, marrying a dentist, her first well-known lover with zero connection to her industry. She spent her latter years with him quietly. And what of her thoughts on the career injustice deprived her of?

Even though her refusal to pass as white likely held her back from a star studded career, Washington never reneged on her commitment to fully be herself. In several interviews, she continued to strengthen her stance, and even said, “Why should I have to pass for anything…but an artist?” Even so, one final major slight soon came her way. 

A remake of Imitation of Life hit theaters in 1959. A movie remake isn’t anything unusual, but in this case, it likely caused at least a little stir. Instead of the role originally played by Washington being cast as a Black woman (as the part is written), production cast a white, half-Mexican actress. Go figure. Regardless, Washington eventually got her roses.

Although she’d left her entertainment career decades prior, the Black Filmmakers Hall of Fame thought it fit to induct Washington as one of its official honorees. They did so in 1975, forever placing her in the company of other Black entertainment greats like Sammy Davis Jr and Hattie McDaniel. They weren't the only ones to realize what the world missed.

Washington went on to receive several additional rewards in her later years. She received a lifetime achievement award from the Cultural Institute of Radical Contemporary Arts in 1979, and another honor from the Audience Development Company in 1981. She never got the fame she likely deserved, but her contributions to art didn’t stay without reward.

Washington lived to the ripe old age of 90. She passed in 1994 from complications related to pneumonia and strokes. We’ll never really know how big a star she could have been if she lived in a different time. However, her commitment to standing on her beliefs despite every reason not to is deeply impressive. And perhaps, all things considered, that is the greater reward. 

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Nobody knows exactly when Mansa Musa was born (or, more specifically, when he was minted like a $400 billion coin). However, some records suggest he was a young man by 1324. His father was named Faga Leye, and his mother may have been a woman named Kanku.

Regardless, he was definitely close to power.

Musa had royal Malian blood from day one. His father, Faga Leye, was the son of Abu Bakr, who was, himself, the brother of Sunjata, the legendary founder of the Mali Empire. That made Musa the great-nephew to the ruling family, so no one ever expected him to rise to power.

But rise, he would—and under curious circumstances.

Mansa Musa rose to power in the year 1312…or so we believe. Historical sources differ on when and how exactly Musa snagged his golden crown. What’s clear is that his path to the throne was unconventional—and, perhaps, not entirely above board.

According to Musa himself, his rise to power (and virtually limitless wealth) was entirely innocent. He claimed that his predecessor launched two massive expeditions into the Atlantic Ocean, the first voyage consisting of 200 ships, the second compromising 2,000. On the second voyage, the Mansa went personally, leaving Musa behind as acting ruler of the empire.

He wouldn’t be acting for long.

Musa gives a perfectly believable account of what happened next. He claimed that, when the reigning Mansa failed to return from his voyage asea, Musa officially took the crown. His ascension shifted power from Sunjata’s descendants to the branch of the royal family descended from Sunjata’s brother, Abu Bakr.

But there’s reason to believe something else happened. Something less…accidental.

Modern historians have cast doubt on Musa’s breezy, coincidental tale of ascension. Sure, he said he just stepped in when the last guy vanished at sea—but let’s be honest, that sounds suspiciously convenient.

Some scholars believe Musa didn’t just inherit power—he seized it. According to this version, the Atlantic voyage story was just a royal cover-up: a tidy way to explain away a less-than-legit transfer of power. After all, there was a vast fortune at stake.

Despite the skepticism, Musa’s account of a trans-Atlantic expedition gone horribly wrong isn’t entirely unbelievable. Some historians stick to Musa’s account of events—even if he had a glaring, gilded conflict of interest.

Regardless of how he came to power, Musa did ultimately become the ruler of the Mali Empire. By the time he ascended to the throne, he wasn’t some wise old king with a gray beard and a battle-worn crown. He was a young man—maybe even in his early twenties—when the empire landed in his lap. He had everything: youth, money, and power.

He just needed salvation.

Musa spent his first years as Mansa preparing for the greatest hajj the world had ever seen. Given the sheer magnitude of his hajj—and the legendary things he did along the way—historians believe he spent years orchestrating every gold-laden, camel-heavy, jaw-dropping detail.

In preparation for his extravagant hajj, Musa did something that would have made most religious clerics turn away in shame: he orchestrated slave raids in neighboring regions. Historian Michael Gomez estimates Mali captured over 6,000 slaves annually—many of whom would join the Mansa’s massive entourage on the road to Mecca.

In his early reign, slave raids weren't enough to satisfy Musa. He wanted to conquer new lands. In 1324, while in Cairo, he casually claimed to have conquered 24 cities. These brutal campaigns were largely against non-Muslim societies, suggesting Musa framed them as religiously motivated.

It was all for the gilded-glory of the Mali Empire.

Under Musa’s rule, the Mali Empire reached its zenith, stretching across the Sudan-Sahel region. With its staggering reach, the empire dominated gold routes, cultural centers, and trade outposts, giving Musa direct control over the immeasurable resources and wealth of West Africa.

But he still hadn't satisfied his thirst for more wealth yet.

When Musa took the throne, the Mali Empire had already subsumed much of the old Ghana Empire. His domain covered what we now call Mali, Guinea, Senegal, Mauritania, The Gambia, and more—a massive swath of gold-rich terrain.

However, his acts of conquest may have started at home.

According to the Tarikh al-fattash, Musa didn’t just have the blood of his enemies on his hands; he may have accidentally ended his own mother’s life. While the details of the event are murky at best, the incident, whatever it was, didn’t put a dampener on Musa’s much-anticipated hajj.

As a devout Muslim, Musa had spared no expense in preparing for his hajj—his sacred journey to Mecca. While most Muslims make the humble journey with what little they have, Musa turned the mandatory adventure into a continent-spanning spectacle. The journey catapulted his fame across North Africa and the Middle East, where tales of his generosity and gold spread like wildfire.

To Musa, the Islamic world wasn’t just a spiritual community—it was a cosmopolitan club of wealth, learning, and influence. And he wanted in. In embracing Islam, he sought not only salvation, but a seat at the cultural table of the Eastern Mediterranean. But he couldn’t exactly abandon his empire.

Before setting off on his glittering trek to Mecca, Musa made a practical move: he left his son Muhammad in charge of Mali. But while the empire was in good hands, Musa’s attention was focused on showing the world what Malian gold could buy. Namely, everything.

Musa’s hajj was no ordinary religious journey. Between 1324 and 1325, he traveled over 2,700 miles across Africa’s deserts and cities. The scale of this journey—and what he brought with him—left observers in awe.

Musa’s hajj looked more like a traveling empire than a group of wanderers. His caravan included more than 12,000 slaves dressed in “brocade and Yemeni silk”. Each one of them reportedly carried 4 pounds of solid gold bars. There were also “heralds dressed in silk” with “gold staffs”. And that wasn’t even half of it.

It’s a good thing Musa didn’t have to pay for overweight baggage; he was traveling with literal tons of gold. According to some estimates, he may have carried up to 18 tons of it during his journey to Mecca. In today’s money, that’s over $1.3 billion…just casually riding on camels across the desert.

All of that gold wasn’t just so Musa could show off his fabulous wealth. It also showed off his generosity. Musa personally supplied food and provisions for his entire entourage, including men, slaves, and animals. Every meal was on Musa. But the weight was on the poor camels.

Musa’s caravan included at least 80 camels—and they were carrying a lot more than just water. Each camel was reportedly loaded with between 50 to 300 pounds of gold dust. That’s the kind of “carry-on” airlines would never allow today.

Wherever Musa’s caravan passed, gold flowed like water down the Nile. All along his hajj, he gave gold and other riches to the poor with legendary generosity. Turns out, you can buy a lot of goodwill with more than a billion dollars in gold.

Most tourists are happy to walk away from their journeys with a souvenir shot glass. Of course, not Musa. In cities like Cairo and Medina, he splurged lavishly on souvenir shopping, picking up everything he could get his hands on. His extravagant spending sprees would come back to haunt him—and entire economies.

When he wasn’t busy giving away gold or spending it on trinkets, Musa was honoring the gods. According to legend, he built a mosque every single Friday during his journey. Whether true or exaggerated, it illustrates just how deeply he wanted to fuse faith with fortune.

Musa’s hajj would have been Instagram-worthy and Pinterest-perfect…if they had smartphones in the 14th century. When Musa’s caravan reached Cairo in July of 1324, they camped for three full days beside the Pyramids of Giza. Then, on July 19, they crossed the Nile—and Cairo would never forget it.

Once inside the city, Musa behaved like something of a “touron”. He met Mamluk sultan al-Nasir Muhammad, the Sultan expected him to bow. However, Musa, proud and devout, initially refused. After all, why should he bow to someone whose kingdom he could conquer a hundred times over?

Eventually, Musa realized that he was disrespecting his host and changed his tack. After some tense moments, Musa bowed before the Sultan. But he wanted to be clear about one thing: he was actually bowing before God, and God alone. That seemed to smooth things over—for the time being.

Despite the awkward start, Musa and al-Nasir got along surprisingly well. They exchanged lavish gifts and Musa spent freely during his time in the Egyptian capital. His generosity wasn’t just charity—it was diplomacy, public relations, and spectacle all at once.

And it paid off.

While in Cairo, Musa hobnobbed with the city’s elites. He stayed in the Qarafa district and struck up a friendship with the local governor, ibn Amir Hajib. The two reportedly spent hours in deep conversation, with Musa regaling the governor about his homeland beyond the desert and how laden with riches it was.

His time in Cairo became the stuff of myth.

Musa left quite the impression on Cairo. According to a traveler who arrived in the city shortly after Musa's departure, the Mansa’s hajj had been “a lavish display of power, wealth, and unprecedented by its size and pageantry”. But he didn't stop there. 

Even after leaving Cairo, Musa didn’t put his wallet away. In the final leg of his journey, on his way to Mecca, he continued his philanthropic spree, giving generously to the people of Medina and his fellow pilgrims. Whether it was PR or piety, Musa knew how to leave a lasting impression.

He believed there was enough wealth to go around.

While visiting the holiest site in Islam—the Masjid al-Haram in Mecca—Musa’s caravan nearly caused a holy fight to break out. Tensions flared between his men and a group of Turkic pilgrims with both sides drawing their swords. Luckily, Musa stepped in and diffused the conflict before it turned bloody.

But he wasn't out of danger yet.

After the hajj ended, Musa lingered in Mecca longer than most others. But when he finally began the journey home, disaster struck. Traveling separately from the official caravan, Musa and his entourage faced a gauntlet of hardships that nearly destroyed them. Gold couldn't protect him from everything.

By the time the weary travelers reached Suez, many of Musa’s men had succumbed to colds, starvation, or bandit raids. The once-glorious caravan was now a shadow of its former self. The worst part, however, was that Musa had, at last, run out of gold.

Inexplicably, the richest man in history ran out of money. Broke and battered from travel, Musa had to borrow gold from lenders at exorbitant rates and resell trinkets he’d picked up earlier on his trip just to stay afloat. Merchants like Siraj al-Din bailed him out—but even the Sultan of Egypt had to step in with some gilded charity of his own.

Unlike the Lannisters from Game of Thrones, Musa may not always have paid back his debts. Some sources say that Musa refused to pay back his creditors once he returned home. Other historians claim that he paid them back…but only partially. Either way, his grand return home came not with a roar, but with a painful lesson: even billionaires can go broke.

Musa, however, still had money to burn.

Back home (and reunited with the rest of his inexhaustible fortune), Musa channeled his wealth into construction. He funded countless mosques and madrasas across Mali, including the iconic Sankore Madrasah in Timbuktu. But these buildings were more than an extravagant display of wealth—they reshaped the region.

During Musa’s reign, he made it rain in Mali. Thanks to his investments, urban life flourished across the Mali Empire. According to scholar Sergio Domian, the region transformed from a desert (albeit a rich one) into a vibrant civilization with at least 400 cities dotting the Niger Delta alone. Gold paved the streets—and the foundations.

Throughout his hajj, Musa hadn’t just shown off his wealth—he had mythologized it. He reportedly spread tales that gold grew like plants in Mali. The rumor made his empire sound like a fairy tale, and ensured that his fame spread far beyond the Sahara to attract merchants from all over the world. All so that he could make more money!

Musa’s inestimable fortune came, in large part, from taxing the lifeblood of West African trade. Throughout his reign, Mali controlled much of the known world’s gold, salt, and copper production and trade. Musa taxed every nugget and ingot, building a fortune one ounce of gold at a time. But it did take some time.

While it’s hard to get an exact idea of how quickly Musa had built up his fortune, there is some evidence that it didn’t happen overnight. During his hajj, Musa reportedly spent years’ worth of his fortune, suggesting that the richest man alive had been dipping into his savings more deeply than anyone knew.

Still, he had more than enough money for a lifetime—or several. It's just that that money came with devastating consequences. 

Musa’s generosity and extravagant spending sprees in Egypt were so extreme, they reportedly tanked the local economy. One source claims that Musa dropped so much cash in Cairo that the value of gold in the city cratered for over a decade. There was, however, another explanation for the inflation.

While many accounts say Musa’s giving spree “wrecked” the Egyptian economy, some historians like Warren Schultz aren’t so sure. According to him, the shift in gold’s value wasn’t that unusual for the time or region of the world. Regardless, Musa left a yellow brick road on his journey to Mecca. And by yellow bricks, we mean gold bars.

Just like his bank balance, no one knows exactly when Mansa Musa met his end. Using calculations based on Ibn Khaldun’s chronology, historians suggest he passed in 1332. But like much about his life, the exact timing is veiled in the sands of history and obscured by the blinding glare of gold in the Mali sunlight.

A conflicting account places Musa alive in 1337, when he reportedly sent congratulations to Abu al-Hasan Ali for a great battle victory. By the time the response came, most historians agree, Musa had passed on, and his brother, Sulayman, had taken the throne. And, presumably, his diminished fortune.

Still, there is another theory.

Another theory, from the historian al-Umari, suggests Musa didn’t live to see 1332 at all, far less 1337. He claimed Musa had hoped to abdicate his throne, give up his fortune (or, at least, most of it), and retire in Mecca. However, tragically, according to this account, Musa passed before making the journey back, implying he didn’t live long past his return from the hajj.

Despite the lack of clarity and official records, contemporary Arab scholars heap near unanimous praise on Mansa Musa. They aren’t just dazzled by his riches, but by his character, too. Ibn Battuta and others praised his wisdom and generosity, while Ibn Khaldun hailed him as “an upright man and a great king”.

He didn’t even have to bribe them to say that.

So, how rich was Mansa Musa, exactly? Time magazine put it best when they wrote, “There’s really no way to put an accurate number on his wealth”. With a legacy that still lives on today in the Djinguereber Mosque and the University of Sankore, perhaps his fortune truly is beyond measure.

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Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4

With severely complex issues plaguing his mind, his duties fell to those who ruled in his place as regents, all while they hid him away in his shocking madness.

Despite the length of his reign, the only thing that made King Otto of Bavaria stand out in history was the deteriorating state of his mind and his inability to rule as a result. However, even long before these issues arose, he wasn’t exactly in perfect physical health either. Born in 1848 to Marie of Prussia and King Maximilian II, he had difficulty from the get-go as he arrived prematurely by two months.

To make matters worse, his childhood was nothing but further misery.

Sadly, although they were part of the most powerful family in the country, Otto and his brother Ludwig grew up without the one thing they truly needed—a loving home. Most of their days were spent surrounded by their instructors or the castle’s staff, as their parents preferred to pretend the two princes didn’t exist.

Even when they paid attention, it was way too far in the opposite direction.

In the times when it became necessary for Otto’s parents to acknowledge him and his brother, the scales tipped completely to the other extreme. Both their mother and father would become strict in their own ways, with Marie demanding that the boys only dress in their assigned colors—Otto in red and Ludwig in red. As Ludwig was the eldest and heir to the throne, King Maximilian was especially harsh toward him.

And so Otto became no stranger to loneliness.

Even summer was likely an isolating time for young Otto. In Berchtesgaden, a Royal Villa had already been built there specifically for Maximilian, but from 1853 to 1863, he and Marie had their sons stay there over each summer. With such a tumultuous childhood, it’s no surprise that Otto began to act a bit strangely.

Otto of Bavaria may have gained a reputation for his madness later in life, but he was far from the only member of his line who had a brush with mental health issues. Coming from the House of Wittelsbach, his family had a reputation for being somewhat peculiar, and he soon proved he was no different. 

As the years passed, he began to act more bizarrely, mostly exemplified by his habit of staring off and becoming unresponsive, seemingly at random. Nonetheless, he continued to serve Bavaria in ways befitting a prince.

As expected of him, Otto entered the Bavarian army when he was about 15 years old, and he quickly rose through he ranks. This was probably due to his being a prince, as he received a major promotion mere months after joining—and a little over a year later, he reached the rank of full lieutenant.

Ahead of him, Ludwig took his duties just as seriously.

It’s hard to say whether there was any love lost between father and sons when King Maximilian passed in 1864, but either way, it meant a change in Bavarian leadership. The elder prince then took the throne, becoming King Ludwig II, and Otto had his own advancement two years later as he achieved the rank of Captain.

Unfortunately, it’s at this point that everything really went downhill.

Entering active service in 1866, Otto of Bavaria finally tasted combat during the numerous battles he fought in conflicts against Prussia and France. Serving for about five years, the last two of which he commanded his men as Colonel, Otto saw horrors that would plague his mind for the rest of his days, and he returned an utterly changed man.

However, he still tried to serve Ludwig as best he could.

Otto of Bavaria may have been dealing with some staggering inner demons, but he still did everything his brother asked of him, whether on the battlefield or in the world of politics. For instance, when Wilhelm I became the first emperor of Germany, Ludwig wanted no part of the celebration, so he sent Otto and their uncle, Luitpold, in his place.

Needless to say, the younger royal didn’t have a good time.

Likely stemming from their relationship with their Prussian mother, both Otto and Ludwig had a deep disdain for that side of the family. Likewise, they couldn’t stand the lofty ambitions of their relatives, adamantly opposing the creation of the German Empire, even if Otto still had to attend the celebrations.

Still, he wasn’t quiet about his displeasure.

Otto of Bavaria and his uncle disagreed on their views about the Prussian royals, so while Luitpold likely enjoyed the festivities, Otto had no qualms about broadcasting his feelings. Writing to Ludwig, Otto could only complain about his miserable time at the ceremony, and how “flaunty and ostentatious and heartless” it had felt.

Unfortunately, things between the brothers began to change drastically.

Although Otto’s father had mostly aimed his tyranny at Ludwig during their childhood, the two brothers bonded early on through the shared trauma they endured. As such, when it was finally time for Ludwig to take the throne, people noticed his close bond with Otto. However, as the years of his reign continued, something in their relationship shifted, and the brothers slowly became more like strangers to each other.

It didn’t help that they had less and less in common.

As king, Ludwig was much more front and center than his younger brother, but it was clear that he would have preferred it the other way around. The two of them had surprisingly mismatched personalities, with Otto being the far more sociable and cheery one, while Ludwig was mostly timid.

This was, at least, until Otto returned from his years of service.

While Otto of Bavaria had already shown signs of his declining mental health during his time in active duty, it all worsened after he came back from fighting in the Franco-Prussian conflict. The trauma he experienced on the battlefield kept him from sleeping properly, and while he would appear stable for short stretches of time, he would otherwise behave erratically.

To Ludwig, this had bigger repercussions than Otto’s own well-being.

Although they were no longer as close as they once were, the King grew ever more concerned over Otto’s state of mind, but he also had another reason for his anxiety. Ludwig had always hidden his homosexuality, but he never married, and thus depended on Otto to have a son who would serve as the next heir.

Sadly, he could only watch as his brother spiraled further into madness.

What began as bouts of Otto’s insomnia or confusion quickly turned into far more serious behavior that made others fear he was dangerous to them—or even himself. It's said that he would often fall into delusions and would spend his days barking or screaming, or even knocking his head against the castle walls.

Of course, Ludwig wasn’t the only one keeping tabs on his brother.

Wanting to help Otto of Bavaria with every resource available, Ludwig had his brother placed under medical supervision, and his doctors officially designated him as “mentally ill” in 1872. However, the Prussian government had also taken an interest in Otto’s decline, and their Chancellor, Otto von Bismarck, planted his own people around the prince to keep him informed.

Clearly, even those closest to him weren’t always trustworthy.

Ludwig tried to get Otto the best treatment possible, and Dr Bernhard von Gudden seemed like the ideal choice to be the prince’s attending physician. However, history hasn’t looked as kindly upon the doctor, and his judgment has become subject to skepticism. Most of this doubt comes from the fact that he later declared Ludwig himself mentally ill—despite never actually examining the king.

His treatment plan was even more questionable.

Gudden was meant to be a well-respected doctor who was brought on to help Otto in any way he could, but what treatment the prince received was seriously lacking, to say the least. In fact, it’s difficult to refer to the steps taken by Gudden as any sort of actual treatment, since all he did was continue to feed Otto medicine intended to sedate him.

In reality, there’s a good chance he had chilling ulterior motives.

Looking back at Otto’s story through the lens of the modern day, it may be easy to think that medicine simply hadn’t advanced enough to treat whatever he was suffering from properly. In truth, however, several accounts from this time mentioned that Gudden had other treatment options, but chose to ignore them.

His own political leanings certainly don’t help the case for his neglect.

While there’s always the chance that Gudden was simply in over his head and was unsure how to treat Otto’s illness, this is unlikely. As many historians have pointed out, the doctor did not share the same disapproval of Prussia’s ambitions as Otto and Ludwig, but instead was a staunch advocate of the kingdom’s dominance.

Additionally, there may have been another mind behind it all.

Seeing as Prussia’s Chancellor Bismarck was already spying on Otto’s treatment, or lack thereof, it isn’t a stretch to imagine that he had some part in Gudden’s negligence. As both Otto and Ludwig were never shy about criticizing Prussia, this could have been the first step of Bismarck’s plan to eliminate both brothers.

Even this may not have been the extent of his scheme.

The frequent badmouthing from the two royal brothers was likely the source of great outrage among the leaders of Prussia, but Bismarck allegedly had a more complex motive. Like Gudden, Luitpold also supported Prussia and would have been perfect for Bismarck to install in Ludwig’s place to exert control from behind the scenes.

Whatever the case, it was clear that Otto of Bavaria wasn’t getting any better.

Despite any larger scheme at work, the state of Otto’s mental health had still greatly declined, and anyone who doubted this would soon eat their words on one night in 1875. During the Corpus Christi Mass, those attending suddenly turned in shock to see Otto storm into the church, dressed head to toe in hunting clothes.

Unfortunately, this was the last straw.

Bringing the proceedings of the Corpus Christi Mass to a halt, Otto of Bavaria ran up to Archbishop Gregor von Scherr and collapsed to his knees in front of him. Over and over, the prince begged the archbishop to forgive his sins until two ministers escorted him out. Fortunately, Otto didn’t make any more fuss, but this incident convinced his family that more drastic measures were necessary.

This wasn’t the last time the public saw him, though.

While Ludwig and his staff were dealing with Otto’s medical care behind closed doors, Bavaria’s citizens mostly saw the prince whenever he had more public incidents. Luckily, his final appearance in front of his people was much less dramatic and was spent beside Ludwig at the 1875 King’s Parade.

With that, he said goodbye to his freedom forever.

Given Otto’s most recent behavior, his family believed that there was no other option but to keep him under intense care, likely for the rest of his life. After spending the next few years being treated in various locations, his deteriorating condition prompted Ludwig to place him permanently in the Fürstenried Palace in 1883.

Still, his living conditions remained better than most.

Although medicine at this time wasn’t as primitive as some may expect, largely—and ironically—due to the progressive efforts of Dr von Gudden, it still had a ways to go. Those the authorities deemed mentally ill would often find themselves institutionalized under harsh conditions—but being a member of royalty, Otto of Bavaria didn’t have to worry about that. Compared to most facilities at the time, Fürstenried Palace was a paradise.

Even at this point, his brother was still looking out for him.

Regardless of any malicious intent, Otto’s medical staff still had to follow the word of King Ludwig, which meant that—at the very least—he was never the victim of mistreatment. Beyond the fact that Ludwig had the palace modified specifically to house the ailing prince, he explicitly ordered that no one would ever be violent towards Otto.

Regrettably, not everyone was as sympathetic.

Even though both Ludwig and Otto were now adults and had both served their country, their mother still had nothing but disdain for them. Granted, they often spoke ill of her entire side of the family, but regardless, while Ludwig made a point to see Otto from time to time, the former Queen avoided visiting her son for the rest of her life.

Today, there may be an answer to the question of his illness.

Contemporary doctors didn’t have more specific terms to diagnose someone like Otto of Bavaria, so in 1886, all the senior royal medical officer did was change the prince’s condition to “severely mentally ill”. In the modern day, some have argued that he suffered from complications due to syphilis, but other scholars have generally diagnosed him with schizophrenia.

Meanwhile, Ludwig was in the middle of his own dilemma.

Around this time, King Ludwig was dealing with issues much more personal than Otto’s sickness, as he was in massive debt due to his own reckless spending. Trying to reason with him, the ministers in his cabinet urged him to start managing his money more frugally, but he was having none of it. Tired of their constant badgering, Ludwig intended to replace each minister with more agreeable members.

Unbeknownst to him, they were already plotting his downfall.

Just as Ludwig had grown tired of his cabinet, his ministers had become fed up with his leadership and began planning to dethrone him, but they needed assurances. They planned to accuse him of insanity, but they couldn’t remove him from power without someone else to take his place. Fortunately, Luitpold agreed to take over the throne, but only if the ministers came up with evidence of Ludwig’s allegedly poor mental state.

As it happened, they had a plan for that.

For months, those conspiring against Ludwig compiled a report, which stated that his mental faculties were quickly growing worse. This wasn’t too hard a sell considering Otto’s history, and especially since many who contributed and signed off on the report were otherwise seen as trustworthy—such as Gudden—but were Ludwig’s enemies in reality.

At this point, all they needed to do was pull the trigger.

Even though the conspirators had covered all their bases, their plan wasn’t perfect, and Ludwig nearly escaped their clutches after learning of the report against him. However, they were able to catch up to him and took him into custody in June 1886, claiming he was insane. While Ludwig technically remained king, the authorities locked him away, and Luitpold took over the rule of Bavaria as his regent.

As fate would have it, he wouldn’t have much time to try to set things straight.

Giving credence to the idea that Ludwig was never actually insane, it seems his ministers weren’t willing to allow him to live out his life in captivity, like Otto of Bavaria. Just three days after his deposition, the king’s servants found his body on the shore of Lake Starnberg. To this day, it’s unknown how exactly he perished, but even more curiously, Gudden was lying lifeless next to him.

Naturally, this meant a change in leadership.

Although Ludwig’s enemies would have likely preferred Luitpold to take over Bavaria as king completely, the law wouldn’t allow it. As neither Ludwig nor his brother had any direct heirs, the rules dictated that Otto was next in line. Therefore, although he remained confined to his palace, he took the throne on June 13, 1886, as King Otto of Bavaria.

However, he was in the same boat as his late brother.

Otto of Bavaria may have officially taken the title of king, but his condition hadn’t improved much over the last few years, so he was still considered unfit to rule. This meant he continued to pose no threat to those scheming behind the throne, and as his uncle remained easy to control, Luitpold became Prince Regent to Otto, too.

All the while, it’s doubtful he ever truly caught on to any of this.

Still confined, Otto didn’t exactly have a coronation ceremony, but his attendants explained to him that he was king the day after his succession. As they discovered, though, he couldn’t grasp the news and likely never fully understood it, since he believed that Luitpold was the true king of Bavaria.

At the same time, Bavaria still had to recognize his authority.

Otto was King of Bavaria in title alone, but to history and the eyes of the public, his rule had to look no different than any other king in the country’s history. This meant that he received all the usual honors and formalities, including having new coins minted with his image, and those in the army being sworn in his name.

For a moment, it appeared as if he might be doing better.

By the following decade, the plight of Otto’s treatment took a surprising turn, and it seemed as if he might actually be slowly improving. In fact, his doctors were so certain of his progress in 1894 that they allowed him to attend a special garden party called a fête champêtre. Sadly, they had misjudged how well he was doing, and it resulted in him going on a rampage at the party and destroying 65 bottles of especially valuable champagne.

Finally, everyone had to face the facts.

Otto of Bavaria likely still had some members of his court who were rooting for his eventual recovery, but those who favored the rule of Luitpold preferred the king locked away forever. They got their wish, as it soon became clear that even if Otto had brief moments of improvement, he would never be well enough to rule properly.

Suddenly, it fell to someone else to lead in his stead.

As the lives of Ludwig and Otto demonstrated, being king is a fickle endeavor, and even Luitpold’s supporters would come to see how quickly power can shift. Although he stayed in power as Prince Regent into the 20th century, Luitpold passed in 1912, succeeded by his son and Otto’s cousin, also named Ludwig.

In terms of popularity, he had nothing to worry about.

Luitpold may have had supporters behind the throne trying to control him, but his son, Ludwig, immediately gained the support of the press and public. As it was clear that Otto could never truly rule Bavaria, and the people thought Ludwig would be a quality leader, many asserted that he should be king instead of just Prince Regent.

Soon enough, he took the law into his own hands.

Ludwig was completely on board with removing Otto as king and taking the throne, but unlike the men who deposed Ludwig II, he wouldn’t work in the shadows. Suddenly, in 1913, the very constitution of Bavaria changed in his favor. It added a clause stating that if a monarch was incapable of ruling, needing a regent for more than ten years—and if that was unlikely to change—then that regent could take the crown for himself.

This paved the way for Ludwig to take full control.

With the support of the constitution and all the ambition he could muster, Ludwig took the plunge and officially deposed Otto of Bavaria on November 5, 1913, simultaneously ending his term as regent. Trading it in for a much more impressive title, Otto’s cousin then took the throne as King Ludwig III, all with the full backing of parliament.

Before long, this twisted tale of madness and schemes would end.

With how much other higher-ups had despised Otto, and without his big brother to protect him, it would have been easy for Ludwig III to stop any further care or consideration for the former king. Thankfully, he had some decency and allowed Otto to keep his honours and title for the rest of his days. This wouldn’t be as long as he thought, however, as Otto perished three years later, due to a fatal bowel obstruction.

At last, he was able to reunite with his brother.

Since Otto of Bavaria was never close with his father, and in all likelihood had just as much contempt for him as he did for his mother, he and his brother were each other’s closest family. Although they had drifted apart, Bavaria’s royal tradition brought them back together in the end, as Otto’s heart was then placed in a silver urn next to his brother’s and father’s.

Surprisingly, he still holds one of the greatest achievements in Bavarian history—technically.

In his nearly 70 years of living, Otto lost his brother to a heinous plot, rose to take his place as king, and had his power stripped away from him, all from behind the walls of his palace. The most tragic part is that, through each of these life-changing events, he likely remained completely unaware of it all. Ironically, though, his 27-year reign was longer than that of any ruler from the House of Wittelsbach.

In the end, his story became lost to the centuries.

Despite ruling over such an unprecedented period for his family, King Otto of Bavaria isn’t a king who stands out all that much. Spending the entirety of his reign locked up under medical supervision, Otto never improved or damaged Bavaria as a country, leaving little behind as a legacy. In comparison, his brother managed to become quite well-known by the time he met his grisly end, cementing Otto as Bavaria’s most easily forgotten king.

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On November 7, 1884, Princess Helen was born within the palace walls of Montenegro’s royal city, Cetinje. Her parents, Serbia’s Crown Prince Peter Karađorđević and Princess Zorka of Montenegro, the oldest daughter of the King, felt that Helen had a destiny to live the privileged life of royalty—or so it seemed.

Despite her royal roots, Helen was no stranger to the difficulty of political uproar. She was born in political exile from her father's native Serbia. The Obrenović clan, rivals to her father’s family, had seized the throne from Helen’s grandfather 30 years earlier and outlawed his entire dynasty. This would not be the last time that Helen would face such exile. Indeed, much worse was coming.

Princess Helen was also not a stranger to tragedy. At the age of three, she lost her baby sister, Princess Milena, to childhood illness—but that was just the start of her nightmare. Even more tragically, in 1890, Helen lost both her mother and her youngest brother, Prince Andrew, due to complications from childbirth. Helen was only six years old.

That’s a lot of hardship for one small princess to face—but more was on the way.

Even though she had lost her mother, Helen was not left without motherly guidance. Helen’s maternal aunts, Princesses Anastasia and Milica, took care of their young niece from the age of six onward. Known in the Russian court as the “Montenegrin princesses,” they often advocated for their native Montenegro before the tsar. They taught Helen to fight for family, a lesson she took with her into adulthood—as we’ll see.

However, the main reason that Helen came to Russia was to attend the Smolny Institute of Noble Maidens in St. Petersburg. This was THE place for young Eastern European noblewomen to learn proper etiquette and social graces. Helen’s mother and aunts had attended before her. Helen went to Smolny for nine years, making some very influential friends along the way.

Some of her friends happened to be the highest-powered ladies in the land—the daughters of Emperor Nicholas Romanov himself. Helen often visited with the Grand Duchesses when she was about 17 years old, according to their governess Margaretta Eagar. More than any other of the Romanovs, Helen struck up a quick friendship with the Grand Duchess Olga, and they would often have tea together.

Helen and Olga stayed on good terms with each other throughout their lives. Sadly, in just a matter of a few years, they would be ripped apart.

Though the Russian court did not consider Helen to be the most beautiful woman around, they knew her for her dark features, particularly her eyes: “She was a very sweet-faced though plain girl, with beautiful dark eyes, very quiet and amiable in manner,” wrote Margaretta. It was those eyes that would win her the heart of a prince.

In 1903, Helen’s father Prince Peter took back the throne of Serbia in a bloody coup d’etat, making her a true Serbian princess. But the violence of this takeover shocked her new friends. They worried about what a major change it is, and the Romanov’s governess remarked that it must have been jarring for Helen to live among the assassins who’d taken out her father’s predecessors.

Well, by this time, Helen was already developing an iron will, so it barely made a dent in her armor. Either way, some relief was on the horizon.

In the summer of 1911, Helen’s aunt Queen Elena of Italy invited her to visit. What Helen didn’t know was that the Queen had a devious plan in mind for her. She planned to introduce her niece to the handsome Prince John Constantinovich of Russia. The two hit it off immediately, proceeding to fall head over heels for one another in the Italian countryside. Truly, it was the beginning of a beautiful love story—with enough curveballs for a rom-com thrown in for good measure.

Like any good love story, Prince John soon decided to propose to Helen not long after their first introduction. This came as quite a shock to John’s family, though—they expected him to join a monastery and become a Russian Orthodox monk! He had considered becoming a man of cloth before meeting his one true Serbian princess. The family took all this in an unexpected way.

Despite this initial surprise, however, there was no bad blood between Helen and her in-laws. In fact, on the day of her wedding, September 3, 1911, she wore the red ribbon insignia of the Order of St. Catherine on top of her silver brocade wedding dress. This was the only female-specific chivalric order in Imperial Russia. The sash was a symbol of her commitment to Russia and its royal family, which included John’s family. And that wasn’t the only way she showed her dedication…

Helen took her marriage vows so seriously that she didn’t just take her husband’s family name—she also decided to change her first name, too. Following the wedding, she began to introduce herself as “Yelena Petrovna of Russia”, a more Russianized spelling of her given name. Once again, Helen demonstrated her commitment to her new family and people—a commitment she would fight for with everything she had.

Helen’s in-laws loved their new daughter-in-law so much that they invited the couple to live with them in the family home, Pavlovsk Palace. This palace belonged to John’s family since the era of Catherine the Great, and it overlooked the countryside of St. Petersburg. John and Helen lived in one of the wings of this quiet country palace, seeing it as the perfect place to start their marriage—but that wasn’t all she was doing.

Helen spent the first few years of marriage not just living it up in the palace but also studying medicine at the Saint Petersburg Imperial University. She wanted to be a medical professional and help the Russian people with their ailments. Sadly, she’d get her wish far too soon. Trouble was brewing in Europe, and Helen would find herself in a dangerous spot—but that wasn’t the only change on the way.

On January 20, 1914, Princess Helen gave birth to a son while vacationing in the Marble Palace. She and her husband named the child Vsevolod Ivanovich and the Tsar declared him a Prince of the Imperial Blood the following day. To cope with the new responsibilities of motherhood, Helen was forced to make a heartbreaking choice. Eventually, she decided to quit her studies. Still, that wouldn’t stop her from continuing to help others any way she could.

As WWI broke out, John and Helen each found themselves facing a terrifying new reality. John went out as an officer to fight at the front lines. Meanwhile, Helen joined him at the front as well as in the city’s hospital to work as a nurse. Though she took her medical work very seriously, Helen continued to be a dedicated wife and mother, a job that would soon double in difficulty.

Adding to her motherly joy was the arrival of Princess Catherine Ivanova on July 12, 1915. Born at home in the Pavlovsk Palace, Helen had to take some time away from her nursing duties to take care of her new baby. But it wasn’t long before she was back on the front lines, risking her life to serve her adopted country.

All of Russian aristocracy knew of Helen’s skill as a nurse and dedication to help others. So when Olga’s younger sister Grand Duchess Tatiana asked Helen to help with Serbian refugees, she knew that the princess wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. Helen made the harrowing journey to Odessa all by herself to take care of these stranded Serbian officers—and she didn’t stop there.

Helen’s loyalty to Russia never overshadowed her loyalty for Serbia. As far away as she was, Helen always remained involved in protecting the well-being of Serbia and its citizens. She helped sponsor the Serbian Relief Fund in America along with her brother, Crown Prince Alexander of Serbia. She was also a patron of the committee to help manage this fund.

Helen never forgot her Serbian friends and family—especially not her brother.

Helen’s marriage had been the product of a fix-up—so Helen wanted to try the same trick on her brother. And she had one target in mind. That would be her dear friend, Grand Duchess Olga. She believed that Alexander had developed feelings for Olga, and plotted ways to bring the two of them together. Though circumstances had become more complicated during WWI, she still held hope that Alexander and Olga would find each other when life got better. However, things were about to get so much worse.

When the Russian Revolution broke out in March of 1917, Helen’s entire life was thrown into chaos. John was still on the front lines when he lost contact with Helen in Pavlovsk. They were unable to reach each other for months during these mutinous revolts, many of which targeted officers like John. Princess Helen grew more and more desperate for news of her husband.

Finally, he made his way home, alive and mostly well. It was a relief—at first.

John and Helen’s reunion was bittersweet. Though they felt relieved to find each other whole and hale, they both realized that life was changing in Russia for the worse and that their family was going to be in trouble if they remained tucked away in the countryside. And so John and Helen moved their family to the Marble Palace in the city, leaving their home behind.

Before moving, however, Helen snuck into the Alexander Palace undercover in order to offer the trapped Empress Alexandra some help. Dressed in her nurse’s uniform to avoid suspicion, Helen managed to track down information concerning the now-abdicated tsar’s whereabouts, which the tsarina greatly appreciated. This would be the last time that Helen saw her friends alive.

In April of 1918, the Bolsheviks brought terror into Helen’s life once more. They outlawed all the male members of the imperial family, which included her husband John, and sent them to the Ural Mountains. Helen decided to voluntarily follow her husband and his family into exile, leaving her two young children in the care of her mother-in-law, Grand Duchess Elizabeth Mavrikievna, at the Marble Palace. She committed to following her husband anywhere…even to her doom.

With Bolshevik guards herding them forward, Helen and her extended family traveled further and further from their homes. They ended up in Ekaterinburg, a city on the other side of the mountains, where Bolsheviks placed them under house arrest in the Palais Royale Hotel. Meanwhile, Helen was a free woman, able to go where she wished—but all she wanted was to stay close to John.

By the end of May, the Bolshevik guards would grant Helen her wish. They sent the family to the tiny city of Alpayevsk, where they slept in an abandoned school building away from the public’s eye. Since Helen had the freedom to travel wherever she wished, she did the shopping for the rest of the party. Helen and John shared a room together. Sadly, this was last bit of intimacy they would share with one another.

Helen and John received news that Bolsheviks had taken over most of the palaces in St. Petersburg, bringing famine and sickness to the city. They believed that their children were stuck in Petrograd and feared the worst. John persuaded Helen to return to Ekaterinburg and apply for a permit in order to bring the children back to Alapayevsk. It was their only hope.

Helen left Alpayevsk on June 20—not fully knowing about the terror John and his family would face without her. Guards allowed the family to go outside so they could watch her leave. Years later, Helen wrote about the fear she felt while departing, even asking the driver to stop: “Without a doubt, my dear ones realized how I felt. After making encouraging signals to me, they all turned back to the house. … I was alone. I had left them.”

Unfortunately, Helen still had another challenge in store: saving her children.

Upon returning to Ekaterinburg on June 21, Helen felt alarmed when she found herself trapped there. Though she tried to apply for a permit to gather her children, the chairman Alexander Belebodorov rejected her claim. He also rejected her appeal to return to her husband in Alapayevsk, declaring that such travel was untenable in the middle of a military operation.

Backed into a corner, Helen decided to fight.

Helen waged a battle against the Bolshevik machine. She visited the British consulate each day to request aid for her husband, her children, and herself. She also pleaded for the right to visit the Romanov family, who were being kept prisoner in the Ipatiev House. Additionally, she continually pestered Bolshevik chairman Alexander Beloborodov’s office so frequently that he threatened to detain her.

Princess Helen was a woman on a mission who would not back down.

When neither the British consul nor Beloborodov provided her help, Helen decided to take matters into her own hands—and her methods were devious. She faked an injury in order to connect with Dr. Derevenko, the tsar’s own physician. She whispered a request to help her visit Emperor Nicholas and pass on a message from her. The doctor whispered back that the security was so rigid in the Ipatiev House that he could not be her messenger. Still, Helen refused to give up.

Refusing to give in, Helen walked right up to the gates of the Ipatiev House and stared down the Tsar’s jailers. She demanded to speak to the Tsar: “I am the wife of a Romanov interned at Alpayevsk,” she announced, “but I am also the daughter of the King of Serbia…As a relative of the tsar, I have come to hear news of him and, if you will allow it, see him.”

Sadly, they rejected her. While she left without entry, her freedom was still intact…at first.

Bolshevik chairman Beloborodov grew fed up with Helen’s demands—so he decided to get her out of the picture. Allegedly, he gave her permission to travel to Petrograd and then had the secret police arrest her while she sat alone in her own train car. Under the command of Yurovsky—the soon-to-be executioner of the tsar—guards stripped and searched before tossing her into the local prison. But that was just the beginning of her ordeal…

Locked away in a single cell, Helen had no way of knowing the horrors that faced her family. On July 17, Bolshevik officers marched the tsar’s whole family—including her beloved friend Olga—into a small room and shot them. Sadly, the worst was yet to come.

The Bolsheviks had already taken out basically the entire royal family of Russia—but they weren’t done yet. A day later, they forced Helen’s husband Prince John, his brothers, and a number of other friends and family members to travel toward an abandoned mineshaft. What the soldiers did next was so disturbing, it’s unforgettable. 

They threw the entire group into the mineshaft, still alive. They then tossed a grenade into the hole after them—but that's not all. When they could still hear voices, they threw another grenade. Then, the started a fire in the hole. Even after all this, when the bodies were eventually discovered, it appeared as though many had survived the initial attacks, only to slowly starve or perish from their injuries.

Princess Helen knew nothing of her husband’s death; she believed the rumor that the prisoners in Alapayevsk had escaped and even feared Bolshevik retribution against her, following John’s supposed flight. However, the Bolsheviks did not execute her. Instead, they transferred her to a prison in Perm where she awaited her fate. Ultimately, Helen would remain in prison for the next five months, completely ignorant to the terrible things that had happened to her family.

Helen also remained ignorant about the difficulties facing her mother-in-law Grand Duchess Elizabeth Mavrikievna as she struggled to provide for the children. In desperation, Mavrikievna reached out to her friends in Sweden and they arranged for the family’s escape in October 1918. Mavrikievna and the children faced several close calls due to the weather, the boat’s stability, and Bolshevik inspections before reaching the safety of Stockholm. There, they could finally negotiate for Helen’s escape.

Two weeks before her last prison transfer, Bolshevik officers brought a young girl to Helen’s cell—and what they asked was chilling. The girl was calling herself Anastasia Romanova, the youngest Romanov duchess who had allegedly escaped her execution. The guards wanted Helen to identify her. Yet Helen didn’t recognize the girl, not as Anastasia or anyone she’d ever seen before in her life.

The mystery of the youngest Romanov sister lived on. Helen was close to solving her own mystery…the one of what had happened to her family.

After settling into their new lives in Sweden, Mavrikievna was able to reach out to Norwegian diplomats and request aid for her daughter-in-law, who had been missing for months. The diplomats complied, and the Norwegian Legation of St. Petersburg managed to track Helen down in Perm. The Bolsheviks transferred her one last time to the Kremlin Palace to negotiate her release.

Finally, once the Norwegians had negotiated and organized her release from Russia, Helen took a Norwegian vessel and reunited with her family in Sweden at long last. After almost two full years away, Helen and her children, now six and four respectively, might have scarcely been able to recognize each other. Despite their tragic loss, they now had all the time in the world to become a family again.

After their reunion in Sweden, Helen and her family seemed unable to settle for the first few years of their new life, moving from place to place. First, they lived in France. Then, they stayed with Helen’s father, now the King of Serbia, in that country. Finally, they moved to England and remained there for many years while Vsevolod completed his schooling at Eton and Oxford.

John had been the love of Helen’s life and the Romanovs had been her close dear friends. When she learned of her husband’s and his family’s horrific fates, Helen’s reaction was devastating. She never truly recovered from the events of the Revolution, and she never remarried. She also refused to speak Russian with her children or with anyone else because the language upset her so badly.

Eventually, Vsevolod and Catherine grew up and found themselves entangled in their own adult affairs, like marriage and work. Helen quietly left England to settle in the coastal city of Nice, France after WWII. Here she lived a quiet life, publishing articles and becoming close to French nobles. But her new life was not without its challenges.

As the years went on, however, Helen struggled to support herself. She lived off the handouts of her French aristocratic friends and lived as cheaply as possible. She tried to publish her memoirs about her experiences during the Revolution, titled J'etais A l'Ekaterinebourg (or “I Was In Ekaterinburg”), but had to publish through a magazine instead.

By the end of her life, Helen felt the weight of her experiences bearing down on her.

On October 16, 1972, Helen came to the hospital with a lung complaint and never recovered. She was 77 years old, and she was all alone. Her family buried her in a cemetery in Nice, where she had spent the remainder of her adult years. Though Helen faced many hardships and tragedies in her life, she taught those around her to never relent in the fight for family.

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Sadly, William III entered the world with a black mourning cloth already draped over his cradle. Born in The Hague in the Dutch Republic on November 4, 1650, he was the sole child of Mary, Princess Royal, and the late William II, Prince of Orange. His father tragically passed from smallpox just eight days before his son’s birth.

Poor William never got to meet his father. Still, he’d learn soon enough just how hard his father's life had been.

Many royal children are born as little princes and princesses, but how many are born rulers? Because William III was. You see, his father was the Prince of Orange, meaning he ruled Orange, a state in what's now the south of France...and the title was inheritable. So, when his father passed, the honors went straight to William, even though he wasn’t yet born. Thus, William III literally entered the world as the Prince of Orange.

This kid was born with power. So, naturally, his family began to fight over him.

William’s mother and paternal grandmother had a strained relationship. They’d squabble over the tiniest details—like, say, his name. William’s mother insisted on naming him Charles after her brother and her “forcibly departed” (i.e., executed) father, King Charles I, but his grandmother wouldn’t hear of it. Instead, she demanded they call him William per her late son’s wishes, a wish that Mary obviously wasn’t too keen on honoring.

Of course, once the shoving and eye-poking ended, you can probably guess who won that battle. Still, the conflict was far from over… 

William’s family soon began quarreling over his care, too. In his will, William’s father named his wife as their son’s guardian; however, the document still wasn’t signed when he passed, rendering it invalid. Hearing this, William’s grandmother rushed back into the picture and demanded that she be appointed his guardian, citing his mother’s youth and inexperience as justification. Understandably, this infuriated William’s mother, and the two ladies clashed over him once more.

But in truth, the two women weren’t really fighting over William III out of love. They had far more sinister ambitions.

So, why were they both clamoring for custody? Well, because William was still just a baby, the Principality of Orange required a regency council to govern in his stead—and its formation wasn’t going very well. The council needed a leader, and William’s mother and grandmother were both fiercely competing for the council presidency via his guardianship.

Essentially, whoever became William’s guardian would ipso facto win the right to wield his princely authority. Thanks, fam. We’re really feeling the love, here…

In 1651, the simmering feud took an ugly turn. Things between William's mother and grandmother got so bad, the High Court of Holland and Zeeland decided it needed to intervene. After some back and forth, the court declared that the two bickering women would share William’s guardianship with a third party. Frederick William of Brandenburg was the lucky winner, though his sole purpose was to referee between them until William III finally came of age.

If that seems too complicated, well, keep reading. It was definitely the right call—for one shameful reason.

Sadly, William’s mother soon lost all interest in him. Despite battling tooth and nail for his guardianship, in the end, young William went years without seeing his mom. She wasn’t well-liked in Dutch society, so she kept a low profile in the Netherlands as a result. Instead, his mother preferred to enjoy the pleasures of Germany and France, far away from her poor son.

So mommy didn't really love him, but William’s future still depended on the cooperative vigilance of his guardians. As his enemies actively began to plot against him, little William needed all the help he could get.

Despite inheriting his father’s title of Prince of Orange, William III did not inherit his father’s position as the steward of many important Dutch provinces. In response, devoted Orangists across the United Provinces immediately began calling for the infant’s election to the coveted office (again, under the supervision of a regency council—they weren’t completely crazy).

Though William wouldn’t become steward for several years, he clearly already had the support of the people—and that really, really bothered a certain someone…

Oliver Cromwell was an English politician and soldier who led parliamentary forces against William’s departed grandfather, King Charles I, during the English Civil War—and he definitely didn’t like the cut of young William’s jib. Cromwell feared that young William’s potential rise in the Netherlands could eventually threaten his own political regime back in England (he was right, by the way).

So, Cromwell resolved to destroy William III before he could even get started.

Cromwell was dead-set on preventing William III from obtaining any real political influence. The Dutch provinces submissive to Holland still had yet to fill the empty position of steward, and Cromwell was willing to do anything to keep William from obtaining it. How? Well, Cromwell snuck a secret provision into a treaty he'd signed with Holland. It prevented the province from ever again electing a member of the House of Orange (i.e., William) to occupy the position.

It was a shady move, and William was temporarily barred. But William was growing into a young man—and he wasn't going to let some old fart like Cromwell keep him from power.

Most children eventually learn that everyone is unique and special in their own way. But William? Like most royals, he grew up hearing that he was an instrument of Divine Providence meant to fulfill his family's destiny. In other words: God chose him. Like, no pressure, right? No doubt that messed with the kid’s psyche a little bit. In fact, it probably did because he began to prep himself ASAP…

Of course, William III needed to prepare for anything and everything—he was the Chosen One, after all. So, at a heckin’ early age (the tender age of nine), William headed off to the University of Leiden to study under the tutelage of Hendrik Bornius, an ethics professor. He attended for seven years total, despite never officially registering as a student. Shortly after his arrival, an interesting opportunity presented itself.

The restoration of William’s uncle, Charles II, to the English throne in 1660 effectively nullified Cromwell's "Act of Seclusion," potentially allowing William to follow in his father’s footsteps as a steward once more. Naturally, his mother and grandmother leaped at the chance. They quickly launched a campaign on behalf of their ambitious golden goose to persuade the provinces to accept him as their steward.

However, there was a major problem they hadn't considered... 

In the end, their efforts were futile. All of the provinces denied their support, presumably because William III was still only 10 years old. Divine providence or not, no region would willingly accept a child leader, which, to be honest, his guardians definitely should have realized from the get-go. In any case, William’s disappointment soon turned into despair.

As William continued his studies at the university, tragedy struck. During his second year, his somewhat-absentee mother passed from smallpox during a visit to her brother, King Charles II, at Whitehall Palace in London. When poor William found out, he reportedly burst into tears and suffered a frightening asthma attack. Having lost both his parents to smallpox—a father he never met and a mother he barely knew—William III was now officially an orphan.

Fortunately, another prestigious family member stepped up to the plate.

In her will, William’s mother nominated her brother, Charles II (the newly restored King of England), as his new guardian. Of course, Charles accepted the responsibility on the condition that William’s grandmother continued to shoulder most of the burden while consulting him on the key issues, which she readily agreed to.

Unfortunately, William’s latest absentee guardian didn’t necessarily always have his back.

There’s a reason why you shouldn’t mix business with family. In 1661, William’s illegitimate paternal uncle, Lord Zuylestein, began working for Charles II, and he wanted a quick way to move up in the world. Unscrupulously, Zuylestein forced William to write letters to Charles, imploring the English monarch to intercede on his behalf to help him become a steward.

But, surprise, surprise, Charles didn’t help him. In fact, he sort of did the opposite.

Instead of aiding his young nephew, Charles used William’s predicament to sow more strife in Dutch society and boost his own political position, which cruelly left young William with egg on his face. Not cool, dude. But obviously, the Dutch authorities couldn’t just stand by and continue to let the English exert their influence over William III. They needed to do something—so they did.

After Charles's meddling, the nature of William’s education and guardianship once again became a subject of controversy. As a result, when William was 16 years old, the States labeled him a government ward or a “Child of State,” which (among other things) effectively stripped William’s entourage of all pro-English courtiers. That included his uncle, Zuylenstein, whom William unsuccessfully begged to stay, even after all he'd done.

William III was now more alone then he'd ever been—and that's saying something. It's no surprise, then, that his life took a dark turn.

Although his new classification was supposed to prepare William III for a future government job, it’s certainly fair to say that he had every reason to be unhappy about it. Everyone seemed to be in control of his life except for him. Moreover, William had grown close to his uncle, Zuylenstein, and his expulsion upset him deeply.

However, it was his grandmother’s cruel actions that hurt him the most. 

Out of the entire situation, the icing on the cake was his grandmother’s betrayal. You see, William’s status as a Child of State was entirely reliant on her consent, which she only provided after receiving a substantial state pension. In other words, the States bought her off, and William never, ever forgave her for it. Then, somehow, his life got even more complex.

When William III was nearly 18, the Orangists attempted to reestablish their dominance by (finally) securing for him the roles of steward and Captain-General. Yay! At last, his lifelong dream of following in his father’s footsteps was so close that he could taste it. Unfortunately, this power move didn’t sit well with Johan De Witt, the head of the opposing States Party/William's own teacher. Time for another curveball...

Not wanting to see William III come to power, De Witt came up with a plan to block the young prince once again from taking office. Stealing a page from Cromwell's rulebook, he passed a quick law that barred a Dutch Captain-General—like William—to serve as a steward in any province. Ugh, so close…won't this guy ever catch a break?

William was undoubtedly disappointed by the sudden legal letdown, but this time, he refused to crumble. Instead, William and his allies determinedly explored other measures to boost his status, and eventually, the States of Zeeland agreed to name him First Noble. But when you’re born onto a political chessboard, every move is a calculated risk. Earning that honor was one thing, claiming it was another.

William needed to accept the honor in person. Sounds simple—but that can be pretty tricky when there are enemies out there who plan on stopping you. This time, though, nothing was stopping him, so he came up with a devious plan. William finally grew a pair, gave his state tutors/jailors the slip, and traveled to Middelburg in full-on stealth mode. Amazingly, he made it, too, which seemed to catch the attention of his grandmother. A month later, she rewarded him with the greatest gift of all.

Whether she was impressed by his newfound bravery or because she ultimately lost interest in caring for him, William’s grandmother finally declared him an adult. Now fully in control of his own household, William was officially free to call the shots in his own life, and he began to set his sights high. Alas, he soon suffered another disappointment…

The anti-Orangist province of Holland completely eliminated the role of steward in March 1670. It was De Witt up to his old tricks yet again. Then, not long after that, the four other provinces followed his lead and did the same. They really, really didn't want our boy William to get that title. All of this seemed like a giant setback for William, obvsiouly—but in reality, the agreement actually turned out to be kind of a win-win.

Truthfully, De Witt would have preferred if the prince simply vanished off the face of the planet forever, but he knew that was never going to happen. It was almost a certainty at this point that William would eventually ascend to a high army post, so at the very least, De Witt had to strike a compromise: Instead of a stewardship, he gave William another option. Something that turned out to be way, way better...

De Witt unwittingly handed William power on a silver platter. Hilariously, De Witt planned for William to serve as an advisor to the Council of State, a governing body responsible for the Netherlands' defense budget. Instead, the council granted William full voting rights upon his introduction on May 31, 1670. Score. And it gets even better…

William was no longer the innocent child he once was, and over the years, he’d grown super savvy. So savvy, in fact, that while serving on the council, he eventually managed to negotiate his way into leading the Dutch army's campaigns. Suddenly William was outmaneuvering De Witt at his own game, and oh, how De Witt must have cringed. But wait: That’s not even the best part. 

When France and its allies attacked the Netherlands during the “disaster year” of 1672, it became a watershed event for the Dutch Republic. Fueled by rage and terror, the political tide swung against De Witt and his allies in the blink of an eye. But the cherry on top? The States of Holland suddenly looked to William for leadership by making him their steward. Holy cow, he did it!

Yes, his country was in danger, but William just won a very personal, years-long victory. Silver linings, right? Right.

Obviously, William took his valued stadtholdership job very seriously, and his ascent immediately caught the attention of a certain English Uncle/King/Invader. Sensing an opportunity, Charles II made an intriguing offer to his nephew: If William surrendered to England and France, he would promote him to the position of Sovereign Prince of Holland. Why be a mere steward when you can be a prince twice over?

William knew exactly how to respond…

His uncle’s proposal quickly provoked a few choice words from William. He famously responded, “There is one way to avoid this: To die defending it in the last ditch.” Sure enough, days later, the Dutch successfully halted the march of the French army, for which Zeeland rewarded William with yet another stewardship. Later, William would also acquire stewardships in Utrecht, Guelders, and Overijssel (five in total).

Clearly, the Prince of Orange didn’t need his uncle’s “help” anymore. He had his own strategies to play out—and they were working.

Having achieved his dream, William aimed to set his sights even higher, but first, he needed to tie up some loose ends. It was time for William to get his revenge against De Witt—and it was brutal. William released a letter from Charles that placed the blame for the English and French invasion squarely at De Witt's feet. Whew, boy, the Dutch people were not pleased to hear that.

The news enraged the Dutch, and five days later, De Witt and his brother were brutally slain by an Orangist civil militia in The Hague. Then, despite subsequently denying all responsibility for the attack, William curiously rewarded numerous mob ringleaders with prominent positions before supplanting several Dutch regents with his own Orangist supporters. Hmm…

It’s fair to say that as William’s aspirations grew, his morals plummeted. And he was just getting started.

From this point on, there are two things to keep in mind about William: He despised the French with the fire of a thousand burning suns, and he was a staunch anti-Catholic. William was wary of the French king Louis XIV, who he felt was trying to establish a one-man rule across Europe. Simultaneously, William was a devout Protestant who shuddered at the notion that a Catholic might one day succeed his uncle in England (for reference, the French King was Catholic).

Those fears, coupled with his growing thirst for power, prompted William to devise some new life goals…

William’s strategy was twofold: Divert the King of England’s attention away from all pro-French measures, then somehow find a way to insert himself into the English line of succession. None of those tasks would be easy, but William was cunning. So, how did he do it? In a word: Marriage.

Because his uncle Charles II had no legitimate children of his own to succeed him, William already had some claim to the English throne. Still, William needed to bolster his chances, so he set his sights on marrying his first cousin Mary, the daughter of King Charles II’s brother James. Unfortunately, Mary was not cool with the match. Would you be happy to marry a stranger?

Although William and Mary had a rocky start, they eventually fell madly in love. His relationship with his father-in-law, on the other hand, was a different story. William and James—the future King James II and IV of England—would spend the rest of their days as thorns in each other’s sides. Why? Well, you see, James was Catholic. Problem one. William, being William, tried to make Charles II agree that a Catholic would never inherit the throne. He might as well have mentioned James by name, because there were no other Catholics he might be talking about.

It was a slight that James never got over.

Charles and James immediately tore William a new one for his discriminatory request. William quickly denied any involvement and backed down, but James didn’t believe him. He was fuming, and he wanted William out of the picture for good. So, in an attempt to destroy William’s marriage, James exploited a vicious rumor. People were whispering that William was cheating on Mary with a mistress named Elizabeth Villiers, and James fanned the flames.

That was just step one in James's plan to ruin William. That same year, he did something much worse—something that shook William to his core.

King Charles II passed in 1685, and his brother took over, Catholic or not. Now called King James II and IV, William's hostile father-in-law suddenly held all the cards. So, with his tail between his legs, William sought to compromise with James by persuading the new king to join the League of Augsburg, an anti-French coalition.

Without a doubt, William hoped that—theological differences aside—they might at the very least agree to despise the French together. Nope. When James refused, William quit playing nice: His father-in-law had to go.

Following that, William and James’s relationship deteriorated dramatically. That November, Mary of Modena, James’s second wife, announced that she was expecting a child. Panicked by the looming prospect of a new successor, William sent an open letter to the citizens of England, expressing his displeasure with James’s pro-Roman Catholic religious tolerance regulations.

In response, several English leaders began advocating for a Dutch invasion of England. The time was nigh.

William began preparing his forces in April 1688, but he had two issues: First, Mary of Modena gave birth to a boy, which undermined William’s claim to the throne by displacing his wife as first in the line of succession. Second, he feared that the English people wouldn’t exactly welcome a foreign invasion with open arms. What could he do?

Though there was nothing William could do about the baby, he could perhaps ease the tension of the English people by making it seem like his invasion was their idea. Thinking fast, William sent a letter to Rear-Admiral Arthur Herbert demanding that the most renowned English Protestants call for him to invade. Then was nothing left to do but wait.

Before long, a group of political elites known as the “Immortal Seven” issued William an official invitation to invade England on June 30, 1688. Wasting no time, William arrived in Southwest England four months later with a HUGE Dutch fleet: 250 carrier ships, 60 fishing boats, and 35,000 men. It was terrifying, and James’s support instantly began to crumble; Protestant commanders deserted his armies, and several English nobles hastily announced their support for the Prince of Orange.

No doubt William was laughing. His worst enemy was in major trouble.

James tried to oppose William at first, but he quickly realized there was no point. So, after dispatching emissaries to discuss terms with William, James sneakily tried to escape, only to have some local fishermen catch him. Later that month, James escaped again and fled to France, which William only allowed for fear of accidentally turning the deposed king into a martyr.

Either way, James was gone, and just like that, William III won England. What now?

Even though William successfully conquered England, he felt uneasy. Technically, his wife Mary still came before him in the line of succession to the throne, and he didn’t want to reign as her consort—he wanted absolute power. So naturally, when the Tories began advocating in favor of crowning Mary as England’s official monarch, William III pitched a fit and threatened to leave England.

Fortunately for William, despite her earlier misgivings, Mary was firmly on his side.

Because William’s wife refused to govern alone, the English politicians had no choice but to offer the throne to both William III and Mary II as joint monarchs. Relieved, Willaim consented, and the Bishop of London crowned the couple as King and Queen of England at Westminster Abbey on April 11, 1689. Months later, the couple accepted the Scottish crown as well.

It was a crazy achievement…at least, until the fighting began.

Although the majority of people acknowledged William and Mary as their sovereigns, many individuals remained loyal to James and refused to recognize the couple’s claim to the kingdom. The dissidents justified their resistance by citing King James II’s divine providence, which, as you may recall, was the same rationale that originally propelled William’s rise to the throne. How ironic.

In any event, the backlash to William and Mary’s reign was historic: For the next 57 years, the Jacobites (supporters of King James II) fought relentlessly against the Williamites (supporters of King William III) to restore King James II and his descendants to the throne. And that fight got super bloody.

Outraged by William’s rule, a series of Jacobite uprisings erupted. In Ireland, the deposed and humiliated James II gathered his faithful Irish Roman Catholics to battle alongside his French forces to recover his former throne. But on July 1, 1690, William personally led his army to defeat James at the Battle of the Boyne, which again sent his father-in-law scurrying back to France.

Then, there was Scotland…

William’s brutal handling of the Scottish rebellions did nothing to endear him to the Jacobites. In fact, his public image there plummeted to new lows. Following a series of uprisings, William offered all resisting Scottish clans a pardon, provided they swore their allegiance to him by a particular date. However, after a delay, William grew impatient—and he did something terrible… 

Following a slight delay by some of the clans, William signed off on an awful command. In what’s now known as the Massacre of Glencoe, in 1692, he arbitrarily ordered his enforcers to brutally slaughter 30 members of Clan MacDonald to make examples of them. It was a heinous act and, of course, the public cried foul…

To appease the public, William made a show of firing the perpetrators (though technically, they were only operating on his instruction). However, it was all an act: In a tactic eerily similar to his handling of the mob leaders who executed De Witt, William later rewarded many of the culprits with things like knighthoods, earldoms, and army promotions, signaling that he wasn’t really all that sorry in the end.

But karma can be a witch. Soon after, William suffered his own personal tragedy.

Sadly, Queen Mary II, William’s wife, passed on December 28, 1694. Grievously, she passed from smallpox, the same disease that separately claimed the lives of both his parents. Now in deep mourning, William randomly chose this moment to honor his wife’s wishes to cease his extramarital relationship with his mistress, Elizabeth Villiers (yes, the relationship rumors spread by his father-in-law were true).

Unfortunately, the loss of William’s wife affected more than just his personal life…

Remember: William’s claim to the throne depended on Mary’s place in the line of succession, not his own. So, without her by his side, William found his popularity in England fading. Danger loomed at every corner for William, and with the king suddenly alone and vulnerable, this became the perfect time for the Jacobites to strike…or was it?

Miraculously, in a weird twist of fortune, the discovery of a Jacobite plot to eliminate William in 1696 unexpectedly revived his popularity in England. Oh, how fame is a fickle food. Luckily William didn’t meet the pointy end of his assailant’s blade that day; instead, the apprehended conspirator, John Fenwick, lost his head in 1697.

But the Jacobites still weren’t done with William of Orange.

The Jacobites began spreading stories about William’s alleged gay tendencies in the 1690s, resulting in the production and circulation of several amusing pamphlets on the subject. Although he reportedly did pal around with a few close, super good-looking males, William ultimately sneered at the gossip and retorted, “It seems to me very extraordinary that it should be impossible to have esteem and regard for a young man without it being criminal.”

Following a fall from his horse in 1702, William broke his collarbone and subsequently succumbed to pneumonia-related complications. Weirdly, the horse formerly belonged to Sir John Fenwick—the same Jacobite that William had executed for plotting his demise! Freaky. Following William’s burial alongside his wife at Westminster Abbey, William’s sister-in-law/cousin, Anne, therein took over as the Queen of England, Scotland, and Ireland.

William and Mary went down as one of history's greatest power couples, but their relationship wasn't always sunshine and roses. After all, Mary was 11 years younger than William, and oh yeah, they were cousins. When she found out she was to marry him, her reaction was disturbing: “She wept all that afternoon and all the following day.” Still, the wedding went ahead anyway, and the pair got hitched on November 4, 1677.

To make matters worse, the newlyweds had to consummate their marriage. That night. In front of the royal family. Where the king himself personally shut their bedcurtains closed. Ick.

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Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12,

In 1860, Rossa Matilda Richter was born in London, and straight into the circus. Her mom, Suzanne Richter, was a dancer while her dad, Ernst Karl Richter, was a prominent talent agent. On top of that, they essentially groomed her for the circus. Following in their footsteps was a matter of when, not if. Rossa never stood a chance. 

In April 1877, an audience knew they’d witness either history in the making, or tragedy. Rossa, who now performed under the stage name Zazel, stepped into the spotlight. The audience didn’t just notice her red and pink costume, they couldn’t help but also notice how young, small, and sweet she was. Farini prepared the cannonball. 

Thousands flocked to each performance, where Zazel took them on a journey of anxiety and amazement. Her many fans included Edward VII, who reportedly attended multiple shows. But not all of the attention was positive. Some of this attention—okay, a lot of it—was creepy and inappropriate. 

Looks can be deceiving. To an uneducated eye, the cannonball act appeared to have nothing to do with skill, and everything to do with luck. The performer seemed always helpless and just along for the ride. In actuality, Zazel had more than luck on her side. She knew exactly how to hold her body and turn mid-air to land safely onto the net. 

The spotlight was once again on Zazel—but this time, she wanted nothing to do with it. The House of Commons debated a bill that aimed to ban dangerous acrobatics. In other words, they wanted to ban what made Zazel… well, Zazel. She raged at these “interfering men” because “I loved it. They'd just no right to take away me living if I loved it. I was ambitious. I wanted to be great. You see, it was me art”. 

Most sources recognize Zazel as the first human cannonball. Most. Others insist that Ella Zuila and George Loyal, “The Australian Marvels”, beat her to it by years. While no one can agree on who the first human cannonball was, we can all agree that Zazel was a legend and icon of the circus. Nothing and noone can take that away from her.

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Narriman Sadeq was born in 1933 to Hussain Fahmi Saqiq Bey and Asila Kamil. The couple delighted at their daughter's birth, as they had sadly lost some babies in miscarriages. They named their little girl Narriman, which meant “beautiful, fascinating, vivacious spirit.” Even at birth, our girl Narriman had a lot to live up to...

Narriman's childhood years were peaceful and calm. But after finishing her schooling, her life kicked into high gear. You see, by this time, Narriman was a total catch—and she began to draw the eyes of eligible young men all over Egypt. After all, who wouldn’t want to marry a beautiful, young girl, the only child of a well-to-do family?

There was no dearth of suitors for young Narriman, but her father wanted to choose someone well-educated who would take care of his little girl. He ended up choosing a young lawyer, studying for his doctorate at Harvard, called Zaki Hashim. Narriman’s engagement to Hashim took place when she was just 16, but her heart wasn’t in the match. And for a strange reason too.

You can’t blame a 16-year-old for being attracted to tall, dark, and handsome men rather than nerdy doctors—and Narriman was no different. She didn’t find her new beau attractive, specifically shading him for being short. In a salty dig, she referred to her betrothed as the “small Zaki Hashim” and compared him unfavorably to a “small school teacher.” However, there might have been another, more reasonable motive for her

It isn’t common knowledge, but it is possible that Narriman had feelings for someone else. She may have had a crush on one of her classmates named Salah Shaarawi. Instead of a short doctor, he was a good-looking officer—equal in rank to a captain—when he asked Narriman’s uncle to test the waters with her parents and see if they'd let him marry their daughter.

Unfortunately for the young lovebirds, this did not go well...

Narriman liked Shaarawai and he belonged to a good family. She probably figured that her parents would be overjoyed to see her married to him—but she was wrong. Both her parents rejected Shaarawi and stumped for her vertically-challenged suitor, Hashim. Hmm. A young, beautiful girl stuck in a loveless engagement. What could go wrong there?

Look, it's easy to see that Narriman's engagement wasn't going well—but the events that led to it ending? No one could have predicted those. Like something out of a fairy tale, teenage Narriman somehow ensnared the freaking King of Egypt. According to King Farouk, someone showed him a picture of Narriman and he was immediately smitten, specifically with her "gentle" and "friendly" eyes.

Narriman entered King Farouk’s life three years after he divorced Farida, his wife and queen of ten years. The reason Farouk gave for the divorce was Farida’s unfaithfulness and inability to give him an heir: He had three daughters, but like every other king in the history of the world, he wanted a son. However, King Farouk wasn't just looking for a baby-maker.

He had certain other expectations that his bride-to-be had to fulfill...

For starters, King Farouk was looking for a purely Egyptian bride, who had no Turkish or Syrian ancestors. Apart from that, his new wife also had to be Muslim, a virgin, and, in an effort to curry favor with his people, she should not belong to the aristocracy. Well, 16-year-old Narriman certainly fit the bill. And for bonus points, she was also beautiful, polite, and charming. It seemed like a perfect match. Emphasis on "seemed."

Narriman and Farouk's first meeting was...awkward, to say the least. They were introduced at a jewellery store, where Farouk was browsing and where, get this, Narriman had come with her fiancé to pick out an engagement ring (!). While sources differ on the details of their meet-ugly, the fact remains that the king saw Narriman and decided then and there to make her his queen.

And what of Narriman's poor fiancé you ask? Oof, strap in.

Farouk sent his proposal to Narriman’s father, who felt shocked and extremely dismayed. But wait, you say, who wouldn't want their daughter to marry a King? Well, Farouk wasn’t exactly winning any popularity contests. Plus, he had a bit of a reputation as a womanizer. Despite these warning signs, he was the king, so Narriman's dad gave in and told Hashim to buzz off.

Narriman's dad was right to be less than enthusiastic about his daughter's new fiancé. He consulted with people he trusted, and they also advised him against the marriage. He realized he was caught between a rock and a hard place: He didn’t want his daughter to marry the king and suffer, but he knew he couldn’t stay in Egypt and reject the king’s offer. So he came up with a desperate plan.

Narriman's father figured that the only way he could save his daughter from the marriage was by running away from Egypt with her. He went as far as booking a flight out of the country. However, his family and friends warned him not to invoke the king’s ire by carrying out the plan. The poor man had to suffer in silence. Then, in a heartbreaking turn of events, his health gave way soon after Farouk sent his proposal.

Narriman rejoiced at the prospect of becoming queen, though she did feel bad that her father was unhappy with her upcoming nuptials. She didn’t have to worry about his disapproval for long though, as he was unable to handle the stress and passed long after agreeing to the match. Farouk turned up to give his condolences, but in Very Bad Fiancé Behavior 101, didn't stick around to comfort his young fiancé.

Already depressed at losing her father, Narriman began to worry that the King had lost interest in her.

Narriman was wrong. The King still wanted to marry her—he was just an insensitive jerk when it came to parents kicking the bucket. Instead of emotional support, he showed that he cared by talking to Narriman on the phone, sending romantic letters in French (despite the fact that Narriman couldn't read the language), and piling roses into his fiancée's mailbox.

Looking back, these were good days for Narriman and King Farouk. Later on, she remembered that her royal fiancé would listen to her talk when he called her on the phone (high bar, Narriman!) and would insist on hearing her opinions. He made her feel like “everything [she] said was useful for him and [had] meaning." Well, for now, at least...

Narriman had to prepare to become queen, and Farouk insisted that the only way to do that was by traveling to Europe and learning about etiquette and culture. Just after she turned 17, Narriman left Egypt and went to Rome with her uncle, where she received classes in history, royal etiquette, languages, tact, and music.

While in Europe, Narriman received the nickname that would define her time as Queen. The teenage soon-to-be royal was called "The Cinderella of the Nile" because of her rags to riches story. But don't get it twisted: Narriman's time abroad was far from a fairy tale. 

One of the king’s stipulations for Narriman was decidedly unromantic. He wanted her to lose weight before the wedding. Her diet in Rome accordingly helped her achieve her fiancé's desired weight of 110lbs. Farouk, meanwhile, weighed around 300. Girls, take note: If he has issues with the way you look, just dump him. Even if he happens to be king.

Naturally Narriman had a wedding ceremony fit for a queen. The king’s forces marked the day with celebrations on ground, in air, and on sea. There were parades, fireworks, dances, and songs to make it an event to remember. A convoy of Cadillacs and Rolls-Royces brought the bride to the ceremony, traveling through heart-shaped pink neon arches, embellished with F & N for Farouk and Narriman.

Narriman's dress was an absolute stand out—and for good reason. Seamstresses delicately sewed a stunning 20,000 diamonds sewn onto the fabric. And that wasn't all. It seems like Narriman couldn't decide whether she preferred diamonds or pearls—so she decided to have both. The queen wore an extravagant crown of pearls on her newly-royal head.

But after the glamorous wedding, everything changed.

In his own words, the king wanted to make sure he didn’t make the same mistakes with Narriman, as he had with Farida—his first wife. I’m assuming one of those was not taking her on a long honeymoon, because he took Narriman on a three-month long vacation along the French Riviera. He would also buy her gifts everyday from money he “earned” by gambling.

Unfortunately, the King didn't tell Narriman the truth about all those presents. You see, Farouk wasn't the best gambler. He was actually losing far more money than he was winning. If you’re thinking that the king doesn’t sound like the wisest, most responsible person you know, you’ve got it right.

While still on her extended honeymoon, Narriman woke up feeling dizzy and nauseous. King Farouk was certain that this meant his wife was pregnant. Clearly thirsty for a male heir, King Farouk immediately had his royal passenger ship transport his wife back home. Nine months later, Farouk go what we desired most: A son.

Crown Prince Ahmed Fuad was born in January 1952, a month before the due date, and only eight months after Narriman had wed the king. An over the moon Farouk spent the early days lavishing attention on his son and wife. The king now had everything he wanted: a beautiful young wife and an heir to the throne. But things were going to change. And soon.

Farouk inherited his father’s title and throne at the young age of 16, mere months after he left the palace to study in England. Upon his father's passing, he returned to Egypt to fulfill his duties as king, but he had no experience of what that entailed, and no understanding of how to win his people’s hearts. Although Egyptians wanted to think kindly of Farouk, he began to lose favor once the people realized he only cared about himself and his own hedonistic lifestyle.

Well, shortly after the birth of his son, Farouk's past finally caught up to him.

Remember how Narriman liked the King more than her old fiancé because of his tall stature? Well, King Farouk's appeal was beginning to dwindle. After the wedding, the King put on weight and began to lose his hair. Once the glamor of becoming queen had expired, Narriman became “bored” of the royal lifestyle and increasingly uninterested in her hubby.

Being an idealistic teenager, Narriman had imagined that Farouk was sincerely committed to bettering his people’s lives. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth. He seemed oblivious to his country's poverty. His decisions made the poor even poorer and often benefitted the rich and corrupt. As though that wasn't bad enough, Farouk also invoked everyone’s ire because of his own lavish lifestyle.

Brace yourselves as the worst part is coming up…

As if those weren’t big enough problems to grapple with, Farouk had also made a fatal mistake. His people were embroiled in a huge fight to defend Palestine from Israeli fighters. However, his forces failed miserably—for a truly sickening reason. Their weapons were shoddy, because Farouk had cheaped out and given them substandard ones...so that he could keep a cut of the budget for himself. WHAT A GUY.

But there could have been another heartbreaking reason for Narriman's misery. Her husband was an incorrigible flirt and rake. He was always in the international tabloids for his sordid affairs, and though the Egyptian media could not print anything at home, these things don’t remain secret for long. Had Narriman discovered the truth before she had her son?

Clearly this king was winning no popularity contests, so the disgruntled officers decided to take matters into their own hands. They planned a coup and overthrew Farouk's center of power in Cairo. At the time, he was (of course) neglecting the throne to picnic in Alexandria with his family. Farouk tried in vain to get the USA or Britain to intervene on his behalf.

But all they helped him get was a safe exit so that his son wouldn’t grow up with too-terrible memories.

You may have thought that Narriman would seize this chance to leave the king, but you'd be wrong. She stayed with her husband during this dark time, sailing into exile in Italy with Farouk, their son, and the king's daughters from his previous marriage. It was a selfless act, but let's be real. We all know this won’t end well...

Instead of repenting his past actions and appreciating Narriman for standing by him, Farouk continued his hedonistic lifestyle of splurging and womanizing all the time. But the worst part: He hurt his bride, both emotionally and physically, several times. After this, Narriman realized that nothing would change. The royal couple separated and soon, the young queen asked for a divorce.

Sadly, this wouldn’t be the end of Narriman's trials.

By this time, Egypt had abolished monarchy and become a republic. The new government, perhaps realizing that Narriman was a young victim of a powerful man, was happy to welcome Narriman back to live with her mother again. But though she’d left her past in Italy, it wouldn’t be easy for her to move on and pretend that her disastrous marriage to King Farouk had never happened.

A few months after she returned to Egypt, Narriman visited an old friend from court, who was the daughter of the king’s private doctor. This friend decided to play Cupid and introduce her friend to her brother, Dr. Adham Al-Nakeeb. Narriman was very impressed by the handsome young doctor, who was practicing in a hospital after studying abroad.

Did this mean that Narriman would finally find happiness with a much better man?

The young couple didn’t waste much time on courtship and got married just a few months after Narriman's divorce from Farouk came through in 1954. Based on pictures from the wedding, Narriman was overjoyed with her new husband. Soon enough, she even gave birth to her second child. Unfortunately, these happy times didn’t last for too long.

Although Adham was a good man, he found it wasn’t easy to live with a woman with so much emotional baggage. There are conflicting reports on why Narriman’s second marriage broke down. One of these is that she hadn’t left her taste for luxury behind and found it frustrating to live in a budget. But according to some sources, the real reason was much darker. 

According to Narriman's second son, the Egyptian government began to rethink their warm welcome to ex-Queen Narriman. Instead of accepting her, they made life difficult for the new couple by trying her new husband for trumped-up offenses and forbidding him from practicing medicine. These stressful circumstances affected Narriman's new marriage enormously.

Aaaand things only got worse from there.

Narriman and the doctor simply couldn't see eye to eye. She would travel to faraway places like Switzerland, while he would file lawsuits demanding that she come home and behave like an "obedient" wife. At one point, Narriman made it clear that she wanted to split—only for her husband to publish their dirty laundry in a newspaper. He printed a notice declaring that he'd never submit to a divorce. Yikes.

After living together for ten years, Narriman and her second husband Dr. Adham eventually decided there was no point in prolonging an unhappy marriage. Their differences had increased over time, and neither was happy with the other. They finalized the divorce agreement in 1964. Narriman's son stayed with his mother until he was legally old enough to live with his father.

Narriman was living in a quiet neighborhood villa when she fell ill and needed some blood tests. Her cousin asked a doctor friend to visit her and get the samples. This friend was Dr. Ismail Fahmi, a major doctor in the army. Well, he went and Cupid struck. The ex-queen’s beauty and charm greatly impressed Fahmi. But was Narriman ready for another relationship after two disastrous marriages?

Fahmi didn’t wait too long to pop the question to Narriman. Perhaps because she thought he was different, or maybe she was lonely and wanted companionship, whatever the reason, she didn’t wait too long to accept either. The couple married quietly, with only family present, in 1967. Thankfully, it appears that for Narriman, the third time was the charm.

After living in the public eye for the whole time she’d been engaged and married to Farouk, and even initially after she’d left him and come back to Egypt, you can’t really blame Narriman for wanting to ditch the paps and keep her life private. She clearly wanted to avoid any spotlight on her third marriage too. You can’t blame her, and seems like she had the right idea since her third marriage lasted until the longest.

Narriman really succeeded in keeping her life private after she married Dr. Fahmi. There is no account of her marriage, and neither she nor Fahmi talked to the press or to anyone who would blab. It does seem though that she was happy and Fahmi genuinely cared for her well-being. Sadly, Narriman’s troubles didn’t end, despite her loving husband. 

Just two years later, she got terribly sick. It turned out that there was severe internal bleeding in her brain. Doctors were afraid whether it could result in permanent damage.

Luckily for Narriman, her doctors diagnosed the problem in time and Fahmi took her to Paris for her treatment. She recovered after a major surgery, though doctors told her there would be some lasting effects. One of those was that she could not conceive again, as pregnancy would be fatal. Sadly, Narriman would never have children with the only husband who truly loved her.

Such a huge surgery was sure to have other effects too. Narriman continued to suffer from hypertension until the end, and she would also get frequent headaches. She would also lose her temper on little things. In spite of these little setbacks, she managed to live a comfortable life with Fahmi.

You can’t have a queenly past and not have stories to tell. Journalists and writers constantly hounded Narriman to share snippets from her past by writing her memoirs or agreeing to interviews. She remained firm until the end though and closed the door on all such offers. Except for one interview, recorded close to the time of her passing.

Unfortunately, when Narriman finally accepted an interview request, the journalist seemed much more interested in her ex-husband than Narriman herself. Eventually, the poor woman simply asked, “We have spoken much about King Farouk…What about Narriman?” Perhaps that sums her life best: People remembered her as Farouk’s second wife although she only lived two out of her 75 years in the world with him.

Even though she’d lived almost completely isolated from the world after her third marriage, she hardly left the house during the last three years of her life. The reason was mostly physical: She fell in the bathroom and broke her leg in 2002. Two years later, towards the end of 2004, she got pneumonia and had to stay in the hospital for a few weeks.

She did come home after she got better, but not for long. A few months later she went into a coma and never woke up. After ten days in the hospital, she passed on February 16, 2005, at the age of 75.

Though her time with Farouk was incredibly short, it haunted Narriman for the rest of her life—all because of the terrible choice he forced her to make: He agreed to a divorce—on the condition that their son stayed with him. She could either stay with her cruel husband and see her baby son, or she could leave the King—and abandon her child.

It may have broken her heart, but Narriman stayed firm in her decision. Perhaps she hoped Farouk would relent, or the law would help her see the child regularly. Unfortunately, she couldn't have been more wrong.

Once she left Farouk, Narriman couldn’t go see her son. The ex-king only permitted her to meet him in 1955, two long, painful years after she’d left the child in Italy. Poor Narriman, she really picked the wrong guy.

Narriman was unable to be present in her sons’ lives in the traditional way, but she tried to be there for them as best she could. Prince Fuad admitted that he blamed her for leaving him in infancy, though he should have directed the blame to his father. Narriman came to see him when Farouk allowed her to. She was a part of his wedding too.

One question remains: Have Egyptians truly honored Narriman's tragic legacy? In 2010, her son, Akram Al Naqib, claimed they had not. He did admit, however, that there had been a recent interest in that era of history and stated that he hoped that would mean that Narriman would finally receive the recognition that she should have gotten during her lifetime.

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Lena Mary Calhoun Horne was born on June 30, 1917 in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn, New York to Teddy Horne Jr and Edna Louise Scottron.

Horne's father Teddy was mixed-race, and her family tree was a mix of black, Native American, and European descent. They also had a pretty hallowed history. As Horne once put it, “I came from one of the First Families of Brooklyn.” The born-and-bred New Yorker was also a descendant of John C Calhoun, the seventh vice-president of the United States.

Her childhood was far from perfect. Teddy Horne was a shameless gambler who frequently squandered their money and then abandoned his wife and little daughter when the girl was only three years old. As Horne's mother was an actress in a traveling black theatre troupe, she simply couldn't take care of Lena on her own.

Instead, Horne was mostly raised by her maternal grandparents.

Horne moved a lot as a child. At the age of five, she was sent to live in Georgia. For a while, she resided with her uncle, who was the dean of students at a college in Fort Valley, Georgia. But the stage kept calling, and Horne also spent time with her mother and the theatre troupe, travelling around with her and getting her first taste of the spotlight. 

Eventually the Big Apple was too much of a draw for both little Lena and her mother. After living in Atlanta, Georgia for a while, the pair moved back to Horne's birthplace in New York, hoping to finally set down roots in one of the show business capitals of the world. For a time, it worked: they stayed there for six years.

While in New York, Horne went to a public, all-girls school and took a shot at completing her education. Sadly, her nomadic childhood and her restless spirit made that almost impossible for the young girl. She much preferred the stage to the schoolroom, and she dropped out of high school without earning her diploma.

As it turned out, Horne didn't need a diploma to make it where she was going; she only needed her velvet voice. Horne’s first brush with the entertainment world came at the age of 16, when she joined the chorus line of the Cotton Club—a legendary Harlem venue known for staging well-known jazz acts like Duke Ellington.

At 18 years old, now of-age and ready to take on the world, Horne moved to Pittsburgh, where her father was living. It was here that the svelte, beautiful Horne started practicing and honing her craft. She got in touch with African-American jazz greats like Billy Eckstine and Billy Strayhorne, who were impressed with the girl's talents.

Horne and Billy Strayhorn got along famously. Lena Horne even once confessed that if Strayhorn weren't gay, she would have married him at the drop of a hat. Even so, the two artistic souls had a long and beautiful friendship.

From a young age, Lena Horne never felt like she fit in. As her star rose, she not only was denied roles because she was Black, she was also accused of "passing" as white by her fellow African American entertainers. It seemed like she could never win, and Horne struggled to find her place while chasing her dreams.

From there, the sky was the limit for Lena Horne, and more and more venues not only began to notice her, they begged her to be in their shows. Horne quickly became a featured performer in the Cotton Club Parade, and went on to become the protégé of famed vocalist Adelaide Hall, who was no less than the star of the show.

During World War II, Horne worked with the USO to entertain American troops stationed in Europe. Horne was disheartened to discover that even there, audiences were racially segregated. So she hatched a rebellious, ingenious plan. First, she absolutely refused to perform in front of white-only audiences—but it got even better.

When she did agree to perform in front of a mixed audience of black servicemen and white German POWs, she was dismayed that the African-American troops were still seated in the back. Never one to back down from a challenge, Horne decided to perform directly in front of the Black troops, with her back toward the German prisoners.

After years in the nightclub business, Horne was growing a little tired of the touring and the late nights, so she set her sights on the silver screen. Her film debut was the low-budget musical The Duke is Tops. Though it was a humble beginning, it was still a beginning—and Horne started to attract the attention of studio heads.

When Horne signed a multi-year film contract with MGM, she was one of the first black actors to sign a long-term deal with a major Hollywood studio.

With her lofty ambitions leaning toward Hollywood, it wasn't long before Horne moved to Los Angeles to focus her energy on film making. While there, however, she still did nightclub work on the Sunset Strip, and continued to grow her name and her brand in different ways. There was just no stopping Ms Lena Horne. 

For a time, it seemed like Lena Horne was going to break every Hollywood barrier that existed. She started with small roles in musicals, but moved onto to bigger ones as the studio grew more satisfied with her performances. In 1943, she even performed the titular song from the musical Stormy Weather, which was based on the life of her mentor Adelaide Hall.

Tragically, Lena Horne never reached her full potential. At the time, racist attitudes meant that in many American cities, some theatres would refuse pointblank to show Black actors on screen. Because of this, Horne never got to play the lead role in these films, and—perhaps even worse—her appearances were mostly limited to standalone musical numbers that could be easily edited out.

As she once lamented, “No one bothered to put me in a movie where I talked to anybody...I began to feel depressed about it, wasted emotionally.”"

To make matters worse, Horne valiantly refused to take on the stereotypical maid and lady worker roles that many other Black actresses had to content themselves with to make ends meet. Instead, she only held out for roles that expanded Black identity and sexuality beyond servitude and seduction, but the pickings were brutally slim.

Despite her difficulties, Horne never gave up fighting for stardom. In 1946, she even appeared in the ensemble blockbuster Ziegfeld Follies. She was in good company: the film was a star-studded event featuring the likes of Fred Astaire and Judy Garland. The sultry Horne appeared singing the pop standard "Love."

One of Horne’s 1957 performances at the Waldorf-Astoria was recorded and released as a live album entitled Lena Horne at the Waldorf-Astoria. The incredible work actually went on to become the label’s highest selling album by a female artist, and many people who remember Lena Horne today remember her for this moving performance.

Lena Horne was there the fateful day that Martin Luther King, Jr. gave his iconic "I Have a Dream" speech—but she was escorted off the grounds before she could hear it. Horne attended the march with the great Rosa Parks, and the two icons had to be walked off the premises because the media was becoming too distracted by their star power.

Throughout her illustrious career, Horne won three Grammy awards.

Janet Jackson’s “wardrobe malfunction” at the Super Bowl is now infamous and nearly ruined the singer's career—and Lena Horne played a big part in the pop star's downfall. Jackson was in talks to play Horne in a television biopic for ABC, but after the slip up, Horne reportedly demanded that Jackson be dropped from the film.

To date, the Lena Horne biopic has yet to be made.

Throughout her life, Horne was romantically linked to many famous men. She is reported to have dated musician Artie Shaw, director Orson Welles, and boxer Joe Louis.

Although her movie career never quite reached its full potential, Horne still made a lasting impact. In the first Academy Awards ceremony following her death, Horne was the subject of a special tribute. Halle Berry—the first black woman to win the Oscar for Best Actress in a Leading Role—presented a tribute honoring the trailblazing Horne.

After her MGM commitments were finished, Horne would make precious few film appearances before retiring from the spotlight. One of her last films was in 1978 as the Good Witch Glinda in the cult hit The Wiz.

Horne’s very final film appearance was in That’s Entertainment! III. Fittingly, the work was a retrospective documentary on the films of classic era MGM. In the movie, Horne introduces her cut performance of “Ain’t it the Truth” from the musical Cabin in the Sky. Though Horne was often cut from films because of her race, this edit had a more scandalous history. 

The song was also deemed too risqué: it depicts Horne singing while taking a bubble bath.

Even in her twilight years, Horne continue to smash records. In the 1980s, a Broadway bigwig begged Horne to do her own solo revue show, and soon she was set up for a four-week engagement of Lena Horne: The Lady and Her Music. This short engagement turned into a whopping 333-performance run—a record for a solo show on Broadway.

Following its run on the Great White Way, the Lena Horne show toured throughout the United States and Canada and had runs in Stockholm and London. In between her sparkling musical numbers, Horne also delivered monologues on her rise to fame and the many hardships she encountered due to racial prejudice. At last, she was free to speak. 

At the height of her stardom, Horne counted some very illustrious people as her neighbors. She lived in the prosperous Black enclave of St. Albans in Queens, New York, right next door to jazz legend Ella Fitzgerald.

By marriage, Horne is related to two famous show biz names—director Sidney Lumet and actor Bobby Cannavale.

Lena Horne lived to see some of the greatest upheavals of the 20th century, from the Cold War to the Civil Rights Movement. In fact, she lived until the ripe old age of 92, only passing away on May 9, 2010. Her funeral was held in her beloved New York City and was attended by Hollywood stars such as Lauren Bacall and Liza Minnelli.

Arguably Horne's biggest letdown was her failure to win the part of Julie LaVerne in the 1951 hit film Show Boat. In the story, the LaVerne is eventually revealed to be mixed-race, just like Horne herself. While it was a perfect fit, studios were still afraid to put Horne front and center—so they cruelly rejected her.

Then the tragedy got even worse. After rejecting Horne, MGM decided to cast the popular, beautiful, and very white actress Ava Gardner in the role instead. To add insult to injury, Gardner reportedly practiced the musical numbers in the film to recordings of Horne’s previous performances of the songs in another film. Talk about a stab in the back.

Horne was unlucky in love. At the height of her stardom when she was barely out of her 20s, Horne married the handsome Louis Jordan Jones in 1937. For a brief time, it seemed like a fairy tail ending: The couple had two children, daughter Gail and son Edwin. Sadly, it was actually doomed to an utterly heartbreaking end. 

The pressures of stardom became too much for the young lovers, and they separated just four years after the wedding.

In the 1940s, it seemed like Horne was willing to give love another shot, and she married prestigious MGM music director Lennie Hayton in 1947 during a lavish ceremony in Paris, France. Their relationship was wracked with scandal: Hayton was a white man, and interracial marriages were still frowned upon—but they were hiding an even darker secret. 

In an interview with Ebony magazine, Horne once revealed that her marriage to Hayton was mostly loveless, and that she had only married him to help improve her career prospects and to cross the Hollywood color line.

In 1941, Horne made a noteworthy appearance at the Café Society in New York’s Greenwich Village. The Café Society was a progressive venue that played to mixed audiences, and it was at the venue that the young Horne met fellow performer and activist Paul Robeson. Their encounter would change Lena Horne's life forever. 

Robeson encouraged Horne to become active in her community and join organizations like the Council for African Affairs and the Joint Anti-Fascist Refugee Committee. Though it opened her up to a world of charity and activism she had never seen before, these affiliations would later come back to haunt her in the darkest of ways.

At the time, these organizations were seen as communist sympathizers—and with the Cold War, Hollywood was in the infamous midst of the Red Scare. Suddenly, Horne was blacklisted for years within the entertainment industry. She was totally blindsided by the accusations, and struggled to get work even with old contacts.

As one commenter put it, “Lena was screwed. Nobody could or would defend her.” If she wanted to survive, she had to do something drastic. 

In order to save herself, Horne begged and pleaded with authorities for years and proclaimed her innocence and ignorance to anyone who would listen. None of it helped. Finally, in 1953, she tried one more Hail Mary attempt. She sat down at the desk at the hotel where she was staying, picked up its official stationery, and wrote a heartbreaking letter. 

Addressing it to prominent Hollywood anti-communist Roy Brewer, she scrawled, “I have always known that America offers the greatest chance to all people, to achieve human dignity—and since this terrible experience I am more determined than ever to do what I can to impress these principles on the thinking of all people I come in contact with.” She also admitted that she had trusted the wrong people, but that her heart was pure inside.

Miraculously, it worked, particularly in combination with her other efforts. Before long, she was acting again, and we have the privilege of remembering her today.

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Samuel Bass was born on July 21, 1851, in Mitchell, Indiana. Orphaned as a teenager, he bounced between relatives and jobs, never quite settling. By his early twenties, Bass had already learned that staying put wasn’t his style. He was charming, restless, and unusually likable for a man who would soon be hunted statewide.

Before he ever robbed a train, Sam Bass was better known as a gambler. In the early 1870s, he drifted west to Denton, Texas, where he spent more time at card tables than stables. Friends said he was generous when he won and calm when he lost. Unfortunately, he lost a lot.

In 1876, Bass joined a cattle drive to Kansas with partner Joel Collins. The plan was honest work. The outcome was not. When the cattle sold for far less than expected, Bass and Collins decided to make up the difference another way. That decision would change everything.

Bass and Collins turned their attention to trains traveling through Nebraska. On September 18, 1877, the Bass Gang robbed a Union Pacific train near Big Springs, Nebraska. They walked away with over $60,000 in gold coins. It was one of the largest train robberies in US history at the time.

The gang didn’t know they had stolen newly minted $20 gold coins. Those coins were rare and traceable. When Bass started spending them freely, authorities noticed. Ironically, the very thing that made the robbery successful also made Bass impossible to hide.

After Collins was killed in a shootout in Nebraska in 1877, Bass returned to Texas. Instead of laying low, he became bolder. He robbed stagecoaches and trains, often without hurting anyone. Locals began calling him the “Texas Robin Hood,” claiming he shared money with the poor, though historians debate how often that actually happened.

What made Sam Bass different wasn’t just the crimes. It was how people felt about him. Witnesses described him as polite, soft-spoken, and surprisingly respectful. Even people he robbed sometimes admitted they liked him. That charm helped him hide longer than he should have.

By late 1877, Texas officials had enough. Governor Richard Coke authorized Texas Rangers to hunt Bass down. Captain Junius “June” Peak and Ranger John B Armstrong were assigned to the case. Bass was now facing professionals who knew Texas better than he did.

In early 1878, Texas offered a $10,000 reward for Sam Bass, dead or alive. That was an enormous sum at the time. Friends became liabilities. Strangers became threats. Bass knew the walls were closing in, but he kept moving.

Bass fell in love with a young woman named Etta Place. Some historians believe the relationship made him careless. He lingered longer in towns. He trusted people he shouldn’t have. Romance didn’t turn him soft, but it did make him human.

One of Bass’s associates, Jim Murphy, secretly contacted the Texas Rangers. Murphy agreed to help set a trap in exchange for a pardon. Bass had no idea his inner circle was collapsing. This betrayal would seal his fate.

On July 19, 1878, Bass planned to rob a bank in Round Rock, Texas. Texas Rangers were already waiting. When Bass’s gang arrived, local lawman AW Grimes tried to arrest them. Gunfire erupted in broad daylight.

During the shootout, Ranger George Herold was killed, and Sam Bass was shot twice, once in the spine. Despite his injuries, Bass managed to escape briefly on horseback before collapsing outside town. The outlaw who had outrun Texas was finally stopped.

Sam Bass was captured and taken back to Round Rock. He lingered for two days, paralyzed and in pain. On July 21, 1878, his 27th birthday, Sam Bass died. He reportedly said, “I’d have made it if it hadn’t been for that dirty little coward, Jim Murphy.”

Bass was buried in Round Rock Cemetery. Within weeks, songs were written about him. Stories grew taller. Details blurred. To some, he was a criminal. To others, he was a folk hero who stood up to railroads and banks during a brutal economic era.

“The Ballad of Sam Bass” became one of the most famous outlaw songs in American history. It painted Bass as brave, loyal, and doomed. The song did what history often does not. It turned a complicated man into a symbol.

Modern historians agree Bass was no saint. He broke the law repeatedly. But they also note he avoided unnecessary violence and never built an empire of cruelty. Compared to other outlaws of the era, Bass stands out as oddly restrained.

Sam Bass represents rebellion without brutality. He challenged powerful institutions at a time when regular people felt crushed by them. That alone earned him loyalty that outlived him.

Despite his reputation as an outlaw, Sam Bass never actually robbed a bank successfully. Every major heist that made him famous involved trains or stagecoaches. The man remembered as a fearless bank robber died trying to pull off the one crime he never mastered.

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When Hattie McDaniel stole the show in Gone With The Wind, it seemed like she had burst into Hollywood fully formed. But her beginnings were tragic and soul-crushing. Her mother, Susan, gave birth to a total of 13 children, but only seven—with Hattie as the youngest—survived. And even so, it was barely. The family was so poor that the malnourished baby Hattie weighed just over three pounds.

It was a hard life for Hattie from the start, but she had a plan that would change everything.

From the beginning, McDaniel knew she was a star. She sang and danced so much as a child, her poor mother would nonetheless “give me a nickel sometimes to stop". It quite literally paid off: By the time she was in her early 20s, Hattie founded The McDaniel Sisters Company minstrel show with her sister Etta. And while the show might seem small-fry, it produced the one huge thing.

As a performer, McDaniel had a signature statuesque-yet-nimble quality, and she knew just what to do with it. After long years producing her own minstrel shows, she came up with an idea that made her famous. She began perfecting a kooky persona that closely resembled her future character “Mammy” from Gone With the Wind. But before that film, McDaniel had a heart-wrenching twist coming up.

If McDaniel started her career young, she also got a head start on romance. In 1911, when she was still 18 years old, Hattie married Howard Hickman. Yet like so much else in her life, her first marriage was destined for heartbreak. Hickman died just four years after the wedding, leaving McDaniel a painfully young widow. And life wasn’t done hurting her.

Soon after losing her husband, McDaniel’s life took a turn for the absolute worst. Her brother Otis passed in 1916, leaving her troupe penniless. Suddenly McDaniel had to scrimp for the barest of supporting roles. She even made a leap into radio, performing several sessions for Paramount records. It was enough for while…until the bottom dropped out.

In 1922, the eternally optimistic McDaniel gave herself another chance at love and married George Langford. It had a horrific outcome. Just as McDaniel started gaining more ground in her career, her second husband died before his due, this time of a gunshot wound and after only three years of marriage. How could this get worse? Well…

In 1929, Hattie McDaniel’s life took another terrifying nosedive; the stock market crash turned her nascent entertainment career into dust overnight. The very day it happened, McDaniel had been working the chorus in legendary entertainer Florenz Ziegfeld’s tour of Show Boat, which was currently in Milwaukee. And when Ziegfeld got the news, he was not kind.

In the blink of an eye, Show Boat had no more money to pay its entertainers. Accordingly, it dropped most of them—McDaniel included—from the program. Oh, but it gets worse than that. The show didn’t even have enough money to send the performers home, which is how McDaniel found herself stranded in the middle of Milwaukee with not a penny to her name. And desperate times really called for desperate measures.

With nowhere to go and in desperate need of some income, McDaniel had to make a heartbreaking decision. She stuffed down her pride and her massive talents and took up work as a bathroom attendant in the nightclub Club Madrid. It was one of the only jobs she could actually find, but McDaniel soon proved how much everyone had underestimated her.

While McDaniel worked the stalls, she was really waiting for her chance. One night, it finally came. All of the club's singers went home early, and they needed one more act before closing. McDaniel jumped on the opportunity, polishing off her version of “St. Louis Blues". The crowd—and her co-workers—went wild, and the boss hired her on the spot. But bigger, better things were on the horizon.

Two years later, the Great Depression hit and Club Madrid closed for good—but Hattie McDaniel had learned her lessons well and stayed way ahead of the curve. She took her savings and hopped on a bus to Hollywood, sure that the burgeoning film industry needed her talents. But her plan was risky, and she got one rude awakening.

Soon after McDaniel arrived in Los Angeles, she took up more work in a series of sassy maid characters, most famously on the radio as “Hi-Hat Hattie". But the whole time, she was hiding a secret. Her salary on these jobs was pitifully low; too low to earn a full living. As a result, she often worked as a real maid behind the scenes. Little did McDaniel know, though, this was her key to stardom.

In 1937, all of Hollywood was eyeing the casting for producer David O. Selznick’s upcoming film Gone With the Wind. Every white woman wanted the role of Scarlett O’Hara, every white man wanted to be Rhett Butler, and every Black woman was throwing her hat in the ring to play the lady's maid Mammy. By now, we know that McDaniel won the part—but few people know the whole story of just how she did it.

The competition for Mammy was so tough, McDaniel developed a famous adversary while going for the role. None other than First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt campaigned to have her own maid, Elizabeth McDuffie, in the part, and she wrote to David O. Selznick personally about her totally objective pick. Yet McDaniel had a trick up her sleeve.

McDaniel hadn’t spent decades in show business without making friends, and her powerful pals came through for her when it counted. While some stories claim that Clark Gable, who nabbed the part of Rhett Butler, put in a good word for her, others say McDaniel’s brother Sam called in his buddy Bing Crosby to bend Selznick’s ear and cast her.

Whatever the truth, though, McDaniel’s audition—where she walked in with a real maid’s uniform—cinched the deal. And then the trouble started.

Getting a part in Gone With the Wind was a dream come true a first for McDaniel. She soon found out it was a nightmare. Many Black activists criticized her for only taking on servant roles and not advancing the image of Black people as able to perform many roles. McDaniel’s pert response? “I can be a maid for $7 a week, or I can play a maid for $700 a week". Still, no money in the world was going to fix the tense set of the period epic.

The filming of Gone With the Wind was notoriously troubled. Before three weeks were up, Selznick had already fired the first director and hired another, and another third director would come on before filming finished. McDaniel and the rest of the cast, meanwhile, had to work long hours in itchy, hot costumes. Is it any surprise it reached a boiling point?

While on set, McDaniel and the rest of her Black crew members mostly got through it by cheering each other on during the interminable days, with many gathering to applaud after key scenes wrapped. But when it came to McDaniel’s relationship with her co-star Butterfly McQueen, who played the much less flashy maid Prissy, all politeness broke down.

While McDaniel became a studio ally for the politics of the film, saying in an official press release, “There is nothing in this picture that will injure colored people,” Butterfly McQueen had no such hopes for the movie. One day, she began to get her revenge. First, McQueen started intentionally tripping up her lines...and then she went for the main cast.

During one scene, Vivien Leigh’s Scarlett O’Hara had to slap McQueen in character. But when the white actress went a little too method on the strike, McQueen decided she’d had enough. Tired of playing an obedient servant both on-screen and off, McQueen demanded that Leigh apologize. As tensions rose, McDaniel had to step in with an infamous intervention.

Butterfly McQueen claims that in the moments following her outburst, McDaniel found her and tried to talk her down. But her words were controversial. Still loyal to the idea of the film, McDaniel advised McQueen not to stir up any trouble, telling her “You’ll never come back to Hollywood; you complain too much". Yet for all the faith McDaniel put in the Hollywood system, it still tragically betrayed her.

As production finished on Gone With the Wind, David O. Selznick made one enormous realization. Hattie McDaniel and her Mammy were completely mesmerizing, and practically stealing the show from Clark Gable’s Rhett and Vivien Leigh’s Scarlett. While this might have been a good thing for some films, it nearly spelled doom for Gone With the Wind.

With Hattie McDaniel hitting home runs on every scene, Selznick had a huge problem: The film’s premiere was in Atlanta, and the state of Georgia didn’t want any of the film's many Black actors to attend the gala and flout their segregation laws. When Selznick tried to finagle an exception for McDaniel, the studio balked and refused to back him. When word got back to the cast, something strange happened.

McDaniel still had tons of friends in the industry, including the Gone With the Wind’s lead Clark Gable. When he heard the ridiculous news that McDaniel couldn’t attend her own premiere, he reportedly tried to boycott it himself. Indeed, the story goes that it was McDaniel who had to convince him to attend, again not to cause a fuss. Nonetheless, there was quite a fuss.

Although the premiere went on without McDaniel, she was far from forgotten on the night. Immediately after, the author of the Gone With the Wind novel, Margaret Mitchell, sent the star a telegram about the premiere that read “Wish you could have heard the applause". Well, McDaniel might have been playing the good girl for now—but she wasn’t going to play for long.

A little over a week after the premiere of Gone With the Wind, Hattie McDaniel got her triumphant revenge. On December 28, 1939, McDaniel was front and center at the Hollywood debut of the film, and Selznick had even made sure that her face was smack dab in the middle of the program (though he’d erase it in future promotional materials). Then came McDaniel's real triumph.

After the release of the film, the Academy Awards nominated McDaniel for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her role as Mammy. This was electrifying. After all, McDaniel was the first Black person—not just actress—to even be nominated for an Oscar, ever. Sure, that says a lot about white society, but it also says a lot about just how riveting McDaniel was on screen. Tragically, the Oscars were nowhere near prepared for her.

Oscar night that year was on February 29, 1940, at the famous Coconut Grove restaurant in Los Angeles. When McDaniel walked into the room, jaws dropped. The “maid” had turned into a Cinderella and wore, as gossip columnist Louella Parsons described, her “hair trimmed with gardenias, face alight, and dress up to the queen's taste". But the best was yet to come.

That night, when the Best Supporting Actress category came up, they announced “Hattie McDaniel". Yes, against all odds, McDaniel was now the first Black actor to win an Oscar. With tears in her eyes, McDaniel ended her short speech by saying, “My heart is too full to tell you just how I feel, and may I say thank you and God bless you". But this was not the end of her story (or, as we'll see, her Oscar night)...though she might have wished it was.

Throughout the 1930s, McDaniel had concentrated almost solely on her career, and with her Oscar in hand, she finally turned once more to romance in the 1940s. After meeting real estate agent James Lloyd Crawford, she married him in March 1941 and hoped a loving family life would follow their nuptials. Oh, if only that was the case.

McDaniel had spent a lifetime building herself up, and now she climbed even higher than before. Then in 1945, she divulged an unbelievable secret. She hinted to gossip columnist Hedda Hopper that, at the age of 51, she and her husband James Crawford were expecting a child at last. Suddenly, McDaniel went into overdrive.

After a lifetime of focusing on professional concerns, McDaniel threw herself into the role of mother with abandon. She started buying piles of baby clothes and began decorating a room in her house as a nursery. She and Crawford awaited more news of the baby with bated breath, but as the weeks went by, McDaniel got a small, dark feeling in the pit of her stomach.

As the days wore on and no further signs of her baby appeared, McDaniel knew something was seriously wrong. When disaster struck, it was devastating. She realized with horror that she had actually gone through a rare “false pregnancy,” where all signs point to a baby coming, but there’s nothing there at all. The actress was absolutely shattered—and nothing in her life was the same again.

When McDaniel could finally accept that she wasn’t going to have a child, she fell into a deep depression and could no longer face her own marriage. The very same year she tore down her nursery, she divorced James Crawford and tried to strike out again on her own. Still, there may have been an even more sinister reason behind their Hollywood split.

In the wake of her divorce, McDaniel made a disturbing confession. She claimed that it wasn’t the loss of her anticipated child that drove them apart, but the fact that Crawford, still a modest realtor, had been jealous of her success and couldn’t take the enormity of her career. Whatever the reason, McDaniel threw herself back into work in the wake of her breakup.

Before long, she was starring as another sassy housekeeper in the hit radio show Beulah. Then she met the man that would throw the last wrench into her love life. And it was a big one.

In the summer of 1949, the working McDaniel met Larry Williams, an interior designer, and fell into a whirlwind relationship. By that June, they were married, and McDaniel thought again that this time, at long last, it would all work out for her. After all, she had a hit show, loads of money coming in, and a new man on her arm. Except, the cracks started showing fast.

Just five months after marrying Williams, McDaniel filed for divorce. In the days after, the breakup got bitter. In front of the divorce court, McDaniel testified that they had spent their time together “arguing and fussing". Obviously, that’s not great, but it didn’t seem like grounds for divorce…until McDaniel broke down into sobs and revealed the rest of the story.

Who really knows what married couples get up to behind closed doors? If you're Hattie McDaniel and Larry Williams, it's probably nothing good. Rumors swirled around Hollywood that the power couple constantly got into physical altercations with each other during heated arguments. And then there was the psychological damage.

According to the woman herself, Hattie McDaniel was “a real hearty eater". That is, until she met Larry Williams. The pair’s marital problems affected McDaniel in an utterly brutal way. McDaniel completely lost her appetite and in just two weeks, she lost about 12 pounds. Pounds weren’t the only thing that Williams cost her, however…

Despite running a highly successful interior decorating business of his own, Larry Williams much preferred to spend his wife’s money. Williams was even so bold as to ask McDaniel to fund a trip for him to Europe. McDaniel was having none of it. “Europe? Europe where?” she replied. “Europe, Pennsylvania? Here’s $50 for a Greyhound bus ticket! Take it and go!” But she wasn't rid of him that easily.

Asking for McDaniel’s money cap-in-hand wasn’t good enough for Larry Williams. The husband of the Hollywood star got it into his head that he wanted to manage McDaniel’s career…for which he would require a joint checking account. McDaniel saw the schemer coming a mile away and proclaimed, “I’m letting no man handle my bank account".

But the final straw came when Williams actively tried to ruin her career.

According to the actress, Williams was one insidious piece of work, and while they were together he tried to tear down her work, particularly stirring up trouble among her castmates on Beulah. It was so awful, McDaniel confessed, "I got so I couldn't sleep. I couldn't concentrate on my lines". McDaniel was 0 for 4 on good marriages, and sadly, she would never get another chance at love.

Around the time of her divorce, McDaniel found out that she was going to star in the television version of Beulah. Yet this was a double-edged sword. She was actually replacing her friend and neighbor Ethel Waters in the title role of the show, and Waters had dropped out because she didn’t like the Black stereotypes the show perpetuated.

Even worse, Waters wasn’t alone: The US Army refused to even broadcast the show out of fear that it demoralized their Black members. And that wasn’t all.

For better or worse, Hattie McDaniel’s legacy was still one of playing the “help,” and many Black actors and activists continued to criticize her for it. In particular, McDaniel had a long-standing feud with NAACP leader Walter White, who preferred more ostensibly progressive, more socially-conscious (and, often, lighter-skinned) stars like Lena Horne over McDaniel. But McDaniel had her own legendary response to this.

McDaniel may have built a Hollywood reputation on “not complaining,” but she knew how to stand up for herself when it counted. She dealt her haters a stunning blow. When White held a convention with prominent Black actors, including not just Lena Horne but Hattie’s brother Sam McDaniel, Hattie point-blank refused to attend. Um, and she did it with style.

After years of being pigeon-holed as a "simple" Black woman, McDaniel had no problem letting her rapier wit show for Walter White. In her letter declining his invitation, she wrote that it was impossible for her to come to see White, “for he has openly insulted my intelligence". She then added, “God has endowed me with other talents, which Walter White and no other persons know nothing of, and they are not menial as he has said". Shots. Fired.

Even so, McDaniel also knew White was not her worst enemy—and she saved her best for her real rivals.

Despite her reputation for playing maids, McDaniel's personal life was downright glamorous. In 1942, she bought a sprawling, 17-room mansion in the neighborhood that became known as “Sugar Hill” or “The Black Beverly Hills". McDaniel’s close friend and fellow actress Lena Horne called it "the most exquisite house I had ever seen in my life". Then McDaniel filled the house with very scandalous goings-on.

Like any diva worth her salt, McDaniel loved throwing lavish parties for her friends, and the likes of Horne, Clark Gable, Bing Crosby, and Paul Robeson drifted through her wide hallways, drinks in hand, with zero attention paid to any color lines. McDaniel, meanwhile, could often be found swanning about her party palace with her Dalmatian dogs at her heels, the picture of Hollywood glamour.

Yet once more, it was about to all came crashing down.

Shortly after McDaniel bought her house in Sugar Hill, the rich white residents around the neighborhood did what they always do: They started complaining about property values now that people who looked different from them were moving in. McDaniel’s response was breathtaking. Using all of her charm, she organized against her unfriendly neighbors, collecting close-by luminaries like Ethel Waters and Louise Beavers in the process. Then she shut down their claims in the court of law.

Better than all that, McDaniel’s moves were, according to her biographer Jill Watts, the beginning of “the end of such residential segregation throughout the United States". But McDaniel had no such happy ending.

At the beginning of the 1950s, things were once more looking up for Hattie McDaniel. But she should have known by then that this only meant trouble was on the way—and this time, she couldn’t get out of it. After filming only a few episodes for her controversial television series Beulah, McDaniel started to feel sick and went to a doctor. They gave her news that made her blood run cold.

According to the medics, McDaniel had cancer, and there wasn’t much they could do to lengthen her life. In 1952, she succumbed to the illness at the age of just 59. Her passing released an outpouring of love, as thousands of fans, friends, and other mourners attended her funeral. According to the specifications in her will, McDaniel was buried in a white casket with a white shroud—plus one more heartbreaking detail.

One of McDaniel’s other demands was that there were “white gardenias in my hair and in my hands, together with a white gardenia blanket". Although this seems oddly specific, there was an incredible reason for this. McDaniel had famously worn gardenias in her hair and on her dress the night she won her Academy Award. Still, this claim to fame didn’t save her from one last brutal betrayal.

Although McDaniel’s estate did its best to follow her wishes, one of her requests was impossible to grant. The actress had requested that in addition to the gardenias, her executors bury her in the famous Hollywood Forever Cemetery. However, at the time—like so much else in McDaniel’s life—the cemetery was segregated, and she had to settle for her second choice, Rosedale.

Hattie McDaniel was truly loved by all…men and women alike. The Gone With the Wind star made fast and famous friends with just about everyone she met, including the noted libertine Tallulah Bankhead. In fact, some considered McDaniel and Bankhead’s close friendship too close, and whispered that McDaniel was herself bi.

In her will, McDaniel also left her Oscar plaque to Howard University, the historically Black college in Washington, D.C. But this was no easy task. First, because she owed debts, the IRS claimed her Oscar. Then, although the award eventually made it to Howard, the plaque disappeared in the 1960s or 1970s. It's missing to this day.

But McDaniel didn't just leave us with a mystery. She also left the world with one last laugh.

McDaniel’s marriage to Larry Williams was tempestuous, and that bad blood didn’t end when she passed. She left behind a cruel tribute to him. In her will, McDaniel bequeathed to Larry Williams the grand sum of…$1. I really, really hope that he didn’t go and spend it all in one place. More than likely, however, he spent that money on a date with another lover.

Hattie McDaniel and Clark Gable had a lifelong friendship, but the details of their relationship are still relatively unknown today. Although Gable famously threatened to boycott the Gone With the Wind premiere for McDaniel, he also had a lighter side when it came to his pal. One day on the set of Gone With the Wind, he swapped out iced tea in a decanter for real brandy, then watched McDaniel take a big swig while filming a scene. What are friends for, right?

When we look back now on McDaniel’s historic evening at the Academy Awards, we tend to see only the good. But the truth about her Oscar win is much more disturbing. For one, the Coconut Grove had a strictly “no Blacks” policy, and they only let McDaniel in as a “favor,” insultingly enough. But if you think that’s infuriating, just wait for what happened once McDaniel got past the front doors.

As it turned out, just getting into Coconut Grove was only half the battle. To “accommodate” McDaniel, the venue had segregated the ballroom, meaning that she had to sit entirely apart from her Gone With the Wind castmates, with her only other companion at the table being her white agent William Meiklejohn. And guess what? THERE WAS MORE.

The actual Oscars ceremony treated Hattie McDaniel disgracefully, but that was nothing compared to the hours afterward. See, McDaniel’s idiot castmates had decided to celebrate at a “no Blacks” club for the afterparty, and this time the actress was denied entry entirely.  So there McDaniel was, Oscar in hand and nowhere to go.

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Though Pam Grier is a larger-than-life figure, she has surprisingly normal roots. On May 26th, 1949, she started life as part of a regular, run of the mill family in Winston-Salem, Massachusetts. Her father was a serviceman who travelled for work, and her mother was a housewife. Neither of their professions could have hinted at Pam’s glamorous future.

After moving around and even living in England for a time, Pam’s family finally settled in Denver, Colorado. As a young girl, Grier immediately fell in love with the city's parks. She spent all her free time playing outside, creating a love of the outdoors So far, Grier's childhood was picture perfect. But it wouldn't stay that way for long.

When Grier was only six years, she underwent a horrific trauma. A group of boys in her neighborhood ganged up on her so that they could attack her and even act inappropriately toward the young girl. Thankfully, a telephone repairman saw the attack and chased off the attackers, saving Grier from further suffering. However, the damage was done.

After the attack, Grier suffered in silence. She refused to tell anyone, even her own parents, about what had happened to her. Her reasons for staying silent were heartbreaking: Grier worried that her family would "hunt" the boys down as revenge, and that the whole ordeal would tear her family apart. With her decision made, Grier only revealed the truth decades later.

After the attack, Grier may not have told her parents what happened, but she expressed her pain in other ways. She became incredibly self-conscious about her own body and refused to speak for long periods of time. When Grier did have to talk, she realized that she couldn't express herself clearly anymore. She had developed an intense stutter.

Despite her difficult experiences, Pam still grew up to become a pragmatic and realistic young woman. It never really occurred to her that she might make a bid for stardom. Instead, Grier enrolled in college, intent on becoming a doctor. But this future star couldn’t keep the limelight away, and soon her life would change forever.

While in college, Grier performed in plays and concerts, and competed in beauty competitions. Though she only became the runner-up in Colorado’s Miss Universe pageant, at least one person thought she should have won the tiara. A Hollywood agent spotted her at the pageant and tried to sign her. She ultimately refused but kept his number just in case. She must have known that she would need it one day.

While Grier was busy attending classes and acting in plays, she was also occupied by a far less pleasant situation. When she was just 18 years old, she went on a date with a young man who slipped something into her drink and took advantage of her. Like before, she didn't tell her family, but that didn't mean she wasn't suffering. After the attack, Grier dressed down and intentionally tried to make herself look less beautiful in the hopes that if she weren't attractive, she wouldn't be a target.

After all this violence, Grier finally told someone what had happened to her. However, her revelation...didn't go over well. After telling her long-term boyfriend at the time, he replied by saying that Grier was "tainted." That's so far from the right thing to say! It's no wonder that, after this, Grier didn't tell anyone else about her past for a very long time.

And on a lighter note, she had other things to do: Stardom was calling.

On a visit to Los Angeles in 1967, Pam finally pulled out the agent’s business card and dialled his number. Soon enough, Grier was in LA...but her first job wasn’t exactly glamorous. While interviewing to become a switchboard operator, she lied and said she knew how to operate the tech. While she managed to teach herself to use a switchboard, thankfully Grier wouldn’t need to use those skills for long.

While working away on the switchboard and having her first background role in Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, Pam caught the interest of basketball star Lew Alcindor. Their courtship was swift and intense. They bonded over a shared love of Martial Arts films, watching the classic Seven Samurai more than twelve times together, but their love affair didn’t last long.

You probably know Alcindor by another name. After he converted to Islam, he became the famous Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and evidently, he wanted Grier to share his passion for his new religion. On her 21st birthday, Abdul-Jabbar gave Grier an ultimatum. She could either convert by 2PM that day, or he would marry another woman.

As hard as it was to leave her first big love, Pam Grier declined Abdul-Jabbar's offer. She had other ambitions for herself and for her, the religion just wouldn't work. She said no, and Abdul-Jabbar stuck to his word. He didn't mean he'd marry someone else in general. He meant he was getting married at 2PM that day, and he already had a back-up bride in case Grier said no. Even in Hollywood, how many relationships end with that level of nutty?

The infamous B-movie director Jack Hill noticed Grier at her job as a switchboard operator. He immediately knew she was going places, so he asked her to audition for his next film, The Big Doll House. She won the lead role, worked hard on set, and soon enough, the movie was a success. Finally, Grier's star was on the rise.

After her success in The Big Doll House, Grier shot five exploitation films in the next two years. The shoots were gruelling; she would often work 16 hour days for weeks on end, barely having time to eat meals. But Pam wasn’t delicate. She handled the workload like a champ. And just a few years later, she started to see her hard work pay off.

In 1973, Grier took on her first leading role as the heroine in the blaxploitation film, Coffy. She played Coffy, a nurse that seeks revenge on the dealers who enabled her sister’s habit. Coffy was strong, stylish, and assertive, all qualities that Pam herself embodied, and the audience loved it. Coffy was controversial, but it was also a bonafide hit.

Fun fact for the movie buffs out there: One of Coffy's most iconic traits is the place where she hides her weapons. Instead of using a bag or the pockets in her flared pants, Coffy takes storage solutions to another level. She stores her firearm in, of all places, her magnificent afro. Pam Grier came up with the idea and it instantly made B-movie history.

The success of Coffy made Grier a B-movie queen. And that wasn't all: Coffy was a groundbreaking role in Hollywood at the time. For once, the woman was the hero and not just the love interest or the damsel in distress. With Grier's groundbreaking performance, she gained a reputation for being just as tough and cool as any male action hero. And she had much better outfits!

While touring to promote Coffy, Pam met a man who would make an enormous impact on her life: Freddie Prinze. He was an actor and comedian who starred in the TV sitcom Chico and the Man. The couple fell for each other hard and fast. Before long, they even talked about getting married. However, that wouldn't happen for a tragic reason.

Sadly, this romance lead to another heartbreak. Prinze struggled with intense mental health and addiction issues and, over time, it became clear that Grier and Prinze just couldn't make a romantic relationship work. However, this didn't mean that they cut off all contact with one another. Instead, the opposite occurred. They stayed in touch, with Grier trying to help Prinze through his struggles.

Despite all this, Grier continued to work hard. She rode the success of Coffy towards her most iconic role yet. In 1974, she starred in Foxy Brown. Although critics did not love Foxy Brown, the audiences sure did. The film was another hit, and it cemented Pam’s status as the undeniable queen of blaxploitation. She became the first black woman to appear on Mrs magazine’s cover and her roles ushered in a new kind of black female character: the one assertive and self-determined woman.

By 1977, Grier was used to supporting Prinze battled his demons. But one night that year, she received a call that even she couldn't handle. Prinze called his friend Pam Grier in a distraught state and while he was under the influence. Grier tried her best to comfort him, but there was only so much she could do. She hung up the phone and hoped he would recover on his own. Unfortunately, she was wrong.

A few days after her emotional phone call with Prinze, Grier learned the horrific truth. She found out that, after struggling for years, Prinze had ended his own life. As the details about his passing emerged, Grier realized that she was one of the very last people who spoke to Prinze before his untimely end. Unfortunately, this wouldn't mark Grier's final relationship with a troubled man.

Before Freddie Prinze’s tragic end, he introduced Pam to her next great love: the acclaimed actor and stand-up comedian, Richard Pryor. A few years later, Pam and Richard’s romance blossomed when they star in Greased Lightning together. They were a glamorous pair and turned heads on red carpets and at parties, but their relationship was far from picture-perfect behind the scenes.

While Pam’s relationship with Pryor had its dark times, it also produced a lot of love and growth for the couple. Grier helped Pryor see his worth, which was no easy task given his struggles with depression and self-doubt. And that wasn't all: Pryor was also illiterate and had to learn his lines by sounding them out. Grier stepped up and taught him to read. She also helped him in even more unexpected ways.

In her memoir, Grier described a wild afternoon where she had to transport Pryor’s injured mini-horse, Ginger, to the vet as fast as possible. Desperate to get the creature some help, she loaded it into the back of her yellow Jaguar Sedan and drove through LA traffic with Pryor in the passenger’s seat. In the end, Grier's quick thinking saved Ginger. But after years together, Pam realized she wouldn't be able to rescue Pryor in the same way.

Pryor had struggled with addiction for years at this point, so when he relapsed after a few months of sobriety, Grier was disappointed, but not shocked. She became shocked when she went to the doctor's office and learned that she had a very strange condition: A certain drug was found inside her private parts. According to the doctor, this was a sign that Pryor had applied the substance to his member before the couple got intimate. Can Pam pick 'em or can she pick 'em?

Grier was, understandably, pretty upset when she heard this news. She marched up to Pryor and demanded that even if he wasn't going to take care of himself, he couldn't put her at risk. Pryor, however, didn't like the sound of that. He refused to use protection. But even this wasn't the breaking point in Grier and Pryor's messy romance.

Here's when Pryor officially went too far. In 1977, while he and Grier were still in a serious relationship, he began an affair with another woman. Then, he impregnated his mistress. And then, to top it all off, he married her. Here's the kicker: all of this happened while Grier believed that she and Pryor were still a couple. Oh, and somehow, they weren't even done with each other yet.

Years after her breakup with Pryor, Grier received a startling phone call. Her ex was horribly injured and may not live for much longer. It turned out that while Pryor was incredibly high, he had covered himself in alcohol and lit himself on fire. In the hospital, he asked to speak with Grier. But when Grier got the call, she refused to go to his bedside. She had spent years trying to help Pryor and she couldn't do it anymore.

As Grier recovered from the end of one relationship, she also prepared to end another. She tried to move away from blaxploitation, which was falling out of fashion, and towards mainstream acting roles that would give her a new challenge. Unfortunately, Grier had a hard time rebranding as a serious actress.

It seemed, for a time, that stardom was slipping through her fingers.

But just because the roles weren’t as big, that didn’t mean Pam was going to go small. In fact, she made such an impact at her audition for Fort Apache, the Bronx, that Paul Newman gave her a standing ovation. She prepared by spending time on the streets and even abstained from showering or brushing her teeth for days before the audition. Grier had some fight left!

It would take all her fight to get through the next challenge life threw at her. In 1988, Grier's doctors diagnosed her with stage four cervical cancer. The physicians told her the grim prognosis: she might only have 18 months left to live. They even suggested that she draft her will. At this point, Grier could have accepted her fate, but she dug deep to find hidden strength.

Grier decided to retreat to the one place where she felt at peace: the Colorado landscape. She moved back into the ranch she kept in Denver and spent months doing yoga, spending time outdoors and taking in as much rest and fresh air as she could. Evidently, her method worked. Soon, against the odds, Grier went into complete remission.

During this tough time, Grier had to endure painful chemotherapy sessions. Her boyfriend couldn't accompany her to the first session, but swore that he would go to the second with Grier. Unfortunately, that was a bald-faced lie. According to Grier, he abandoned her so thoroughly that she didn't see him for five long years.

When Grier walked into the audition room for a young filmmaker’s second film, she could not have anticipated what that meeting would ultimately lead to. She auditioned for a small role in Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction. And while he didn’t think her strong and independent spirit was right the shy role, he got to work planning something even bigger for Grier.

While working on the script for his next movie, based on an Elmore Leonard novel with a tough, clever heroine, Tarantino realized that he only wanted one woman to play his leading lady: Pam Grier. Although the book’s character was white, Tarantino changed her race specifically so that Grier could take the role.

When Grier met Tarantino to read for the role in his new film, Jackie Brown, she noticed posters for her own old pulp films hanging on his wall. She thought he had displayed them as a way to suck up to her, when in fact he'd considered removing them so he didn't seem like such a huge fan! His respect for her filmography is all over Jackie Brown, the film they ultimately made together in 1997.

Jackie Brown premiered in 1997 and immediately became a huge hit. Critics roundly praised Grier's performance, and she received nominations from the Golden Globes and a Screen Actor’s Guild Awards. While others called it her comeback, Grier disagreed. She felt like she had never stopped working and that all her prior roles prepared her for Jackie Brown.

Shortly after Grier's hit movie, she celebrated with a new romance. She began seeing Kevin Evans, an executive at RCA records. In a spicy twist, Evans was 13 years younger than Grier. The couple seemed incredibly happy together, even posing for the cover of a magazine and speaking publicly about their plans to have children. Get it, Pam.

Now that she was a bonafide movie star, Grier set her sights on conquering television. For the next few decades of her career, Grier appeared regularly on popular shows like The L Word and Law and Order: SVU. All these projects gave her the chance to explore new identities and take on new acting challenges, something she had always longed for.

In 2010, Pam continued to experiment with new passions. She returned to the theater and she released her memoir, Foxy: My Life In Three Acts, in which she reflects on her life and career. While Grier certainly spent her life in the spotlight, Foxy revealed that she'd kept more than a few secrets along the way...

In her memoir, Grier reflected on the genre that made her famous: Blaxploitation. While many people criticized the movies as overly violent, salacious, and degrading, Grier had other ideas. She defended the flicks, claiming that they were no worse than what she saw in her real life. And considering all that she went through, she should know!

Grier went further too. She pointed out that critics were hypocritical in judging blaxploitation films for being too violent. After all, many films starring white men featured extreme uses of force and scandalous content, but no one accused them of being exploitative. Even later in life, Pam still knew how to push boundaries in Hollywood.

In her memoir, Grier looked back on her treatment as a woman in the entertainment industry She notes that she was lucky to have an agent who protected her. John Gaines would accompany Grier to parties and meetings to make sure she didn't have to deal with any inappropriate men or dangerous situations. But that doesn’t mean Grier never faced down lecherous executives.

At a party, Grier revealed that she received some unwanted attention from Sammy Davis Jr He eagerly propositioned and to make matters worse, his wife was right there! When Grier realized that she couldn't subtly keep Davis Jr away, she escaped with the help of Hollywood icon Liza Minnelli. Talk about having friends in high places!

Despite her wild and glamorous Hollywood life, there’s still no place Pam would rather be than home. She still lives at her ranch in Denver, Colorado, where she rehabilitates horses and spends her days in the wilderness that she loves. Deep down, she's still that adventurous little girl who loves to fish and dreamed big.

Despite her status as one of the most beautiful women of all time, Grier has actually never tied the knot. According to her memoir, this isn't a coincidence. When asked about her love life, she often says different versions of the same thing. Grier deeply loved all the men she had relationships with, but at the end of the day, she loved herself more.

Pam has had such an iconic, groundbreaking career (not the mention a scandalous personal life) that her story could be its own movie. After all, she is Hollywood royalty and continues to be an inimitable, tough-talking trailblazer. Tarantino called her “the first female action star”, and so she will always be a silver screen legend.

Grier has lived quite a life and soon, it might get the cinema treatment. The star is currently shopping around the script for a movie about her life story. Saturday Night Live star Jay Pharaoh has already expressed interest in playing Grier's most, um, eventful romantic partner: Richard Pryor. Hollywood, please make this movie. I will definitely buy a ticket.

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Harriet Tubman was born into slavery sometime between 1815 and 1825. Her parents, Harriet Green and Ben Ross, were slaves at Edward Brodess’s plantation in Dorchester County, Maryland. Tubman grew up on the Brodess plantation, even as her family was gradually sold to other plantations and broken up.

Tubman’s mother did her best to keep the family together. When one Georgia slaveowner bought her youngest son, Moses, Harriet Green threatened to split the man’s head open with an ax. The slaveowner could tell she was serious and relented. This instance of successful resistance was to have a profound effect on the young Tubman.

It would be impossible to trace Tubman’s precise lineage under such circumstances. We do know that Tubman’s maternal grandmother was taken from Africa to America. There have been some suggestions that Tubman’s ancestors may have been members of the Ashanti tribe of what is now Ghana.

Harriet Tubman was not her name at birth. She was, in fact, born Araminta Ross; her friends and family mostly called her Minty. She adopted the name Harriet as a teenager as a way of honoring her mother. She took the name Tubman when she married her first husband, John Tubman.

Tubman was frequently rented to out to other homes to serve as a maid, nursemaid, and field hand. Tubman was bad at most of these chores, a fact compounded by her own resistance to performing slave labor, and was frequently beaten. Tubman claims she was once whipped five times before breakfast had been served. She found an effective way to soften these beatings, however, by wearing several layers of clothing at once.

As a teenager, Tubman was struck on the head when an overseer threw an iron weight. She was knocked unconscious, and though she came to a short time later, she would struggle for the rest of her life with seizures and narcolepsy. Tubman claimed to receive visions and messages from God during these spells.

Under a contract, Ben Ross was released from slavery at the age of 45. The terms of the contract were to extend to his wife and children, as well—all would be freed when they reached the age of 45. The Brodess family chose to ignore these terms of the contract, however. With the law against him, and no money to buy their freedom, Ben Ross was powerless to help his family.

In 1844, the erstwhile Harriet Ross married John Tubman. The Tubman’s marriage was complicated: John Tubman was free, while Harriet Tubman was still a slave. This was not an uncommon situation in a state like Maryland, which sat between the north and the south.

When Harriet Tubman finally fled to freedom in 1849, escaping to the free state of Pennsylvania, John Tubman did not follow her. He later remarried.

In 1849, Tubman fell ill and Brodess tried, unsuccessfully, to sell her. When Tubman realized that, not only would Brodess never release her from slavery, but would actively try to break up her family, she prayed he would die. The slaveowner died a week later.

Tubman attempted to escape on September 17, 1849. She was accompanied by her two brothers, Ben and Henry. The brothers got cold feet, however, and persuaded Tubman to return with them. Weeks later, Tubman again attempted to escape. This time, she would go without her brothers.

During her escape, Tubman demonstrated an innate talent for evasion and subterfuge. For instance, upon seeing one known bounty hunter coming toward her, she picked up a newspaper. The bounty hunter, looking for an illiterate slave—and being, perhaps, not one of the smarter bounty hunters—passed her by.

Tubman safely made it to Philadelphia, relying on help from the Underground Railroad, a clandestine network of Quakers and abolitionists. Once she had gained her own freedom, however, Tubman immediately turned her attention to freeing others. She took a number of odd jobs to raise money for the abolitionist cause, and began using her own talents to smuggle slaves out of the Delaware plantations.

Soon, Tubman was one of the most important “conductors” on the Underground Railroad.

Tubman didn’t just show up at a plantation and free the slaves. Escapes could take months of planning. Tubman would visit the plantation and teach the slaves special versions of gospel songs. These spirituals had the words changed to contained coded directions and other important information about the escape.

Though she never led more than 15 people at a given time, Harriet Tubman was personally responsible for the liberation of more than 300 slaves.

In 19 trips on the Underground Railroad, Tubman never lost a soul. Not one person was killed, captured, or returned to a plantation in fear. To keep her record spotless, Tubman did sometimes resort to extreme methods. She would give children opium to keep them calm and quiet. She also carried a gun and threatened to shoot anyone who considered turning back.

Newspapers would print notices and rewards for runaway slaves, but they didn’t run until Monday. Tubman planned all her escapes for Saturdays before dawn. That way, she and her followers got a two-day head start.

Tubman planned most of her escapes for the fall and winter months. The nights were longer, so they could remain under cover of darkness, and the cold weather meant potential witnesses were less likely to be outdoors.

Tubman may have been an expert at covert operations, but that doesn’t mean she went unnoticed. She was known throughout the south for her work, and hated by plantation owners. At one point, a reward for her capture was offered, valued at $40,000—that’s more than a million dollars by modern standards.

Tubman worked tirelessly to free the enslaved people in Delaware, but there were just three people in particular she wanted to rescue: her sister, Rachel, and her two children. It took Tubman 10 years to finally track them down, by which time Rachel had died. The children could be bought for $30, but Tubman didn’t have the money.

She rescued one last group of escapees, and never went down the Underground Railroad again.

In 1859, Tubman was introduced to the insurgent abolitionist John Brown. The two had immediate mutual respect for each other and shared the belief that they had personally been visited by God.

Brown also understood what a formidable person Harriet Tubman was. He called her “General Tubman,” and she used her connections and knowledge of underground operations to help Brown plan his raid on Harper’s Ferry. Tubman supported the raid, but illness prevented her from taking part.

Tubman spent much of the 1850s living in St. Catharines, Ontario. The Fugitive Slave Act made life in even free states much riskier for escaped slaves and their accomplices, and St. Catharines became home to a thriving black community.

Tubman did not like St. Catharines, however. The winters were harsh, and she felt it hindered her abilities to be active in the United States. In 1859, she purchased a parcel of land in Auburn, New York, from senator William H. Seward. She would reside in Auburn for the rest of her life.

Tubman’s talent for leading slaves out of the south caught the attention of the Union Army. When the Civil War broke out, she was placed in charge of a special force of 150 freed black soldiers, tasked with raiding several rice plantations in South Carolina. The raids were spectacularly successful, with Tubman liberating a further 750 slaves.

Tubman might have gotten a lot of respect and personal satisfaction from her work with the army, but she didn’t get rich. Tubman only earned $200 in three years as a member of the Union Army. To compensate for her low salary, Tubman began her own business, brewing and selling root beer.

As if it wasn’t enough that Tubman was a master spy and an entrepreneur, she served as a doctor, as well. Her knowledge of local plants and herbs in Maryland allowed her to treat Union soldiers who were suffering from dysentery, cholera, yellow fever, and chickenpox.

After the Civil War, with black Americans officially free from slavery, Tubman turned her attention to women’s suffrage. She frequently spoke in Washington, Boston, and New York alongside such noted suffragists as Susan B. Anthony and Emily Howland. Tubman was the keynote speaker at the first meeting of the National Federation of Afro-American Women.

Tubman was undoubtedly one of the most inspiring and imposing people of her day. Even so, she stood just under five feet tall.

John Tubman died sometime during the Civil War. Now legally single, Tubman married Nelson Davis, a former private in the 8th US Colored Infantry Regiment. Together, they adopted a girl named Gertie. Though he was 22 years young than Tubman, Davis died many years before Tubman, succumbing to tuberculosis in 1888.

In 1896, Tubman purchased 25 acres of land in Auburn, New York, and established the Harriet Tubman Home for the Aged. Tubman lived there herself, working to run the home until 1911, at which point she retired and became just a regular patient. In 2017, the house and several adjacent properties were declared a National Historic Park.

Though she remained a well-known public figure for the rest of her life, Tubman struggled to make ends meet. It took five years for her to prove she was the widow of Nelson Davis, and therefore eligible to receive benefits after his death, and her own military service was only partially recognized by the government.

Between her reduced military pension and that of Nelson Davis, Tubman subsisted on just $20 a month.

It didn’t help matters that, in 1873, Tubman was robbed by two con artists. They had told her they had a cache of gold, taken from South Carolina during the war, worth about $5,000, and that Tubman could have it in exchange for $2,000 cash. The esteemed emancipator borrowed the money from a wealthy friend and arranged to meet the two men.

When she got there, however, the men knocked her out with chloroform and stole the money.

The public responded with shock and disgust that someone would take advantage of Harriet Tubman that way. Two congressmen even tried to pass a bill that would award $2,000 to Tubman “for her services” but the bill never passed.

Tubman remained illiterate her whole life, but in 1869, an admirer named Sarah H. Baldwin wrote and published a biography, Scenes in the Life of Harriet Tubman. Baldwin donated the profits to Tubman and her family.

In her 70s, Tubman finally agreed to surgery which would free her from the seizures and narcoleptic spells she had suffered since childhood. Tubman refused anesthesia, preferring to bite down on a bullet, as she had seen soldiers do in Civil War medical camps.

Tubman passed away in 1913, following a bout of pneumonia. She was buried with military honors at the cemetery in Auburn, New York. Just before her death, she told an audience “I go to prepare a place for you.”

Following her death, Harriet Tubman was recognized as a saint by the Anglican church.

In 1944, the US Maritime Commission named its first Liberty-class cargo ship the SS Harriet Tubman. The ship survived the war, but was scrapped, alongside all other surviving Liberty ships, in 1972.

Tubman has been the recipient of countless honors. She is the frequent subject of statues and monuments, has appeared on two stamps, and she has been inducted in the National Women’s Hall of Fame. But perhaps the greatest honor was the naming of Harriet Tubman Grove in Baltimore, Maryland. Harriet Tubman Grove, in Baltimore’s Wyman Park, was once home to statues of Confederate generals Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson; the statues were taken down when the grove was renamed in Tubman’s honor.

In 2016, the US Treasury Department announced that Harriet Tubman would replace Andrew Jackson on the $20 bill. Plans have since been delayed, and the change will not be made until after 2020.

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Natasha’s life didn’t exactly start off on the right foot. The product of a scandalous union between Grand Duke Paul Alexandrovich of Russia and a commoner named Olga Valerianovna Karnovich, the royal family in Russia largely ignored the existence of Natasha and her older siblings, Vladimir and Irina. Despite this, Natasha’s parents still managed to give little Natasha quite the glamorous life.

Natasha’s life of luxury began at her birth on December 5, 1905. Born in the stylish city of Paris, Natasha lived in a home in Boulogne-Billancourt, one of the most affluent parts of the city. There, her parents employed a household staff of sixteen maids, gardeners, cooks, and tutors that waited on Natasha and her siblings hand and foot. Unfortunately, her sheltered upbringing meant she was ill-equipped for the dark days that waited ahead.

When Princess Natasha Paley turned seven, her entire life changed in an instant. The current Russian Tsar, Nicholas II, finally forgave Natasha’s father for his scandalous marriage and invited his new family to return to Russia. By May of 1914, Natasha’s family settled in Tsarskoe Selo, a palace that was likely more grand than anything Natasha had ever seen in her life.

Little Natasha spent three happy months in Russia, growing close with the royal Romanov family… but her world was about to be turned upside down again.

When WWI broke out, little Natasha found her family being slowly sucked into the conflict. In August of 1915, her brother, Vladimir, joined a regiment, determined to protect his country. Natasha’s brother soon became a lieutenant and went on to become a decorated hero with the Order of Saint Anne. It should have been a proud moment for Natasha, but more heartbreak was on its way.

Just a year after her brother left to fight in WWI, Natasha’s father followed in her brother’s footsteps. Despite his ill health, he took command of a Guards regiment, leaving young Natasha behind. This was probably a blow for poor Natasha, who was close to both her brother and father. Although the two eventually returned home, this was just a taste of the horrors in store for Natasha.

In March 1917, a 12-year-old Natasha Paley watched her life and family continue to fall apart. An explosive wave of revolution swept across Russia, and Natasha witnessed the brutal fall of the Russian monarchy. She watched as the new Russian Provisional Government exiled the former Tsar Nicholas II to Siberia, along with his family.

Clearly, it was time for Natasha’s family to flee—but it wouldn’t be so easy.

Despite the intense unrest rippling across Russia, Natasha’s family made a fatal mistake. They decided to stay in the country. They believed themselves safe and continued living in their lavish palace amidst the political upheaval within the country. To say this didn’t exactly earn Natasha’s family much sympathy is an understatement.

In fact, their inability to see the dangers ahead of them would cost them dearly.

As the months wore on, Natasha and her family found themselves in dire straits. As the revolutionary Bolsheviks rose to power in October 1917, their situation quickly took a turn for the worse. First, the Provisional Government put Natasha’s father under house arrest, cut the family’s telephone line, and had all exits of their home put under guard.

This isolation was already bad enough, but there were more trials ahead for Natasha.

On November 13, the Bolsheviks ransacked Natasha’s family home. They took her father’s firearms, and nearly incarcerated her ailing father as well. They eventually released him, but more loss awaited Natasha. A little over a month later, the Bolshevik government took possession of all property held by Russian banks on December 27.

Natasha’s family lost all the wealth they had deposited into the banks—and they were about to lose even more.

Without funding and support, Natasha’s home of Tsarskoe Selo quickly deteriorated. By early January 1918, Natasha’s family couldn’t even afford to heat the palace; they had to move out. The revolutionary Bolsheviks took ownership of Natasha’s former home, and Lenin himself even took the family car. And as if it wasn’t enough to lose her home, things were about to get worse.

Natasha, her sister, and her mother continued to suffer at the hands of the soldiers that had taken over their home. The men forced Natasha and her family to cook and do their laundry, all while they taunted and jeered at her. Later in life, her family even confessed that the soldiers regularly forced themselves on young Natasha. It was a horrific life that Natasha had to endure—and the tragedies just kept coming.

In March 1918, the Bolsheviks ordered all male members of the Romanov family, including Natasha’s brother, to register at Cheka headquarters. It was a chilling omen of things to come. Shortly after, Natasha’s brother was sent into exile; this was the last time Natasha would ever see her beloved older brother, ever again.

On July 18 of that same year, the revolutionaries executed Natasha’s brother, along with several other of her relatives. That was just the beginning of the heartbreak awaiting Natasha.

Natasha’s father initially managed to escape execution, but the revolutionaries captured him by July 30 and took him in Spalernaia prison. In a desperate attempt to keep the family safe, Natasha’s mother moved to a home that was closer to the prison, leaving Natasha and her sister, Irina, in the care of their governess. With her family forced apart, Natasha lived a lonely existence, surrounded only by servants—but even that didn’t last for long.

Barely three months after her father’s imprisonment, Natasha Paley found herself being kicked out of her home—again. The government repossessed the dacha Natasha lived in along with her sister and their governess. Evicted from their home, Natasha and her sister moved in with their mother in Saint Petersburg. By now though, Natasha’s mom wised up to the danger her family was in, and arranged a daring escape plan for Natasha and her sister.

By early December, Natasha’s escape plan was in motion. After saying goodbye to their mother, Natasha and her sister took a streetcar to the Ochta train station. There, they hopped into a cattle wagon, which took them on a strenuous four-hour journey outside the city. Afterward, Natasha and her sister jumped out of the cattle wagon into the snow, where a horse-drawn sleigh awaited their arrival. Natasha’s journey was not over yet.

After riding for some time in the sleigh, Natasha and her sister finished the rest of their journey on foot. For miles the two walked, freezing and physically exhausted. After a whopping 32 hours of traveling, the sisters finally made it to their destination: Terijoki, the Finnish frontier. From there, Natasha and her sister continued on to Vyborg, where the pair anxiously waited for their parents—but they were in for a dark surprise.

When the family was reunited, Natasha and her sister were greeted by a horrifying sight. Her mother arrived safe—but her father was gone. In January of 1919, the revolutionaries had executed Natasha’s father and tossed his body into a mass grave. Unfortunately, neither Natasha nor her mother could do much about it—they couldn’t even bury her father’s body.

With little recourse, Natasha and her remaining family escaped to Sweden, beginning their life of exile.

Natasha Paley and her family stayed in Sweden until the spring of 1920, before settling in France. Natasha’s mother managed to sell off her remaining jewels, which let the family live a relatively comfortable lifestyle in one of the upper-class neighborhoods of Paris. Natasha even attended a boarding school in Switzerland, continuing her education.

Sadly, a dark shadow prevented the now-teenaged Natasha from making any friends at school.

In a magazine interview she gave later in her life, Natasha revealed the awful truth of why she was unable to make any friends at school. The tragedy of her father’s imprisonment and execution, as well as the execution of the Romanov family, made it difficult for her to connect with the girls her age. Unable to have fun with the other girls, Natasha eventually found solace from an unexpected source.

The execution of her family gave Natasha, as she put it, “a taste for sad things, poetry, [and] the icy and lightning antechamber of death.” Her somber fascination with the grim reaper didn’t exactly make her a fun companion for the girls at school, but they eventually came to respect Natasha’s dark outlook on life. After completing her schooling, Natasha returned to Paris to live with her mother, where her odd life as a Parisian socialite began.

At age 21, Natasha met Lucien Lelong at a Charity Bazaar put together by her mother. Natasha’s aristocratic background and ethereal beauty enraptured Lelong, a prominent French couturier and hero of WWI. After the meeting, he offered Natasha a surprisingly humble job at his fashion house as a saleswoman in the perfume department.

Natasha accepted and entered a whole new world of glamor.

Natasha didn’t stay in the perfume department for long. Her delicate features and elegance quickly became an asset for Lelong’s company, and Natasha soon found herself becoming a model for the fashion house. Natasha stood out with her silvery-gray eyes and pale blonde hair, and soon, she became one of the most sought-after models in Paris. Her fashion sense, however, was what really pushed her over the top.

Elegant, and with a taste for fashion that many described as “exquisite,” Princess Natasha Paley refused to follow the latest fashion trends, preferring to lead them. Usually dressed in black or white chiffon gowns, a red or purple cape, and her signature hat and gloves, Natasha attracted a strong following among the Parisian elite.

With that, both Natasha’s and Lelong’s reputation grew—and trouble followed closely behind.

Soon, it became apparent that things between Natasha and Lelong weren't strictly all about business. On July 16, 1927, Lelong divorced his wife, Anne-Marie Audoy, and began a relationship with Natasha. The two shared a deep love for arts and fashion, and it seemed like a match made in heaven. Unfortunately for Natasha, not all was well with their relationship…

Natasha’s new beau had a nasty reputation. Many people said that Lelong was quite the player, and was especially known for having affairs with other men. Despite this, Natasha found the wealth and security offered by a marriage with Lelong too enticing to ignore. Eventually, and against the advice of her family, she married him on August 9, 1927.

On top of receiving wealth from her new husband, Natasha had another surprising reason for putting up with his infidelity.

Natasha had a strong and distinct distaste for physical love. It was likely because of this reason that Natasha put up with her husband’s passionate affairs, and married him despite his preference for men. In fact, the two went on to have a “white marriage,” or a marriage without intimacy, for the entirety of their relationship—and that suited Natasha just fine. That didn’t mean that she let him get away with everything, however…

Cheating isn’t just about physical intimacy—for Natasha, being cheated on emotionally was much worse. When Lelong began showing a romantic interest in another one of the fashion house’s models, Natasha grew angry at his inattentiveness towards her, frequently throwing angry tantrums that bewildered her husband. Her husband’s cheating ways, however, soon became the last thing on Natasha’s mind.

On November 2, 1929, Natasha faced yet another tragedy. That was the day her mother lost her battle with cancer. The family laid her to rest in the Lelong family vault in Colombes cemetery. The loss absolutely devastated Natasha, who, quite literally, owed her mother her life. With the loss of her mother, and unable to find any emotional fulfillment in her own husband, Natasha traveled abroad.

By 1930, Natasha was in Venice; it was here that Natasha began an affair of her own.

In Venice, a despondent and frustrated Natasha met Serge Lifar, one of the greatest French ballet dancers and choreographers of the 20th century. The two began an emotional affair that, while passionate, lacked the physical intimacy that Natasha vehemently disliked. It’s possible that Lifar, being gay, didn’t mind this arrangement.

The relationship lasted almost two years and only ended when Natasha found love in yet another man.

Jean Cocteau, a brilliant and peerless French writer, became the next subject of Natasha’s affections. Like the other men in Natasha’s life, Cocteau was gay, which, again, suited Natasha’s eclectic tastes in romantic partners. Even though their bedroom life was a passionless one, the two shared a love for all things creative, and the two became close… So close, in fact, that he asked her for a strange and startling request.

It’s not an exaggeration to say that Natasha beguiled and enthralled plenty of the men in her life. In fact, Cocteau was so fascinated with Natasha that he asked her to have his child, despite his attraction to men. Natasha, unsurprisingly, turned down his sudden request. It wasn’t long afterward that Natasha decided to leave Cocteau behind, ending their affair in 1932. It was time to take a break from men, and Natasha knew just where to go next.

After leaving Cocteau, Natasha bought a beautiful apartment at Les Invalides in Paris. There, Natasha entertained guests, including prominent members of society and artists. Although her parties allowed her to make powerful connections and made her a member of the Parisian elite, Natasha grew bored with the upper crust of society. In search of a challenge, Natasha made a sudden and drastic career move.

In the spring of 1933, Natasha set her sights on making a name for herself as an actress. She learned quickly under the tutelage of famed Belgian actress Eve Francis, and made her first movie appearance just months later. Her first film, L'Épervier, garnered high praise from critics in movie buffs. They described her as “a star [that] is rising, lit up by a flame of promise.”

It seemed like Natasha was finally going to catch a lucky break… but that wasn’t the case.

Full of confidence, Natasha scored several other small roles in a variety of European movies. Unfortunately, these movies didn’t do much to build up Natasha’s reputation as an actress. For example, in 1934, she appeared in Le Prince Jean, which managed to be so boring that it failed at the box office. That may have been the end of Natasha’s film career, if not for a sudden and fortunate turn of events.

Despite these initial setbacks, the studio Twentieth Century Pictures took a shine to Natasha’s beauty and invited her to continue her career in Hollywood. Excited to make a name for herself under the bright lights of Hollywood, Natasha packed a couple dozen trunks and made her way to America, anticipating a bright future as a famous American film actress. Unbeknown to Natasha, things were about to go downhill.

In 1935, Natasha played another small role, this time in the film Sylvia Scarlett starring Katharine Hepburn.  While being attached to a film featuring a famous actress sounded great on the surface, Sylvia Scarlett didn’t actually help Natasha’s career. For one, what should have been a fairly routine shoot quickly turned into a dangerous situation, for both Natasha and Hepburn.

During the filming of Sylvia Scarlett, Natasha and Hepburn nearly faced death. In one particular scene, Hepburn “saves” Natasha from drowning in a raging sea. Now, since it was the 1930s, neither CGI nor safety regulations had been invented yet, so both Natasha and Hepburn were actually out at sea, with waves crashing and churning around them.

Both Natasha and Hepburn risked their lives to get the scene filmed… And in the end, their efforts were for naught.

Sylvia Scarlett completely and utterly flopped at the box office, much to Natasha’s dismay. Losing over $7 million in today’s dollars, Sylvia Scarlett was one of the biggest box office failures of the 1930s. The only silver lining for Natasha was that she and Hepburn became lifelong friends after the filming of the movie. This marked the beginning of the end of Natasha’s fledgling movie career.

Natasha’s beauty was what gave her a shot at an acting career, and Natasha knew it. Aware that her acting was modest at best, Natasha began losing interest in furthering her acting career. She filmed one more movie in France in 1936, called Les Hommes Nouveaux, before leaving acting for good. Although Les Hommes Nouveaux did well at the box office, Natasha already knew that acting was not for her. It was time for another change.

Natasha needed a way to escape from it all; her marriage (which was a marriage only in name at this point) and her tragic past as a member of the Romanov family likely felt completely stifling to her. As a result, Natasha returned to New York City, where she bought an apartment and quickly established herself as a fashionable, charming socialite. While living her new life in New York City, Natasha met her next love.

John C. Wilson, theatre producer and director extraordinaire, was next to fall to Natasha’s charms. Artistic, humorous, and completely disinterested in physical intimacy, Wilson was exactly Natasha’s type. The two hit it off, and, by 1937, Natasha knew that Wilson was her perfect companion. She was ready to make another drastic move.

On May 24, 1937, Natasha finally divorced Lelong—yes, they were actually still married at this point! Just a few months later, Natasha tied the knot with Wilson, on September 8. With that, Natasha finally felt free. She could live off of Wilson’s wealth while enjoying his companionship. She, in return, used her name and social skills to enhance his theater business. It was, for Natasha, the perfect relationship, and life was only about to get better.

Natasha spent the next few years living a fabulous life with her new hubby. She traveled extensively; Switzerland, England, Venice, and Jamaica were all frequent destinations for the aging socialite. Natasha owned several luxurious residences and properties and rubbed shoulders with some of the most well-known artists and writers of her day. She finally had it all—or so she thought.

While Natasha’s new beau was rich, well-spoken, and allowed her to live a fabulous life, he had a terrifying dark side. In particular, Wilson drank heavily, and it made him a complete nightmare to deal with. His self-destructive tendencies began to take a toll on Natasha. Soon, Natasha had enough, and she began looking elsewhere for companionship.

The Princess’s next love came in the form of Erich Maria Remarque, the author famous for his novel, All Quiet on the Western Front. Natasha became an unforgettable presence in Remarque’s life; his last novel, Shadows in Paradise, actually featured a fictionalized version of Natasha. Alas, all good things must come to an end.

By the end of the early 1950s, Natasha made her way back to Wilson. What awaited her was nothing short of horrific.

Now approaching his 60s and in poor health, Natasha’s husband was confined to a wheelchair. He displayed symptoms of dementia, and often physically lashed out at anyone around him. Poor Natasha, who tried to help him, took the brunt of his blows. Helpless, Natasha could do little but wait—and tragically, the wait was a short one.

In November of 1961, Natasha’s husband left her side forever. Natasha did not take the news of his passing well.

Natasha’s reaction to her husband’s death was absolutely devastating. She immediately withdrew from society at large and refused to see any of her remaining friends and family. The woman who had once been a social butterfly became a complete recluse that only found solace in watching television and completing crossword puzzles.

For the next decade, Natasha wanted nothing more than for people to leave her alone. Soon, that became impossible.

By the mid-1970s, the ex-socialite developed diabetes and eventually went completely blind. Natasha’s blindness only served to isolate her further. In the 1970s, a nephew by the name of Prince Michel Feodorovich Romanoff went to visit her, but Natasha, ashamed of her condition, refused to see him. It was a sad state of affairs for the Princess, and it marked the beginning of the end for her.

In 1981, just four days before Christmas Day, Natasha took a nasty tumble in her bath, resulting in a broken femur. Staff at the Roosevelt Hospital rushed to perform emergency surgery, but tragically, the surgery failed and her condition grew worse. After realizing that things for her were about to end, Natasha made one last heartbreaking plea to the doctors and nurses at the hospital.

She wanted a dignified end to her life. Fate would soon grant her final wish.

On December 27, 1981, Princess Natasha Paley closed her eyes forever at the age of 76. After a private ceremony, Natasha’s remaining friends and family buried her beside her husband in Ewing, New Jersey. It was a sad end for the glamorous princess, who never quite shook off her tragic past. Still, she managed to touch the lives of many people in her lifetime, and they’ll likely never forget the enigmatic Princess Natasha Pavlovna Paley.

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Born on November 1, 1864, the girl born Princess Elisabeth Alexandra Luise Alix of Hesse and by Rhine descended from one of the oldest and most distinguished houses in Germany from her father’s side. Her mother, on the other hand, was Princess Alice, the daughter of a famous queen you might have heard of before: Queen Victoria.

With such a distinguished background, you might think that Elizabeth lived a life of luxury—but you would, in fact, be wrong.

Despite her noble background, Elizabeth lived a surprisingly humble life. While Elizabeth never lacked food and shelter, both she and her siblings took part in daily domestic tasks. On any given day, it wouldn’t be odd to see little Elizabeth sweeping the floors of their home, or cleaning her own rooms. Outside the home, her upbringing was just as humble.

Elizabeth’s mother made sure to gently expose the little girl to the darker sides of life. When Elizabeth wasn’t taking care of housework, her mother took her to the nearby hospital to visit the sick and wounded. Despite the horrors that these visits exposed her to, Elizabeth took it all in stride. This charming and accommodating side of her—along with her budding beauty—meant that suitors soon began clamoring over her.

As if the Cinderella parallels couldn’t be more apparent, Princess Elizabeth grew into an extraordinarily beautiful young girl. It wasn’t long before all who set eyes on her noticed her good looks, but that wasn’t always a good thing. When Elizabeth was just 11 years old, her 16-year-old cousin, Prince Wilhelm of Prussia, expressed a “deep interest” in her.

And if you thought that wasn’t already creepy enough, just wait—things get more unsettling.

By the time she was 14 years old, Prince Wilhelm’s childhood crush turned into full-blown love. Elizabeth endured his frequent visits and was the recipient of many of his poems and love letters. Eventually, Prince Wilhelm proposed, but the princess turned him down. Elizabeth was probably uninterested in his advances, but there was another, darker event that likely distracted her from all thoughts of marriage.

At the age of 14, tragedy struck Elizabeth’s family, and the results were dire. Many of her family members contracted diphtheria at once. Elizabeth, who had been sent away to her paternal grandmother’s home, managed to escape this deadly illness. Every other member of her family caught diphtheria. Her youngest sister, Marie, succumbed to the illness on November 16.

Elizabeth’s heart broke when she heard, but more bad news was on its way.

Barely a month later, Elizabeth lost another incredibly important person in her life to diphtheria: her mother. The loss of both her mother and youngest sister devastated the teen, and to make matters worse, her family forbade her from returning home, fearing that the illness may take her too. When her family finally allowed her back, Elizabeth was greeted by a household that was much quieter than before—but not for long.

Despite these early childhood tragedies, Elizabeth managed to keep a level head on her shoulders, which only made her more alluring to admirers and potential suitors. None of them caught the Princess’s interest, however. Elizabeth deflected proposals from princes, dukes, and other distinguished men in equal measure. Eventually, a powerful member of the family stepped in, determined to match her with the perfect man.

That powerful family member was none other than Elizabeth’s grandmother, Queen Victoria. To secure Elizabeth’s future, Queen Victoria heavily encouraged her to marry Frederick II, Grand Duke of Baden. The marriage would’ve provided her with a secure position, and basically set the Princess up for life. To everyone else, the marriage made perfect sense—but Princess Elizabeth thought otherwise.

Much to Queen Victoria’s dismay, Princess Elizabeth rejected Frederick’s proposal. Queen Victoria “deeply regretted” Elizabeth’s decision, but that was far from the worst part of the aborted engagement. The reaction from Frederick’s mom, Empress Augusta, was that of absolute fury. For years, the Empress of Prussia refused to forgive Elizabeth’s rejection of her precious baby boy, but Elizabeth remained unfazed.

It would take a very special person to win her heart, but it did eventually happen.

Throughout Elizabeth’s childhood, Empress Maria Alexandrovna of Russia frequently visited her, along with her sons Sergei and Paul. As the children grew older, Sergei found himself falling hard for Elizabeth, and even began talks of marriage when the young princess turned 17. Hopes for a successful match were high, but it all boiled down to whether Sergei met Princess Elizabeth’s lofty expectations.

On the surface, Sergei met all of Elizabeth’s criteria in what she expected in a husband: Intelligent? Check. Refined? Check. Well-read? Check and check! On top of that, Sergei was just as artistic and religious as her. It certainly didn’t hurt that Sergei was quite the looker too, standing at six feet tall and bearing “delicate features and beautiful light green eyes.”

So, when Sergei proposed, everyone awaited her answer with bated breath…

Elizabeth always wanted to follow her own path—and her next decision shocked everyone. Elizabeth turned Sergei down. Despite his good points, there were several things about him that Princess Elizabeth could not ignore. Sergei, unlike his brothers, kept his feelings close to his chest, which Elizabeth saw as haughtiness and pride.

Sergei demanded order, and easily lost his temper when faced with opposition. All in all, Sergei was a huge stick in the mud—or so she initially thought.

Unbeknownst to Princess Elizabeth, Sergei had a pretty good reason to keep himself closed off from the world: he lost his mother in 1880, followed by his father a year later. The grief must have been overwhelming, but Elizabeth, having lost her own mother, understood his pain. Their shared experiences brought the two closer and eventually, Sergei proposed to her again in 1883.

This time, she said “yes,” but not everyone celebrated the union.

Both Elizabeth’s and Sergei’s family hesitated to give their blessings. Sergei’s family were quite shaken by her initial rejection, and likely didn’t know what to think of her change of heart. On Elizabeth’s side, the biggest voice of dissent was that of her grandmother, who held anti-Russian sentiments. Despite their misgivings, the Princess went ahead with her marriage. This is where her life took a drastic turn.

On June 18, 1884, the 20-year-old princess married Sergei at the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg. Upon her marriage, Princess Elizabeth took on the grandiose title of “Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna of Russia.” And, to Feodorovna’s credit, she made sure to earn that title by winning the love of Sergei’s family and the love of the Russian people, even if it meant cracking a few eggs along the way.

Although it wasn’t a requirement, Elizabeth Feodorovna converted from Lutheranism to Russian Orthodoxy in 1891. The move cemented her in the hearts of the Russian people and those of her husband’s family, but boy, did it tick off some of her past admirers. Kaiser Wilhelm II, who once loved her deeply, criticized her conversion as a purely political move. True or not, there was no denying that the Grand Duchess did have a powerful presence in court.

Elizabeth Feodorovna resisted being pressured into marriage, but she wasn’t above playing matchmaker herself! This was especially true when it came to the marriage between her younger sister, Alix, and Tsar Nicholas II of Russia—who happened to be Sergei’s nephew. Even as kids, Feodorovna’s younger sister and Nicholas II loved each other deeply.

To ensure her sister’s happiness, Elizabeth Feodorovna moved heaven and earth. As we’ll see, she didn’t quite know what she was getting her sister into…

To make the match work, Elizabeth Feodorovna needed to solve two major problems: her sister’s hesitancy to convert to Russian Orthodoxy, and her grandmother’s opposition towards the match. Elizabeth convinced her sister that conversion didn’t mean eschewing her beliefs, which calmed some of her younger sister’s fears and concerns. With that out of the way, Elizabeth just needed to find a way to deal with her grandmother.

Feodorovna’s plan to deal with Queen Victoria turned out to be pretty ingenious. She simply ignored her, and convinced Sergei and Nicholas’s family to accept the match instead. Eventually, a mix of Elizabeth’s cajoling and the ailing health of Nicholas II’s father forced the Russian royal family to approve of Alix and Nicholas’s marriage.

The Princess was ecstatic, but in a dark twist, her grandmother had good reason to oppose the marriage.

Her grandmother’s main concern was over Russia’s political instability and policies, and it came back to haunt Elizabeth Feodorovna in a big way. In 1891, the reigning tsar appointed Feodorovna’s husband as the governor-general of Moscow, disrupting their quiet life in St. Petersburg. This was already bad enough, but it was small potatoes compared to what Elizabeth Feodorovna’s husband did next.

Elizabeth Feodorovna’s husband began his tenure as governor-general by expelling Moscow’s 20,000 Jewish citizens. He believed that this move was necessary for a strong, nationalist government, and so, he began kicking people out of the city over the course of 12 months. Although some managed to leave voluntarily, many were unwilling, or unprepared, to leave their homes behind. All Elizabeth could do was watch the proceedings in abject horror.

Elizabeth Feodorovna stood witness as officials forcibly expelled the unmarried and childless from Moscow. Next went apprentices and families with up to four children. Finally, officials forced old Jewish settlers, some who lived in Moscow for the past 40 years, to leave their homes. After seeing whole families leave in little more than rags due to her husband’s actions, Elizabeth made an ominous and prophetic declaration to her husband.

As her husband’s men expelled the last of the Jews from Moscow—and forced any remaining young Jewish women to register as prostitutes—Elizabeth made a chilling prediction. She told her husband that “God will punish us severely.” Elizabeth had no idea when divine punishment would arrive, but she believed it would eventually.

Of course, she was correct; over the years, tragedies large and small hounded both her and her husband.

The first of these tragedies came in the form of vicious rumors regarding Elizabeth’s marriage with her husband. Many interpreted her husband’s emotional distance as arrogance, just as she once had; while this was untrue, it greatly damaged her husband’s reputation. Many speculated that her husband’s coolness extended to the bedroom, and these suspicions weren’t completely groundless.

Whether by choice or due to medical complications, Elizabeth Feodorovna and her husband remained childless for their entire lives. Her lack of children and her husband’s less-than-stellar reputation left the poor princess defending both her marriage and her husband from malicious gossip from all corners of the country. And that wasn’t the only issue troubling Elizabeth.

In 1902, the royal family banished Grand Duke Paul from Russia due to his marriage to a woman of lower rank. As a result, Elizabeth and Sergei asked for, and received, guardianship over Paul’s children, Maria and Dimitri. This should have been the perfect arrangement; both Elizabeth and her husband loved the children, and had their best interests at heart. Under the surface, however, things were definitely less-than-perfect.

Elizabeth’s husband worried over the education and upbringing of Maria and Dimitri, to the point of obsessiveness. His overbearing nature really didn’t sit well with his newly adopted kids, but it gets worse. Maria and Dimitri blamed both Elizabeth and Sergei for separating them from their real father. The household situation was bad enough, but karma had more in store for poor Princess Elizabeth.

On January 1, 1901, Elizabeth’s husband Sergei resigned amid growing political discord within the country. Shortly after, Elizabeth, along with her husband and foster children, moved to the Nicholas Palace to remain in relative safety. She rarely went outside for fear of attempts on her life. The isolation was difficult, but a necessary measure to keep the family away from harm. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to save them all.

On a cold, winter day on February 17, 1905, Elizabeth’s worst nightmare came true. A revolutionary named Ivan Kalyayev took the life of Elizabeth’s beloved husband Sergei by blowing up his carriage. The aftermath of the explosion was absolutely horrific—it completely mutilated her husband’s body, and scattered his remains across the snow. Upon hearing of the explosion, Elizabeth rushed to the grisly scene, and her reaction was totally unexpected.

No one would have blamed Elizabeth for passing out at the sight of her husband’s remains, but she defied all expectations by remaining calm, if rather shocked. After authorities captured Kalyayev, Elizabeth helped gather up her husband’s remains—which included gathering his fingers, still adorned with rings, off the roof of a building. With that stomach-turning act completed, she returned home…And her calm façade crumbled.

Upon returning home, Elizabeth’s reaction was chilling. She went into her rooms, with no one but her foster daughter Maria at her side. For a long time, Elizabeth refused to cry, only staring vacantly out into space as visitors came and went. Eventually, her self-control began to crumble, and she broke down into heart-wrenching sobs.

Her friends and family feared that Elizabeth, for the first time, might just have a complete mental breakdown.

Instead of having a breakdown, Elizabeth Feodorovna did something that was quite the opposite of what her friends and family expected. For days leading up to her husband’s burial, Elizabeth remained in constant prayer. No one had any idea what she prayed for, and the deeply religious Princess remained quiet on the matter. Then, Elizabeth suddenly demanded to see Kalyayev, and the contents of her prayer suddenly became clear.

When the authorities brought Elizabeth Feodorovna before her husband’s assassin, Ivan Kalyayev, she asked only one question. She demanded to know why he took her husband’s life. In response, Kalyayev told her that he “was taking revenge for the people.” And, instead of getting angry, Elizabeth did the one thing no one could’ve anticipated.

She told Kalyayev that she forgave him. She begged him to repent, and to stop the cycle of revenge right there. Unfortunately, her request fell on deaf ears.

Ivan Kalyayev staunchly refused to repent, determined to become a martyr for the Revolution. As such, authorities sentenced the killer of Elizabeth Feodorovna’s husband to hang on May 23, 1905. Karma took everything from Princess Elizabeth in one blow: it took her husband, her happiness, and her chance to save the soul of Kalyayev. After this, Elizabeth changed, and became someone almost entirely different.

Four years after her husband’s passing, Elizabeth Feodorovna made a drastic lifestyle change. She sold off her entire collection of jewels (which included her wedding ring) and other luxuries in her possession. With the money from the sale, Elizabeth opened the Convent of Saints Martha and Mary, and became the convent’s abbess. If she couldn’t make her people’s lives better as a Princess, she was going to do it as a nun.

Elizabeth Feodorovna hoped to begin a religious community within the convent made up of women from all levels of society. Together, she and her nuns would meet the needs of the poor, and for the most part, Elizabeth did a dang good job. She opened a hospital, chapel, pharmacy, and orphanage on the grounds, and at its peak, fed 300 meals per day to the poor. Unfortunately, being a nun didn’t let her escape the drama of the royal family.

Elizabeth Feodorovna may not officially be a part of the royal family anymore, but she didn’t worry about them any less. In particular, she worried over the brewing anger directed at the Russian Imperial family and her younger sister, Alix, now the empress consort. The people were not happy with her sister’s sporadic behavior at court, and only grew angrier by the day.

Fearing her sister’s downfall, Elizabeth inserted herself into royal life one more time.

In 1916, Elizabeth Feodorovna met with her sister, determined to set her straight. The former princess pointed out that Alix now made all her political decisions based on the “advice” of Grigori Rasputin, a mystic and self-serving quack doctor. Elizabeth begged her younger sister to consider the consequences of trusting such a man, but her warnings were too little, too late.

Elizabeth Feodorovna had to watch in horror as another one of her disturbing predictions came true. Just as she’d said, her sister’s Alix’s unpopular support of Rasputin, coupled with the economic decline of the country, sparked a revolution in 1917. Her younger sister’s husband abdicated the throne, putting all members of the Russian royal family—including the former royal, Elizabeth Feodorovna—in a precarious position.

For now, all Elizabeth could do was wait as events unfolded…And they didn’t go the way that she hoped.

At first, the Provisional Government that took over did little more than keep the royal family under house arrest and attempt to expel them from the country. That all changed when the Bolsheviks took over. For the Bolsheviks, any trace of the royal family must be eliminated, and that included Elizabeth Feodorovna. In 1918, Vladimir Lenin called for her capture.

From there, everything for the ex-royal went downhill.

After her capture, Lenin moved Elizabeth Feodorovna to the city of Yekaterinburg. While there, familiar faces from the Russian royal family, along with the servants closest to them, joined her. With so many royals in one place, this would’ve been a prestigious gathering on any other occasion. This time, however, there was only unease, and the feeling for Elizabeth must have only increased when the men moved them to the outskirts of a small, quiet town.

Only July 17, 1918, just under a month after Elizabeth Feodorovna and the other royals entered the quiet town of Alapayevsk, chaos erupted. A few Bolshevik workers and a member of the Cheka entered the school where Elizabeth and the other prisoners were being held. Elizabeth and the others had all their money taken. Helpless, she could only await her fate.

In the middle of the night, the Cheka roughly woke Elizabeth Feodorovna and the other prisoners, and forced them into carts. The drivers took Elizabeth and the rest of the group up a road, before stopping at an abandoned iron mine with a pit 66 feet deep. Suddenly, the drivers dragged Elizabeth and the others off the carts, and beat them into submission. After, they hauled Elizabeth towards the edge of the pit…And hurled her into the darkness.

Elizabeth Feodorovna fell for what must have seemed like forever, before landing with a bone-crunching thump at the bottom of the pit. She survived the initial fall, but that was just the start of her nightmare. Very quickly, the bodies of her fellow prisoners followed after her. After the Cheka threw everyone into the pit, they tossed in a hand grenade to finish the job.

They were sure it would work—but Elizabeth refused to give up.

Whether by divine intervention, sheer determination, or dumb luck, only one prisoner fell victim to the grenade. Elizabeth Feodorovna, along with some of the other prisoners, still lived. In full defiance of her captors, Elizabeth began singing an Orthodox hymn from within the darkness of the pit. Soon, the voices of the other survivors joined her.

The Cheka, completely unnerved, threw another hand grenade in…And once again, Elizabeth refused to give up.

Elizabeth Feodorovna’s singing continued. As her voice floated up from within the iron mine, the Cheka threw large bundles of brushwood over the pit, set it alight, and left Elizabeth and the other victims to their fate. And still, this didn’t manage to end Elizabeth’s life. Instead, she eventually succumbed to her wounds from the fall, but not before tending to the injuries of another person in the shaft with her.

On October 8, 1818, the White Army discovered the iron mine that contained the bodies of Elizabeth Feodorovna and the other victims in her group. Most, like Elizabeth, succumbed to their wounds from the fall, or else slowly starved. They transferred the bodies to the Russian Orthodox Mission in Beijing, China. Later, in 1921, Elizabeth’s body left for the holy city of Jerusalem, beginning an entirely different journey.

In 1992, the Moscow Patriarchate canonized Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna as Holy Martyr Elizabeth Feodorovna, bringing light to her work to uplift the poor and create a safe haven for women. Ironically, a statue of her was also raised in the garden of her convent after the Soviet Union dissolved, with an inscription that reads, “To the Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna: With Repentance.”

As with any member of the Russian Imperial household, gossip surrounds Elizabeth Feodorovna’s life. In 2010, a historian claimed that Elizabeth may have known that Rasputin was about to meet his untimely end. Before Rasputin’s killers even got a chance to take him out, Elizabeth allegedly sent out telegrams with details that revealed their identity. However, she declined to stop them because ending Rasputin’s life was a “patriotic act.”

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Then one day, she did a sultry dance with a snake, and her career and life changed forever. 

Debra Paget was born on August 19, 1933, in Denver, Colorado. Her father was a painter, and her mother was an actress. Her mother got it into her mind that her daughter should follow in her footsteps, so she did what she needed to do to make it happen. She moved the family to Los Angeles and enrolled her daughter in the Hollywood Professional School. 

Once in Hollywood, Paget got to work fast. 

Before she even started at the Hollywood Professional School, Paget had already had her first professional job when she was just eight. By the time she was 13, she’d already appeared on stage in Shakespeare’s The Merry Wives of Windsor. Paget was growing up fast, and she needed a name to match her ascending career. 

Debra Paget had been born Debralee Griffin, and maybe she thought this didn’t sound like the name of a star. Seeking a change, she looked back in her family history and found out that they had fancy-sounding relatives in England named Lord and Lady Paget. She shortened Debralee to Debra and took on Paget.

She was ready for her first movie. 

One of Paget’s first roles was in the 20th Century Fox film noir Cry of the City with big names like Victor Mature and Shelley Winters. Paget must have looked older than her age because her part was one of the bad guy’s girlfriends. The actor playing him was 38 years old, and Paget was just 14. 

Cry of the City made money, and this made Fox happy. Paget was on her way to success. 

Debra Paget had proven that she could hold her own in a money-making film, so 20th Century Fox offered her a contract. They first gave her only small roles in films like It Happens Every Spring and House of Strangers. Paget was still a teenager when Fox got her her first big part. 

She was going to act opposite one of Hollywood's favorite actors—James Stewart. 

Paget’s film with Stewart was Broken Arrow, and once again, she’d be playing the romantic interest to someone much older than she was. Stewart was 42 when he made this film, and Paget was just 15 years old when the project began. But this wasn't the only controversy around this film. 

Broken Arrow is a western, and in it, Debra Paget plays a Native American. She wore contact lenses to change her blue eyes to brown, but this didn't help with the film’s detractors. Down the road, people criticized the film for casting a white actor in a Native American role. But at the time, the film was a step forward in at least one way.

Despite using Paget and not an actual Native American actor, this film did some good for the image of Native Americans. Broken Arrow received recognition for improving the average American’s image of Native People. It was one of the first films to portray Native People as principled and civilized. 

Fox was ready to send Paget up for another role where her blue eyes would also be a distraction. 

In 1951, Debra Paget reteamed with the director of Broken Arrow and made Bird of Paradise. Here she has the lead role as a Polynesian woman who falls for a Frenchman. This was a remake of a 1932 film, but it is a lot tamer. They axed the swimming scene where her character only wears a cleverly placed lei. 

But keeping her clothes on would not protect Paget from her fate. 

Even though Paget kept her clothes on, her character would still pay for her sins. The angry and superstitious villagers heartlessly throw her into an active volcano. Luckily, the critics were much kinder and praised her performance. Paget was ready to dive into her next role. 

Fourteen Hours tells the story of a man on a very high ledge wanting to end his life in a dramatic leap. Debra Paget had a fairly large part in this film, which also features and Jeffrey Hunter in their acting debuts. Paget had a lot riding on this feature film. But she was about to be very disappointed. 

Paget may have been anxious to see Fourteen Hours on the big screen, but she was going to have to wait. In the original version of the film, the character on the ledge does indeed take the leap to end his life. The same thing happened in the true story that they based the film on. 

But then Hollywood brass got in the way. 

Fox executive Spyros Skouras watched a preview of Fourteen Hours and refused to release it. You see, his own daughter had recently had a fatal fall. At that point, no one knew if it was on purpose or by accident. Skouras wasn't about to let Fox release this film. Debra Paget was going to have to wait and see if this film would catapult her career or have her fade away into obscurity. 

To please Skouras, Fox filmed a different ending where the man on the ledge survives. It didn’t follow the true story, but that didn't matter. Fourteen Hours was a big hit and ended up as one of the top 10 films that year on the National Board of Review of Motion Pictures. Accolades like this could only help Paget’s career. 

Debra Paget next appeared in the female pirate movie Anne of the Indies opposite Jean Peters. Sadly, audiences tended to gravitate toward the eye-catching costumes of Peters and not so much toward her. Paget then worked on 1952’s Les Misérables, where she played the age-appropriate character of Cosette. 

But when it came to her ca

The same year, Paget appeared in Star and Stripes Forever, which tells the true story of composer John Philip Sousa. Paget plays the love interest of Robert Wagner and was the top-billed female lead. Critics and audiences loved the film, but those who knew Sousa were not happy with the portrayal. Several of them walked out of the movie angry. 

Something must have clicked with Wagner, and the two were soon at it again. 

While most movies based on comic books center around superheroes, in 1954, there was Prince Valiant. Here, Debra Paget again plays opposite Wagner as the titular Prince and Janet Leigh, who would later scare audiences silly in a famous shower scene. Sadly, it was Leigh who got the top female billing. 

Next, Paget would go neck and neck with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars. 

In 1954, Fox had the idea for a big-budget adventure film set in Egypt. They boasted that the film would star and Tyrone Power. Out of nowhere, Paget got the call to replace Monroe and star in Princess of the Nile. But the reason for this was a real humiliation for Paget. 

The only reason Debra Paget replaced Monroe was that they’d decided to decrease the budget on the film and couldn’t afford her anymore. Tyrone Power had also jumped ship because of the reduced budget. They replaced him with the lesser-known and cheaper, Jeffrey Hunter. Paget had to hold her head high and make the best film she could, given the circumstances. 

The low-budget Princess of the Nile was not a box office wonder, but something strange happened as a result of this film. Fan mail for Paget increased exponentially. In fact, she got so much mail that only two stars had more: Betty Grable and Marilyn Monroe. Paget’s next film would be one deja vu after another. 

When Debra Paget walked onto the set of Demetrius and the Gladiators, she might have had a strange feeling. Over there was Victor Mature, with whom she’d appeared in Cry of the City. Then there was Susan Hayward whom she’d played opposite in House of Strangers. But there was something eerily familiar when it came to Hayward. 

In House of Strangers, Paget and Hayward had fought for the attention of the hero of the film. Paget plays the good girl, and Hayward plays the wild one. In Demetrius and the Gladiators, Paget and Hayward are in the exact same situation. But there was still another reason for Paget to feel an overpowering sense of deja vu while making this film. 

As Debra Paget was quickly noticing a lot of familiar faces in Demetrius and the Gladiators, something else may have caught her eye. As it turned out, they used many of the sets from her previous film Princess of the Nile for Demetrius and the Gladiators.

Demetrius and the Gladiators was a huge hit for Fox, and that could only mean good things for Paget. 

Paget had already played a Native American in Broken Arrow, and Hollywood didn't seem to have a problem with that. So, they had her do it twice more. In White Feather, she plays Appearing Day, opposite Robert Wagner, and in The Last Hunt with Robert Taylor, they just call her “Indian Girl”. 

Paget only got the part in The Last Hunt due to a frightening accident. 

The original actor for The Last Hunt was Anne Bancroft. When she had a tragic fall from her horse, she had to leave the film. Paget got the part, but there was something fishy about this film. In one of the last scenes, you can clearly see that it is Bancroft in the scene and not Paget. 

It was now time for Paget to step up to the biggest film of her career. 

The Ten Commandments was a star-studded and mega-budget production directed by Cecil B Demille. Demille offered Paget the role of Lilia, a "lissome and beatific slave girl" without even asking her to audition. Paget later said that Demille told her: "I feel the hand of God has been on you". 

Well, Paget may not have felt that during the shoot. 

For The Ten Commandments, Paget was back to wearing brown contact lenses. This time was more of an ordeal, as the lights Demille used in the film tended to heat up the lenses. The only actor without naturally brown eyes who got to stay that way was Yvonne De Carlo. Demille thought it was her “main asset”. 

However, the film's costumes posed another problem for Paget.

The Ten Commandments took a very long time to make. Because of this, Paget said that she was stuck wearing the same costume for months. Worse still, the costume people refused to clean it. They said that looking dirty was right for her character. Now all Paget could do was hope all this fuss around The Ten Commandments would be worth it. 

As most of us know, The Ten Commandments became an iconic film. It was the highest-grossing film of that year and by 1957 had taken in $10 million, which was unprecedented. The film also received rave reviews and seven Academy Award nominations. Paget had won her place in history. 

Next, Paget would say goodbye to Pharaohs and hello to a King. 

Paget had signed on to appear in the low-budget western The Reno Brothers with Richard Egan. There was a minor role that the studio had to fill, and Paget’s usual co-stars Robert Wagner and Jeffrey Hunter had already said no. When the studio signed on a quickly rising singing sensation, everything about this movie changed.

Elvis Presley’s singing career was already on fire, but he wanted to do movies. He didn’t mind taking the small role in The Reno Brothers, as he was new to acting and wanted to get his feet wet in a small role. Around the same time, his hit song “Love Me Tender” sold more than a million copies. 

Suddenly, all eyes were on Paget’s little low-budget western. 

When Fox realized that Presley would be a huge draw to the movie, they made some changes. First, they beefed up Presley’s part, so he had more lines and more scenes. Then they made it into a musical in order to showcase Presley’s huge talent. Last but not least was a name change. They changed the film's title to Love Me Tender. The same name as Presley’s hit song. 

Paget would barely recognize the film she was about to start making. 

Paget was about to come face to face with Presley, the man who had caused so many changes in the film. As it turned out, she’d met Presley before. This was on The Milton Berle Show, where Berle had teased Presley and told him that Paget was out of his league. He then brought Paget out, and she jokingly screamed like one of his obsessed fans. 

When the two met on the set of Love Me Tender, something completely different happened. 

The truth was that Presley was more excited to see Paget than Paget was to see him. The story goes that while filming Love Me Tender, Presley developed a huge crush on Paget. When he found out there was no kissing scene between the two of them, he made sure to fix that. 

Presley was apparently head over heels for Paget. Because there was no kissing scene with her, Presley made sure he could lock lips with his beautiful co-star. He arranged it so the two were kissing for some of the promotional images. Presley was obviously completely smitten with Paget. 

But it’s possible that she was leading him on. 

Paget must have had some interest in Presley, as she invited him to her home. Presley won over her parents and even showed off by gallantly leaving the living room to get a chair for Mom. Paget said that Presley felt at home with the Paget family. So what was the problem? 

Well, there was actually one very good reason why Paget could not pursue a relationship with Presley. 

Paget later said that Presley went as far as to ask her to marry him, but she could not have said yes. Some sources have alleged that she was already secretly engaged. According to reports at the time, Paget had been dating billionaire Howard Hughes. It certainly seemed like she had her share of choices: a billionaire or the King of Rock and Roll. 

How’s a girl supposed to choose?

On January 14, 1958, Paget walked down the aisle not with Presley, and not with Hughes. She married David Street. Street was a singer, wannabe actor, and talent agent. Paget would be his fifth wife, and he was behind in child support payments to his first wife and owed money to his fourth. 

It seemed pretty clear that Paget had made the wrong decision. 

Paget’s marriage to Street had all the glamor of a Hollywood marriage. They tied the knot in Paget’s gorgeous home in Beverly Hills. Sadly, like many Hollywood marriages, fame got in the way. They annulled the marriage just a few months after the wedding. Paget needed to shake this bad choice off, so she got on a plane. 

The plane that Paget got on took her to Germany, and once there, she was going to meet Austrian director Fritz Lang. Lang wanted her for two films he was making in Germany and India. One was The Tiger of Eschnapur, where her character gets between an architect and a maharaja. 

The second follows the same story, but Paget found a way to make this one stand out. 

In both films with Lang, Paget plays Seetha, an Indian temple dancer. In the second film, The Indian Tomb, audiences got a different look at Paget. In this film, she does a snake dance, but it’s not the snake that gets our attention. In the dance sequence, Paget wears a pasted-on costume that leaves her wearing next to nothing. 

It looked like Hollywood’s good girl had gone bad. 

After her enticing snake dance, Paget may have thought it was time to settle down. She decided to try marriage again. This time it was with director Budd Boetticher, and the venue of the event was Tijuana, Mexico. It was a quickie wedding, and it was also a quickie marriage. They split after just 22 days. 

Paget’s love life was a mess, and her career was not faring much better. 

It looked like Paget’s film career was winding down with appearances on TV in Rawhide and second-rate horror films like Tales of Terror. Paget had not given up on finding true love, or at least a husband. Maybe she learned her lesson about marrying men from the movie industry because her next husband came far from the bright lights of Hollywood. 

Paget married her third husband on April 19, 1962. He was Louis Ling-Chieh Kung. Not only was he a rich oil tycoon, but he was also a direct descendant of the Chinese philosopher Confucius. If Paget wanted to get away from Hollywood, this was her big chance. 

She hadn’t even reached 30, but she was ready to say goodbye to her career. 

Paget was happily married to Kung and made her last performance in ABC’s detective series Burke’s Law. Paget was ready to say goodbye to acting and focus on her husband. Together, the two had a son, Gregory Teh-chi Kung. This time, Paget managed to stay married for 12 years. In 1980, they got a divorce. 

Paget was ready for the third act of her career. 

Despite her quickie marriages, alluring snakes dance, and affair with Howard Hughes, Paget has always been rather conservative. In fact, she says she was actually never alone with Hughes; her mom was always with them on dates. After her marriage to Kung, Paget became an evangelical Christian. 

For Paget, this meant getting back in the spotlight. 

In 1973, Trinity Broadcasting Network (TBN) began airing programs dedicated to Christian viewers.  Paget threw her hat in the ring with An Interlude with Debra Paget. She also had involvement with Praise the Lord television. Clearly, her lurid snake dances were far behind her. 

But movie lovers were not about to forget her. 

Priscilla Wagner had seen the effect that Paget had had on Presley in his film debut, Love Me Tender. When it was time for Priscilla to try to reel Presley in, she copied Paget’s hairstyle. Obviously, it worked as she became Mrs Presley in 1967. It wasn’t just her hairstyle. Even Paget’s name was an inspiration. 

There’s little chance of Paget’s name fading away. You see, her dad’s friend Robert Winger named his daughter after her. She grew up to be mega-star Debra Winger. Paget Brewster, famous for playing the woman who got between Joey and Chandler on TV’s Friends, also got her name from Paget. 

But maybe Paget didn’t want to be famous at all. 

Paget had three siblings who also ended up in show business, and yet none of them had a long career. Paget herself walked away from acting before she was even 30. Some suggest that her mother, a vaudeville and burlesque performer, was just trying to live out her Hollywood fantasies through her children. 

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Veronica Yvette Bennett was born August 10, 1943 in East Harlem, New York City to parents Beatrice, an African-American, and Louis, an Irishman who worked on the New York subway system. Growing up in the Washington Heights area of New York, Ronnie was exposed to a kaleidoscope of cultural influences early on, but nothing was more important to her than music.

Ronnie and her older sister Estelle sang and danced for the family, joined by cousins Nedra and Elaine. By the age of eight, Ronnie was working out whole numbers for the girls to perform while on visits to their grandma’s house. It was the start of Ronnie’s lifelong love of the stage, a love that ultimately took her through many unexpected twists and turns....

With mixed-race parents at a time when such families were still relatively rare, Ronnie found it tough to gain complete acceptance from either the Black or Latino kids around her, even though she wasn’t entirely white. She spent a lot of her free time with family and music. Then she discovered a star who lived just a stone’s throw away.

Ronnie couldn’t get enough of teen pop star Frankie Lymon, singing her favorite Lymon hits while her cousins sang back-up. And as it turned out, Lymon lived only a few blocks away from the Bennetts, and showed up at the diner where Mrs Bennett worked one day. As such, Lymon was invited to Ronnie’s 13th birthday party; but he never showed.

Despite that disappointment, Ronnie kept on singing his songs, looking to a musical future of her own.

Ronnie was 14 in 1957 when she formed her first group with her sister Estelle and cousins Nedra, Diane, Elaine and Ira. They were already seasoned living room performers, but they were eager to try their stuff in a real venue. They only had eyes for one iconic place...

The Apollo Theater in nearby Harlem was a fixture of jazz and blues. The Ronettes got a spot on the Apollo’s amateur open mic night, but the show got off to a rough start. Ira froze up as the band started into Frankie Lymon’s “Why Do Fools Fall In Love”. But luckily for Ronnie, it was a song she had sung thousands of times. So she grabbed the mic and sang enough to coax a round of applause. And with that, the Ronettes were off and running. But their routine needed some work.

The Apollo show went alright, but Ronnie knew the group had to improve. Elaine, Ira, and Diane left the group. The three remaining members took singing lessons and performed at sock hops and bar mitzvahs. Along the way they were introduced to Stu Phillips, music producer at Colpix Records. Luckily for them, he liked what he heard and booked the group for an audition.

For the audition the women sang while Phillips played piano. And as it turned out, the singing lessons and consistent schedule of live performances paid off. Phillips loved them, and booked the trio for a recording session in June 1961 under a new, slightly questionable, name.

The group recorded four songs under the less-than-inspiring name Ronnie and the Relatives. The songs “I Want a Boy” and “I’m Gonna Quit While I’m Ahead” were released in early 1962 but failed to sell. But even though their songs weren’t climbing the charts Ronnie kept looking for other opportunities.

The Peppermint Lounge was one of the most happening clubs in New York back in 1961. The girls were underage, but their clothing, hair and makeup made them look years older than they were, causing the manager to mistake them for that night’s stage dancers. The three took it all in stride, dancing the twist for Joey Dee and the Starliters as Ronnie sang a few numbers as well. After that, the trio were booked as a regular act. Then they made another big decision.

Around this time the group decided their name, Ronnie and the Relatives, had to go. From then on they were known as the Ronettes. With their regular gig at the Peppermint Lounge they were also performing shows all over New York. The trio had a unique look as well.

As part of their developing stage act, Ronnie and her mates had teased their hair up into high beehives, put on heavy eye makeup in the style of Liz Taylor in her Cleopatra movie, and wore side split dresses. All three women turned heads everywhere they went, especially Ronnie. But it wasn’t just their classic look that attracted attention. 

The Ronettes helped open a Miami branch of the Peppermint Lounge in late 1962. There they ran into New York radio DJ Murray Kaufman, aka “Murray the K”. Murray lamented to Ronnie that he couldn’t find a trio like the Ronettes in New York, when she replied “Are you crazy? We’re from New York!” He signed the three on the spot to play his regular shows at the Brooklyn Fox nightclub. 

It seemed things were coming together, but other challenges loomed on the horizon.

The Ronettes jumped into their gig at the Brooklyn Fox as dancers, then as backup singers. By the end of 1962 they were performing regularly as the Ronettes, but their records still weren’t getting much attention. Tired of spinning their wheels, the group decided to reach out to a different studio. Ronnie’s sister Estelle knew exactly who to call, but would they get a chance?

The Ronettes put a direct call through to Phil Spector, the whiz kid LA music producer who’d been cranking out a stream of pop hits for the past few years. Impressed by their brazen cold call, Spector met the girls in New York, and admitted he’d been to their shows at the Fox in Brooklyn. They set up an audition. It was the start of studio magic!

The audition didn’t get very far before Phil Spector leapt up shouting, “This is the voice I’ve been looking for!” He demanded the Ronettes ditch their contract with Colpix and sign with his own Philles label. 

But before they could celebrate too much, he threw them a curveball: he wanted Ronnie Bennett to sign with him as a solo act.

When Beatrice Bennett heard that Spector only wanted to sign Ronnie, she drew the line. The three would sign as the Ronettes or no deal. Spector relented, signing the three in March 1963. They’d been released from their Colpix contract. Now Ronnie just needed something to sing. 

After recording a few songs that went unreleased, the Ronettes recorded “Be My Baby”. It was on this song that Ronnie’s vocals were finally able to shine. The group’s singing and the production by Spector and his arranger Jack Nitszche made “Be My Baby” a huge hit all through the fall of 1963, peaking at number 2 on the US charts. It changed everything.

With the success of their hit single, the Ronettes were offered a spot on Dick Clark’s yearly cross-country rock-and-roll live tour, “Caravan of Stars” as one of the headliners. But again, Spector had other plans for Ronnie, as he wanted her to stay back at his studio and record a follow-up single to “Be My Baby”. Ronnie’s cousin Elaine took her place for the tour instead as Ronnie went back to record with Spector.

Ronnie sang the new single, “Baby I Love You” with vocal support from Cher and Sonny Bono, with Leon Russell on piano. Spector drove the performers hard, exerting absolute control over every aspect of the production. Spector wielded a strong hand in the studio and dictated the Ronettes’ every move from then on.

The fact is that Spector had kept Ronnie from the Dick Clark tour because of his own infatuation with her. Already he was becoming possessive of Ronnie, and he kept her busy that fall recording a Christmas album to capitalize on the Ronettes’ ride atop the airwaves. But even Spector couldn’t hold Ronnie back from her greatest opportunity yet.

The Ronettes travelled to the UK for a tour of England as headliners. Their opening act was the Rolling Stones, doing their second tour of England. The Ronettes’ voices, look, and dance moves were an instant hit in England just as much as in the States. And it was there on tour through the foggy motorways of an English winter that Ronnie made a new friend.

Ronnie enjoyed touring with the Rolling Stones, especially guitarist Keith Richards. The feeling was mutual. While there were far too many people around, including Ronnie’s mother, for things between the two to get very far, it was the start of a friendship that would span decades. But the Stones weren’t the only fellow musicians to fall for the look and voice of Ronnie Spector.

The Ronettes’ signature hit “Be My Baby” had left the Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson thunderstruck. He listened to the song thousands of times, and wrote a song for the Ronettes to sing.  But Spector refused to record it and the song “Don’t Worry Baby” became a Beach Boys standard instead. The Ronettes could still pick and choose what songs they sang, but their early success was proving to be tough to duplicate.

The Ronettes were still recording singles sporadically but by 1966 Phil Spector was producing all kinds of records for other acts, and the Ronettes were no longer at the top of his list of priorities. For him, the Ronettes had always been about Ronnie anyway; and by then, she and Spector had become a couple. But a new opportunity appeared that was sure to turn things around for Ronnie.

In that same year, The Beatles toured the US with the Ronettes signed on as an opening act. But one thing stood int their way: Phil Spector. As big a deal as he was in music at that time, the Beatles were far more famous and influential than he was. He didn’t want Ronnie going anywhere near the English rockers. As with Dick Clark’s tour in 1963, Elaine Bennett took Ronnie’s place on the Beatles tour. What should’ve been a great turnaround for Ronnie’s career was an opportunity lost. 

It seemed just the beginning of the end. 

The Ronettes broke up in 1967 after Phil Spector closed his record label. The other two members of the group were tired of dealing with Spector and went back to New York. Not Ronnie, though. She stuck with him. Ronnie and Phil got married the following year. And however badly things had gone in the past, they were about to get a whole lot worse for Ronnie.

The marriage didn’t get off to a good start. The evening of their wedding day, an intoxicated Phil Spector started raving that Ronnie had only married him for his money. Bellowing with rage, he chased Ronnie around the house as she finally locked herself in a bathroom with her mother to get away from him. The blowup was only the start of a marriage that would become a living hell for Ronnie.

Phil Spector had bars installed on the windows of their home, and had a barbed wire fence put up around the property. Spector wasn’t so much worried about break-ins as he was dead set on keeping Ronnie Spector under his nose at all times. But the nightmare was far from over; it was just getting started.

Phil Spector had always been controlling of Ronnie, and now that the two were married, he monitored her every move. He forbade her to leave their house, even dictating where she could go inside the house as well.  Spector eventually relented a bit, but then things got even more bizarre.

Phil Spector allowed Ronnie to drive into town on her own but he forced her to keep a life-size dummy of himself next to her in the passenger seat. The dummy even had a cigarette sticking out of its mouth for maximum realism! In those circumstances, it may have been easier for Ronnie to just stay home in the creepy LA mansion. But the weirdness was just shifting into high gear.

The couple adopted a son, Donte Phillip, and Ronnie had the responsibility of being a mom for the youngster while also coping with Phil Spector’s increasingly erratic behavior. But Phil Spector then did something even weirder.

Ronnie woke up one Christmas morning to see Phil Spector with two twin boys she’d never met before. Phil had adopted the pair of five-year-olds, Louis and Gary, as a Christmas gift for Ronnie. He hadn’t mentioned anything about it to her as he’d wanted to surprise her. He’d certainly succeeded in that respect, but the surprises didn’t end there.

As her career and her freedom slipped away, Ronnie started to drink. Given the terrible circumstances, it was hardly surprising. It got to the point where she thought she might be an alcoholic. She eventually convinced Phil Spector to let her leave the house so she could attend AA meetings. But even that small respite couldn't truly help her.

Phil Spector had got into the worrisome habit of brandishing guns around. He told Ronnie he had a gold coffin in the basement of their house, and Ronnie would wind up inside it if she ever tried to get away from him. He said the coffin even had a glass lid so he could keep an eye on Ronnie after she was dead. She knew then she had to get out, even if it killed her.

The gold coffin was the last straw. In the middle of the night, with her mother beside her, Ronnie made a run for it. She was barefoot as Phil Spector had locked up all her shoes. That was the least of her worries as she fled the house that was like a maximum-security penitentiary, but she wasn’t totally free just yet.

Ronnie got a final alimony settlement from Phil Spector of $2,500 a month for five years. But Phil Spector was far from finished messing with Ronnie. For the first payment, he ordered a Brinks truck to drop off the first monthly payment at her lawyer’s office. It was all in nickels. But the real problem was more far-reaching.

Ronnie Spector had won a hefty settlement from Spector, but it came at a cost: she agreed to forfeit any claim to royalties for the Ronettes’ music. It was all now under copyright to Phil Spector, and he was far from letting bygones be bygones. He continued to sabotage Ronnie’s music career, and his methods were terrifying.

Booked to sing at the Flamingo Hotel in Las Vegas, Ronnie got a call from a menacing Phil Spector. He told Ronnie over the phone that he had hired six hit men to kill her onstage at the Flamingo. The one who fired the fatal shot into Ronnie’s body was guaranteed a million-dollar bonus from the deranged producer. It was too much for Ronnie; she never took the stage that night.

Ronnie was back to being Ronnie Bennett, but she held on to the Spector name as a stage name. If it helped her name recognition, so much the better. She needed every advantage she could get as she tried to revive her career after years of little to no activity.

By the mid 70s, the music industry had totally changed. The hits Ronnie had recorded as a member of the Ronettes had already become part of “oldies” AM radio station programs, and a whole variety of different artists and styles of music were now popular. The newly reformed Ronettes were going nowhere. But she also discovered that a lot of people were still listening to those old songs!

Many of the 70s’ most successful musicians had grown up listening to the Ronettes in the 60s. Bruce Springsteen brought Ronnie in to perform at a 1976 concert. Billy Joel wrote a song for Ronnie, “Say Goodbye to Hollywood”. Ronnie also recorded an album of punk cover songs, Siren. But more success of the kind she’d enjoyed in the 60s eluded her. There was also still fallout going on from the disastrous marriage with Spector.

While Ronnie had left Phil Spector behind, she’d also left behind the three children they’d adopted. She was free, but they were still stuck with the abusive Spector. While Ronnie claimed to be broken-hearted that Donte Spector turned his back on her, it was really Ronnie that left these boys to their own devices. But she’d already moved on and started a new family of her own. 

In 1983, Ronnie married her manager, Jonathan Greenfield, and the couple had two kids. Ronnie had finally settled down to a regular life. Now a busy mom and housewife, Ronnie didn’t have time for music in those days. But it was in the midst of this new domestic life that Ronnie got a call about a new project.

Eddie Money called Ronnie out of the blue to tell her he was recording a new song that was inspired by “Be My Baby”, and he wanted her to sing with him. Money had fallen on hard times and needed all the help he could get. He convinced Ronnie to record with him and the hit “Take Me Home Tonight” eventually went to number 4 on the American Billboard chart. As great as the news was for Ronnie, she also had some unfinished business to settle.

The terms of the divorce settlement meant that Phil Spector continued to milk the Ronettes’ success all for himself. Ronnie and the other two Ronettes hadn’t received a dime in royalties for the use of “Be My Baby” in the hit movie Dirty Dancing (1987), to take a famous example. After a decade-long legal campaign, the Ronettes won a $3 million settlement in 1998, a decision that was upheld on appeal in 2001. And more overdue recognition was on the way.

The Ronettes were finally back together for their induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Keith Richards gave a brief induction speech that left no doubt he’d never forgotten the old days with Ronnie. The Ronettes performed “Be My Baby” together for the first time in years. But Ronnie’s sister Estelle was too overcome by stage fright to perform. She’d travelled an even harder road than Ronnie to get there.

Estelle Bennett had left the Ronettes way back in 1967, and had her share of hardships since, including poor health and a period of homelessness. The 2007 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame concert was her first public appearance in decades. Sadly, she passed from cancer two years later. Ronnie was heartbroken even as she looked to the past with fondness and acceptance.

Phil Spector passed from coronavirus complications in 2021 while serving a prison sentence for his 2003 slaying of actress Lana Clarkson. Ronnie released a statement that surprised many with its praise for Spector’s brilliance and the love she had for him back in the day. But Ronnie herself didn’t have much time left.

The world was saddened to learn the news of Ronnie Spector’s passing on January 12, 2022. She followed her dreams along the hard road to the top of rock and roll, and had more than her fair share of potholes, speed bumps and wrong turns along the way. But there was no doubt of her influence on music as one of the 60s greatest voices, one that no “wall of sound” could contain.

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Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Norman Jay Rambo was born in the unincorporated community of Earlimart, California, on November 13, 1941. The Rambo family consisted of Mom and Dad, three boys and a girl. Norman and his twin brother Orman were the middle children. 

Life was pretty much what you might expect in this little town. 

Having twins was a boon for the Rambo family. With Norman and Orman, they had two young men to work the fields and milk the cows. The boys eventually grew up into handsome and rugged young men. But they had a problem with their names. 

As the boys got older, they started to resent the fact that their parents had called them names that sounded so similar. There was only one letter separating the identical twins. Well, when they decided to choose their own names, they weren't much better than Norman and Orman. They called themselves Dack and Dirk. 

With the showbiz-sounding names, the Rambo twins were not going to be happy working the farm for long. 

Dack Rambo packed up his twin brother, and the two headed to Los Angeles. There, they began looking for work as actors and decided to do it the right way. They studied with acting coach Lee Strasberg, who had worked with big stars like  and James Dean. The Rambo twins took their classes seriously, but they were staying with their aunt, and she insisted they go to church. 

Little did they know that going to church was going to get them their first job. 

While sitting together on a church pew, the Rambo twins made quite an impression. They were both ruggedly handsome young men and identical except for a mole on Dack’s chin. By coincidence, film and TV star Loretta Young attended the same church. 

When she saw the Rambo twins, she had an idea.

Loretta Young was doing a reboot of her popular show, The Loretta Young Show. This was the show that she not-so-cleverly called The New Loretta Young Show. Young thought that the addition of both Rambo boys would liven things up. She brought them on board and hoped for the best. 

She didn’t quite get that. 

The New Loretta Young Show featured Young as a widowed mother of seven children. The Rambo twins played two of her sons, and in one scene argued over who had the most whiskers on their faces. Sadly, the series was not nearly as popular as her original show, and CBS canceled it after just one season. 

It looked like the twins were heading back to the farm. 

Dack and his brother Dirk were not ready to go back to the farm just yet. Because their acting careers were on a temporary hold, they decided to give music a try. They got together in a recording studio and did their own versions of some hits by country crooner Glenn Campbell. Sadly, this recording did little to help their careers. 

They went back to acting to ignite their careers. 

Dack and Dirk Rambo decided to give acting one more chance. Dirk was struggling, but he did manage to get one episode on the western The Virginian. Then another on the highly popular TV show Dragnet. Things were looking up for Dirk Rambo. But there was only tragedy in his future. 

In Hollywood on February 5, 1967, Dirk Rambo was driving with his friend Horace H Hester. A car came out of nowhere and struck Dirk’s vehicle head-on. The accident caused a fire, and Dirk lost his life in the blaze. Coincidentally, the driver of the car was a TV actor just like Dirk and Dack: Kathleen Case. 

Dack Rambo had tragically lost his twin brother, but he had to carry on somehow. 

Dack Rambo soon scored a starring role on the Western TV show The Guns of Will Sonnet. One notable thing about this series is that in it, you can see Jack Nicholson in one of his first roles and also Dennis Hopper. If you’re a collector, you might want to look out for a lunch pail sold in honor of the show. Sadly, neither Nicholson nor the lunch pail could save this show. It only lasted two seasons. 

But nothing was going to get in the way of Rambo’s success. 

In 1971, Dack Rambo must have thought he’d hit the big time. He got the second lead in a film called River of Gold. He got the role of Riley Biggs, a handsome beach bum who finds adventure in Acapulco, Mexico. Unfortunately, this made-for-TV movie failed to ignite any interest in Rambo’s career. There was an expiry date on Rambo’s life in Hollywood, and it was coming up quickly. 

The reboot with Loretta Young hadn't gone so well, but Dack Rambo was willing to give a spin-off a try. This was Dirty Sally, which sprang from a very popular episode on the hot series Gunsmoke. Rambo was starring opposite Jeanette Nolan, who received an Emmy nomination for her work. As a spin-off from a popular show, Dirty Sally had a lot going for it.

Sadly, Dirty Sally failed to attract viewers. Worse still, no one seems to have kept a copy of the series. All that’s left is an audio recording of one single episode. Rambo was having no luck at all in getting on a series that lasted. 

What followed for Dack Rambo was a long list of guest appearances on shows like Wonder Woman, Charlie’s Angels, and The Love Boat. Sure, it was paying the bills, but it must have felt like a letdown compared to having the starring role. Rambo was going to have to try something new. 

After a lead in another failed action series—Sword of Justice—Rambo took his talents to daytime TV. Soap opera All My Children had a spot for Rambo in the character Steve Jacobi. Here, he played an attorney having an affair with secretary Nina Cortlandt. All My Children was a soap opera juggernaut, and some actors were lucky enough to stay there a long time. 

If Rambo played his cards right, he could be that lucky. 

While appearing on All My Children, Dack Rambo had a unique opportunity. He got to play the Feud. That’s right, Rambo appeared with his co-stars of All My Children, Kim Delaney, and Laurence Lau, on the TV game show Family Feud. Too bad Rambo would be saying goodbye to these co-stars sooner than later. 

Rambo’s stint on All My Children lasted just 11 episodes, and he was soon back looking for work. He then landed a rare recurring role on Fantasy Island, which was more famous for having one-episode guests. Rambo would play Prince Peter d’Anatoli, and like all the guests on the show, he had a secret. 

Rambo's character on Fantasy Island was a Prince who pretended to be an average Joe. He secretly wanted to find out what it was like to be normal. Well, Rambo managed to keep this job for six episodes before he left the island. Someone must have seen something they liked in Rambo on Fantasy Island. 

He was about to get a huge offer. 

Primetime soap operas were becoming big business, and ABC had an idea for a new splashy one. This was Paper Dolls, which is set in the world of fashion modeling. The show had success written all over it with big-name stars like Lloyd Bridges, Morgan Fairchild, and Lauren Hutton. Dack Rambo had the role of Bridges’ son, Wesley Harper. 

He only had to wait for fame to follow him. 

Critics loved Paper Dolls and encouraged viewers to give it a chance. But the show had a big problem: Major League Baseball. Because of scheduling, Paper Dolls kept getting overshadowed by baseball playoffs. The show knew it was in trouble, so it created an almost impossible number of cliffhangers to keep its audience glued to their TV sets. 

Audiences loved a cliffhanger, and maybe these ones could save the show. 

Sadly, the world would never find out if Wesley’s plan to blackmail a fashion critic would succeed. In fact, none of the cliffhangers in Paper Dolls got their chance for resolution, as ABC canceled the show just three months after the first episode. Rambo’s big break was not going to be a break after all. 

It was time for Rambo to take stock of his life and career. He had to answer the big questions. 

In the mid-1980s, Dack Rambo was facing the cancellation of a show that he thought was going to be a hit. His manager sat him down and asked him what he really wanted to do. After thinking for a while, Rambo remembered his roots on the farm back in California. Based on this, he made his request. 

Rambo must have had huge confidence because he asked for the moon. 

What Dack Rambo had decided was that he wanted to be on the primetime soap opera powerhouse Dallas. It seemed like an obvious choice. Having grown up on a farm and also appearing in Westerns, moving on to a cowboy existence on Dallas was a great choice. But Dallas was a top-rated primetime show. 

Rambo had to convince the producers that he would be a welcome addition to the show. 

Rambo later said that he did all kinds of devious things to get the people at Dallas to want him. The way he described it, it sounds like one of the sinister plots that viewers came to expect from shows like Dallas. He said he schemed and he manipulated to get the role. 

Well, it all paid off, and he did get a part. But things were exactly how he expected them to be. 

Dack Rambo did not have a good time working on Dallas. He partially blames the fact that he came into the show as an outsider. The show had already been on for years, and so it was difficult to fit in. He also hinted that some of the actors were just like the manipulative characters they played on the show. 

Rambo was unhappy, and he dealt with it in the worst way possible. 

Dack Rambo wasn’t enjoying himself working on Dallas but felt unable to leave. So, he turned to prescription drug use. He said it was because he needed to go to the set of Dallas every day, a place where he didn’t feel wanted. Rambo was looking for something else to do, something to take his mind away from the show. 

So, he tried something completely different. 

Before Marky Mark heated up advertising in his Calvin Klein briefs, there was Rambo with his own line of underwear. He called them “Under Ware by dack rambo”. In advertisements, Rambo listed a number to call to get your hands on a pair. Just call: 1 800 422 DACK—which kind of sounded like he was looking for something else. 

It sounds like Rambo was having fun, but there was only tragedy in his future. 

Rambo did eventually get out of his contract on Dallas and, in 1991, he was playing Congressman Grant Harrison on the daytime soap Another World. While rehearsing for a scene, he got a shocking message from his doctor: he had somehow contracted HIV. A very startled Rambo finished his day on the set and turned to the producers and delivered his devastating news. 

Rambo didn’t really hold back when it came to telling the producers on Another World what was going on. He said he had HIV and that he was leaving the show. Rambo knew what his fate was. Just weeks before, AIDS had taken the life of movie star Brad Davis and basketball player Magic Johnson had abruptly retired after contracting HIV. 

But Rambo wasn't going to go out quietly. 

One of the first things that Rambo did with his new diagnosis was to announce it. On October 1, 1991—about a month after he got the diagnosis—Rambo put out a press release. He told the world that he had a seroconversion status. At this time in history, everyone knew what that meant. He was HIV-positive.

But Rambo wasn't through yet. 

Of course, everyone wanted to know how Rambo had gotten sick. After all, this was a disease that was targeting mostly gay men at this time, and as far as the public knew, Rambo was straight. In a November 25 interview with The Washington Post, Rambo said that he liked both women and men as intimate partners. In 1991, this was a very brave thing for an actor to do. 

And it seemed that Rambo was ready to tell all of his secrets. 

Rambo later said that telling his story about HIV felt like freedom, because he didn't have to lie anymore. He said that while he’d been on Dallas, rumors of his orientation threatened to become public knowledge. That same year, he admitted to his addiction issues and that he was only sober because of a stint at the Betty Ford Center. 

He also came out about his love life. 

Rambo had told the world that he liked both men and women as intimate partners, but he went on to call his love life “spicy”, which left a lot to the public’s imagination. Sadly, he also had to admit something else. He said that when it came to playing around with various men and women, he never thought about playing safe. 

If Rambo felt guilt about this, he knew where to take it. 

Evangelist Ronnie Pierce said he was a good friend of Rambo’s. He also said that at this time in Rambo's life, he and Rambo often prayed together. But Rambo wasn't only praying for his health, but also for his friends, family, and even his fans. Eventually, Rambo wanted to share his religious beliefs. He and Pierce began speaking in churches and on Christian TV shows. 

Rambo was facing some end-of-life truths, and he was also facing some difficult questions. 

When asked how he wanted fans to remember him, the man who’d been an object of desire for many viewers—both male and female—had this to say: he wanted fans to remember him as “a great man of god”. With his friend Pierce, Rambo co-founded the Dack Rambo Healing Foundation, which helped people dealing with illnesses that threatened their lives. 

Sadly, Rambo’s final days would not be peaceful. 

Around this same time, a National Enquirer reporter named William Keck got an anonymous phone call from an employee at a medical center in California. The caller said that at her facility, there was a famous primetime soap star, and he was close to the end of his life. She said that he was in the final stages of AIDS. 

Keck had a feeling who it might be, and he had to make a decision. 

Keck knew that his newspaper, the National Enquirer, had made headlines with a similar story but about Rock Hudson. Keck admired Rambo, but he also wanted to make a name for himself as a reporter. He offered to pay the caller $860 and an extra $400 if the story made the cover. Once he’d paid, he found out the details about Rambo’s condition. 

His situation was dire. 

Keck learned that a male friend had taken Rambo to the clinic and that Rambo was very weak. In fact, he couldn’t even sign his name. He simply wrote an “X”. Also, Rambo was covering his face, as he didn’t want people to see the obvious signs of AIDS. But writing the story about Rambo's final days was not going to be enough. 

Keck had something else in mind. 

Keck and another writer for the National Enquirer knew they needed something more. They heartlessly wanted to interview Rambo as his life was literally leaving him. The anonymous caller supplied Rambo’s room number, and Keck and his associate headed to the clinic. What they found there would be a shocker. 

When Keck and his partner arrived at the clinic, Rambo’s bed was empty. They were too late. To Keck’s horror, the National Enquirer still published a “last interview” article. In his book, When You Step Upon a Star: Cringeworthy Confessions of a Tabloid Bad Boy, Keck said that the newspaper completely invented the entire interview, but he played no part in it. 

While the interview was completely false, there was one truth. Rambo had passed. 

Rambo passed on March 21, 1994. He was in Delano, California, at the Delano Regional Medical Center. He had previously said that he didn't fear dying; he actually saw it as another adventure. He was brave until the end. They buried him beside his twin brother Dirk. Rambo’s life was over, but the stories of his life would continue. 

In 2021, Shawn Mayotte—real name Doug Probst—wrote Mayotte: The Musings of a Narcissist, A Survivor’s Story. This is a tell-all memoir about Probst’s life as a man for hire for closeted celebrities. In the book, he claims to have had encounters with TV’s Brady Bunch dad Robert Reed and music mogul David Geffen.  

He also had something to say about Rambo. 

According to Probst, Rambo responded to his ad. Probst had described himself as a “Long Beach Fox” who had a slim, muscular build. They spoke on the phone, and Probst figured Rambo was intelligent and maybe a little naive. They made a plan to meet in person. 

The thing was, Probst, who didn't watch much TV, had no idea who Rambo was. So, when Rambo showed up in a beautiful—and expensive—Porsche, Probst was duly impressed. They went to a hotel together to have some fun. But what Probst ended up with was far from just some meaningless fun. 

We only have Probst’s side of this story, but what he said was a shocker. Even though Rambo was allegedly paying for playing, Probst said he fell in love with Rambo. The two bonded over more than just a physical relationship. According to Probst, he was there for Rambo when he got his diagnosis. 

Prosbst says that he and Rambo had dinner a few times in the time between when Rambo got his diagnosis and when he told the world about it. Probst says they met at a Santa Monica restaurant called the French Quarter. Probst remembers Rambo’s laughter and also his tears. According to Probst, the two men remained friends until Rambo passed. 

Most of the stories about Rambo show him as a kind man. Sheree J Wilson joined the Dallas cast even later than Rambo had. She, too, was in fear of being an outsider. She remembers that her first scene was with Rambo, and she was beyond nervous. 

What Rambo said to her clearly indicates the kind of man he was. 

Wilson said that she was doing her first scene on Dallas, and she was playing Rambo’s ex-wife. When Rambo saw her nerves flare, he said to her: “Just relax. We’re all friends here and you’ll find that to be true”. Of course, we know that Rambo didn't believe this—he hated being on the show—but he found the right words to comfort his anxious co-star. 

Rambo made a big impression on Wilson, and she had nothing but kind words for him. 

Maybe his co-star on Dallas, Sheree J Wilson, summed Rambo up best. She noted Rambo’s bravery and said that he used his celebrity as a way to educate the public about AIDS, even when there was still so much stigma attached to it. He was facing the darkest hours of his life, and he still just wanted to help others. 

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Billy Preston Played With The Greatest Bands In History—But His Final Years Left A Dark Stain On His Legacy

Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21,  23 

William Everett Preston belted out his first notes on September 2, 1946, in Houston, Texas. He was raised mostly by his mother, Robbie Lee Williams, and moved to Los Angeles as a boy. His tiny childhood apartment overflowed with music and faith. In that humble home, he was hiding huge talent—and an even bigger secret.

Billy Preston would go on to dazzle his fellow musicians with his unbelievable skills. Skills that he simply had from birth. Preston was a self-taught prodigy, having never taken a single music lesson. By 10, he was already playing onstage, backing the likes of Mahalia Jackson on the organ. His gospel roots would serve him well—and terribly.

By 11, Preston’s career in music was already taking off. Before he could even drive, he strutted onto national TV, singing “Blueberry Hill” beside the silky-voiced Nat King Cole. A year later, he appeared in the 1958 biopic St Louis Blues, playing a young WC Handy, once again opposite Cole. Hollywood was calling. But Preston wanted a holier call.

By 1960, Preston’s nimble fingers had earned him a seat behind the piano for Andraé Crouch and the Church of God in Christ Singers. Together, they recorded the gospel classic “The Blood Will Never Lose Its Power”. For Preston, faith and melody were one and the same. Some melodies, however, would scar him for life.

When Billy Preston was about nine, he and his mother had joined a touring production of Amos ’n’ Andy, a radio sitcom with an African American audience. It turned out to be a tour of torture for poor Preston. During the tour, Preston alleged that the company’s pianist preyed on him. Even as he filled concert halls, no one could hear his true voice.

For the tour and some time thereafter, Preston kept the dark secret of his exploitation to himself. Sadly, even when he finally mustered up the courage to tell his mother what had happened, she refused to believe him. Then matters intensified when a local pastor joined in on his exploitation. Quietly, Preston learned to live with the pain and shame.

It would come back to haunt him in terrible ways.

In 1962, a 16-year-old Billy Preston joined Little Richard’s touring band as an organist. On one smoky night in Hamburg, he crossed paths with a scruffy, scrappy little group that called themselves the Beatles. None of them could have guessed that they had just found the secret to their future success.

By 1963, Preston’s gospel roots had given way to soulful rhythm and blues. That year, he played organ on Sam Cooke’s Night Beat album—then dropped his own debut, 16 Yr Old Soul, on Cooke’s SAR label. It was a bold first step into the spotlight alone. He would bask in the warm glow—for a time.

Preston followed up the success of his debut solo album two years later with another chart-topper. Preston’s next album was The Most Exciting Organ Ever—and the title wasn’t an exaggeration. That same year, he brought his boundless energy to the hit TV show Shindig!, broadcasting his unique sound to audiences across America.

His next jam session would become music-history gold.

In the spring of 1965, high off the success of his second album, Billy Preston stepped into a New York studio with Little Richard and an up-and-coming guitarist. That guitarist’s name? Jimi Hendrix. The session produced the soulful classic “I Don’t Know What You’ve Got”. When another music legend got wind of the collaboration, Preston’s career really went into hyperdrive.

In 1967, Preston’s career took a quantum leap forward. Despite finding success on his own, he decided to join a touring band. But not just anyone’s touring band. Preston became the keyboardist and organist for none other than Ray Charles. That was, however, just the opening act.

When George Harrison, the lead guitarist for the Beatles, invited Billy Preston to the band’s "Get Back" sessions, it wasn’t just to have a jam session. It was to change music history. Preston played organ and electric piano throughout the chaotic recording process, with some of the tracks finding their way into film.

He was practically a Beatle at that point.

Preston’s influence during those recording sessions was so profound that John Lennon floated a wild idea: make him an official Beatle. But Paul McCartney, ever the pragmatist, vetoed the motion. It wasn’t that McCartney didn’t like Preston, just that he thought adding a fifth Beatle would be like an infestation—too many cooks in the kitchen.

Still, he was a Beatle for all intents and purposes.

On January 30, 1969, Billy Preston climbed onto the Beatles’ rooftop for what would become an iconic moment in music history. Bundled against the London chill, Preston hammered away on the electric piano, delivering an unforgettable performance at what would be the Beatles’ final public appearance together.

That day, the Fifth Beatle helped the Fab Four take one last bow.

In April 1969, the Beatles released “Get Back” and did something they had never done before: they shared the credit. On the track, the Fab Four added the credits, “The Beatles with Billy Preston”. It was the only time in their career that they would share billing with another artist, effectively making Preston the fifth, honorary Beatle.

But that was just the beginning of his divine partnership with George Harrison.

Even after the Beatles broke up, Billy Preston kept working with the individual members of the band. He quickly signed with the Beatles’ Apple label and released “That’s the Way God Planned It”. The title track became a British hit, its gospel-infused optimism capturing everything Preston stood for: faith, funk, and fearless joy.

Of all the Beatles, Preston was likely closest with George Harrison. In fact, the two even shared hit songs. Long before Harrison had a global hit with “My Sweet Lord,” Preston had recorded it. Together, they co-produced the song for Preston’s 1970 album Encouraging Words. Their creative bond only deepened from there.

On August 1, 1971, Billy Preston joined George Harrison’s star-studded Concert for Bangladesh at Madison Square Garden. Of all the chart-topping performers at the charity concert, however, Preston stood out. His “notable contribution” made him an instant favorite with the concertgoers. And with one fan in particular.

At the height of his fame, Preston began seeing actress and model Kathy Silva. Their relationship became a fixture of early ’70s music gossip columns, pairing the soulful musician with one of the decade’s most glamorous faces. Before long, the couple announced their engagement. Sadly, their storied romance took a dark turn.

Preston’s relationship with Silva ended in a scandal that altered him forever. One day, he returned home to find Silva with another man—and not just any man, but one of his closest friends. Preston found Silva in bed with the funk icon, Sly Stone. According to Preston’s manager Joyce Moore, the betrayal devastated him in ways that would only become apparent in the ensuing years.

According to his manager Joyce Moore, Billy Preston was never the same after the Silva affair. Devastated by the betrayal, he turned away from relationships with women altogether and began pursuing men (and a particular white powdery substance) instead. In the years that followed, his old demons would come back to wreak havoc in his life.

In 1970, Stephen Stills was struggling to finish a song—until Billy Preston handed him the missing lyric. Preston had once said, “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with”. Stills turned the phrase into a hit single and the title for his album, proving that Preston’s musical genius extended well beyond the keys.

You might say that his talents were “outta this world”.

Preston didn’t let his personal troubles slow him down (at first). In 1972, he blasted into the stratosphere with his instrumental track “Outa-Space”. The funky, futuristic jam claimed the second spot on the Billboard Hot 100, topped the R&B chart, and sold over a million copies. It even won him a Grammy for Best Pop Instrumental Performance.

He was even getting bigger than the Beatles.

In July 1973, Preston’s single “Will It Go Round in Circles” soared to the number one spot on the charts. In a sign of how far he’d come, his hit single even displaced the former-Beatle, George Harrison’s “Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)”. His streak was just beginning.

Preston struck gold twice in two years. His 1974 single “Nothing from Nothing” also shot straight to the top on the Billboard Hot 100. It was just his second chart-topping track, but already he had carved out a niche for himself that blended gospel and pop music. In fact, people could even hear Preston’s music when they turned their TV on.

Preston’s infectious grooves even conquered television. Dick Clark, host of American Bandstand, loved Preston’s song “Space Race” so much that he made it the show’s mid-segment theme—for nearly the rest of its run. Millions of teens danced to Preston’s music without even realizing it.

While conquering the charts with his soulful sounds, Preston also joined rock royalty. From 1970 onward, he played keyboards on five Rolling Stones albums, including Sticky Fingers and Exile on Main St. His fingerprints—literally—are all over their sound. But he wasn’t content to stay behind the curtain for long.

By 1973, Preston wasn’t just the Stones’ keyboardist—he was their opening act. On their European tour, he performed with his own band (featuring guitarist Mick Taylor) before rejoining the Stones onstage. His funky tune “Do You Love Me” even inspired their 1976 track “Melody” The student was teaching the masters.

By 1977, Preston’s long run with the Rolling Stones came to a sudden halt—in scandalous fashion. While the details aren’t widely available, it became public knowledge that Preston and the Stones fell out over disagreements about money and royalties. With money getting in the way of music, Preston and the Stones decided to roll their own ways.

Preston, however, still had more than enough rock ‘n’ roll hits left in him.

In 1974, Preston and his song-writing collaborator, Bruce Fisher, penned “You Are So Beautiful”. Joe Cocker made it a global hit—but few knew that it wasn’t actually a love song. Preston had written “You Are So Beautiful” for his mother.

On October 11, 1975, Preston hit yet another milestone. He became the very first musical guest on the debut episode of Saturday Night Live. While the show went on to make countless stars, that night it was Billy Preston who had the spotlight with his electrifying performance. But the glare of the prime time light exposed some dark secrets.

Even as his career took off, behind the scenes, Preston was fighting the ghosts from his past. In his memoir, Keith Richards later revealed that Preston struggled deeply with his sexuality and often found himself in destructive, unhealthy relationships with men. It was a secret that was eating him up from the inside out.

By the 1980s, Preston’s once-bright career began to dim. As his struggles around his identity intensified, he fell into addiction, caught between the pressures of fame and his inner turmoil. Blow and hooch became his constant companions. Fortunately, by 1991, he realized how far he’d fallen.

He just didn’t know he still had further to fall.

While on probation for driving under the influence in 1991, Preston’s troubles reached a breaking point. According to authorities, Preston had driven to a well-known pickup spot for day laborers in Malibu. There, they claimed, Preston picked up a teenage boy and brought him back to his house where something terrible unfolded.

According to court documents, the teenage boy told authorities that Preston had taken him to his Malibu home where things got out of hand. He claimed that he and Preston had smoked illicit substances, and that Preston had shown him explicit material before trying to assault him.

The teenager managed to escape, but the allegations left an irreparable mark on Preston’s reputation.

If that wasn’t enough, authorities charged Preston with another offense. Just a day before he allegedly lured and attempted to assault the teenager, Preston had reportedly attacked another man he’d hired for household work. What he did next, however, was telling.

Instead of fighting against the bad press and the allegations, Preston faced his demons. He entered no-contest pleas to the substance and assault charges, while prosecutors dropped the other allegations. The outcome saved him from far harsher punishment—but the damage to his reputation was extensive.

Still, Preston’s story of rise, fall, and redemption was far from over.

For his offenses, the court handed Preston a sentence of nine months in rehab and three months of house confinement. But he couldn’t seem to escape the cycle. The next year, in 1992, he violated probation when he was caught driving under the influence and had to spend 30 days behind bars.

His musical comeback seemed further away than ever.

By 1997, Preston’s addictions caught up with him again. After repeatedly testing positive while on probation, a California court sentenced him to three years behind bars. It was a tragic low point for a man who had once shared stages with the Beatles and the Stones. His legal and personal woes only got worse.

Even being behind bars couldn’t end Preston’s cycle of self-destruction. In 1998, investigators accused him of setting fire to his own Los Angeles home as part of a $1 million insurance scam. He later pleaded guilty, receiving probation, more time in the clink, and restitution.

This time, however, he turned his blues into music. Sweet, sweet music.

It wasn’t until he had spent some time behind bars that Preston finally began to heal the trauma from his childhood. Returning to his musical roots, he led the choir in the clink, played at church services, and inspired his fellow inmates with his gospel chords. After serving 18 months of his four-year sentence, he walked out clean, ready to start again.

It’s almost like he hadn’t missed a beat.

Preston’s comeback started quietly but powerfully. In 2002, he played piano on Johnny Cash’s haunting album American IV: The Man Comes Around, adding soul to Cash staples like “Personal Jesus” and “Tear-Stained Letter”. The gospel boy from Houston was back where he belonged—at the keys, playing from the heart.

His heart, however, was never the problem.

That same year, Preston received a kidney transplant. But his body, already ravaged by hypertension, struggled to recover. Despite his renewed faith and sobriety, his health was going in the wrong direction. Still, he had to spread the good word through song.

In 2004, Preston returned to the stage with old friends and new legends alike. He toured Europe with the Funk Brothers and Steve Winwood, then joined Eric Clapton across Europe and North America. Each performance was a small resurrection, a reminder that, despite everything he had gone through, the “Fifth Beatle” still had soul to spare.

It was just a question of how much.

By 2006, Preston’s health had reached a critical point—but music still called to him. When the Red Hot Chili Peppers sent him a demo of their track “Warlocks,” he literally jumped out of bed, recorded a clavinet solo, and collapsed back under the covers. Even near the end, his rhythm was unstoppable.

Preston’s last recordings were nothing short of divine. With his clock ticking down, he played gospel-infused organ on Neil Diamond’s 12 Songs and poured his soul into The Road to Escondido with Eric Clapton and JJ Cale. In those final sessions, every note sounded like a prayer. His miracle was yet to come.

47. He Returned To The Spotlight One Last Time

In late 2005, Preston gave audiences one last treat when he made his final public appearance in Los Angeles. Harkening to his halcyon days, he performed three George Harrison songs alongside Dhani Harrison and Ringo Starr. The event marked the re-release of The Concert for Bangladesh—the same show that had once made him a legend.

Now, all he had to do was seal his fate.

Shortly after the concert performance, Preston voluntarily entered rehab in Malibu to continue his recovery—but tragedy struck. He suffered heart inflammation that led to respiratory failure, slipping into a coma in November 2005. Sadly, he’d never sing again. On June 6, 2006, Billy Preston passed on at 59, surrounded by the echoes of his music.

Preston’s farewell was fit for a musical king—or a beloved Fifth Beatle. In a three-hour celebration of sound and soul, titans of music bid their “Adieu” to Preston. Joe Cocker sang, Little Richard preached, and a brass band played “Amazing Grace”. Letters from Paul McCartney, Eric Clapton, and the Rolling Stones were read aloud as mourners wept, laughed, and danced him home.

But his legend lived on.

It wasn’t until 2021, some 15 years after his tragic demise, that Preston got an honor he had earned many times over. In a fitting tribute, Preston was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with the Musical Excellence Award. No one less than Ringo Starr announced the honor, saying, “Billy never put his hands in the wrong place. He was an amazing singer, songwriter, and human being”.

He was also a Beatle…

Ringo Starr continued heaping praise on Preston. But the greatest honor he gave him was finally saying out loud what everyone knew in their hearts: “He was a Beatle—and a Rolling Stone”. Preston had done what few could—earning the respect of rock’s two biggest bands and leaving his fingerprints on their greatest hits.

But the question lingered: did his fans ever really know him at all?

In a 2010 BBC Radio 4 documentary, Preston’s manager revealed a scandalous, but not totally unexpected, truth. Preston, his manager claimed, had struggled his whole life to reconcile his faith with his sexuality. Only near the very end did he finally come out as gay. But, if you heard his music, then you knew him.

Fellow keyboardist Rick Wakeman summed up Preston’s legacy perfectly: “Every keyboard player I know loves Billy Preston. You can spot his playing a mile off…He had such a spiritual touch to his technique—it made him completely unique”. In the end, Billy Preston’s music didn’t just move the charts. It moved souls.

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Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4

Peter Fonda was born in New York City on February 23, 1940. Dad was the Academy Award-winning actor, Henry Fonda, and Mom was Frances Ford Seymour, a socialite originally from Canada. Seymour had had a very troubled youth, and the victimization she suffered at home had led to a brutal series of terminated pregnancies.

Sadly, Seymour was unable to be a stable mother to her children.

Fonda’s mother ended up at a sanitarium, and, one day, Dad told the kids that their mother had passed. The cause was a heart attack. Life quickly went back to normal. Maybe a little too normal. Peter Fonda noticed that no one talked about his mom and, worse still, no one seemed to miss her. He and his sister Jane didn’t attend a funeral, and had no idea where Dad had buried her.

The aftermath was devastating.

Peter Fonda was too young to process his mother’s loss—especially since the rest of his family had seemed to move on so quickly, without really talking in depth about what had happened. The year after, when Christmas rolled around, this became apparent when Fonda made a heartbreaking gesture. He arranged presents and a letter to his mother on a chair, expecting her to show up and spend the holiday with her family.

It would take many years, but as we’ll see, Fonda would one day find out the disturbing truth.

After high school, Fonda distracted himself from his family troubles by throwing himself into his career. He began acting on Broadway and on TV, and then he got a part in a movie. This was the light-hearted comedy Tammy and the Doctor, where he played opposite the very popular Sandra Dee. Critics said that Fonda resembled James Stewart in that they were both tall and had boy-next-door looks. Coincidentally, Stewart was a good friend of Fonda’s dad.

Doing a light comedy seemed easy for Fonda. Next, he'd have to prove himself in something much heavier.

In the gritty WWII film The Victors, Peter Fonda was just a small fish among the all-star cast, including names like Albert Finney and Jeanne Moreau. It was going to be hard for Fonda to stand out, but stand out he did. He was the only actor up for an award. He took home the Golden Globe for Most Promising Newcomer.

The world was Fonda’s oyster.

After some more TV work, Peter Fonda got a big break. Director Robert Rossen was making a film called Lilith, but this was going to be tough on Fonda’s emotions. You see, this film is set in a mental institution and involves a patient dying. It sounds a little too close to Fonda’s mother’s real-life tragedy. Fonda made it through the shoot, but the film did not get great reviews.

Next he’d meet up with someone just like him: another son of an icon.

Samuel Goldwyn Jr was a celebrated movie producer and the son of Hollywood mogul Samuel Goldwyn. He only directed one film in his career, and he wanted Peter Fonda for the lead role. The film was The Young Lovers, and it deals with a pregnancy outside of marriage. While this film didn't do much with critics or audiences, it changed Fonda’s career forever.

Because Fonda’s dad was a big star, and the director’s father was a Hollywood icon, people saw The Young Lovers as a contrast to old Hollywood. It was something new and maybe a little bit dangerous. Some called it counterculture. What Fonda could call it was a path to instant fame.

In those days, leading men presented themselves as responsible and upstanding—or at least, they tried to, much like Peter Fonda’s father, Henry Fonda. The new generation of actors were more like dropouts. They had long hair and experimented with illicit substances.

This was a breath of fresh air—except no one in Hollywood was ready to hire this new breed of actor. Fonda had to go elsewhere.

With no acting jobs coming his way, Fonda started hanging out with musicians. He found his way to the Beatles, who were living in Benedict Canyon, LA. While in an altered state, Fonda told John Lennon that he knew what it was like to be among the non-living.

And then he told him the shocking reasons why.

Back when he was just 11 years old, Peter Fonda had shot himself. This was an accident while he was skeet shooting. He told Lennon and George Harrison about the incident, and they incorporated it into their song "She Said She Said”. They used “she” instead of “he” to hide Fonda’s identity.

Fonda was associating himself with the counterculture movement, and there would be some consequences.

In 1966, officers found that Peter Fonda was in possession of marijuana. Luckily for Fonda, a judge acquitted him of the charge a few months later. That same year, Fonda got in trouble with authorities for joining a riot. They were fighting against curfew laws on the Sunset Strip in LA. On that night, Fonda ended up in handcuffs.

The world was seeing what kind of man Fonda was. Maybe they were ready to see him in a different kind of movie.

Because the big Hollywood studios were not ready to make counterculture films, smaller independent projects began tackling the topics no bigwig would touch. Cult director Roger Corman was making the motorcycle drama The Wild Angels, and he wanted Fonda in a smaller role.

Then, a surprising twist pushed Fonda from supporting actor to the lead role.

The lead actor of The Wild Angels had to be a tough guy. The planned star, George Chakiris, certainly fit the bill except for one thing: he couldn’t ride a motorcycle. Fonda had that skill, and so he moved up to the starring role. The Wild Angels was a kind of film that most moviegoers had never seen before.

Fonda’s career depended on their reaction.

The Wild Angels did very well at the box office, but some critics were not on board. They called it “an embarrassment” and one called Fonda’s acting “amateurish”. The US State Department also became involved. It did what it could to stop the film from screening at the Venice Film Festival because it didn't show America at its best.

Fonda was a bona fide counterculture hero—and as it turns out, he was just getting started.

People were starting to associate Peter Fonda with psychedelics, and he certainly wasn't the only one. Roger Corman had enlisted rising star Jack Nicholson to write a screenplay about using acid, and he knew Fonda would be able to play the role with credibility. The result was 1967’s The Trip. Fonda was taking a chance participating in a film that depicted illicit substance use without the usual punishment attached.

This was the kind of thing that can end a career.

Roger Corman made The Trip for just $300,000, and it grossed a whopping $6 million. Of course, critics were torn about this very different kind of film. What this meant for Peter Fonda was that his name would forever have an association with psychedelics. But it also showed the entertainment world that these counterculture films could actually make money.

He was a rising star, and he was ready to travel.

While Peter Fonda was making a name for himself in Hollywood, his sister Jane was doing the same. Their fame came together in Italy, where Jane was making a movie with her then-husband, Roger Vadim. The film was Spirits of the Dead, and it was an artsy horror anthology based on the stories of Edgar Alan Poe.

The role for these siblings was a little creepy.

In this film, Peter Fonda plays Baron Wilhelm Berlifizing, and Jane Fonda plays his cousin. Jane’s character is a wild woman, and she falls for her own cousin. Yuck. Making things even more bizarre is the fact that the actors playing the roles were siblings. The critical reception to this morally challenged film was a resounding…meh.

But Fonda wasn’t wasting his time. Not one bit.

Fonda’s role in the film with his sister was small, so he had free time on his hands. He spent that time working on a script that he said was like a “modern Western”. While working on the script, he met up with his brother-in-law’s associate Terry Southern, who was one of the writers on Barbarella, which starred Jane and was directed by Roger Vadim.

Fonda showed his unfinished script to Southern and waited for his opinion.

Southern showed some interest, but Fonda was sure he couldn’t afford to pay him for his help. Southern simply told Fonda, “I’m your man”. It was a good thing, as the script they were working on soon became the cult classic Easy Rider. Fonda quickly brought on Jack Nicholson to support and Dennis Hopper to direct. These guys were out to break every rule in Hollywood.

And they were going to have a blast doing it.

The first Hollywood rule Fonda broke was about the script. The truth was, he didn’t really have one. He also decided they didn’t need a film crew. Instead, they used friends, random strangers and hippies to do the crew work. The final broken rule was a doozy. Many of the actors were high or inebriated while working on the film.

Making Easy Rider was absolute chaos, and it was also dangerous.

The motorcycle Peter Fonda rides in Easy Rider was heavily modified, and because of this, a little tricky to ride. When Nicholson got on the back with Fonda, he was very scared. Nicholson was so afraid that he squeezed his legs around Fonda’s midsection. In fact, he squeezed so hard he broke one of Fonda’s ribs.

But there was no shortage of fun on this set as well.

While filming Easy Rider, a fight erupted between Hopper and one of the cameramen at the motel where they were all staying. The fight was getting out of control, and it eventually broke into the next room. To the fighters’ surprise, there was Peter Fonda. But that wasn’t all. He was in bed with costars Karen Black and Toni Basil.

But Easy Rider was not all fun and games. Fonda had to face a childhood trauma to get a scene right.

In one scene, Hopper was trying to get the best performance out of Fonda. He told Fonda to speak like he was speaking to his mother. Fonda was hesitant because he had never fully dealt with his mother’s loss. When he agreed, Fonda made the mistake of saying the word “mother” during his monologue. And it’s still in the film.

Of course, Fonda must have been curious to see what people would think of this very un-Hollywood movie.

Peter Fonda had the idea to show Easy Rider to his father before anyone else. His dad was certainly a symbol of old Hollywood, and his opinion would be worthwhile. Henry Fonda sat his son down and told him that Easy Rider was “inaccessible” and that he “didn’t think many people would get it”.

Fonda must have been in shock. Had he really wasted his time and money on a bad movie?

On its opening night, Easy Rider broke the house record at the Beekman Theater in NYC. By the 14th week, it was the highest-grossing film in the US and stayed there for three more weeks. The budget of the film was under $400,000 and the box office totaled out at about $60 million. Fonda’s dad had been wrong. Easy Rider was an unqualified hit.

Now Fonda could choose any project he wanted. Sadly, he messed up big time.

In 1970, director Arthur Hiller was looking for a leading man for his romance movie Love Story. Ali McGraw was already on board, and finding a leading man was turning out to be difficult. Among the many actors who refused were Michael Douglas, Jon Voight and both Beau and Jeff Bridges. Even though they offered him 10% of the box office, Fonda said no.

This may not have been the best decision.

The male lead in Love Story ended up in the hands of Ryan O’Neal, and the movie was a huge hit and money maker. The budget was just over $2 million, and the box office reached over $170 million. Let’s just say, if Fonda’s goal was getting rich, he’d made the wrong decision.

Instead, Fonda stayed true to his counterculture cred. But the results were dismal.

Fonda’s first movie after Easy Rider had him working with Dennis Hopper again. After all, look at what Easy Rider had become. Sadly, The Last Movie would not achieve the same success. In fact, it would almost be Hopper’s literal last movie, as he exiled himself from Hollywood for years after the disappointment.

After seeing Hopper fail miserably—and a brutal falling out between the two collaborators—Fonda decided to put himself in the director’s chair.

Fonda’s first try at directing was the western The Hired Hand. Fonda also stars in this film, and Universal Pictures was ready to cash in on Fonda’s fame. They planned to construct a huge billboard on Sunset Blvd that would show a shirtless Fonda with a pistol in his jeans. The caption on the billboard would read: “That Easy Rider Rides Again”. Fonda threatened to remove the billboard with explosives if it went up.

As it turned out, the billboard was exactly what this film needed.

After a few more failures, including The Hired Hand, it was starting to look like Easy Rider had been a one-hit wonder. Regardless, Fonda soldiered on, and his next film was called Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry. This is a road movie that Fonda didn’t think would become a hit film. When he found out that some audience members were seeing it more than once, he was completely surprised.

There was an eerie coincidence in this film.

One of Fonda’s costars in Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry was Vic Morrow, who was terrified of helicopters. The only thing that could get Morrow in a helicopter was a $1 million life insurance policy. Morrow survived the helicopter scene in this film—but tragically perished years later in a helicopter accident on the set of Twilight Zone: The Movie.

Strangely, Fonda and Morrow’s respective daughters would later meet up as the two leads in 1992’s thriller Single White Female. Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry sent Fonda’s career in a different direction.

With the success of Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry, Peter Fonda embarked on a career away from counterculture. He was now a big action movie draw. What followed for Fonda was two decades of mostly action movies. Sadly, a lot of them were forgettable. It looked as though Fonda was going to fade into mediocrity—and then something surprising happened.

Writer/director Victor Nunez was looking around for a leading man. Nick Nolte had already turned him down, and he approached Fonda. The film he was working on was Ulee’s Gold, and there was something about the story of a lonely beekeeper that Fonda connected to.

It took him back to his family.

As Peter Fonda read the script for Ulee’s Gold, he started making connections to his father. Henry Fonda had also taken up beekeeping, and Fonda started to channel his father for the character of Ulee. Fonda also found the complexity of the character attractive. He even said it was the kind of character an actor would pay to play.

Ulee’s Gold was a huge departure for Fonda. He had to risk it all on this film.

Ulee’s Gold was a critical darling, and Fonda’s performance received great praise. It also did well at the box office, earning a very respectable $9 million. When awards season came around, the film received one Academy Award nomination. It was for Best Actor for Fonda.

This was the kind of thing that could ignite a faltering career.

While Fonda did not take the Academy Award home—he lost to his buddy Jack Nicholson in As Good as It Gets—he did take home a Golden Globe. This was a turning point for Fonda. He could say goodbye to the crazy action movies of the past decades. It was time to get serious about acting.

And he got as serious as he could.

Now that he was a serious actor, Fonda decided to go full-on dramatic with the king of drama: William Shakespeare. The TV movie The Tempest, directed by Jack Bender, changes the setting of the Bard’s play into a time when America was battling within itself. Sadly, it received mostly negative reviews, with one critic noting that Fonda was not "comfortable with a language”.

No matter, there was still a lot of other high-brow material for Fonda to work on.

In 1999, Peter Fonda appeared again on television as philosopher Ayn Rand’s husband in The Passion of Ayn Rand. Fonda was among some big stars like Helen Mirren and Eric Stoltz. While the reception of the film was only so-so, Fonda walked away with his second Golden Globe win. Fonda was approaching 60, and some saw him as a Hollywood icon.

Fonda’s sister Jane also had her pop culture moment, and it dragged Fonda in as well.

In the 1980s, those in favor of nuclear power were getting angry at Jane Fonda for her anti-nuclear stance. Haters of Jane created signs that read: “Feed Jane Fonda to the Whales”. Ever the protective brother, when Peter Fonda saw one of the signs at a Denver airport, he began to destroy it with his pocketknife. He missed his flight and ended up in court.

He also had a chance to give his dad some much-needed help.

Back in 1979, Peter Fonda received a call from his dad saying that he was out of work. As it turned out, Fonda was in the middle of directing a film. He hired his dad and paid him $1,000 for just one day of work. He also employed his co-star’s relative: Brooke Shields’ mom, Teri.

But there was something very creepy about this film.

In Wanda Nevada, Brooke Shields plays Fonda’s love interest. At the time of filming, Fonda was 38—and Shields was just 13 years old. Shields had already played the love interest of an older man. In Pretty Baby, she was with Keith Carradine and also did a scene sans clothing. The controversial addition of Shields did nothing to help this film. It was a financial and critical failure.

But Fonda had interests outside of movies. He wanted to save the world.

Peter Fonda continued to make movies up until the end of his life, but he was also political. In 2011, he joined with Tim Robbins to make The Big Fix, where he blamed BP for an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. While making this film, Fonda interviewed Omar Mateen, who would later gain infamy as the perpetrator of the Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando, Florida.

Over his lifetime, Peter Fonda had three wives. All three of his marriages—and any other relationship he may have had—seemed to somehow stay under the radar. We do know that he had two children with his first wife, Susan Brewer, and a stepson from her as well. Two of his children, Bridget and Justin Fonda, have followed in Dad’s footsteps.

While Jane Fonda may have been older, she would sadly outlive her baby brother.

In August of 2019, Peter Fonda passed at home with his sister Jane after a battle with lung cancer. Jane Fonda later said: "I am very sad. He was my sweet-hearted baby brother. The talker of the family. I have had beautiful alone time with him these last days. He went out laughing”.

Fonda left behind an incredible legacy, being an integral part of the shift from the so-called “Golden Age of Hollywood” to a new and groundbreaking style of filmmaking that may just have saved the industry. He also left behind a rocky history full of heartbreak and scandal.

Peter Fonda was devastated by the death of his mother in 1950. In the years after this tragic loss, however, Fonda’s grief transformed into a profound sense of betrayal. He discovered that his father had kept a heartbreaking secret from everyone about that fateful day. In 1960, Fonda had been apprenticing in summer stock theater when he went to a diner in Fishkill, New York.

That’s when the owner of the diner, for whatever reason, decided it was time that Fonda knew the truth about his mother. He pulled out his wallet and changed Fonda’s life forever.

The owner of the diner had a newspaper clipping in his wallet, and it was a story about Fonda’s mother. It contained the truth about her dark end. While she was at the sanitarium, she’d taken her own life. Peter’s father Henry had lied about the heart attack. It was a lot for a young man of 20 to take in.

When Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper made their legendary film Easy Rider, the two young rebels were inseparable. Yet after tensions in their relationship caused a bitter falling out, Hopper was so vengeful that he actually barred Fonda from attending his own funeral while lying on his deathbed.

Loyal to the very end, Fonda went anyway. He walked right up to the chapel door and begged Hopper’s family for one final goodbye—but their response was chilling.

Not only did Hopper’s family tell Fonda that they weren’t going to let him in—they said that Hopper had specifically made arrangements barring Fonda and anyone associated with the making of Easy Rider from his funeral. On top of all that, according to Fonda, the reason for the feud was surprisingly petty.

Hopper's biggest reasons for the decades-long grudge were tragically petty. According to an interview Fonda gave in 2014, it was all because Hopper thought he got a raw deal when it came to doling out the Easy Rider money and getting proper credit as a screenwriter on the film. Fonda explained, "I just think that he was so caught up in his own megalomania".

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On November 7, 1964, Dana Michelle Strain was born in Maywood, California. But her life didn’t get off to a smooth start. For one thing, Dana’s mother, Linda Strain, was single, and to make matters worse, she was only a teenager. But the trouble didn't end there. You see, Dana had to fight for her mother’s love and attention.

When Dana Plato came into this world she had an unwed teenage mother as a caregiver. But there was something else: Her mother was already raising an 18-month-old child. Linda Strain must’ve been struggling to cope raising two girls on her own, because when she looked at Dana, all she saw was another mouth to feed. That's when she did the unthinkable.

When Dana was just seven months old, her mother—at her wit’s end—gave her up for adoption. Dana’s new parents were Dean and Florine Plato, and they gave her a new last name and a new home in the San Fernando Valley. However, they were far from perfect. For Florine Plato, Dana became more of project than anything else: she was determined to groom the little girl into a star.

After Dean and Florine divorced, Plato was once again in the care of a single parent…but this time she got too much attention.  Florine was intent on getting her daughter into show business, and took her on countless auditions. Well, the hard work paid off as Plato appeared in more than 100 commercials. But Florine Plato wasn’t satisfied: She wanted her little girl on the big screen.

When Plato was only 13, she did her mom proud and appeared in Exorcist II: The Heretic and Return to Boggy Creek in the same year. Both films were horror sequels and both received equally horrific reviews. Her next feature film, California Suite, fared better, and the star studded film got numerous nominations and even a few wins. But this was nothing compared to the fateful appearance that would change her life forever.

Soon after her film debut, Plato auditioned to be on The Gong Show—the infamous TV talent show where judges gonged performers they didn’t like. Plato was part of a cheerleading team and during her audition, a TV producer noticed her. The squad didn’t make it on the show, but the producer offered Plato a role in a different production, The show’s title was Diff'rent Strokes and Plato was up for one of the leads—but there was something standing in her way.

Around the same time she was contemplating working on Diff'rent Strokes, she was also considering trying out for a spot on the US Olympic Figure Skating team. She was still just a kid and facing a life changing decision: skating or acting. She chose acting—what teenager wouldn’t? But this choice would later prove to be a huge mistake.

After landing the role on Diff’rent Strokes, Plato quickly settled into playing older sister Kimberly Drummond to her two young adopted brothers: Arnold and Willis Jackson. Todd Bridges and Gary Coleman played the boys, and the three became close while on set together in a world of adults and production companies. As it turns out, they would need one another in more ways than one.

Almost immediately, the show became a huge hit, and the three young stars were suddenly faced with instant stardom and a life in the spotlight. But this success had a dark side. Like other child stars, they were living in a strange world where they were still children but earning salaries larger than mom or dad’s, and at the same time working to keep their show on top. In order to cope with the looming pressure, Dana and her TV brothers started down a dangerous path.

Soon, Plato and her young costars delved into booze and substance misuse. It was their way to release the stress of expectation that weighed them down. It was a particularly difficult time for Plato, and at one point it got so bad that it sometimes took her five hours just to get sober enough to go to work. But where was mom during all this?

During this time, Plato’s mother was very protective of her daughter, but this made things worse, not better. Although Plato’s mother just wanted to make sure she was normal, Plato later said that her mother kept her in a bubble and that she never taught her about “reality and life skills.” Indeed, Florine was so paranoid about her daughter, she was afraid someone would kidnap her. Turns out mom should’ve been watching out for trouble closer to home.

Since her adoptive parents’ divorce, Plato’s father Dean didn’t involve himself much with his daughter. But once she became famous, he suddenly wanted a piece of her. In an extraordinary twist of events, Dean sued Dana for support. I guess he figured she owed him for adopting her. Luckily, his attempt to sue was unsuccessful, and Dana would soon be supporting someone else instead.

While still appearing as Kimberly Drummond on Diff’rent Strokes, Plato met and married rock n’roll guitarist Lanny Lambert. Plato was only 18 years old at the time. Producers of the show were likely unexcited about Plato’s marriage—what would the fans think? So you can imagine how they felt about Plato’s next announcement: her pregnancy.

A pregnant teen didn’t jive with the kind of show Diff'rent Strokes was. Dealing with race issues was tense enough—but teen pregnancy? Probably not. But it wasn’t just her pregnancy that got Plato in trouble with the show. The media had also gotten wind of her drinking and drug use. Soon they decided to write her off of Diff’rent Strokes altogether. But Plato’s reaction to her dismissal wasn‘t what you’d expect.

Plato’s on-screen father, actor Conrad Bain, had a chat with Plato after she announced her pregnancy. He said that Plato had actually planned the pregnancy and was happy about it. But then she said something eerie. She said once she had her baby she would “never be alone again.” But sadly, after having baby Tyler, she got the exact opposite of what she'd wished for.

In 1988, Plato lost two loved ones in a single week. She and her husband decided to separate just as her mother lost her fight with a brutal illness. Doctors had previously diagnosed Plato’s mother with scleroderma—a rare skin disease—and after she succumbed, Plato was alone all over again. In one fell swoop, Plato suddenly had no husband, no mother, and no job.

Plato was under a lot of stress due to her mother’s passing and the separation from her husband. Bogged down by money issues, she signed her power of attorney to an accountant. It was a way for Plato to focus on healing from her losses without having to think or care about her financial situation. This was a huge mistake. Her accountant dealt her the greatest betrayal.

Plato was at an emotional low, and then it just got worse. Plato’s accountant disappeared with almost all of her money. After all her hard work and saving, he left her with just $150,000. To add insult to injury, she wasn’t the only one. In total, the unscrupulous accountant took 1 million dollars from a variety of people. Plato thought she’d hit rock bottom. But she was wrong. Her suffering had only just begun.

Remember Plato had said that with a child she’d never be alone. Well, soon she wasn’t even going to have a child anymore. Plato and Lambert’s separation had lasted for two years when divorce proceedings began. Due to her financial problems and addiction issues, the judge made a heartbreaking decision: her son Tyler would go to live with his father. Plato lost custody of Tyler and only got visitation rights. Now she was truly alone.

At this point, Plato was down but not out, and she was ready to rebrand herself as a serious adult actor. Her first stop, somewhat bizarrely, was the plastic surgeon. Plato thought breast implants would improve her chances of getting rid of  her image as a child star and get her more serious roles. And once she had the implants, she was ready to show them off.

The first place a woman might go when she’s ready to shed her childhood image—and her clothes—is Playboy magazine. Determined to erase her sweet Diff’rent Strokes character Kimberly Drummond from audience members’ minds and kickstart a full-grown career, Plato did a full pictorial spread for the magazine...and waited for her new lease on stardom to begin.

Sadly, Plato was waiting a long time for her serious film offers—at least the good ones. She appeared, in her birthday suit, in 1989’s Prime Suspect. And after that it was 1992’s Bikini Beach Race, where she raced in a “bedmobile” while dressed in lingerie. Unsurprisingly, her film work was a bust...and her TV career? Well, it was about to become downright scandalous.

In 1990, Plato was getting ready to appear on the Sally Jessy Raphaël Show for a segment on child actors. Plato was also there for her own reasons: to let the world know she was clean and off drugs. But was she? Another guest on the episode, Paul Peterson—who fights for the rights of child actors—saw Plato leave the washroom with a certain powder all around her nose. Oops.

Plato had lost her husband, her mother, her child and her fortune all in a matter of years. So she may not have been in her right mind when, in 1991, she entered a video store, pointed a pellet pistol at the cashier and demanded all the money. The terrified cashier handed over the cash, and after this desperate cry for help, Plato was on the run.

Once Plato had left the video store, the clerk dialled 9-1-1 and made the now world-famous announcement: “I’ve just been robbed by the girl who played Kimberly on Diff’rent Strokes.” I guess Plato hadn’t considered how hard it would be to get away with this sort of thing when she was so famous. But 15 minutes after the incident took place, Plato did something surprising.

Plato either came to her senses, or in the back of her mind she must’ve known that she was too recognizable to pull off an armed hold up. So, Plato returned to the video store to give back the money—which ironically was only $164. Of course, officers were on scene to take her away, but at least she’d gone back on her own. Then again, some people have a much different interpretation of those same events.

Heather Daily, the clerk at the video store, sees it a different way. According to her, Plato didn’t come back to turn herself in; she came back to get something she’d dropped. It turned out, after she’d left the video store, Plato climbed over a wall and dropped her glasses. Daily says she caught Plato when she returned for her belongings.

Regardless of the reason, Plato was now in custody. Lucky for her, she had a guardian angel.

For Plato, this was definitely rock bottom. She was alone in a prison cell, and no one came to bail her out because she literally didn’t have a friend in the world. In the end, it was a famous stranger who saved her: Entertainer Wayne Newton, also known as Mr. Las Vegas, heard about the actress’ troubles and stepped up to help poor Plato. He didn’t know Plato at all but he posted her $13,000 bail. It turns out the judge was a bit of an angel too.

Pointing a loaded pistol at a cashier is pretty serious stuff, even one that just shoots pellets. But the trial judge, perhaps seeing the clear desperation of the situation, was lenient and only sentenced Plato to five years, which were all done on probation. But this incident wasn’t about to go unnoticed. Nope—it was about to explode.

Following Plato’s video store incident, a national debate erupted about child stars who had trouble in their later lives. They didn’t have to look very far. Plato’s two child costars, Gary Coleman and Todd Bridges, were in as much, if not more, trouble than Plato. While the national debate was extremely serious, a local radio show wasn’t above taking pot shots.

A radio program in Las Vegas made a satirical song about the girl from Diff'rent Strokes robbing a video store—sung to "The Girl from Ipanema." The song became popular—popular enough for Plato to hear it. Plato was beyond angry that someone would make fun of her brush with the law. But then—in true Plato fashion—things went completely backwards.

For some reason—maybe it was guilt—the radio station that was making fun of Plato’s misfortune reached out to her. Instead of merely apologizing, however, they did something sort of touching: They offered the out of work actor a job and gave her a position as a celebrity reporter. Unfortunately, Plato couldn’t do the job...but not for lack of trying.

The job the radio producer gave to Plato was to interview celebrities, and the only catch was that she had to ask them very embarrassing questions. Plato gave it her best, but in the end she wasn’t able to fulfill the requirements of the job; she found it too difficult to ask the degrading questions the station wanted her to. The radio producer said she was just too nice, and then sacked her.

In 1992, Plato made a rather inauspicious first: She was one of the first celebrities to star in a video game. The game was Night Trap and it featured Plato and a group of girls having a sleepover in a dangerous house. Gamers were able to watch the young women through live surveillance footage and protect them from harm. Sounds wholesome enough? Well, not according to a US congressional hearing, who quickly shut the game down.

During the same year, Plato once again turned herself in to authorities—this time for forging a prescription for the drug diazepam, which treats anxiety. For this offense, the judge wasn’t so lenient. Plato spent 30 days in prison because, in addition to the forgery, she had violated her probation. After serving her sentence, Plato started a drug rehabilitation program and soon found herself low on cash. Still, she tried to look on the bright side of this otherwise crummy situation.

When talking to reporters, Plato looked back on her time on probation and in prison. She had a very clear idea of what would’ve happened if she had escaped the law and the way she put it was eerily prophetic. She said: "If I hadn't gotten caught, it could have been the worst thing that happened to me because I could have died of a drug overdose,"

Even so, the drugs, the prison sentences, and the constant media presence were wearing poor Plato down. Her attempt to clear the air ended up being the beginning of the end.

Throughout the 90s Plato struggled to make ends meet. She must’ve known that her prospects for making any money in show business were quickly drying up because what she turned to was shocking: a job in customer service. The job was in a dry cleaning shop, so customers got to have a run-in with a celebrity while they picked up their shirts and pants.

Customers reported that Plato was actually very down to earth—especially considering she’d once been on a hit TV show. Still, nothing lasts forever, and after her career in cleaning, Plato turned to something...unconventional.

By 1997, Plato was desperate for money and—more than anything—desperate to act again. So, when a producer presented her with his off-the-wall idea, Plato accepted. But this wasn't any old film. This was an adult film called Diff'rent Strokes: A Story of Jack and Jill...and Jill. It was a straight to video movie about, you probably guessed it, a threesome.

When it came to her actual relationship front, however, Plato wasn’t doing much better.

The convenience store incident, working in a dry cleaners, and then a softcore parody of Diff’rent Strokes—it all added up to one thing: Plato wasn’t thinking rationally. In this same vein was Plato’s second marriage. The groom was producer actor Scott Atkins a.k.a Scotty Gelt. You know there's going to be trouble when there’s an a.k.a. after a name, and the marriage only lasted a month before they annulled it. Still, Plato hadn’t given up on love...although maybe she should have.

Throughout all this turmoil, Plato still had a manager, Robert Menchaca, to handle her career. Mixing business with pleasure, the two soon became engaged after her mess of a second marriage, living together in Navarre, Florida in a decrepit Winnebago motorhome. No, not exactly romantic—and I don’t think they were there for the thrill of the open highway, either.

New love or not, Plato’s life was spiralling downward. She clearly needed money, but would she exploit her own tragic story just for some cash? The answer was a resounding yes.

In 1998, Plato appeared as herself in a movie that was maybe a little too close to home. Desperation Boulevard is about a child star who’s trying to get her career back in Hollywood. Ouch. It took either courage or true desperation to put her story out there like that. Plato must have been hoping for a redemption story, but sadly, the end of her life was near.

Around this time, Plato’s former roommate Jennifer Wejbe claimed that Plato was still on drugs, and the actress went on legendary shock jock Howard Stern’s radio show to set the record straight. Plato was very open with Stern about her life, talking about her financial problems as well as her addictions. Nonetheless, she told Stern and his audience that she’d been sober for 10 years.

But you see, the roommate had spoken about more than just drugs...

Jennifer Wejbe not only said that the addicted Plato had taken money from her, she also claimed that while they were living together as roommates, they were actually something much more—lovers, in fact. Plato was reeling from the media firestorm, but at this point Stern’s listeners broke in with heartbreaking accusations.

Stern’s radio show always had the intention of causing a sensation. So when the call-in portion began during Plato’s segment, many callers hurled insults at the actress. Some even went as far as questioning her sobriety. In response, Plato did the one thing you should never do on the Stern show: she got emotional, becoming angry and defensive. As we all know, that can lead to some BAD decisions.

Of all the insults and accusations from Stern’s listeners, what hurt Plato the most was the idea that the public didn’t believe she was sober. So, in order to prove to the audience that she truly was clean, she offered to take a drug test right on the show, and let Stern cut a piece of her hair for the process. Still, once she was off the air, all bets were off.

Immediately after their interview ended, Plato asked for the hair back from Stern. Then she took a deep breath and made a vulnerable confession. She admitted that she was on pain medication for a wisdom tooth extraction she’d had four months previously. In other words, Plato really was back to misusing substances. The show had been a disaster, and Plato left humiliated.

After her disgrace on the Stern show, Plato and her fiancé Menchaca drove in their motorhome to visit Menchaca’s mother—it was mother’s day after all. During the visit, the down-trodden Plato said she felt ill and took one of those pain pills as well as a muscle-relaxant. Shortly after, Plato excused herself and went into the motorhome to lie down. It was one of the last times anyone saw her alive.

Later that night, Plato’s fiancé went to the motorhome with Plato and fell asleep by her side. But when Menchaca woke up, he found something horrible had happened. Plato was still lying beside him, her body cold and lifeless. She’d overdosed in her sleep. In the immediate aftermath, the authorities called it an accidental overdose, but that soon changed.

Once the authorities found out about Plato’s past drug use, they were curious how many pills she’d actually taken. An autopsy revealed that Plato had taken more drugs than one would normally take to treat mild pain, so they changed their conclusion, and it was no longer accidental. They saw it for what it was: a tragic suicide. There was a cremation and loved ones scattered Plato’s ashes over the Pacific Ocean. Her net worth at the end of her life was only $1,000.

Plato’s son Tyler Lambert grew up mostly with his paternal grandmother, but maintains he had a close relationship with Plato. He was just 14 years old when his mother ended her life. Lambert had ideas about being famous like his mother but instead of acting, Lambert took an interest in singing and rapping. Sadly, it was something darker than talent that Plato passed on to her son.

Tragically, Tyler Lambert inherited his mother’s addiction issues, though he did have more support than she did. Johnny Whitaker, a child star himself, is an addiction counselor and took an interest in Plato’s son’s life. He tried to get Lambert off drugs, but it was an uphill battle. According to Lambert himself, he missed his mother and this drove him to some of his substance use. Even so Whitaker had his doubts.

While Whitaker admits Lambert and his mother may have been emotionally close, when it came down to it they spent almost no time together. Still, Mother’s Day, and the anniversary of his mother’s passing, was always hard for Lambert. Eventually, Lambert marked this anniversary in the darkest way possible.

Just days before Mother’s day, Plato’s son Lambert withdrew himself from friends and family and no one saw him for a few days. He’d told a friend that he just wanted to be with Plato, his mom. Of course that was impossible as long as he remained alive. That’s when Lambert shocked everyone by tragically taking his own life with a shot to his head.

On what would’ve been Plato’s 55th birthday, her Diff'rent Strokes co-star, Todd Bridges, played tribute to Plato on Twitter. He said, "You were the one person I could always talk to. You were one of my best friends. I will never forget you and love you forever. HAPPY BIRTHDAY Dana Plato R.I.P you are free my friend.” Todd Bridges is the last remaining member of the original Diff’rent Strokes family.

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You know how they say that some babies are born with a silver spoon in their mouths? Well, Louis XIV was definitely born with one of those, but he was also born with a big, golden ego. His mother, Anne of Austria, was 37 at the time, and she had suffered four stillbirths before. So, when Louis came into this world, a bright, bouncing, healthy baby boy, his parents thought: “Wow, God really thinks this kid is special.”

Louis' improbable survival inspired Anne and others to believe that God had ordained him to flourish and rule. They also gave him the name Dieudonné, meaning “God-given.” Would they pay for this hubris down the line? Oh, absolutely…

Well, imagine everyone’s surprise when Anne gave birth to another healthy baby boy soon after. Since Anne and her husband King Louis XIII believed Louis XIV was destined for the throne, Anne came up with a plan to ensure the brothers wouldn’t fight for it. Anne raised Louis to be the “masculine” star sibling while she raised his brother Philippe to be “feminine.”

Anne encouraged Philippe to dress in girls’ clothing and hair while pursuing the feminine arts, so Philippe would be less inclined towards the military sphere where he might threaten his big brother’s throne. Did it prevent sibling rivalry? Yes. Did it affect Philippe in other ways? You bet.

Louis XIV’s birth might have been “miraculous,” but the situation he was born into was anything but. Louis XIII’s reign was an absolute catastrophe—and when this vengeful king's end came, it was utterly gruesome. In 1643, Louis XIII fell ill with a mysterious sickness. His doctors subjected him to a number of disturbing and unpleasant treatments, including bloodletting.

However, they couldn’t save him, and he succumbed to his mystery illness. Louis XIV was just five years old. Was that too young to become king? Apparently not.

Louis XIII had foreseen his premature demise, and made plans what would happen when his son Louis XIV became king—but they also revealed a harsh truth. He did not trust his wife Anne, and he made provisions in his will to limit her power over their children. Well, he wasn’t exactly there to enforce them, so Anne got her revenge. She had Parliament annul his will, exiled a bunch of his ministers, and made herself sole Regent of France.

Was this her attempt at a power grab? Actually, no—she truly believed that God had divined Louis XIV’s right to the throne. However, this did get her in some trouble…

Anne did everything she could to set up Louis XIV for a successful reign, and she did this by choosing her allies carefully. The most important one was Cardinal Mazarin, who she made her chief minister. Mazarin became an important father figure for Louis XIV—but he might have been more of a stepfather figure, if you catch my drift. That’s right, rumors flew that Anne and Mazarin had a relationship, or even that they’d secretly wed.

Either way, Louis XIV stayed incredibly close to Mazarin during his formative years—not that it always worked out well.

As young Louis XIV’s regent, Queen Anne juggled the various factions of court. She did so at a great sacrifice to her safety, making unpopular decisions that had grave consequences for Louis XIV. As she tried to modify the law to consolidate power for her son, a number of French feudal aristocrats scrambled to stop her.

These scuffles, called the Frondes, put Anne and Louis XIV in deep peril. Rebellious soldiers once even put them under house arrest—but the danger didn’t stop there.

As Anne continued to expand royal authority, riots broke out in Paris—and it culminated in a truly disturbing incident. Rebels stormed the palace and demanded to see the King. They entered the royal bedchamber, where a terrified Louis pretended to be asleep. Luckily, this was enough for them, and they left. The episode forced Anne and Louis to flee Paris, fearing for their lives.

While they eventually returned, the next chapter in the Frondes left Mazarin exiled and saw Anne and Louis XIV living under house arrest. Witnessing the terror that rebellions could cause had a dire effect on the young king. Not only did it cause a premature end to his previously carefree childhood, it also instilled a deep hatred of the Paris court and its aristocracy—and this would change everything about his rule.

The rebellions weren’t the only things that deeply inspired Louis XIV and changed the course of his life during this time. In 1650, some members of Cardinal Mazarin’s family came to the French court, and Louis met his first love. Her name was Marie Mancini, and she was Mazarin’s niece. He fell hard, and expected to eventually marry her—but of course, his mother had other plans.

The rebels began to claim that they were actually working in Louis XIV’s interest against his power-hungry mother. This kind of court intrigue might have worked on someone else, but not with Louis, who remained close to Anne. It all became moot anyway, as Louis reached the age of majority in 1651, shortly after his 13th birthday.

Mazarin returned from his exile, and Louis put him in charge of foreign and financial policy. Anne, surprisingly, stepped back as regent and allowed her son to rule on his own…mostly.

That didn’t mean she completely cut those puppet strings. France had been in a bloody and brutal conflict with Spain since before Louis XIV’s birth. By the time he became king, both sides were exhausted. Oh, did we mention that Anne was the King of Spain’s sister? Yes, despite the misleading name “Anne of Austria,” she was actually a daughter of Spain.

Now that her son had his full range of power as King of France, she set her sights on achieving peace with Spain—and, of course, she had quite the plan for it.

Louis XIV was not getting over his teenaged infatuation with Marie Mancini, the niece of his minister Cardinal Mazarin. One could imagine Mazarin pushing them together to solidify his relationship with Anne and his place in the court—but nope, he was completely beholden to Anne’s machinations. Anne wanted Louis XIV to marry her brother’s daughter, so she came up with a devastating plan.

Anne conspired with Cardinal Mazarin and in 1661, they made Louis XIV’s worst nightmare come true. They exiled Marie Mancini to Italy and arranged for her to wed a prince there. Then, Anne began to plan for his wedding to Maria Theresa, the Spanish King’s daughter. Did this start their marriage off on the wrong foot? You bet.

There’s no way that losing his first love didn’t inspire a little resentment in Louis XIV toward Maria Theresa, and that became glaringly obvious throughout their marriage.

To our modern eyes, Louis XIV’s wedding to Maria Theresa would be considered utterly bizarre. First, there was a marriage by proxy in Spain to seal the deal, where a proxy stood in for the groom beside Maria Theresa. Then, her family transported her to the border, where the French royals picked her up. A lavish ceremony in France followed, with a plan for the traditional public consummation.

That’s right, tradition dictated that Louis XIV and Maria Theresa would consummate their marriage in front of an audience. Luckily for both of them, his mother arranged for it to take place in private instead. That was about as much luck as Maria Theresa got…

The arrangements for the marriage went through, and the long conflict between France and Spain was over—but the one at home was just beginning. When he tied the knot with Maria Theresa, Louis XIV vowed that he would never be apart from her. It was a vow that lasted about a year. Louis XIV became an absolutely prolific ladies’ man and from 1661 on, was rarely if ever without a mistress. However, Louis XIV’s queen had an ace in the hole.

It was rare for a queen coming from a foreign land to have her mother-in-law on her side—but Anne took to Maria Theresa immediately. After all, Anne had experience as a French queen whose husband kept mistresses. On top of that—lest we forget—she was also Maria Theresa’s aunt. This meant that Louis XIV had to stay on his toes.

Well, he tried to keep his affairs out of the court, but that didn’t mean he kept it in his pants. Louis XIV was both a prolific lover and a prolific progenitor. Historians estimate that the man had roughly 22 children (including the legitimate ones) by different women over the years. His first child was born to a palace gardener, but soon after that, his tastes in women became a little more highbrow.

He began a long-term affair with Louise de La Valliere, one of the ladies-in-waiting who served his brother’s wife. But it wasn’t just Louis XIV’s libido that had led him to her…

See, Louis XIV’s brother had also recently tied the knot to a woman named Henrietta of England. But when they entered the royal court, people saw how well the King got along with Henrietta, and rumors began to spread. In order to counter them, Louis and Henrietta came up with a devious plan. She presented three of her ladies-in-waiting to him, and he would pick one to flirt with at court in order to take the heat off. Can you guess who he picked?

Obviously, Louis and Henrietta’s plan worked a little too well, and he fell for Louise de La Valliere. She was talented and smart, but most importantly, she seemed to like him for him, not for his money and power. His marriage had been so politically motivated, it made sense that he was looking for something a little more romantic. It’s pretty wild that he had time to juggle two women, considering what was happening in the court at the time…

In 1661, Louis XIV’s longtime minister and father figure Cardinal Mazarin passed on. What Louis did next shocked everyone. Louis had spent his formative years watching as ministers and other members of the Parlement de Paris squabbled and tried to wrest control from his family. To him, Mazarin had been the exception to the rule, and he wasn’t taking any chances.

He announced that he would rule without a chief minister, which was basically unheard of. Every government secretary and minister would answer to the king, and the king only. It was just a question of whether the people would accept this unconventional decision…

After years of instability, people did actually seem to want a decisive and powerful ruler. Still, Louis XIV wanted to prove himself in a concrete way. Many suspected that his Superintendent of Finances was skimming money off the top to pay for a lavish lifestyle, so Louis and his allies watched and waited. When they had enough evidence, they had him arrested for embezzlement.

The punishment was traditionally exile, but he changed the man’s sentence to life in prison. Louis XIV was sending a message to anyone who would contemplate betraying him—and it was received loud and clear.

He may have been stepping out on his wife, but Louis XIV was still performing his husband-ly duties—and we don’t mean taking out the trash. Maria Theresa became pregnant in 1661 and gave birth to a son in November of that year, fulfilling every newlywed king’s dream. They named the brand new heir to the throne Louis, because of course.

With that under his belt, Louis XIV went back to being very indifferent about his home life. After all, he had other problems on his hands.

Louis XIV actually had to work pretty hard to clean up the mess his father had made as king. Finances had always been a problem, and he made reforms to get his country out of a deficit. He also fixed up the French armed forces and oversaw projects to boost commerce and trade. Overall, he was pretty much everything you’d want from a king, and was doing a great job as ruler—but behind the scenes, he remained pretty, pretty messy.

It wasn’t all his fault—Louis XIV was surrounded by messy people. The court intrigue was out of control. His affair with Louise de La Valliere was an open secret, but he wasn’t the only one stepping out. There were rumors his sister-in-law was cheating on his brother, so he interrogated Louise about it. She refused to tell on her friend, and to make matters worse, a local bishop began to roast the lovers for their sins in one of his sermons.

Louise was horrified, and she fled to a convent.

Louis XIV convinced her to come back, but if she knew what she was walking into, she probably would’ve stayed away. Despite the fact that Louise seemed relatively innocuous as a person and disinterested in court intrigue, she’d made some powerful enemies. When she followed Louis XIV back to court, one of them tried to plot her comeuppance, and expose the affair to Queen Maria Theresa. Spoiler alert: it didn’t really go as planned.

Despite the fact that bishops were making sermons about Louis XIV’s affair with Louise de La Valliere, Maria Theresa remained blissfully unaware that her husband was cheating. Or at least, pretended to be blissfully unaware. In fact, Maria Theresa seemed kind of blissfully unaware of…everything that happened around her.

Other than occasionally getting pregnant, Louis XIV’s wife was absolutely disinterested in any of the duties normally expected of a queen. She most just preferred to play cards and gamble with friends, which was fine with Louis XIV. After all, he had other issues to tend to.

Louis XIV might have been a king of large, sweeping reforms that pleased his subjects greatly—but these also had a chilling dark side. He sanctioned slavery; expanded French colonialism in Africa, the Americas, and Asia; and took concrete steps to persecute Protestants in France. Also, now that he’d stabilized France’s financial situation, he decided it was time for expansion—by any means necessary.

As if things weren’t chilly enough with his wife in the romantic sense, there was also the fact that her family had never paid her dowry to him. When his wife’s father passed on and she mourned, Louis XIV was busy reading the fine print of their marriage contract. As a result of the unpaid dowry, he seized Spanish territory and made sure one of his own family members would end up as heir to the Spanish throne. Geez, when I’m late on a payment I usually just get a fee of a few bucks…

Throughout the early part of the 1660s, Louis XIV juggled his marriage with his wife and his affair with Louise de La Valliere and grew his families with both women. Sadly, each was struck by tragedy after tragedy. He had two daughters with Maria Theresa, but each only lived for about a month after birth. At the same time, he had three sons with de La Valliere, each of whom only lived for about a year.

It was a terribly heartbreaking streak of bad luck—and more was on its way.

After the loss of her ally/suspected secret husband Cardinal Mazarin, Louis XIV’s mother Anne had retired to a convent in Paris. She stayed there until her passing in 1666—and her son’s reaction to her loss was, um, unconventional. He had always been respectful enough to not bring his mistress Louise de la Valliere around Anne or his wife Maria Theresa.

When Anne passed, that went out the window. Louis waited just a week to start bringing Louise to mass alongside his wife. Louise was a devout Catholic who was in it for love, not to be the most popular at court, and she felt deeply ashamed of the way he flaunted their affair. Well, Louis was just getting started…

Louise became pregnant again and gave the King a beautiful baby daughter in 1666. As she passed her first birthday, all of Louis and Louise’s anxiety that she’d succumb like her infant brothers began to fade away. Before leaving on a military campaign, Louis XIV legitimized the girl and gave Louise the title of Duchess. It seemed like their relationship was on incredibly solid footing—but someone else was waiting in the wings.

See, Queen Maria Theresa and Louise de La Valliere had both been pregnant at the same time. It was at that moment that one of their mutual friends, Madame de Montespan, saw an opportunity—and came up with a cruel plan to take it. With both women “indisposed,” de Montespan offered herself up to Louis XIV for some, ahem, physical comfort.

Yeah, Madame de Montespan threw herself at the king in front of his top two ladies. While they laughed at her efforts, they should’ve been preparing for battle.

Louise de la Valliere was the first one to smarten up about what was happening. She realized the title Louis XIV had given her was a going-away present. Devastated, she went to disturbing lengths to get him to change his mind. While pregnant again, she went unauthorized to the battlefield where Louis was waging one of his campaigns.

She then threw herself at his feet, wailing. Girl, no. Just no.

Disgusted, Louis XIV sent Louise away—but the humiliation didn’t end there. First, she had to return to a court where Madame de Montespan had utterly roasted her for the incident to the other courtiers. Then, when he returned, Louis XIV made her live in the same apartment as de Montespan, who was now firmly his favorite.

Louise had found her way to the king’s heart as a decoy, and now she acted as a decoy for his new love. He ostensibly visited the apartments where Madame de Montespan and her husband lived to see Louise—but we all know who he was actually there for.

If Queen Maria Theresa thought her husband’s new mistress would be as docile as the old one, she was dead wrong. Immediately, Madame de Montespan made her power over the king known, and some even called her the False Queen of France. However, Louis XIV was not the type of king who a scheming courtier could treat as a toy, and he reprimanded her whenever she went too far or tormented his wife with her obnoxious behavior.

Madame de Montespan wasn’t the only dramatic one in the relationship. When the affair started, her husband had been away. When he came back, she was pregnant—and he was no fool. He dressed his carriage in all black, and when Louis XIV asked him what was up with the schtick, the man snapped back that he was mourning his wife, who had “disappeared.”

Did Louis XIV laugh at the hilarious joke? Nope. Louis promptly jailed Montespan’s husband for rudely exposing him.

Even if Madame de Montespan occasionally got checked by the king, she still had realms of influence—and one of them was Versailles. It had started as a hunting lodge, but in the 1660s, Louis XIV decided to turn it into a grand palatial estate. It was a political move more than anything, as he still wanted the nobility of Paris to be beholden to him.

There was no better way than making them come to him on his turf, and Madame de Montespan became something of the social director of the palace that he built there.

If a French noble wanted to make any money or obtain any sort of position of favor with the king, they had to haul their behinds over to Versailles. It was where courtiers arranged marriages, found employment, and jockeyed for attention, all under the watchful eye of Louis XIV. It’s no wonder he called himself the Sun King. He expected the world to revolve around him, and it actually did at Versailles—but, as always, there was a dark side to it all.

Louis XIV played favorites, and if he didn’t see you at court paying your respects, you better expect a pay cut or demotion. This forced nobles to leave their local seats of power and live at Versailles, where he could control them more effectively. He also wouldn’t tolerate any sort of dissent from his courtiers, so he opened and read their letters.

At the same time, he made sure it was worth their while. There was hunting, entertainment, gambling, food, and drink, among other luxuries. No one could say no to the lavish lifestyle he provided at Versailles.

So, how much more did Louis XIV prefer his mistress over his wife? Well, at Versailles, the queen got 11 rooms on the second floor. Not bad, right? Well, he gave Madame de Montespan 20 rooms on the first floor and an entourage of 50 people. He also built her a mini-palace out of porcelain on the grounds of Versailles.

Well, porcelain is fragile, and so are hearts, so you can bet that neither lasted forever—but more on that later.

Before this centralization, nobles from the countryside would gather private armies at their seats of power and wage local conflicts, or use their forces to resist royal authority. Louis XIV stopped all of this and turned his attention outward. Louis led an aggressive foreign policy that necessitated building a large army.

From 1667 to 1697, the French armed forces grew from 30,000 to 400,000 men. However, the increases in power and territory that he oversaw had the unfortunate side effect of uniting his (many) enemies.

Although Louis was more interested in cementing France’s status as the central power in Europe, there were some problems at home that he simply could not ignore. Throughout the 1670s, Louis XIV had led a happy life with Madame de Montespan. They had seven children together, and one of de Montespan’s dear friends, Madame de Maintenon, acted as their governess.

When the king legitimized his children with de Montespan, she became an even more important part of their household. You know that saying about keeping your enemies closer? Well, Madame de Montespan had one in her midst—she just didn’t know it yet.

Madame de Montespan deliberately filled her staff with “virtuous” and/or “homely” ladies to keep Louis XIV’s eyes on herself. This hiring strategy backfired horribly. Madame de Maintenon, the governess who cared for the king’s children with Madame de Montespan, was the polar opposite of the ultra-dramatic chief mistress—and that was just what Louis XIV was looking for.

Madame de Maintenon attracted Louis’s attention with her otherworldly piety and modesty. In that way, she was a lot like his first chief mistress, Louise de la Valliere. Both were deeply religious and uninterested in rubbing their relationship in his wife’s face. Frankly, this was a much-needed blessing in disguise, considering what happened next.

In July of 1683, Queen Maria Theresa fell desperately ill. When Louis XIV saw how bad it was, he prepared for the worst. Within a week, she succumbed to her illness, and her passing was extremely painful. He said that her loss was “[…] the first chagrin she has ever given me." Louis XIV was utterly heartbroken by both the loss and the horrific circumstances.

Their union had been distant, but it hadn’t always been that way. The same cannot be said of his children with her…

When we think of the sagas of the great monarchs, many are tainted by the tragedy of the ruler who longs for an heir but struggles to produce one. Think Henry VIII or Elizabeth. Well, Louis XIV had the opposite problem. His relationship with his heir and namesake, Louis, the Grand Dauphin, was extremely similar to the distant relationship he’d had with his own father.

At first, Louis XIV had regarded the boy with suspicion and jealousy. The boy’s tutor had an even harsher regard, comparing the Grand Dauphin to Queen Maria Theresa, essentially saying both were dumb and harmless. Ouch.

Louis XIV didn’t have much better to say about the boy. He later remarked that he was “indolent, fatuous, and dull.” Tell us how you really feel! Four of his children with the queen hadn’t survived infancy, but one other did: a daughter, and she was the king’s favorite. They had named her Marie Therese for the queen, and much like her mother, she suffered a terrible fate, passing on shortly after her fifth birthday.

Of some 22 children that Louis XIV had with various women, they named 11 of them Louis or Louise—which frankly, is hilarious. His first son Louis might not have been his favorite, but he did have a soft spot for another Louis, the son he had with Madame de Montespan. Louis XIV showered the boy with gifts and titles, and even gave him a spot in the line of succession.

That’s just how little Louis XIV thought of his firstborn son.

Louis XIV still kept mistresses during the first few years of his affair with Madame de Maintenon—but then, with the loss of his wife, everything changed. The drama of the previous five years weighed heavily on him. Three months after the queen’s passing, he married Madame de Maintenon in secret, and, as far as historians can tell, stopped having mistresses.

But just because their relationship was monogamous didn’t mean that it was conventional.

Madame de Maintenon had a humble background. Her father had been a prisoner, and her mother, the daughter of a prison director—spicy! It was mostly by chance and luck that she’d landed in the king’s court. Sadly, this lowly upbringing meant that the king could never formally marry her. Their secret marriage was morganatic, which meant that she wouldn’t become queen, and that no one would acknowledge the union.

Regardless, she still found a way to make a name for herself.

From that moment on, Louis XIV and Madame de Maintenon rarely passed a day without seeing each other. She wielded great influence and power over his decisions—a dicey proposition, but in this case, it mostly worked out in the king’s favor. Her piety influenced him. As mentioned, he stopped having mistresses, and he let her open a school for girls.

It was basically the healthy, egalitarian relationship he’d never had before—and considering what was on the horizon, having an intelligent ally and advisor was likely very welcome.

It had happened before that the sheer size, force, and power that France wielded had united its enemies—but those instances were nothing compared to the Grand Alliance. Countries opposing France formed the coalition, which grew to include England, the Dutch Republic, the Holy Roman Empire, Spain, Portugal, and Savoy. Yeah, let’s just call it France Vs. Everybody.

Louis XIV had won multiple conflicts before, and he had the massive army he’d acquired over the previous years backing him up. But this time, would it be enough?

The Nine Years’ War began in 1688, and Louis XIV immediately began to crush his enemies wherever he met them. While his men met on the battlefields, Louis XIV and his ministers worked behind the scenes to tear apart the Grand Alliance from the inside. Still, his ego refused to let him give up territory in order to lure Alliance leaders away from the cause. And then, disaster struck.

Louis XIV’s army had ballooned to its largest size by 1693—the same year that France suffered a famine which resulted in the loss of over two million of its citizens. The economy was in crisis, and his forces were fatigued. Louis knew that he’d have to approach the table and negotiate peace, but he wanted to go out on a high note.

His forces prevailed on many fronts, but financial and physical exhaustion set in. France gave up a lot, but also retained important territories. Louis XIV was in a hurry to make peace and not give the Grand Alliance any reason to fight him—but he had ulterior motives for this.

Louis XIV did not want the countries of the Grand Alliance to work together any more—and he had a devious reason for this. Charles II, the childless King of Spain, was only in his 30s, but had been ailing his whole life. And, if you’ll remember correctly, Louis XIV had used an unpaid debt to ensure that his grandson was in the line of succession for the Spanish throne.

His big plan was about to come to fruition—but when the rest of Europe realized what he was doing, they were not pleased.

It’s not that he was technically breaking any rules. After all, Charles II had agreed to make Louis XIV’s grandson Philip of Anjou his heir. The problem was that if the royal family of France were to amass that much territory in one fell swoop, it would disturb the balance of power in Europe. Thus, Louis XIV’s worst nightmare came true.

The Grand Alliance came together once again—this time, to take on France and Spain.

The Wars of Spanish Succession were nearly twice as long and exponentially more exhausting than the conflict that had preceded it, but this time, there was one difference. France wasn’t fighting alone. With Spain, they proved to be formidable opponents to the Grand Alliance. The passing of the Holy Roman Emperor and a succession crisis in England forced many of the countries to the negotiating table.

Ultimately, France and Spain agreed to a permanent separation in order to end the conflict. Louis XIV might not have got to exercise power over Spain, but his grandson got to keep the throne—and for a man of 76 years old, that was enough.

Louis XIV knew there was more to life than the battlefield and keeping up a healthy stable of mistresses. During his time on the throne, Louis XIV was a devoted patron of the arts and France saw a cultural invigoration. One of his most ardent passions would surprise many people. Louis XIV not only loved ballet, he loved dancing himself. He appeared in 40 major ballets, playing upwards of 80 roles. That amount actually rivals the career of any professional dancer!

Sure, Louis XIV was dedicated to the visual arts—but a lot of this was driven by the fact that the man really liked looking at himself. There was actually an entire centralized system for reproducing his royal image. He commissioned over 300 formal portraits of himself, all of which portrayed him majestically or with allegorical attributes that reinforced his status as the divinely chosen king. And you thought selfie culture was bad…

Louis XIV’s obsession with his own image didn’t only exercise itself through works of art. He was a primper extraordinaire, with a vast wardrobe of clothing, shoes, and wigs at his disposal, all of which he used to craft his image and try to make himself more imposing. With his tall wigs and heeled shoes on, Louis XIV came to nearly 7’ tall—but the truth was, he was actually only about 5’4". It didn’t just start with Napoleon after all…

Louis XIV may have tightly controlled his image when it came to the visual arts, but he couldn’t oversee every artistic realm—and it led to one of the most compelling rumors of his reign. In the mid-19th century, author Alexandre Dumas published a novel where he told the story of an unidentified prisoner in an iron mask. In Dumas’ version of the legend, the man is actually related to the king. And the story didn’t just appear out of nowhere…

It wasn’t just a legend. There was actually a mysterious prisoner who was kept in different French jails for 34 years, from 1669-1703. No one knew or ever definitively uncovered the man’s identity, but different stories swirled—and most of them led straight back to Louis XIV. The author Voltaire claimed he was the king’s illegitimate half-brother by Anne of Austria and Cardinal Mazarin.

Others made different claims, including one that the man was Louis XIV’s real father, as he was born at a time when his parents were basically estranged. Still, it wasn’t the most prevalent story.

Most simply believed that Louis XIV had been born with a twin brother. His family had a history of twins, so it made sense. The hypothesis was that Louis XIII and Anne of Austria had hidden the younger twin, fearing a struggle for the throne. They then sent the boy away to grow up under a different name. When he discovered his heritage, he came back to challenge the king—only to be thrown in jail with an iron mask to conceal his appearance.

Historians have disputed this sequence of events, but the shadow of these dark rumors followed Louis XIV through his reign…and beyond the grave.

There was another dark rumor that followed Louis XIV to his final days—and it concerned a brutal betrayal. Earlier, we mentioned that courtiers had speculated that Louis XIV was involved with his brother Philippe’s first wife, Henrietta. Well, one rumor that they were never able to shake was that Louis XIV had actually fathered Henrietta and Phillippe’s first daughter, Marie Louise.

Later, Marie Louise fell hard for the Grand Dauphin, Louis XIV’s oldest son—or, her rumored half-brother. Louis XIV had to arrange a marriage for her to keep them apart. Open up the gene pool, guys. You won’t regret it.

If the shift from Madame de Montespan to Madame de Maintenon seemed a little too smooth, it's because there's one major part we haven't mentioned yet. See, in 1677, an explosive scandal threatened to tear the lives of Louis XIV and Madame de Montespan apart. Louis XIV’s eye began to stray somewhat, and it fell on the Duchess of Fontanges. But before anything else could happen, she suddenly died of mysterious causes.

Many began to whisper that Madame de Montespan had poisoned her—and then, the rumors intensified.

Poison was the subject of the day at the French court, as one of their own had recently been executed for poisoning her family. Just like the Salem witch trials, people began accusing anyone and everyone of poison plots. First, the attention fell on Olympia Mancini, an occasional paramour of the king’s. They accused her of poisoning the King’s old mistress, Louise de la Valliere, his sister-in-law, and her own husband, among others.

Many thought that she’d threatened to poison Louis XIV himself, saying “come back to me, or you will be sorry.” She avoided any trouble by fleeing France—but her story was just the beginning of the Affaire des Poisons.

Next, the witnesses who’d provided evidence against Olympia Mancini came for the king’s chief mistress, Madame de Montespan—and the accusations were truly disturbing. They claimed that de Montespan had come to them for help using black magic to keep the king’s love. There were tales about praying to the devil and a black mass performed by a priest over de Montespan’s undressed body. Somehow, that wasn’t even the craziest story.

The witnesses also claimed that Madame de Montespan and a poison dealer had been sacrificing babies and putting their remains in Louis XIV’s food for over a decade. Yikes. On top of that, one of de Montespan’s maids—who’d also been sleeping with Louis XIV—was implicated. The courts declined to pursue these accusations against Madame de Montespan, and nothing was even proven, but the damage was done.

The sheer amount of people close to Louis XIV who had been implicated in the Affaire des Poisons was shocking. It all cast a very negative light on the French courts and Madame de Montespan in particular. While all her courtly scheming and manipulation had once seemed fun, Louis XIV had seen what kind of hot mess it could quickly turn into, and by now it turned him off. He shifted his attentions elsewhere—but he didn’t have to go very far.

After everything he’d done during his reign, it might have seemed like Louis XIV was invincible—but no one lives forever, even those with the divine right to rule. Louis XIV had suffered from multiple health problems throughout his life, and they intensified as he entered his 70s. Still, he lasted a lot longer than some of the others who were close to him…

Louis XIV was clearly not a huge fan of his son, the Grand Dauphin, and it’s likely that he didn’t want him to become king. Luckily, the Grand Dauphin was good at two things: starting a family and dying young. He passed on suddenly in 1711, but at least he’d had a number of sons in his lifetime. Well, the tragedy didn’t end there. 

Louis XIV’s grandson, the Duke of Burgundy, was next in line for the throne—until he caught measles and passed on just a year after his father. Louis XIV did have 22+ kids…I’m sure he’ll figure something out.

Louis XIV’s extremely capable grandson Philip would’ve been next in line, if he hadn’t renounced the throne to rule Spain. That left his great-grandson through his grandson Louis, Duke of Burgundy. Can you guess what his name is? That’s right, also Louis. The child was only five, but Louis XIV had no other choice, so he set his plan in motion.

He feared that his nephew Philip II, who had a legitimate claim to the throne, would try and worm his way in, so he wrote a provision in his will that would limit Philip’s contact with the heir apparent. If this sounds familiar, it’s because Louis XIV’s father tried something similar, and it didn’t work. Hmm, maybe it’ll be different this time…

Louis XIV began to suffer from gangrene in the late summer of 1715 and succumbed to a painful death in September of that year at the palace he’d built in Versailles. He was four days shy of his 77th birthday and his reign of 72 years is the longest reign by a monarch in history. Upon his passing, the throne went to his great-grandson, who became King Louis XV at the age of five.

And, as predicted, history repeated itself, and no one respected those important new provisions in Louis XIV’s will. Sigh. Well, as you can imagine, the drama didn’t end there…

During his most authoritarian years as ruler, the quote “I am the state” had been attributed to Louis XIV. However, this story is apocryphal, and a deathbed statement contradicted it completely, showing his faith in the France he’d built as king: "Je m'en vais, mais l'État demeurera toujours,” or, "I depart, but the State shall always remain."

Louis XIV’s body was laid to rest in a basilica outside of Paris—but after the disastrous decades that followed his passing, the people of France saw it fit to deal him one final indignity. During the French Revolution, rebels exhumed and destroyed his remains after breaking into the basilica. But it didn’t stop there…

In 1848, a piece of Louis XIV’s mummified heart was placed in a silver locket by the Archbishop of York, Lord Harcourt. He presented it to a colleague, William Buckland, who also happened to be a geologist. Thinking the heart to be a rock (and curious to guess what mineral), Buckland promptly shoved the body part into his mouth and accidentally ate it.

What a way for the final relic of the once-glorious Sun King to finally go out…

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A previous version of this article stated that Alexandre Dumas' account of the Man in the Iron Mask was published in the 17th century. It has been updated to state that it was published in the mid-19th century. 

For James, the family drama started even before he was born. His parents were Mary, Queen of Scots, and her second husband, Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley. Both of them could trace their history back to King Henry VII, so not only were they cousins, but they also happened to inherit his penchant for scheming and scandals. Sorry James, a nice, peaceful childhood was never an option.

Mary and Henry's marriage was no fairy tale—in fact, it was more like a horror story. Their union was rocky at the best of times, and it only got worse once Mary became pregnant with James. Henry thought Mary was having an affair with her secretary, David Rizzio (to his credit, he was probably right). So, Henry did what any concerned husband would do: He and his buddies ambushed the two of them at the dinner table and brutally stabbed Rizzio 57 times.

The pregnant Mary watched on in horror as her husband butchered her (maybe) lover—but she'd get her revenge in the end.

James never met his murderous father. Eight months after his birth, Henry Stuart and his valet turned up dead in an Edinburgh orchard. The demise of the King Consort sent shockwaves throughout the English Isles—and yet what Queen Mary did next was even more scandalous.

While James's father met a gruesome end, you could argue his mother's fate was even worse—though she kinda had it coming. Mere months after Henry's body was found, Mary, Queen of Scots married once more. Oh, and the man she married also happened to be the same guy everyone assumed had offed her last husband!

We've got to admit, that's a pretty bold move—but it would cost Mary dearly, and ensure James never got the chance to meet either of his parents.

Within just a few weeks of her remarriage, rebels captured Queen Mary and locked her up in a secluded castle. They forced her to abdicate her throne to her son James, who was barely a year old at the time. From that day onward, James never saw his mother again. The Scots figured that with Mary gone and a child on the throne, regents could finally bring some manner of peace to Scotland.

They were wrong—there were some seriously wild years ahead.

James officially became King James VI of Scotland on July 29, 1567. He was 13 months old. Since one-year-olds don't generally know that much about politics, a council appointed the Earl of Moray to act as his regent. His job seemed pretty simple—hold down the fort until James was old enough to rule. Too bad his time as regent ended up being an utter disaster.

After a year's imprisonment, James's mother Mary managed to escape her confines and lead a rebellion to try and reclaim her throne. This meant the first few years of James's reign were filled with bloody conflict and unrest. However, the Earl of Moray managed to defeat Mary's forces once and for all at the Battle of Langside. Afterward, Mary had to flee to England to live with her cousin, Queen Elizabeth I.

She hoped to one day return to Scotland and take back her throne—but instead, she ended up meeting an even worse fate than her late husband.

Mary, Queen of Scots, trusted Queen Elizabeth far too much. Though she hoped Elizabeth would help her reclaim the crown, the Virgin Queen had no such plans. Mary ended up spending the last two decades of her life as a prisoner in England before she was accused of plotting Elizabeth's assassination. She was finally executed in 1587, a gruesome affair where it took three clumsy strikes to completely sever her head.

Mary, Queen of Scots was no more—but her son James had a whole scandalous life ahead of him.

James eventually grew into a truly controversial and bizarre figure, with more enemies than he could shake a stick at. Maybe you can chalk some of that up to his incredibly lonely childhood. His father was gone, his mother was locked up, and his grandparents were all either dead or out of the picture. All the drama after his birth meant he had no siblings either.

The only people James had around him as a child were his tutors—and they made his life a living nightmare.

James's regent wanted to mold him into the perfect little king, so he hired several men to act as the boy's tutors—but their methods were absolutely brutal. To turn James into a good, god-fearing ruler, they subjected him to regular beatings. Well, in my experience, that kind of tough love often has the opposite effect, and James was no exception.

He was going to turn out to be exactly the kind of king his tutors feared.

The Earl of Moray didn't last long as James's regent. He made a laundry list of enemies during his short rule, and it was only a matter of time before one came for him. In the end, the one to step up to the plate was a man named James Hamilton, a staunch supporter of Queen Mary. Hamilton shot Moray in the streets with an early firearm, and Moray quite literally never saw it coming: No head of state had ever been assassinated with a firearm before in history.

Moray was the first, but definitely not the last. It was time to find James a new regent—but it soon became clear that anyone who took the job did so at their own peril.

James's next two regents both kicked the bucket within a year of taking over. The first took a fatal wound in battle, and the second came down with a mysterious illness shortly after a banquet. And who do you think threw that banquet? His name was James Douglas, the Earl of Morton, and he just so happened to become the next regent after that. Coincidence?

Morton would actually fare better than the rest. He managed to survive his first year as James's regent! But he had one huge problem: James was growing up. Soon enough, it would be time for James to take power himself—and that meant huge trouble for anyone who got in his way.

Finally, after over a decade sequestered away with his brutal tutors, it was time for James to arrive. At age 13, King James VI of Scotland made his formal entry into Edinburgh to take his place on the throne. For the first time, James discovered court life and everything that came with it. Among all the new sights and experiences in the new city, one thing in particular caught the young king's eye: His name was Esmé Stewart.

He was 37 years old, married, and the father of five children—yet James absolutely had to have him.

If there's one thing you need to know about King James I, it's this: The guy liked his boy toys. For nearly his entire life, his male favorites dominated his court, and the first of these was Esmé Stewart. By the time James was 14 years old, he and Stewart basically never left each other's side. Now, maybe you're thinking: "Maybe James just looked up to this older man, seeing as he never knew his father."

Well, wait until you hear a little more about their relationship...

King James was never the most discreet guy, and it didn't take long before people started to talk about his, ahem, close relationship with Esmé Stewart. An English envoy once visited James's court, and what he discovered absolutely shocked him. He wrote of how James was "in such love with [Stewart] as in the open sight of the people often he will clasp him about the neck with his arms and kiss him."

Yeah, they were into each other alright—and that meant James's regent, the Earl of Morton, was in some serious danger.

The Earl of Morton had served Scotland well in his years as regent, but some people still hated his guts. Esmé Stewart was chief among them. Well, soon enough, Stewart had the young King James in the palm of his hand, and that meant it was time to strike. Stewart had Morton accused of plotting—get this—the murder of James's father. Remember that guy? Found dead in an orchard all those years ago?

There was next to no evidence for the accusation, but it's not like Stewart needed a good reason. James, at Stewart's urging, executed Morton with a gruesome instrument called "The Maiden." From that day on, Stewart became the main voice whispering in James's ear. But little did he know, his days were numbered too.

King James was absolutely infatuated with Esmé Stewart—the rest of Scotland, not so much. His French origins made people suspicious, and Protestants thought he might secretly be Catholic. Plus, you know, he and James basically made out in public all the time. People had to notice that. Scottish Calvinists began to worry that Stewart might "draw the King to carnal lust."

If you ask me, it seems like they were way past that point, but no one can say for sure. What we can say for sure is that those Calvinists decided to put an end to it.

King James and Esmé Stewart's Call Me By Your Name romance was at its end. In 1582, several Protestant earls captured James, locked him in a castle, and forced Stewart to leave Scotland forever. The two of them would never see each other again. But, as far as James's male "companions" go, Stewart was only the beginning.

Plenty of people in Scotland were willing to turn a blind eye to James's particularly...intimate relationship with Esmé Stewart. In fact, many commended him on his remarkable chastity. What a good Christian boy, he hardly even looked at women! Even after Stewart left Scotland, James continued to surround himself with almost exclusively male company.

But James was a king, and a king needed a queen, so by 1589, the time came to find a match. Oh, that poor woman...

After a long search, James's advisors finally picked a suitable bride: Princess Anne of Denmark. Wasting no time, Anne set sail for Scotland and her new life. I'm sure she was excited—Queen of Scotland sounds like a pretty good gig. Little did she know, her royal marriage wasn't going to be anything like those in the stories. But maybe she could have guessed that based on the catastrophic start to their relationship.

Almost as soon as Anne set sail, powerful storms wracked her ship. She was barely able to make it ashore in Norway alive. If you believe in bad omens, you'd probably say that's a pretty troubling way to start a marriage. But if this sign from God made Anne of Denmark nervous about her new husband, what he did next helped put her mind at ease.

You could call King James I a lot of things, but "romantic" was not one of them—at least, not when women were involved. But something must have come over him when he heard his new wife was trapped in Norway. He personally led an expedition of 300 men to go fetch her himself. Anne must have thought she'd found her Prince Charming when James sailed over the horizon to rescue her.

Give it a few years Anne—James would show his true colors before long.

After their marriage, James and Anne went to Demark to attend Anne's sister's wedding. It was on that trip that James discovered one of his darkest obsessions: Witches. Though not yet too popular in Scotland, the Danes frequently performed witch hunts. It's not like James had that much love for women to begin with, but after the trip to Denmark, he made it his mission to root out witches—and it led to some of the most horrific acts of his life.

James wasted no time in persecuting witches. When storms wracked his ships on his return to Scotland, he blamed witchcraft and ended up trying several women as witches as a result. He seemed to take a personal pleasure in this, and he'd personally supervise the "questioning" of witches, where confessions were brutally forced out of them.

How's that for Prince Charming?

For obvious reasons, many historians assume King James was gay, but there's one hole in that theory: At first, at least, James seemed completely infatuated with his new wife, Anne of Denmark. He doted on her and showed great affection for her in public. Honestly, the early years of their marriage seemed remarkably happy—except for one major problem.

James and Anne's marriage was cause for excitement in Scotland, but the years began to pass, and no little princes or princesses appeared. That would lead to some rumors for most kings, but people had not yet forgotten about James's PDA with Esmé Stewart. Questions about James's manhood and Anne's fertility were on everyone's lips.

James and Anne needed a child, and they needed one quick.

Finally, in 1594, five long years after their wedding, James and Anne welcomed a son, Henry. The lack of a child had been like a sword over their heads, and Henry's birth should have been a massive sigh of relief. But with King James, there was always something. You see, by this point, his relationship with his wife had already started to show cracks—and it didn't take long for James's eye to begin to wander...

By 1594, the honeymoon period was officially over. Maybe it was the lack of children, or maybe King James simply grew tired of his blushing bride. Either way, the once-romantic James who swept Anne off her feet had disappeared a long time hence. By the time Anne became pregnant, it was too late to save their loving union.

While Anne carried their child, James took maybe the only female mistress he'd ever have: A minor Scottish noble named Anne Murray. When Anne of Denmark found out about James's affair, she was obviously furious—but James's next betrayal would be so much worse.

James ripped Prince Henry from his mother's grasp essentially the moment he was born. Anne expected to raise the child herself, but the cold and callous James had other ideas. He sent the boy to live in Sterling Castle, miles away from Edinburgh. Like any mother, Anne was absolutely horrified, and she was willing to anything to get her son back.

The birth of a child should have solved James and Anne's marital problems—instead, tore them even further apart.

Anne began a fierce campaign to regain custody of her son, recruiting as many allies in court as she could. When James got wind of this, his reaction was ice-cold. He wrote to the Earl of Mar, Henry's guardian, and told him to never, under any circumstances, give up the prince unless James himself ordered it. He even made Mar promise not to give up Henry to Anne on the event of his death!

James and Anne's fight kept on escalating—and it was about to take a tragic turn.

Somehow, between very public arguments and private outrage, James and Anne found time to conceive another child. You'd hope it would let them find common ground, but their fighting only got worse and worse until it finally hit its peak. They had several public screaming matches that left Anne in tears, and in July 1595, their latest fight left Anne so devastated that she miscarried.

The fighting stopped after that—Anne was simply too heartbroken to continue.

King James was a whole lot more popular than his mother Mary had been, but there were still many in Scotland who wanted his head on a platter. Chief among them was Clan Ruthven, a powerful Scottish House. Their leader, the Earl of Gowrie, was one of the men who had imprisoned James and forced Esmé Stewart to leave Scotland.

As James grew older, he grew more and more powerful, and it put him on a collision course with Clan Ruthven. It was about time James got some blood on his hands.

In 1600, James and his entourage visited Gowrie House, the seat of Clan Ruthven. It was bound to be a tense dinner party. It ended up turning into a bloodbath. At some point in the evening, Alexander Ruthven threw himself at James, armed and ready to kill. However, James's page acted quickly and managed to run Ruthven through with a sword.

That's when chaos broke out.

James's guards and the Ruthvens erupted into a bloody melee, and by the time the fighting had stopped, the Earl of Gowrie, head of Clan Ruthven, lay cold. For many, it seemed a fitting end to a traitor whose family had attacked the king—but is that really how things went down? Turns out, there's more to that night than meets the eye...

Ever heard the phrase, "History is written by the winners?" Well, James was definitely the winner that night. His account claimed that Alexander Ruthven had attacked him, forcing his own men to retaliate. But what about James's longstanding enmity with Clan Ruthven, or the fact that he happened to owe the Ruthvens a ton of money?

Many historians believe James planned the entire night to get rid of his biggest enemies. The Ruthvens had just learned the hard way that King James played the game of thrones with the best of them. And he was just getting started.

The Ruthven Affair had an unexpected side-effect: It ended up irreparably damaging James's relationship with his wife. Two of Anne's most beloved ladies-in-waiting were Ruthvens, and after the debacle at Gowrie House, he fired them both. Anne was absolutely livid, and despite the fact that she was five months pregnant, she went on a hunger strike until James reinstated them.

When he tried to command her to stop her protest, her reply was legendary.

Anne looked her husband square in the eye and told him, "Take care in how you treat me—for I am not the Earl of Gowrie." The implication was clear: James couldn't simply get rid of Anne the way he had with the Earl. In the end, it ended up being one of the few victories of poor Anne of Denmark's life. James didn't rehire Anne's ladies, but he gave Beatrix Ruthven a pension just to make Anne happy.

James needed this whole affair behind him anyway—he was on to much bigger things very soon.

Here's the thing about a Virgin Queen: It's hard to leave behind an heir to the throne. So, when Queen Elizabeth I passed without any heirs, her northerly cousin King James VI of Scotland got the nod to succeed her. Elizabeth's advisors had planned on this for years, and they proclaimed James the King of England on the very same day.

James had done pretty well for himself in Scotland, but he was about to enter a whole new world.

A couple of weeks later, James packed up and began his journey south. He promised his fellow Scots that he'd never forget where he came from and that he'd make sure to return at least every three years. They ate it up—but every word of it was a lie. Once James got a taste of England's wealth, he pretty much forgot about Scotland completely. He only returned a single time in his 22-year reign.

King James I of England got the first taste of his new life on the journey south to London. Every house he stopped at on his trip showered him with extravagant feasts and expensive gifts. James could hardly believe was he was seeing. He exclaimed that he was "swapping a stony couch for a deep feather bed." It's no wonder he put Scotland in the rearview!

But while England promised greater riches and luxuries for King James—it also promised far greater problems.

When James headed to London, his wife Anne saw her chance to take back her son once and for all. As soon as James left, Anne gathered her closest allies and bee-lined straight for Stirling Castle and her son, whom she had barely seen in five years. She planned to take her boy by force, but there was just one problem: The keepers of the castle wouldn't let her men inside!

Anne was absolutely furious—she was the Queen of England now, after all!—but they wouldn't budge. Sadly, this latest scheme ended tragically as well. The stress of the event caused her to have a second miscarriage. But this time, Anne had more fight in her yet.

Once James settled in England, he wrote to his wife and told her to come join him—so Anne decided to shoot her shot. She refused to come to England unless James gave her custody of her son. She knew that this sign of tension between the king and queen would look bad to James' new subjects. For James, it just wasn't worth the hassle anymore.

He finally relented, but you can bet on one thing: Any love between husband and wife was now completely dead.

As if James's marital problems didn't take up enough of his time, the new King of England very quickly realized that he'd inherited a whole host of problems. Crippling taxation and ruthless monopolies meant his new people were on the brink of rebellion—and a £400,000 debt from a war with Ireland didn't help things either.

No, it didn't take long for the adoring crowds to remember just how miserable they were—and within the first year of his reign, people started to come for James's head.

There were two major conspiracies to dethrone James in just his first 12 months as King of England: The Bye Plot and the Main Plot. Both came remarkably close to fruition but fell apart at the last moment. When authorities captured those who had conspired against him, it proved an early chance for James to prove what kind of king he would be—and his response shocked everyone.

Remember, there were still people alive who remembered the ax-happy Tudors like Henry VIII and Bloody Mary. So imagine the Londoners' surprise when James actually pardoned all but one of the conspirators. He decided that he didn't want his reign to begin with bloodshed, so he showed mercy. Unfortunately, if he'd known what was coming, he probably would have wished he'd been much, much harsher on anyone who tried to cross him.

When King James arrived in London, he found a well-oiled machine. Several powerful politicians had been looking after the affairs of government in the final years of Elizabeth's life, so James didn't actually have to do much of anything at all. He was free to spend most of his time in leisure, mostly hunting while his advisors ran the show.

But while James mostly avoided the nitty-gritty of running a country, he did focus very hard on one thing in particular.

The King of Scotland becoming the King of England presented a very unique opportunity. England and Scotland had fought each other for centuries, but now, for the first time ever, the same man ruled both nations. More than anything else, James dreamed of being the first-ever King of Great Britain. However, there's one thing he didn't count on.

Pretty much every single person in both England and Scotland absolutely hated that idea.

Opposition to the whole "King of Great Britain" thing flared up pretty much instantly. He tried to make it official, but the House of Commons refused his request. This is where things just got sad. Though Parliament made it very clear that England and Scotland were still very much separate countries and that "Great Britain" did not exist as a political entity, James still used the title at every chance he got.

It didn't really mean anything, but hey, at least it made him feel better.

James and Anne had eight children together, though only three of them survived to adulthood. The last was born in 1607, but by that time, the unhappy couple had long since begun living in separate palaces. Then, one final miscarriage led Anne to decide she didn't want to get pregnant again. By that point, James pretty much only visited her to make more children. Without that, their marriage fell apart completely.

But that wasn't the only thing that drove them apart. The pressures of being king started to change James, and Anne did not like what he became.

When a French envoy visited the English court in 1604, they came looking for all the juiciest gossip—and Queen Anne was more than willing to dish. She complained about James's ever-increasing drinking and made a grim prediction: "The King drinks so much, and conducts himself so ill in every respect, that I expect an early and evil result."

Anne must have known the envoy would take that new back to France, but she spilled the beans anyway—though soon her husband's drinking would be the last of her problems.

One of the reasons the English people liked James so much at first was that he was a Protestant. If it came out that James secretly had Catholic sympathies, it could be utter ruin for the new king. When one of his spies discovered his wife's secret, he was furious: She had accepted a rosary from the Pope himself.

In a knee-jerk reaction, James publicly denounced the Catholic Church, something he'd avoided doing thus far. It made his Protestant supporters happy—but as you can imagine, it made many Catholics angry. And some of them even got angry enough to do something about it.

English Catholics worried about James from the start. With Elizabeth childless, they held out hope that a Catholic monarch might succeed her. Then James came along, a staunch Protestant with two sons to carry on the line. Many Catholics felt like they were running out of time to put one of their own back on the throne, and James's proclamation sealed those fears.

Tensions were getting high—and James's next proclamation was the last straw.

James denounced the Catholic Church, but that wasn't a strong enough statement. Three days later, he ordered all Jesuit and Catholic priests to leave the country, and reinstated fines for anyone who refused to attend Anglican church services. Being Catholic was officially against the law in England. I'm sure James expected some pushback to this drastic measure—but I doubt he realized it would be so...explosive.

Catholic conspirators had had enough, and they hatched a now-infamous plan to assassinate James, destroy the Houses of Parliament, and install his daughter Elizabeth as a Catholic monarch. The Gunpowder Plot was bold and it was extremely dangerous—and yet it came remarkably close to coming to fruition.

You know the rest of the story: Guards found Guy Fawkes underneath the House of Lords guarding a whopping 36 barrels of gunpowder. The resulting explosion, intended to take place during the State Opening of Parliament, would have completely crippled the entire English Government. However, at the final hour, a mysterious whistleblower revealed the plot.

The plot foiled, all the remaining conspirators fled the city. If they thought they could escape James's wrath, they were wrong.

James's forces eventually cornered the remaining conspirators at a country inn, leading to a deadly standoff. Two of them were shot in the fracas—but those two got off lucky. James's men dragged the remaining traitors back to London, where they each received a very public and very gruesome execution. Executioners castrated and disemboweled several of them while they still breathed.

Guy Fawkes managed to escape that fate, at least. He jumped from the scaffold and broke his own neck. And the worst part is, each of them lost their lives knowing that their plot had not only failed, but that the vengeful King James would make life for English Catholics even worse. He had shown mercy before—but he wasn't going to do it again.

The Gunpowder Plot actually turned out great for King James I, all things considered. Though his popularity had already started to wane, the attempt on his life made the people love him again. The people's renewed support also allowed his advisors to raise taxes higher than they'd been in years, and the relieved masses were happy to pony up!

The years that followed were probably the best of James's entire English reign—but a devastating tragedy was just around the corner.

Remember all that fighting James and Anne had done over their son, Prince Henry? Well, that was a long time past, and now Henry was growing into a remarkably confident and popular young man. Actually, confident might not be the right word...arrogant was more like it. Maybe his mom turned him against his dad, but Henry showed absolutely no respect for his father, king or not.

Once, while out hunting, James called Henry out for his lack of enthusiasm. Henry lost it and almost struck his dad with a cane before riding off in a huff. Then, to salt the wound, most of the hunting party rode off with the prince, leaving James sitting there looking weak and embarrassed.

It was starting to look like Prince Henry might become a serious problem for James. The boy was probably even more popular than he was, and his blatant lack of respect was making James look bad. James was going to have to deal with this issue before it ballooned and threatened his rule. But then, in a twist of fate, the problem solved itself—though not in the way James ever would have wanted.

In 1612, Henry, the Prince of Wales, suddenly fell ill with a violent fever. He passed in a matter of days. Queen Anne was particularly devastated, and visitors were told to never mention the Prince or to even offer condolences, "because she cannot bear to have it mentioned." As if James and Anne's relationship hadn't been bad enough before, now he only reminded her of her lost son.

The people of England adored the Prince of Wales and they shared in Queen Anne's grief. Over a thousand mourners attended his funeral—though I bet none of them realized what they were in for. During the somber occasion, a crazed unclothed man sprinted through the mourners, screaming that he was Prince Henry's ghost.

Now there's a sight you wouldn't soon forget—but one notable face wasn't there to see it: James himself.

King James allegedly hated funerals, and he refused to attend his son's service for that reason. Now, might it also have had to do with his son's total disrespect threatening James's station? Who can say? Either way, James didn't bother to show up to bid his son goodbye. He had a new boy-toy to keep him plenty busy anyway.

After James's controversial relationship with Esmé Stewart in his youth, he'd mostly avoided showing too much fondness for any specific men in public. That all changed in 1607. Apparently, James figured now that he was the King of England, who was going to stop him? That year, he attended a jousting contest, and one particularly cute contestant happened to catch his eye.

During the tournament, a 17-year-old page named Robert Carr fell from his horse and broke his leg. Evidently, it was love at first sight. James personally helped nurse Carr back to health, and just like that, King James had a new favorite to dote upon. He lavished Carr with gifts and titles, eventually making him the Earl of Somerset—but being the king's favorite could be a double-edged sword.

Robert Carr was known for two things: He was absolutely gorgeous—and dumb as a rock. Apparently, that's just how James I liked them. Over the next eight years, Carr enjoyed a meteoric rise. He went from being a nobody page (and a pretty bad jouster) to the King's closest confidant and one of the most powerful men in England.

James gave him endless gifts, even his own castle, and let him have sway over important matters of government. Do you think Carr could handle any of this? Of course not! The King loved him for now, but he was bound to slip up eventually—and did he ever.

The relationship between King James and his favorites was always a little...unconventional. James let Carr have lovers of his own, so long as he always knew where his bread was buttered. Eventually, Carr began an affair with a young married woman named Frances Howard. He begged James to force the bishops to grant Howard a pretty shady divorce so that he could have her.

Since what James's boy-toy wanted, he got, James did as Carr asked. Carr was totally unaware that he'd just sealed his own doom.

Robert Carr started spending a lot of time with his new wife—far too much for King James's liking. In one angry letter, James wrote, "You have been creeping back and withdrawing yourself from lying in my chamber, notwithstanding my many hundred times earnest soliciting you to the contrary." James had been the one to make Carr's marriage happen, and now he started to regret it.

He'd regret it a whole lot more when Carr's new wife killed a man.

Robert Carr made James's court play out like a soap opera—so it's fitting that his time as James's favorite came to a ridiculously scandalous end. Carr's best friend, Thomas Overbury, had opposed his marriage to Frances Howard. As revenge, Howard had Overbury poisoned. When news of this came to light, James was absolutely ruthless.

Seeing the chance to get rid of his fallen favorite and his troublesome wife, James had them both face trial.

James I wanted to teach Robert Carr a harsh lesson, but he flinched at the last moment. The courts sentenced both Carr and Howard to hang, but James couldn't bear to see his longtime favorite meet such an end. He commuted both of their sentences, but left them to rot in the Tower of London for seven long years out of spite.

But just because James was done with Robert Carr didn't mean he was done with male favorites. Right around the time his relationship with Carr fell apart, a new face entered the picture: The now-infamous George Villiers.

George Villiers was the whole package. He was allegedly extremely handsome and keenly intelligent—so definitely an upgrade from Carr in that regard. He was a commoner, but that didn't matter to King James. Not long after they met, James made him a knight. A few years after that, he took it a step further: He made Villiers the Duke of Buckingham, the first commoner to become a duke in over a century.

Like Carr before him, Villiers soon became one of the most powerful men in England, all thanks to King James. He'd pay a heavy price for it in the end, but for now, he was living large.

George Villiers had one thing going for him that James's other favorites didn't: The Queen absolutely loved him. Though she and James basically never saw each other by this point, Anne and Villiers became remarkably close. She affectionately called him her "dog" (weird nickname, but OK) and beseeched him to always stay true to her husband.

And that he did. Unlike the fleeting relationships with Esmé Stewart and Robert Carr, James remained with George Villiers for the rest of his days—which by this point were growing fewer and fewer.

At this point, King James and Queen Anne were husband and wife in name only. Each of them seemed to be waiting for the other to croak—and Anne went first. She suffered from painful gout and dropsy in her final years and became more and more reclusive as her condition grew worse. James knew of her illness, yet he was too busy with Villiers to be bothered to visit often.

James only saw his wife three times during her final illness, and he wasn't there when she passed at age 44.

Despite their incredibly difficult marriage, losing Anne hit James surprisingly hard. As with his son before her, James didn't attend his wife's funeral—but he had a pretty good reason this time. His own health was beginning to fail by now, and news of Anne's passing left him suffering spells of "fainting, sighing, dread, incredible sadness..."

He'd never really treated her well and he'd spent far more time with his male favorites, but it seemed James still had some small place in his heart for Anne of Denmark.

Anne of Denmark got the short end of the stick in life. She lived as a powerless and marginalized queen who had to watch her husband flaunt his male lovers in front of the entire court, but she did win one victory over James: In 1613, she shot his favorite dog. This so-called "accident" took place during a 1613 hunting expedition.

James may have taken her son from her, ignored her, and cheated on her—but she went to her grave knowing she had also taken away something he loved.

In the years following Anne's passing, James's health grew worse and worse. Arthritis, gout, kidney stones, you name it, he had it. The fact that he drank constantly and lost all of his teeth definitely didn't help matters either.

Eventually, James grew too feeble to take part in government at all. He almost always stayed at country estates while Villiers and his son, the soon-to-be King Charles I, ran things in London. Finally, in 1625, he suffered a stroke, and that spelled the end. He held on for a few more weeks before a painful bout of dysentery claimed his life. He must have been a horrible sight, with no teeth, swollen appendages, and open sores, but still, his greatest love, George Villiers, was there by his side at the end.

King James died as the first ruler of both Scotland and England—but he had to betray his own mother to do it. All those years ago, when the English had Mary, Queen of Scots executed under shady circumstances, James publicly condemned the “preposterous and strange procedure” that led to her end. But while he talked a big game, he made no move against England for vengeance.

James knew he had to keep playing nice if he wanted to inherit the English throne one day, so that's exactly what he did. Sorry, Mary, I guess you just weren't worth it.

Historians have debated the truth about King James's sexuality for centuries—and they'll probably continue to do so for years to come. Those who claim he was straight point to the fact that he took an incredibly severe stance against sodomy, calling it one of those "horrible crimes which ye are bound in conscience never to forgive."

Sorry James, but Shakespeare had already written Hamlet, so people knew the phrase, "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

So King James was vehemently against sodomy—but the shocking letters he shared with George Villiers tell a different story. In one particularly, ahem, specific passage, Villiers wrote, "I entertained myself, your unworthy servant, with this dispute, whether you loved me now...better than at the time which I shall never forget at Farnham, where the bed's head could not be found between the master and his dog."

Sure, that's not technically proof of anything, but...come on now.

After rebels forced Esmé Stewart to leave Scotland, James never laid eyes on him again—but their relationship didn't end there. The two kept up a secret correspondence for years. Apparently, Stewart repaid James' obsession in kind, writing, "The faithfulness which is engraved within my heart, which will last forever...Whatever might happen to me, I shall always be your faithful servant...You are alone in this world whom my heart is resolved to serve."

But those letters are nothing compared to what Stewart did after he passed on. He had his own heart removed, embalmed, and sent to James. So...romantic?

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In 911AD, a group of Vikings, led by a fearsome warrior named Rollo, landed in Normandy and began conducting raids. Fearing a drawn-out conflict, the ruling Carolingian King, Charles the Simple, agreed to allow them to settle the land. This proved successful, and the Vikings assimilated quite smoothly. They would eventually receive a royal visitor from across the channel.

Nearly a century later, now well established in the area, the Duke of Normandy, Richard II, agreed to marry his sister Emma to the King of England. The marriage produced a son, Edward the Confessor. During Viking invasions of England, Edward and his mother fled to her homeland, where the prince spent years getting to know his maternal culture. He found himself quite enamored.

After returning from exile and succeeding to the English throne in 1042, Edward was practically Norman himself. He drew on his former hosts for support, appointing them positions of power at court and establishing a strong Norman interest in English politics. The King may have sewed some consequential seeds.

Edward had a close relationship with Duke William of Normandy and often took his counsel to advise on the ongoing conflict between Edward and the Earl of Wessex. It is possible that the King may even have encouraged William’s ambitions for the English throne. This was especially notable because he was childless, and it spelled trouble for all those involved.

After a long, 24-year reign, Edward finally perished on January 5, 1066. Still childless, the resulting crisis of succession was a dramatic start to one of the most tumultuous years in English history. The universe itself seemed to signal that dark days were ahead.

A comet appeared in the sky in April of 1066, what we now know as Halley’s Comet. Widely reported throughout Europe, many in England interpreted it to be connected with the succession crisis, and many feared troublesome times loomed. They weren’t wrong.

Following Edward’s passing, there were several contenders that vied for his throne. His immediate successor was the son of his earlier opponent Godwin, the new Earl of Wessex named Harold. The leading contender, Harold was challenged by two neighboring rulers, William of Normandy and Harald (with an A) Hardrada, King of Norway. Harold ascended, and the other two hatched their plans.

William and Harald both did not wait long before assembling troops and a naval fleet, intending to invade England and taking Harold’s throne. To make matters worse, the King’s exiled brother, Tostig, supported the Norwegian King and combined their forces. Harold had to respond.

Learning of the advancing challengers, King Harold hastily called his banners, seeking the support of the various earls of England to lend their support to his personal forces. The gathered army consisted largely of infantrymen, with few archers. After awaiting William on the southern coast, Harold got word of the invasion from Norway and quickly steered his forces north.

The English forces got the jump of the invading Norwegians and decimated Harald’s forces at the Battle of Stamford Bridge on September 25. Harald and Tostig were both felled during the fighting, and the Norwegians suffered devastating losses. But the victory was not without cost for Harold.

Despite Harold’s decisive victory, his forces were left significantly weakened after the battle with the Norwegians. The men who remained were beaten and worn out from the fighting. To make matters worse, they were now positioned quite far north. To the south, another enemy was bolstering his ranks.

Over the course of nine months, William assembled a substantial invading force. Gathering troops from Normandy and the rest of France, including significant contingents from Brittany and Flanders, the only thing more impressive than William’s speedily gathered army was his large fleet of ships, which he assembled from basically nothing. The Normans had bodies, and they may also have had blessings.

Though there are conflicting historical accounts, some sources allege William managed to enlist some powerful diplomatic support behind his claim. The most notable of this apparent support came from Pope Alexander II, who reportedly gave a papal banner as a token of the Church’s approval. With the wind at his back, both figuratively and literally, William set sail.

A few days after the English defeat of Harald, the Normans crossed the channel, landing in Sussex on September 28. Seeking to fortify their position immediately, they hastily built a wooden castle at Hastings. After all, they needed somewhere to house all those troops.

The exact number of men comprising William’s forces is lost to history. Estimated figures vary from 7,500 to 150,000. What is known is that the composition of the Norman army was more diverse than Harold’s infantrymen-only force; William’s army included sizeable amounts of cavalry and archers too. But numbers were not the only factor.

The Norman soldiers’ armor mainly consisted of knee-length, chainmail hauberks, some with sleeves to the elbows, along with conical helmets featuring a vertical band guarding the bridge of the nose. They also typically carried shields and swords, spears, or javelins for infantrymen and lances for horsemen. Harold had his work cut out for him.

Harold marched south shortly after defeating Tostig and Harald. It seems he had not yet heard of William’s landing, however, and this would later prove devastatingly consequential. He likely heard about the Norman invasion on his way south, but by then he had already opted to leave a sizeable portion of his forces behind in the north. He even lost the element of surprise.

Harold must have felt nervous hearing of the Normans’ landing after leaving much of his force behind, and all he could hope for now was to arrive before the Normans had time to prepare. This was not meant to be, however, as William had sent scouts ahead who spotted the English forces on their march south. But what did they see?

Like the Normans, the exact number of English forces at Hastings has also obscured over time. There is a larger variance in numbers claimed by various sources, from 5,000 to 1,200,200, though the higher range is highly unlikely. All we know is that the army consisted entirely of infantry. But surely the resources of the crown were a boon?

English armor was similar to the Normans’: a conical helmet, a mail hauberk, and a shield. Swords were present too, but the English added battleaxes to the mix of weaponry. Luckily, there were some archers among the infantrymen, meaning it was only calvary where the English could not match the invaders at all. Regardless, battle was inevitable.

Now is as good a time as any to point out that an exact description of the battle is impossible as all primary accounts of the fighting contradict one another. However, one undisputed fact is when the Battle of Hastings began: around 9am on Saturday, October 14, 1066. And it didn’t happen where you’d think.

The fact that most know the event as the Battle of Hastings is an oddity, as it actually took place seven miles north of Hastings. And while this may seem close enough, there were several settlements much closer to the battlefield than Hastings itself. Regardless, Hastings became forever associated with the skirmish between two incredibly capable forces.

Harold’s forces began the battle in a dense formation atop a steep slope, giving them a good view of the battlefield. Wooded areas flanked them on either side, and the ground before them was marshy, further solidifying their position. The English infantry formed a shield wall and forced the Normans to make the first move.

The historical sources on the Norman forces are much more substantial. William arranged his men in three groups, based on their origins: Bretons on the left, Normans under William’s direct command in the center, and Frenchmen on the right. The archers made their way to the front lines.

The battle commenced with a flurry of Norman arrows fired uphill toward the English forces. The presence of the shield wall, however, meant this proved largely ineffective: the arrows merely bounced off the shields. Since the English had few archers, there were no arrows that the Normans could pick up to use. A change in tactic was required.

William now had no choice but to send his infantry forward. The spearmen advanced rapidly and clashed with the shield wall. The English faced a barrage of spears, axes, and stones, but steadfastly held the line. Failing to force an opening in the wall, William sent the third wave.

The Norman cavalry came next, but still they failed to make headway against the immovable English shield wall. Dissuaded by events, the Norman forces began to retreat. Morale seemed to be falling, and a rumor may have contributed.

In such close proximity, stories spread quickly among fighting forces, and Hastings was no different. A rumor formed among the Normans the English had slain William in the initial confusion, only increasing the chaos among the invaders. The situation was dire, and morale needed restoring.

The English forces began to relentlessly pursue the fleeing Normans, which spurred William into action. Learning of his supposed fate, the fearsome leader rode through his forces, announcing that rumors of his demise had been greatly exaggerated. This had the rallying effect he had hoped for.

Some accounts claim that the English pursual of the fleeing invaders may not have been ordered by Harold but was, in fact, the result of overconfidence on the front ranks after seeing the Normans retreat during the early parts of the Battle of Hastings. Regardless of who gave the order, it would prove to backfire on the English. The Normans found a second wind and began to beat back the English forces. The fighting greatly intensified, but it was the storm before the calm.

Most historians agree that what happened next during the Battle of Hastings was amusingly human: both armies stopped for lunch. This lull in the fighting had tactical significance, however, as it allowed both leaders time to implement new strategies. For William, it proved to be a lightbulb moment.

Inspired by the English pursuit and thrashing of the Normans just before lunch, William turned an apparent weakness into an advantage. Employing a tactic known as feigned flight, he sent the Norman cavalry against the English shield wall again. But this time, he instructed them to quickly retreat, hoping it would draw the English into further pursuits and, thus, break their lines. The Norman leader did not simply sit back, however.

The effectiveness of William’s new tactic has been debated, but one thing that is clear is that the Normans continued to fight relentlessly, including their fearless leader himself. Accounts claim that William even had two or three horses slayed under him during the course of the battle! The Normans’ steadfast courage and superior numbers would soon turn the tide decisively.

Though there are contradictory accounts as to when exactly it occurred, at some point Harold perished in battle. It likely happened late in the day, and the most likely cause is a grisly one: the King of England was reportedly felled by an arrow to the eye. The head of the snake had been severed, and the body followed.

Finding themselves now leaderless, the English forces quickly deteriorated. They had already suffered significant casualties, and seeing the tide turn, many men fled the Battle of Hastings. Not all gave up so hastily, however.

As their fellow Englishman perished or fled around them, one contingent of forces remained steadfast. The fighters from Harold’s royal household gathered around the King’s body and fought bravely until the end. They likely got to see the sunset one final time.

Most historians agree that the Battle of Hastings wrapped up around dusk with a decisive Norman victory. The courageous forces of both sides spent an entire day fighting for their Kings, but only one side could win. What went wrong for the English?

The defeat of the English at the Battle of Hastings was likely due to several errors on Harold’s part. For one, he had just successfully defended against the invasion of Harald and Tostig, significantly weakening his forces. However, his decision to dismiss half his men in the north, and to not gather further forces on his march south, proved decisive, as he likely lacked the numbers to deal with the Norman onslaught. But we should not discount skill on the other side.

What historians cannot deny is that William was by far the more experienced military leader. His tactics were flexible and adaptable, and the presence of cavalry on the Norman side meant he had more strategic options too. And for his savviness, William was rewarded.

After troops identified Harold’s body the following day, they presented his personal standard to William as a signifier of the Norman leader’s victory at the Battle of Hastings. They then sent the standard to the papacy to signal to Rome that new leadership in England was imminent. But before moving on to his destiny, William had to tend to the fallen.

With many bodies left behind after the battle, something had to be done with them…well, the ones the victors cared about, anyway. The Norm and left the English bodies strewn across the battlefield, with some later collected by relatives. The Norman buried their fallen in a large, communal grave, though strangely enough, no one has ever found this burial site. But how many are we missing here?

As the exact number of forces on either side is unknown, so too are the casualty numbers. Sources suggest the English fatality rate could have been as a high as 50%. One in seven named Norman noblemen are reported to have perished, though the number may be higher among common infantrymen. And what of the most important body of all?

There are several stories about the fate of King Harold’s body and, again, the truth may come out. One source claims Harold’s mother offered William her son’s weight in gold for the return of his body, which William allegedly refused.

Another story alleges William ordered Harold’s body thrown into the sea. There is even a legend that Harold did not perish in the battle after all, and that he escaped to live out his days as a hermit in Chester! But regardless, his throne was now there for the taking.

With the battle won, William now set his sights on his ultimate goal: the throne of the King of England. He and his forces set off to march on London, taking a slightly longer route around the coast of Kent. He did not go uncontested.

The English were not ready to roll over yet. With the support of a few earls, Edgar Ætheling was briefly declared King in Harold’s stead, and he sent forces to attack the marching Normans. The Normans dispersed easily with the attackers, however, and though certain blocked-off routes meant he had to take the long way round, William eventually arrived at the capital, leaving behind a total trail of destruction.

Later, when Edgar captured the city of York and declared himself the one true King of England. William's response was horrific. One biographer wrote, "I have often praised William...but I can say nothing good about this brutal slaughter. God will punish him." When Edgar refused to face William in battle, he starved the North, with an estimated 100,000 perishing.

Either way, England had embraced the inevitable.

In December 1066, William approached London from the north with a still-unstoppable force of Norman warriors. The remaining English leaders had no choice but to surrender to the invader at Berkhamsted, Hertfordshire. On Christmas Day of 1066, William was proclaimed King of England in Westminster Abbey, forever altering the course of English history. But he could not rest on his laurels.

Though the English nobles had submitted unquestioningly to William, resistance to Norman rule continued for several years after the Battle of Hastings. Indeed, among William’s troubles, he could count a rebellion in Exeter, an invasion by Harold’s sons, an uprising in Northumbria, and a Danish invasion. The new King crushed all dissent, however, and immortalized the battle which announced his entry onto the stage of history.

The most well-known artist’s depiction of the Battle of Hastings is the Bayeux Tapestry, a beautifully embroidered narrative tapestry of the events leading up to the conflict. Likely commissioned by one of William’s bishops, the piece has served as a visual representation of a now-mythological event in English history, one that has captured imaginations.

William the Conqueror more than earned his nickname through the bloodshed at the Battle of Hastings. His reign was a dark time in England—so it's fitting that when his end came, it was utterly gruesome. In his final years, the once-strapping William ballooned to massive proportions. One day, his horse reared up in battle, slamming his gut against the pommel of his saddle and rupturing his intestines. William spent the next several days in agony before finally succumbing to his injuries—but somehow, the most horrific part was yet to come.

Many came to pay respects at William the Conqueror's funeral—but no one expected the gruesome scene that played out. Since William had grown incredibly large in his old age, and his bloated remains wouldn't fit in the stone tomb his attendants had built for him. The priests tried to simply stuff him inside, and they regretted it almost instantly. His abdomen burst, sending putrid guts everywhere. The stench was so terrible, mourners fled the church in horror.

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Virginia Hall was born in Baltimore, Maryland in 1906. At first, there was no indication that little Virginia would go on to lead one of the most adventurous lives of the 20th century. Her own mother expected her to become a dutiful wife and raise multiple children. But beneath her unassuming exterior were all the makings of a daring master spy.

The adventurous Virginia Hall would go on to become a thorn in the side of the Axis Forces. In fact, at the height of WWII, the German forces of the Third Reich considered Hall to be “the most dangerous of all Allied spies” and hunted her down relentlessly. Hall would need a whole of gumption and a little bit of luck to escape with her life.

After graduating from high school, Virginia studied languages at Columbia University. She became fluent in French, German, and Italian—it’s almost like she knew what lay ahead. Hall got a small taste of adventure when she took up a post as a clerk at the American Embassy in Warsaw, Poland. She had no idea how perfectly positioned she was for the coming storm.

Ironically, Hall’s first brush with actual danger came well before the onset of WWII. In 1933, she went on a hunting trip to Izmir, Turkey, where she suffered an accident that would shape the rest of her life. Hall tripped while hunting birds and accidentally fired a bullet into her own left foot. She took it all in “stride” though.

Hall’s injury from her hunting accident was bad enough that doctors had to amputate her left leg from just below the knee. She wasn’t the kind of gal to let something like a stump leg keep her spirits down, though. After all, she had more adventures to embark upon. Hall named her trusted prosthetic leg “Cuthbert” and, together, they would conquer France.

Virginia Hall learned early on in her career that she was going to face obstacles, even from people she considered to be friends. While working at the embassy, Hall sought promotions to become a diplomat, but her superiors turned her down repeatedly. They weren’t about to let a woman, far less an amputee woman, represent the United States.

Seeing that she wouldn’t get anywhere in the diplomatic service, Hall quit the embassy. Then, in 1939, adventure came a ‘knocking with the outbreak of WWII. While she would have been happy to serve on the frontlines, she knew that the French would not let women serve in active combat. Especially not a woman with a wooden leg. But Hall found another way to get into the fight.

Virginia Hall wanted in on the action against the evil Third Reich. And there was plenty of excitement that didn’t include manning the trenches. She enlisted with the French to become an ambulance driver, ferrying injured soldiers to safety. Hall drove through minefields and mortar shells, all with the aid of her prosthetic leg, Cuthbert.

Following France’s defeat at the onset of WWII, Hall headed back into civilian life. She spent a little time in Paris but quickly bristled at the oppressive nature of the occupying forces of the Third Reich. The freedom-loving Hall had to get out, so she came up with a plan. She boarded a train to Spain—the only way out of occupied France—and had a chance encounter.

By chance alone, Hall encountered a man named George Bellows on the train to Spain. Hall impressed Bellows with her intellect and knowledge of the situation in occupied France. Bellows gave Hall the contact information for a “friend” in England who he said could help her find employment. Hall had no idea that Bellows was a spy.

The contact that Bellows had given Hall was for a man named Nicolas Bodington, an officer with the new spy outfit, Special Operations Executives (SOE). Over dinner, Hall impressed Bodington. There were concerns—i.e., misogynistic gripes—about hiring a woman into the new but Bodington recruited Hall anyway, making her one of the first female spies.

Hall’s spy training began immediately. The SOE taught Hall how to spot targets, shake a tail, handle various arms and quietly pick a lock. The most valuable skills the SOE taught her, however, was how to encrypt messages and create a disguise. With her training all done, Hall was ready to go behind enemy lines. But no amount of preparation could have prepared her for what lay ahead.

The SOE placed Hall behind enemy lines in Vichy France. Her American nationality made it perfect for her to pose as a journalist for The New York Post. She could ask pressing questions and move around in suspicious places without garnering too much attention from the occupying forces. And once she established herself in France, she got to work.

While in Vichy France, Hall became the first-ever “liaison officer,” coordinating efforts between British intelligence and the underground French resistance. She became an expert in pioneering espionage tactics. She founded covert methods for arranging contacts, bribing officials, and managing agents in the field. It wasn’t long before she was running things in Vichy.

Within a matter of months, Hall established a well-run and ever-expanding network of informants and fellow agents. She aptly named her spy ring “Heckler” for all of the trouble they were going to give the occupying forces. The Third Reich had no idea that the tall but unassuming “journalist” was actually a British spy—yet.

Virginia Hall got most of her information from some of the unlikeliest sources. One of her closest friends was a gynecologist—not sure what she learned from him. But one of her best informants was, Germaine Guérin, the owner and operator of a comfort house in Lyon frequented by the soldiers of the Third Reich. But while she was there, Hall was making just as many enemies as friends.

Hall’s training and natural disposition as a woman in a man’s world encouraged her to always keep her guard up. Hall adopted the SOE’s motto for success—which, in spy terms, means survival. She lived by the ethos “dubito, ergo sum” or “I doubt, therefore I survive.” Hall’s constant vigilance saved her from a terrible trap.

When a fellow SOE agent called for a meeting in Marseilles of all active Allied spies in France, Virginia Hall had a terrible feeling about it. She was right to trust her instincts. The meeting was a trap. French authorities raided the meeting and apprehended all of those who couldn’t get away. The sting operation left Hall nearly completely alone behind enemy lines.

Things only got tougher for Virginia Hall after the sting operation. Life in occupied France was no cakewalk, especially for a spy. And even more especially for a spy whose friends had almost all been captured by enemy forces. Hall wrote back to SOE asking for a bar of soap, saying that it would make her, “both very happy and much cleaner.” Cleanliness would be the least of her worries.

Despite all of the challenges in her way and the failure of many of her fellow spies, Virginia Hall was making headway in Vichy France. And she certainly didn’t need anyone stepping on her prosthetic toes. The SOE instructed another agent to supervise Hall but she considered him to be lax and amateurish. Hall wrote back to her SOE superiors telling them to “lay off.”

Hall had been behind enemy lines in Vichy France longer than any other of her fellow spies. But she still faced rampant misogyny. A fellow SOE agent who described Hall as a “girl” became suspicious of her. He had heard rumors that she had been working with someone by the code name “Cuthbert.” Hall's response to her fellow agent was hilarious.

Hall’s fellow SOE agent confronted her about her dealings with the unknown operative going by the code name, “Cuthbert.” In response to her fellow spy’s suspicions, Hall coolly banged her prosthetic leg against the wooden table creating a hollow sound. She didn’t take the criticism or misogyny to heart—she had people to save.

Allied command instructed airmen downed behind enemy lines to find their way to the American Embassy in Lyon. Once there, they were supposed to ask for “Olivier.” Of course, “Olivier” didn’t exist. It was, in fact, a code name for Hall who, with the help of Heckler, hid, fed, and clothed the airmen before securing safe passage to neutral Spain.

Rescuing downed airmen was probably the least impressive of Hall’s espionage accomplishments in Vichy, France. When she wasn’t gathering information or ferrying combatants to safety, she occupied her time planning and carrying out the most daring prison outbreaks in all of WWII. And for Hall, the prison outbreaks were personal.

Hall was paranoid—and for good reason. She had managed to evade capture by staying away from the SOE meeting in Marseilles but many of her friends had not been so lucky—or clever. Using her Heckler network, Hall managed to stage one of the biggest prison outbreaks during WWII. She used her network to smuggle materials into the prison. She even got a radio in there, and a key.

Hall’s friends and fellow spies managed to escape from the prison using the key that she had smuggled in for them. But the danger wasn’t over yet. Hall then had to help the prison escapees elude a massive manhunt by having them hide out in the woods. Many of the spies that Hall helped escape went on to great careers in the SOE.

Following Hall’s massive prison break, the Third Reich ramped up their efforts to shut down French resistance and their Allied supporters. For Hall, time was running out and the walls were closing in. The SOE recalled Hall—and her reaction was absolutely legendary. Hall refused to return and staged even more prison breaks. But vigilant as she was, she had no idea there was a double agent in her midst.

Heckler, Hall’s elaborate spy network, had a mole. Robert Alesch, a double agent working for the Third Reich had managed gain Hall’s trust and infiltrate her operation. He rendered her contacts ineffective and even transmitted false communications to London under her name. It was painfully clear to Hall; it was time to get the heck out of Dodge.

Even with all of her daring prison breaks, Hall’s number of allies continued to shrink. It didn’t matter how many people she saved; the Third Reich would capture a hundred more. Eventually, the spies they captured were going to talk. For the time being, Hall was safe. Her fellow spies didn’t actually know her real identity and she was a master of disguise.

But slowly, under pressure from their captors, they all began to crack and talk about “la dame qui boite.” It wasn’t long before the full might of the Third Reich descended on the “limping lady.”

Even with the Third Reich closing in on all sides, Virginia Hall refused to leave Vichy France. If she could still help, she would. But in Lyon, the Third Reich had Hall surrounded—the enemy was everywhere. They began plastering up photos of her and descriptions of her appearance as described by the mole in her operation. Thankfully, she was a master of disguise.

But she would need more than wigs and makeup to make it out alive. She would need her trusted friend, Cuthbert.

When Hall did finally decide to get out of occupied territory, she was almost out of time. In a mad rush—with her careful disguise slipping from her face—she managed to catch the last train to Perpignan, the southernmost town in France at the foot of the Pyrenees. Hall had eluded capture—for now—but there was still more danger ahead.

Hall had managed to ditch the heat in Lyon but she was still technically in occupied France. The Third Reich had control of the docks and airports so the only way out was by foot, across the Pyrenees to neutral Spain. With a snow-capped mountain range in front of her and the Third Reich behind her, Hall seemed trapped.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Hall chose to traverse the Pyrenees rather than face whatever terrible fate the Third Reich had in store for her. But she knew it wouldn’t be an easy journey, especially not given her prosthetic leg. Before making her daring escape across the Pyrenees, Hall communicated to SOE that she hoped that “Cuthbert” wouldn’t trouble her.

The SOE wrote back, “If Cuthbert troublesome, eliminate him.” They had no idea she was talking about her prosthesis.

Hall arrived in Perpignan in November of 1942. Not only did she have to cross a mountain range, but she would also have to do so in the blustery cold of winter. Hall mustered her courage and hired a guide to take her across a treacherous mountain pass through the Pyrenees and into safety in neutral Spain. The trip would not be easy.

The mountain path that Hall traversed had claimed the lives of young, healthy, able-bodied men. She had to trek through knee-deep snow with her prosthetic leg chaffing against her stump, all the while dodging lethally sharp falling icicles. Somehow, despite all of the odds, Hall emerged on the other side of the Pyrenees—alive.

Hall managed to evade the Third Reich and survive the Pyrenees—but her ordeal wasn’t over yet. The Spanish guards were another thing altogether. While waiting in a train station in Barcelona, Spanish guards questioned Hall’s appearance. She tried to explain that she and her companions had gone for a hike but the Spaniards weren’t buying it.

They apprehended her for crossing the border without a permit.

Hall was no stranger to prisons. Or, rather, she was no stranger to prison breaks. This time she had to stage her own getaway. While behind bars in Spain, Hall befriended her cellmate. Hall convinced her cellmate upon her release to deliver a coded message to the American Embassy. Once the Americans decoded it, they immediately ordered Hall’s release.

But WWII was still raging, and she had more adventures to embark upon.

When Hall returned to London, she learned what had happened to the rest of her spy ring—and it was absolutely chilling. The Third Reich had captured most of what was left of her spy network and shipped them off to concentration camps. Hall was understandably devasted and determined to get even. However, the SOE couldn’t risk putting their best spy back behind enemy lines. They turned down her request to return to France.

Hall’s friends within the SOE wouldn’t let her get back into the action. So she changed sides—kind of. In 1944, Hall began working for the American Office of Strategic Services (OSS). Hall’s fellow American’s allowed her to return to France to prepare the resistance for the invasion of Normandy. Hall picked up right where she had left off in 1942.

Hall was happy to be back in France but the Third Reich still wanted to capture the “limping lady”—and they knew what she looked like. So, Hall employed her best espionage tactics and went undercover. Behind enemy lines in France, Hall posed as an elderly French woman. And the level of dedication she had to cover role; Hall might have made an excellent method actress.

In order to pull of her disguise and conceal her true identity from the Third Reich, Hall went to extreme lengths. She had grey hair to resemble that of an elderly woman and teeth filed down to resemble the appearance of a peasant. Her disguise was a stroke of genius, but it still took a lot of nerve to pull it off under pressure.

Hall’s disguises were so good that they held up even under the closest scrutiny. And Hall seemed to have had some fun with her disguise. In a stunning display of bravery, she made cheese and sold it to a group of soldiers for the Third Reich. Either her cheese was really good, or they knew nothing about the “limping lady,” because they didn’t recognize her at all.

By this point, Hall was a bona fide super-spy but she continued to face discrimination. Even the French resistance fighters she was trying to help thought her gender was a weakness. She wrote to the OSS, saying, “You send people out ostensibly to work with me and for me, but you do not give me the necessary authority.” Their opinions of her changed when she delivered planeloads of supplies and money.

Hall’s efforts in France—both in 1942 and 1944—were integral to the Allied victory in 1945. But the victories that she had to helped to attain came at a brutally high cost. The Third Reich had captured and mistreated many of her friends from her original spy network, Heckler. Many didn’t make it to the end of WWII. But she did get some retribution.

Robert Alesch, the double agent who had betrayed Hall’s spy ring, couldn’t elude the Allies the way Hall had eluded the Axis Forces. Though he initially fled to Belgium, British authorities captured Alesch following the conclusion of WWII. The British tried the double agent, with many former spies for the Allied forces, including some surviving members of Hall's network, testifying against him. 

In the end, he was sentenced to execution for his crimes and faced the firing squad in 1949. It was sore comfort for Hall, but she would find peace elsewhere.

After the most adventurous period in her life, Hall finally decided to plant some roots and settle down. Following WWII, she married a fellow spy, Paul Goillot. He was younger and shorter than she was but she was happy. Compared to the excitement of her WWII days, Hall’s married life was quiet. Extremely quiet. Far too quiet.

Hall continued to make history and shape the intelligence community long after WWII ended. In 1947, she became the first woman to work for the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). Nevertheless, discrimination against her gender and her disability—if you can call it that—persisted, and her superiors kept her desk-bound. It’s like they had no idea who she was.

Virginia Hall received criticism for her performance from her male superiors at the CIA. But their disapproval was likely the result of jealousy. Fellow sleuth, E. Howard Hunt said, “No one knew what to do with her... She was a sort of embarrassment to the noncombat CIA types, by which I mean bureaucrats.” I don’t see any bureaucrats staging prison escapes.

Not everyone shunned Hall’s tremendous accomplishments. President Truman wanted to honor her with a public awards ceremony. Hall accepted the award but turned down the ceremony and presidential presentation. She only allowed her mother to attend. According to Hall, she was “still operational and most anxious to get busy.”

Hall gave no interviews, wrote no memoir, and barely spoke a word of her adventures in France to her family.

Virginia Hall had earned a peaceful passing after her thrilling adventures during and after WWII. The unassuming Baltimore girl turned super spy passed away quietly in Barnesville, Maryland in 1982 as one of WWII’s greatest unsung heroes. We might never know the full extent of her contributions—they probably have the designation “Top Secret.”

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Beginning his career at a young age, Orson Welles often displayed the confidence of a more experienced man. This isn’t surprising, though, as he had no choice but to grow up more quickly than most, especially since his family was in disarray. Born in 1915, Welles was only four years old when his parents separated.

Unfortunately, his parental issues weren’t where his hardships ended.

Throughout his life, Orson Welles found himself plagued with health problems, but these didn’t come out of nowhere. As soon as he came into this world, he began to suffer from asthma and backaches caused by spinal abnormalities, and he would quickly develop other illnesses, including malaria and measles.

To make matters worse, he wasn’t the only one in his family with poor health.

While Welles was no stranger to life’s troubles, his older brother, Richard, had a more difficult time with his mental health, resulting in him spending most of his time institutionalized. Sadly, life continued to hit the family even harder, and when Welles was nine years old, his mother lost her life to hepatitis.

Welles had little time to mourn, as he had other complications to distract him.

With his mother gone, Orson Welles had no choice but to live with his father in Chicago—but this was far from the comfort it should have been. His father had turned to drinking excessively, and the two spent much of their time on the road between his various business schemes. As biographer Frank Brady wrote, “Some observers wondered who took care of whom”.

Regrettably, the two of them would not end on good terms.

By the time he was 15, Welles had become fed up with his father’s drunken antics and issued an ultimatum, promising that he wouldn’t see him again unless he stopped drinking. This was more true than Welles intended, as his father perished from heart and kidney failure shortly after this confrontation. Later in life, Welles revealed that he never truly forgave himself for what he said.

In the wake of this loss, Welles wanted to get some distance and perspective.

Orson Welles had shown a passion for creative endeavors early on, often organizing productions in school, so instead of going straight to college, he embarked on a painting trip through Europe. Feeling drawn into Dublin’s Gate Theatre one day, his previous theatrical experience pushed him to simply declare to the manager that he was a star from Broadway.

Shockingly, this turned out to be the right course of action.

Needless to say, despite how convincing Welles may have sounded at the time, the Gate Theatre’s manager didn’t believe that the 16-year-old was a Broadway star. However, he did find Welles' boldness refreshing, and after an equally impressive audition, he gave the budding entertainer his first role in the stage adaptation of Jud Süß.

Luckily, this wasn’t an instance of only 15 minutes of fame.

Orson Welles performed in several other productions at the Gate Theatre, but his failure to get a work permit landed him right back in the US. He wasn’t about to give up on his passion, though, and began networking as much as he could. This paid off when, through a chain of introductions in 1933, he met director Guthrie McClintic, who signed Welles to a contract.

Of course, this wasn’t the only important encounter he had.

While Welles' fame may have stemmed from his filmmaking, his love life also became the stuff of gossip, starting with his first marriage. Eloping in 1934 with actress Virginia Nicolson, Welles discovered how challenging he found the concept of committing to one person. So, after Virginia gave birth to one of his children and discovered his frequent infidelity, she divorced him just six years later.

Meanwhile, he suddenly found himself with more work than he could keep up with.

By the end of 1935, Orson Welles had transitioned from performing in a few shows to working on several productions simultaneously, serving as writer, director, and producer. Not only that, but he had also broken into the radio scene through sheer tenacity, taking as many hosting gigs as he could until he was earning a weekly sum of about $2,000.

Nonetheless, he never let any of this burn him out.

Unlike many in business, Orson Welles never seemed to have trouble finding work or getting his name out there, which helped him especially in 1935. Witnessing his talent and passion, producer John Houseman asked him to join the Federal Theatre Project, and Welles happily accepted. He was so emphatic about it that he began using the majority of his own funds to make sure his productions ran smoothly.

With this being the case, he felt confident in making his shows fit his vision.

Joining the Federal Theatre Project, Orson Welles took the helm of one of his most ambitious projects yet—directing an adaptation of Macbeth with an all-African-American cast. If this wasn’t progressive enough for 1930s America, Welles transformed the story, placing it in a mythical land and using Haitian Vodou instead of witchcraft.

Soon, he would have a strong enough reputation to start a troupe of his own.

Welles spent a good three years with the Federal Theatre Project, but if there was one thing he always strived for, it was full creative control over his work. To this end, he finally took the plunge and established his own repertory company, the Mercury Theatre. This original company included several stars-to-be, such as Geraldine Fitzgerald and Vincent Price.

As expected, he refused to hold back in any of his productions.

To mark the opening of his brand new theatre company, Welles needed a characteristically punchy production, so he once again turned to the bard himself. Adapting Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar as Mercury Theatre’s first show, he changed it by putting the cast in modern dress and writing the story to have a mainly anti-fascistic theme.

He also received an exciting new opportunity in another medium.

Just like his version of Macbeth, Orson Welles' production of Caesar turned out to be an immediate success, proving he knew exactly what he was doing with the new company. This garnered the interest of CBS Radio, which approached Welles with an offer for Mercury Theatre to create a new weekly show. This project would adapt classic literary works into radio plays for each episode, hosted by Welles himself. 

This led to one of his most popular urban legends.

Possibly the most famous story about Welles came from one of his radio plays, specifically the episode adapting HG Wells’ The War of the Worlds. According to the popular version of events, many terrified listeners believed the episode was a real news broadcast, informing them of a real-life alien invasion.

Even while maintaining all these projects, he still had time for a love life.

Before Welles and his ex-wife, Virginia, had officially become divorced, he had already moved on, and with someone he was already familiar with. One of his favorite actresses in his youth had been Dolores del Río, making their chance meeting in 1939 seem all the more like fate, since the two fell in love.

This wasn’t the only part of his life looking up.

Proving such an impressive success again with CBS Radio, Welles got an offer from another big-time company, RKO Radio Pictures, and this one was a whopper. Not only did he sign on to write, direct, produce, and act in two films, but the contract also gave him final cut on the projects. Although he failed to get the studio interested in his first two pitches, they finally approved his third proposal—a film titled Citizen Kane.

However, there was one man who despised this project.

Working with screenwriter Herman J Mankiewicz, Welles developed the initial concept for Citizen Kane, centered around the titular mogul, Charles Foster Kane. As Mankiewicz later revealed, he took inspiration from real-life newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst, who wasn’t happy about it. Since the story didn’t exactly paint him in an admiring light, Hearst tried everything to get the project scrapped.

Fortunately, Hearst was very much in the minority.

Released in 1941, no one could call Citizen Kane a box-office success—largely due to its limited release—but it was still clear that Welles had created something truly amazing. It received nothing but applause from critics, and both the New York Film Critics Circle and the National Board of Review voted it as the greatest film of the year.

This skyrocketed Welles into even more significant circles.

Due to Welles' growing fame and humanitarian mindset, he was chosen to be a goodwill ambassador during WWII. Though his peace-keeping mission had a darker side (more on that later), diplomacy wasn’t the extent of his philanthropic efforts. Welles spent over six months in South America, trying and failing to create a film for RKO before a change in leadership at the studio resulted in his firing. Still wanting to do some good, Welles returned to the US in 1942 and produced the I Pledge America War Bond drive, which ran coast-to-coast for about seven hours—two of which he emceed.

While he enjoyed his spotlight, there were some things he chose to keep much more private.

Welles had quickly become a household name in America, but he and Dolores del Río intentionally kept their relationship behind closed curtains. Even so, as she was also in the industry, they did appear in public at least once and even worked together on the 1943 spy noir Journey into Fear.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t changed some of his more damaging habits.

Despite entering a relationship with an actress he had long been in love with, Welles couldn’t stop himself from returning to his philandering ways, eventually driving Dolores away. As they kept their relationship private, it's unclear when they broke up, but she returned to her home country of Mexico in 1943.

Unsurprisingly, it was only a matter of time before his family grew.

Over the following years, Welles continued to see several women at a time, but one of these relationships may have resulted in an unexpected addition to his family. According to a biography of actress Maila Nurmi, while she and Welles were dating in the 1940s, she became pregnant with his child and ultimately gave it up for adoption.

In the meantime, he had met the next love of his life.

Repeating the pattern of his previous relationship, Welles began seeing the woman who would become his next wife while he was still involved with Dolores del Rio. Nonetheless, he and actress Rita Hayworth continued their relationship, and he would later state that she was “one of the dearest and sweetest women that ever lived”.

Sadly, she had to deal with the same problems as his other partners.

Starting his relationship with Rita Hayworth through infidelity, Welles never stopped being unfaithful, and it took Rita about five years to become fed up with his behavior. As she later explained, just because he agreed to marry her, it didn’t mean he was anywhere close to settling down. According to her, Welles admitted that he regretted the whole thing, which led to their divorce in 1947.

Of course, none of these personal issues impeded his genius.

By the 1940s, Welles had accumulated enough wealth to fund the projects he wanted to do, even when it came to one of the greatest spectacles he could imagine. In partnership with the War Assistance League of Southern California, Welles organized and directed The Mercury Wonder Show for Service Men. Similar to a circus, the show even featured Welles performing magic, and donated its proceeds to the WAL.

Nonetheless, some naysayers doubted his allegiances.

Back when Citizen Kane released, one of William Randolph Hearst’s attempts to lash out at Welles was to question why the filmmaker hadn’t been drafted. Taking the film’s anti-capitalist message into account, some jumped on the bandwagon and vocalized their concerns about Welles' patriotism. In reality, though, the army declared Welles medically unfit for duty in 1943, much to his disappointment.

Still, he remained a staunch supporter of America’s welfare.

Throughout FDR’s time as president, he had always been able to count on Welles as one of his greatest advocates, even if the filmmaker didn’t agree with all the president’s choices. Still, when Roosevelt passed in 1945, and the Blue-ABC network asked Welles to pay him homage, he couldn’t refuse. However, his message was that there was no time or use for tears, and that Americans should instead keep the late president’s vision alive.

At the same time, his political affairs didn’t get in the way of his art.

Welles' next film in 1945 did not come from his brilliant mind, but it was one he became involved with solely by chance. After John Huston became unavailable to direct The Stranger due to entering the service, producer Sam Spiegel asked Welles to step up. Welles happily accepted the challenge, wanting to show that—for once—he could stay under budget and on schedule.

Fortunately, this didn’t affect his creative freedom.

Although Welles barely had time to sit and relax over the past decade, he hadn’t actually directed a film for about four years, but this hadn’t made him rusty. The Stranger follows an investigator trying to find a German fugitive and, in an effort to portray the true horrors of WWII, Welles included real documentary footage of Germany’s concentration camps.

As expected, all of this care and ingenuity paid off.

In the end, Welles succeeded in filming The Stranger under budget and ahead of schedule, and proved that doing so did not inhibit his ability to create a masterpiece. In fact, while most of his greatest works were largely celebrated by critics alone, The Stranger found enormous success at the box office—earning more than triple the film’s cost to make.

Naturally, he would soon embark on his next great experiment.

Near the end of the 1940s, Welles revisited one of his first claims to fame and filmed another adaptation of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. While he took some inspiration from his previous production, most of his changes were in line with the film’s low budget. This wasn’t an issue for Welles, and in fact, he wanted to prove he could make an epic film with few resources.

Suddenly, his streak of genius seemed to run out.

Although audiences had loved Orson Welles' initial stage adaptation of Macbeth all those years ago, there was no such enthusiasm for his 1948 film—at least in America. While many in the US saw the film as nothing but a failure, viewers in Europe developed a unique fondness for it, praising its willingness to depart from the source material.

Understandably, he decided to expand his horizons once again.

As his career progressed into the 1950s, Welles took his artistic vision to Europe once again, working on several films as he moved from country to country. Fortunately, he was able to redeem himself with his 1955 film Confidential Report, which was filmed in Spain, Italy, Germany, and France on a low budget, and still managed to become a classic.

This also resulted in his latest whirlwind romance.

As the female lead of his latest film, Italian aristocrat and actress Paola Mori spent a lot of time with Welles and soon fell in love with him. This time around, Welles' newest partner seemed like a perfect match for him, especially since Paola was already married. Eventually, under pressure from her parents, she left her husband and took Welles in holy matrimony in May 1955.

Behind the scenes, though, their relationship was more unclear.

Unlike his previous marriages, Welles' union with Paola was meant to last, as they remained married for the rest of his life. However, it's unknown if they were truly content together, especially since others claimed the opposite. Welles' long-time cameraman, Gary Graver, later stated that the couple had become estranged for decades, but their daughter, Beatrice, asserted that their relationship had been healthy and loving.

Of course, Beatrice wasn’t Welles' only child—even aside from those he didn’t acknowledge.

In 1955, Paola gave birth to her and Welles' daughter Beatrice, who then became the filmmaker’s third child in as many marriages—at least on paper. With his first wife, Welles had welcomed a daughter named Christopher, and Rita Hayworth gave birth to yet another daughter in 1944, named Rebecca.

This doesn’t account for the children he never knew about, though.

While Welles apparently never discovered this, he may have had a son in 1940, at least according to director Michael Lindsay-Hogg. In Michael’s words, his mother, Geraldine Fitzgerald, let slip that she had engaged in an affair with Welles and that the filmmaker was actually his father. While she immediately walked back on this statement and tried to convince her son it wasn’t true, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it.

As fate would have it, he found himself in a fortunate situation.

If Orson Welles was in fact his father, Michael certainly took after him, as he also went on to work in the theater and even brushed shoulders with the man himself. Michael worked with his supposed father several times, but never voiced his suspicions to Welles, as he wasn’t sure at the time. However, he confirmed his theory when a friend of his mother’s told him that Geraldine confided in her that Welles was his father.

Still, Welles' children weren’t the only part of him to live on.

Out of all of Welles' projects, Citizen Kane became the movie most widely associated with his name, even though it was far from a box office hit upon its release. Fortunately, after airing on TV in the 1950s, the film had another run in theaters and gained exposure to a larger audience. Thanks to this, Citizen Kane survived as an integral piece of cinema, often hailed as the greatest film in history.

At the same time, he never called it his best film.

Taking on another adaptation in the 1960s, Welles developed the film version of Franz Kafka’s classic novel, The Trial. Like Citizen Kane, this film flopped at the box office, but unlike his masterpiece, critics couldn’t seem to decide whether The Trial was brilliant or a misfire. This didn’t matter to Welles, though, and he happily referred to it as the best film he had ever made.

Meanwhile, he continued to prove that some patterns never change.

Welles worked with many talented individuals and built long-lasting friendships with some of his colleagues, one of which turned into his longest relationship—not counting his wife. While in Croatia to film The Trial, Welles met an actress named Olga Palinkaš, and the two hit it off. Meeting once more in 1966, they began to collaborate on several projects, and Welles even came up with what became her stage name: Oja Kodar.

As one might expect, their relationship wasn’t strictly professional.

When Welles saw Oja four years after their first meeting, he surprised her with a letter he had been holding on to. While it’s unclear what exactly the letter contained, it was enough to convince Oja to be his life-long partner—in more ways than one. For the next 20 years, despite Welles still being married to Paola Mori, he and Oja never separated.

While they were romantic, Oja was still eager to help Welles professionally.

Orson Welles continued to be a filmmaker for the rest of his life, and during his latter years, he devoted his attention on and off to The Other Side of the Wind. Filming for this project took about six years in the 1970s, and as he had a new creative partner, he shared the writing credit with Oja.

Naturally, it was only a matter of time before their secret came out.

While Paola certainly knew that Welles had a history of being unfaithful, her fears weren’t confirmed until 1984, when she discovered the true nature of his relationship with Oja. Although they remained married, Paola couldn’t bear to be around Welles and kicked the filmmaker out, leaving him to spend the rest of his life living with Oja.

Sadly, he and Paola would never truly work everything out.

Although Welles slowed down a bit as he grew older, he likely never envisioned a time when he would not be a filmmaker. Even by the age of 70, he was planning a TV special he wanted to produce called Orson Welles' Magic Show—but it wasn’t meant to be. After returning home on October 9, 1985, Welles spent the whole night working on the special, only for his chauffeur to find him in the morning, having passed from a heart attack.

While he was a cinematic giant, it’s important to remember that he had other passions.

Orson Welles was never shy about his opinions and how he thought the world should change, and his beliefs were plain to see in the kinds of stories he told. While he typically supported the American Left, he always preferred to refer to his political alignment as simply progressive, publicly standing against issues like racism and capitalism.

Still, that doesn't mean he was above getting his hands a little dirty. 

Let's go back to WWII for a moment. At the time, he seemed like the perfect choice to act as a diplomatic agent outside the US to combat the troubles of WWII. As America’s Coordinator of Inter-American Affairs, Nelson Rockefeller picked Welles to travel to Latin America as a goodwill ambassador, hoping to fight the impact of the Axis Powers. In addition to spreading diplomacy, Welles was also supposed to gather intelligence for the American government.

Ultimately, though, history will always remember him for his profound impact on the world of film.

With his undeniably unique style of filmmaking and willingness to take risks regardless of the outcome, Orson Welles redefined what it meant to be an auteur. Even during his time, he was known throughout the industry for his brash attitude and larger-than-life presence. Using techniques that implemented long takes, dramatic lighting, and distinct camera angles, he revolutionized the medium of cinema and cemented his legacy.

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Gore Vidal ripped into American culture as if it were a hobby. He collected enemies like jewels on a bracelet. And then there was his largest collection: hot Italian men. At the center of this fully lived life he had two very dominant figures: one was a blessed angel and the other...not so much. 

Gore Vidal was born on October 3, 1925 at the US military Academy in West Point, New York and a problem arose immediately. Vidal’s father—an aeronautics instructor—was on hand to fill out the forms, but his pencil stopped when it came to the name for his baby boy. He knew he wanted to name the kid after himself, but there was one mystifying problem: He couldn’t remember his own name. He knew it was either Eugene Luthor or Eugene Louis. 

He chose the second one—and he chose wrong. 

3. He Was Fed Up 

Dad, obviously completely humiliated by his error, corrected his son’s name to Eugene Luther Vidal Jr. The name changing debacle, however, was far from over. At his christening 13 years later, for some reason they decided to add Vidal’s mother’s maiden name to his moniker: Gore. Just one year later, Vidal slammed his own foot down about his name. He demanded a name that would sound good if he ever became a writer or a politician. The teenager deleted the first two names and just stuck with Gore Vidal. 

So, why was settling on a name so difficult? Because the Vidal family was a complete mess. 

4. His Dad Had A Secret

From the outside, the Vidals seemed like a perfect family. Inside, the family it was something completely different. Vidal had to grow up knowing that his father had a not so secret lover: and she was famous. His lover was the “soon to disappear forever” pilot Amelia Earhart. 

Dad even shamelessly took young Vidal on some of his dates. Surprisingly, Vidal would share and write poetry with Earhart. It made you wonder who was dating who? 

Vidal begged and pleaded his father to marry Earhart and make her his mother. Why? Because he detested his actual mother. 

5. His Mother Was A Monster

If you think Vidal could turn to his mother for consistency, think again. Like his father, Vidal’s mother, Nina Gore also had a famous lover—and it was a doozy: heartthrob movie star Clark Gable. But this wasn’t what made her a monster. 

The problem was Vidal’s hobby. When he showed an interest in writing, Nina Vidal lost her mind over it. She went into a fury when he went into a room to write, insulting her own son behind his back. Now add to this a severe problem with booze, and you can easily understand why Vidal called his mother the “worst person ever”. 

No surprise here: Vidal's parents got a divorce when he was just 10 years old. He needed somewhere to escape his horrid home life: How about Europe?

6. He Was Mesmerized 

Vidal’s family lived in Washington DC, so he went to an exclusive Quaker school called Sidwell Friends School. In 1939, the school took Vidal on a very ambitious—and ridiculously expensive—school trip: to Italy and France. One stop on the tour was Rome, and young Vidal was suddenly mesmerized—and it wasn’t just a passing fancy. The eternal city would later appear in many of Vidal’s works and also become a carnal playground for the adult Vidal.

Back in 1939, however, things in Europe were heating up, and Vidal's lovely vacation was no longer safe. 

7. He Had To Escape

Vidal was living the high life in Europe but in September, 1939, this fairy tale came to an abrupt and chilling end. WWII had started and the vulnerable school group had to get themselves back to the safety of the states. The group of schoolchildren narrowly avoided certain disaster, but did make it safely back to America. 

Vidal had seen Europe and he’d tasted fear—now he was ready to write about it. 

8. He Signed Up 

Before Vidal could start writing, he needed an education. The family obviously came from money, so when it came time to choose Vidal’s college, you can imagine that his parents were considering only the best schools. That, however, didn’t happen. 

For some reason, when he was 17 years old, Vidal did something you wouldn’t expect a privileged rich kid to do: He signed up for the army. He worked as a clerk at the Air Force and then moved up to warrant officer for the Transportation Corps. 

And how did a young man with a charmed background adjust to army life? Let’s just say: not very well.

Vidal lasted three years in the army, but during the third he came down with two problems: hypothermia and arthritis. His army superiors weren't big on pity, and they didn’t care that Vidal came from a rich background, so they demoted him: they demoted him big time. 

They made him the lowest of the low: a mess officer. To say Vidal was unhappy is a huge understatement. Luckily, he had something to fall back on: writing. 

What were you doing when you were 19? Well, Vidal was busy putting out his first novel. He used his experience with the army to write the WWII thriller Williwaw. Reviews for the teenage writer’s first novel were surprisingly positive. The New York Times decided that “he should…go far indeed”. Well, Vidal did go far. 

In fact, some say his following novels went way too far: all the way to something called bad taste. 

11. He Would Never Be Forgiven 

Vidal’s novel, The City and the Pillar, was controversial even before the public could buy it. One of the editors at the publishing company said this to Vidal: You will “never be forgiven for this book”. Yikes, those are strong words. So what was the big deal about The City and the Pillar? 

In it, Vidal dared to portray the life of a gay man as normal. Maybe that doesn’t seem like a big deal today, but in 1948, it meant punishment. 

12. They Canceled Him 

Vidal had written a book that many found entirely offensive. So what was the punishment? Well, actually it was nothing less than censorship. The New York Times flatly refused to advertise this book in its paper. But that was nothing. Other newspapers completely blacklisted Vidal for six excruciating years. This meant no reviews for any subsequent books written by Vidal during that period. 

Was Vidal’s career over? Not by a long shot. Vidal was a very creative person, and he could be creatively sneaky if he had to be. 

13. He Fooled Everyone 

Vidal was in a serious bind. He loved writing, but his blacklisted name prevented him from doing it. Vidal decided to publish his books in spite of the blacklist, but publish them under a fake name: Edgar Box. He also cleverly changed what he wrote about. He dove into the genre of the mystery novel, which was a brilliant choice because no one would expect the intellectual Gore Vidal to write mysteries. 

The plan would only work, however, if he could actually write good mysteries. As it turned out, he could. Vidal was writing again and earning some pretty serious coin. Writing, however, couldn’t take up all of Vidal’s time. In his spare moments, he went on the prowl.

14. He Had A Very High Number 

During his blacklisted era, Vidal had a lot of pent up energy to let out. At night Vidal would go out into the streets and bars of New York City in search of one thing: lovers. And let’s put it plainly: He wasn’t looking for long term relationships here. He was cruising—and he meant business. 

Later in life, Vidal made a shocking claim: He said that before he turned 25 he’d had over 1000 encounters with strangers. He may have called them strangers, but you and I both know a few of them. His list of conquests include the not so surprising Rock Hudson and Noel Coward, but also Fred Astaire and tough guy actor Dennis Hopper.

Vidal also had an encounter with Hollywood royalty: with disastrous consequences. 

15. He Got In The Way 

Everyone knows that Paul Newman and his wife Joanne Woodward were a rare thing: a Hollywood couple that, against all odds, lasted for 50 years. But did you know that the marriage almost didn’t happen because of Vidal? Before she married Newman, Woodward and Vidal had a relationship of sorts. At one point they even talked about marriage. Woodward later said the truth was that she was simply Vidal’s beard. 

Vidal and Woodward soon came to their senses. She married Newman and Vidal went back on the prowl. Vidal had almost ruined an iconic Hollywood couple. Now it was time to sink his teeth into an iconic Hollywood movie. 

16. He Made Him Gay 

In the late 1950s a film was in the works that was going to be epic. This was Ben-Hur and there was a lot of talk about it even before filming started. They did, however, have one big problem: The script was awful. The producers turned to Vidal and asked him to breathe some life into their tired old Biblical film. Vidal, being Vidal, quickly wrote in a gay backstory for Charlton Heston’s character. 

Excessively macho film star Heston playing gay you say? Sounds like a disaster in the making. 

17. He Had To Keep It A Secret 

Surprisingly, the producers agreed that the gay backstory worked for the film—but also agreed about something else: Heston would never do it. They told Vidal they would keep the idea but never, under no uncertain terms, should Vidal tell Heston about it. Heston’s costar—and secret on-screen lover—knew all about the gay backstory, but Heston went into filming without a clue. 

Ben-Hur was a secret triumph for Vidal. His other writing, however, was about to take a huge hit. 

In 1968, Vidal was again pushing the boundaries of what most Americans called good taste. The book was Myra Breckinridge, and the problem most readers had with it was that the titular character was transitioning from male to female. Not so enlightened critics compared the book to what was then called a “blue movie”, while others praised it for being wittily subversive.

The controversy eventually cooled down...but then Hollywood got the idea to make a film of it. Let’s see how that went. 

19. It Was Full Of Stars 

Someone once said that bad books make good films, and you could say that the opposite is also true. So if Myra Breckinridge was a good book, the film…well, it was just terrible. There was no problem with the cast. There were stars like Raquel Welch, John Huston and future faces of TV Farrah Fawcett and Tom Selleck. The director, Michael Sarne, had just finished a hit movie and had great expectations about Myra Breckinridge. 

There was a problem though: he foolishly wanted to rewrite Vidal’s script. 

20. It Was An X 

The filming of Myra Breckinridge, using the director’s new script, was basically a disaster; The film even more so. To make matters worse, the film received an X-rating. The Miami News nominated it as “the worst film ever”. Historian Leonard Maltin said it was “as bad as any movie ever made”. Of course everyone wanted to know what Vidal thought of it. He simply called the film “an awful joke”. 

Would Vidal collapse and lick his wounds? Nope, he’d do the exact opposite of that. 

21. It Was Full Of Foul 

Vidal didn’t let the disaster of Myra Breckinridge the film dissuade him from doing the last thing you’d expect: writing a sequel. This was simply called Myron and it created an immediate controversy. You see, before Vidal published Myron, the US Supreme court had made a new ruling about bad language. 

They basically didn’t want any in books. With a book full of four letter words, Vidal had to do something: and it had to be spectacular. 

22. He Punked Them 

Vidal desperately needed to avoid getting in trouble for the foul language in Myron. So, he carefully went through his book and replaced all the really nasty language. It was, however, what he replaced the words with that caused the controversy. He cheekily substituted the offending language with the names of Supreme Court Justices. As a further joke he also created a glossary of which name replaced which naughty word. 

With this outrageous prank, Vidal had earned a reputation as the bad boy of American literature. Unfortunately he was going to have to fight to keep it. 

23. He Was A Bad Boy 

Vidal was enjoying his moment in the sun as the bad boy of literature. There was, however, another writer making a literary splash, and it bothered Vidal. This was Truman Capote, whose book Other Voices, Other Rooms was certainly as daring as Vidal’s. Like Vidal’s The City and the Pillar, Capote’s also had a gay character in it. While Vidal received a blacklist for his book, Capote’s book ended up on the bestseller lists. 

Vidal could see Capote as nothing other than an enemy. And things were about to get ugly. 

24. He Sat On Him

So, if Vidal hated Capote so much, why didn’t he just ignore him? Well, the literary world was incredibly small, and they just kept running into each other. In fact, Vidal loves to tell the story of the first time he met Capote. Vidal was at a party and saw an ottoman he wanted to sit on. When he sat down the ottoman shrieked. As it turned out, the ottoman wasn’t a piece of furniture, it was Capote. 

Vidal says he wasn’t wearing his glasses, but I think it was pretty clear what he was doing: making fun of Capote’s short, squat stature. What happened next, however, sent Vidal’s loathing of Capote into overdrive. 

25. He Thought Size Mattered 

How happy was Vidal when he learned that Life magazine was going to feature him in an article about the new generation of writers? I’d say over the moon. Of course, when he learned that Capote was also involved, he was completely deflated. Then the magazine came out and Vidal lost his mind. Why? Because the editors at Life decided to use a very small picture of Vidal and a large one of his enemy. 

This feud was heating up, and it was Capote’s turn to strike. 

26. He Threw Him Out 

In the 1960s, Capote told Playgirl magazine that Bobby Kennnedy had aggressively thrown Vidal out of the White House because of Vidal's inebriated and disagreeable state. Vidal knew that wasn’t true. Unfortunately, he also knew that the truth was just as embarrassing as Capote’s lie. The reality was that Kennedy had gotten angry because he didn’t like how intimate Vidal got to his sister-in-law, Jacqueline Kennedy. There was an argument and Vidal stormed out. 

No matter how you sliced it, Vidal was in a bind. 

27. He Took Him To Court

Even though Capote's lie was much tamer than the truth, Vidal was still furious. He was so angry that he took his rival to court. The case went on for so long that when Vidal finally won, Capote was broke. There was nothing for Vidal to get from the case but his dignity. Years later, however, Vidal would have the last, and very morbid, laugh.

When Capote’s overuse of certain substances brought about his demise, all Vidal had to say was this: “A wise career move”. If you think Vidal was a single feud kind of guy, think again. His enemies were lining up like toy soldiers. 

28. It Was A Mutual Hate 

Vidal’s feud with Capote may have been because the two men had too much in common. Vidal’s next rival was the opposite. William F. Buckley was extremely conservative, a Catholic, and had an annoying upper class accent. In short, he was everything that Vidal hated about America. And I think it would be safe to assume that Buckley felt the same way about Vidal. 

So, what on earth would bring these two men together? A debate. 

29. It Was Hot 

This was the late 1960s and temperatures were running high in America. The President had just asked for almost 50,000 new soldiers to go to Vietnam—many to never come home. There was also the violent loss of two public figures: Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy. America looked to its smartest members for guidance.

Unfortunately they looked to Vidal and Buckley: two sworn enemies. This wasn't going to end well.

30. He Went Into Training 

What America wanted from Vidal and Buckey was a conversation about America’s problems. This, however, was not going to be just a casual conversation. No way. This was 10 debates, and they were going to be on prime time TV. Vidal trained for the event as if it were the Olympics. Instead of doing physical exercise, he got ready with his facts, with his statistics and—more importantly—with his insults. 

America expected him to come out fighting. Vidal had no intention of disappointing them. 

31. He Was A Bad American 

Ten million viewers sat down to watch these debates and both Vidal and Buckley felt the extreme pressure to perform. Buckley came out blazing with the fact that Vidal was living in Rome. What kind of American lived in Europe when things at home were so dire? He then suggested that Vidal was corrupting America with his filthy books full of four letter words.

Buckley was creating a monster. He was saying that Vidal was a bad American. Now it was Vidal’s turn to throw some punches. 

32. He Opened With An Insult 

Vidal opened this round of the debate with an insult: He called Buckley “passionate but irrelevant” and that he had a “bloodthirsty neurosis”. That’s when the daggers came out. When Buckley hinted that Vidal was gay, Vidal went one step further and called Buckley a “closet queen”. 

Yes they’d devolved into good old fashioned name calling, and America was lapping it up. 

33. It Got Hotter

On the day of the seventh debate between Vidal and Buckley, the worst happened: a riot broke out. One protester had lowered the American flag in a park, and riot officers flooded the area, throwing tear gas and bashing heads with batons. By the 10th and final debate, America was in turmoil. 

Over 10,000 people had gathered outside the studio in Chicago where the debate took place. Inside the studio things were about to get much, much hotter. 

34. He Brought His A-Game 

Vidal launched the tenth debate with his A-game. He compared Buckley to a member of the Third Reich in Germany. It was as if Vidal had punched him in the face. Buckley looked deep inside and came back with his own insult. He called Vidal “queer”. 

Before Vidal could respond, Buckley gave Vidal a warning: He was going to punch Vidal in the face. How had these two intellectuals come to this? It was like a schoolyard tussle that TV viewers could not turn away from. 

35. He Sent Him Down Under 

So, what was the outcome of the debates between Vidal and his enemy Buckley? Well everyone went to court to try and figure out which insult was the worst, and who should receive the biggest settlement. At the end of the agonizing trial, the result was a disappointment: no one actually won. This feud needed closure, but how? 

As luck would have it, Buckley suddenly passed from a heart attack, which gave Vidal the last word—and it wasn’t kind. Instead of sending his rival off into heaven, he wished him a pleasant trip in the...opposite direction. Once again, Vidal had sent his enemy to an early grave. Could he be that lucky a third time? 

36. He Was Jealous

Another feud Vidal had was with author Norman Mailer. Just like with Capote, it started out of jealousy. Mailer and Vidal had both written books about WWII. Mailer’s book was a bestseller and Vidal’s was…well…appreciated by a few. Mailer then wrote an anti-feminist book, and Vidal had the task of reviewing it. 

Sneakily, Vidal was going to use his review to wreak havoc on Mailer’s character. To really get at Mailer, Vidal immediately went for the jugular. 

37. He Created A Monster

Vidal really wanted to take Buckley down. He did this by creating a monster he called M3. This was made up of three men whose names start with M. He chose Henry Miller, who had a very questionable relationship with women, and, more damaging, cult leader and killer Charles Manson. Mailer, of course, was the third M, and he was beyond furious. 

Vidal had certainly gone too far. All he had to do now was wait fearfully for Mailer’s response—and Normal Mailer was not what anyone would call a "stable" man.

38. He Sent Confusing Signals 

Vidal was about to come face to face with his enemy and it was going to be a showdown. Controversial talk show host, Dick Cavett invited both Vidal and Mailer on his show. The two men got into a tussle even before they got in front of the cameras. When Vidal saw Mailer in the green room, Vidal did a very simple thing: he put his hand on Mailer’s neck. 

Mailer misinterpreted the move as aggressive, and countered by swiping Vidal on the cheek. What followed was a slap per slap duel that only ended when Mailer headbutted Vidal in the face. If this was backstage, what would happen when the cameras started rolling? 

39. He Had A Beef 

Once these two men were in front of the cameras, Mailer had a major beef to air with Vidal. He wanted Vidal to stop talking about how Mailer had stabbed his own wife. Well, the truth was Mailer had indeed stabbed his wife, and everyone knew he had. 

The more red hot angry Mailer got, the cooler Vidal stayed. Vidal’s plan was to make Mailer look like a thug, and it worked. This was, however, only round one. 

40. He Got A Drink In the Face

Vidal managed to avoid Mailer for a few years—until they ended up at the same party in 1977. Vidal arrived at the Princess Margaret hosted New York City party with his partner Howard Austen. The way Austen remembers it, Vidal was enjoying talking to friends and Mailer walked right up to him and called him an “old Jew”. 

Vidal tried to ignore him. That just made Mailer even angrier. Mailer then tossed his drink right in Vidal’s face and punched him. Vidal remained calm and replied with this witticism: “Norman. Once again words have failed you”. 

By this point we hope that Vidal was a little long in the tooth for another feud. Not a chance. 

41. He Was A Fan

All of Vidal’s feuds seem to have something different about them. He feuded because he disagreed with someone, he feuded if he was jealous of someone. What happened with British author—and Oxford student—Christopher Hitchens, however, was completely different: Hitchens was Vidal’s biggest fan. 

When Vidal started giving Hitchens nicknames like “Hitchy-Poo”, “The Poo” and “Vidal-Minor” things took a turn for the worse. 

42. He Called Him Crazy 

There was an ocean between the American Vidal and UK-based Hitchens. That, however, got eliminated when Hitchens left England and came to the States. Hitchens' first move was to announce his views of the US invasion of Iraq. To Vidal’s shock, Hitchens supported it. Vidal then gave a scathing review of the invasion, and of President George Bush as well. 

This prompted Hitchens to write a piece about Vidal, and he stated his message simply in the title. He called it “Vidal Loco”. Once again, these so-called intellectuals had resorted to name calling. Was this going to be another one of those drawn out feuds? Not quite. 

43. It Ended Abruptly 

Remember, Vidal had ultimately won his feuds by simply outliving his rival and getting the last nasty word in at the funeral. Obviously this wasn’t going to work this time, as Hitchens was almost a quarter of a century younger than him. Well, actually…don’t be so sure. 

Hitchens passed at the early age of 62, and this feud was over before it really began. There was, however, a lot more to Vidal’s life besides the feuds. There were also some really, really wild parties.

44. He Was The Pope 

Remember, when Vidal was still a teenager he’d fallen in love with Italy. Vidal eventually bought a home there and he surrounded himself with beauty. The home had the name and it hung from a cliff in Ravello, on the Amalfi coast. This was not, however, a place to get away from it all. 

It was here that Vidal hosted his steamy and star studded parties. It was never unclear who the host was. In fact, guests at the house often referred to Vidal as the “Pope of Ravello”, and kissed his ring upon arriving. Vidal may have been the Pope of Ravello, but what happened at his home was far from holy.

45. He Satisfied Her 

One of the constant visitors at La Rondinaia was Princess Margaret. One day, when Vidal noticed that the princess was in a foul mood, he had an idea to brighten her day. He arranged for a boat and then arranged for something else: a hot, Italian man. Princess Margaret went out on the boat with the man and came back in a much, much better mood. 

Vidal seemed to have an obsession with Italian men, but where did this start?

46. They Surrounded Him 

Vidal had come to Rome back in the 1960s to do research for a book. He went to the library by day, but night was a different story: he searched for men. He later said that the city was “a very good place to meet really attractive young guys willing to do anything”. 

When Vidal pulled up in his Jaguar convertible, the young men flocked to it. While it was the car that attracted the men to Vidal, it was something else that kept them coming: cold hard cash. Vidal had no shame about this, he enjoyed paying the men for their company. 

But wasn’t this just a shallow hedonistic pursuit? Yes—but Vidal also had true love in his life. 

47. They Never Did It 

One thing about Vidal often surprises people: He actually had the same partner for over 50 years: Howard Austen. According to Vidal, one reason the couple lasted so long is quite simple: They had never slept together—not once. They kept separate bedrooms at La Rondinaia where each of them hosted the many men—mostly hustlers—that they brought home to enjoy. Vidal seemed to have it all: a partner for intimacy and a group of men for fun. 

He would have gone on like this forever—but then tragedy struck. 

48. He Had To Stop 

Eventually the Italian partying had to stop. A wake up call arrived in 1999 when Austen got a diagnosis from his doctor: he had lung cancer. Vidal was absolutely floored. He rashly responded by closing up the house in Italy, hiring a private jet, and taking Austen back to the US for treatment. After an exhausting ordeal, Austen sadly passed in 2003. Vidal, who rarely showed emotion, seemed completely devastated. 

Sadly, to soothe his broken heart, Vidal turned to the bottle. Vidal’s life without his angel Austen was devastating. 

49. He Had Some Favorite Words 

Years of heavy drinking did not do wonders for Vidal’s health. It was on July 31, 2012, that Vidal sadly passed due to pneumonia. He was 86 years old. He chose to spend eternity next to his partner Austen in Rock Creek Cemetery in Washington DC. While he didn’t have it on his gravestone, it might have been fitting to immortalize what Vidal thought were the most beautiful words in our language: “I told you so.” 

It would have given him the last word. 

50. He Had An Angel And A Devil 

Gore Vidal was certainly a complicated man, and we are left to wonder why. Yes, he had an angel in his life: Austen. However, he’d also had a devil for a mother. In spite of this, Vidal lovingly kept a photo of her on the table in his house. Once a friend commented on the photo, and then the next day the friend noticed something strange: Vidal had taken the photo away. 

It could be that Vidal’s most complex feud was with his mother: one that he never resolved. 

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Ira Hamilton Hayes was born on January 12, 1923, in Sacaton, Arizona—a dusty town in the heart of the Gila River Indian Community. The land that birthed him would shape his identity and his destiny in ways no one could imagine.

Ira Hayes wasn’t just an American—he was a proud member of the Pima people, aka Akimel O’odham, with roots that stretched deep into Arizona’s Gila River Indian Community. His enrollment in the tribe connected him to centuries of warriors who defended their homeland. But Hayes was destined to fight on distant shores.

As the firstborn of Nancy and Joseph Hayes, Ira carried the weight of being the eldest among six children. His parents welcomed him into their growing family in 1923, unaware their quiet son would become America’s most reluctant hero. Their parenting prepared him for a life on the frontlines.

Hayes’s mother, Nancy, taught Sunday school at the Assemblies of God church while his father, Joseph, harvested cotton to feed his family. Most importantly, however, Joseph was a WWI veteran—a legacy that Hayes couldn’t deny. Their devotion to faith and country flowed through his veins.

Ira Hayes arrived just one generation after a devastating famine struck the Akimel O’odham people. Settlers further upstream had diverted the Gila River’s precious water, leaving his ancestors starving on their own land. The memory of that suffering seemed to linger deep within Hayes himself.

When Hayes turned nine in 1932, his parents packed up their lives and moved to Bapchule, 12 miles northwest of Sacaton. The new town promised a break from the memories of famine and fresh opportunities. Still, Hayes seemed to carry a burden with him.

Family and friends remembered Ira Hayes as painfully shy—a sensitive soul who could go entire days without uttering a single word. His quietness wrapped around him like armor, protecting something deep inside that others couldn’t quite reach. But they understood him better than they knew.

“He was just like his father,” Sara Bernal, Hayes’s niece, recalled about her uncle. While siblings played and teased, Hayes remained distant, speaking only when spoken to first. However, his silence wasn’t coldness—it was something else entirely. Something impenetrable.

Dana Norris, who grew up alongside Ira Hayes, admitted that she barely felt like she knew him at all. “Even though I’m from the same culture,” Norris said, “I could never get under his skin”. The Pima people weren’t prone to boasting, but Hayes took their cultural reserve to extraordinary depths.

Beneath Hayes’s impenetrable silence lurked a brilliant mind. By age four, he could do something that most other Pima people couldn’t: He could read and write in English with startling proficiency. He consumed books with the hunger of someone searching for answers. Answers that he would only find an ocean away.

Ira Hayes didn’t spend long at home. Along with his siblings, he left Sacaton to attend the Phoenix Indian School, a Native American boarding school. It’s difficult to find records of his time there, but given what happened next, he either excelled quickly or quickly found an exit.

Hayes abandoned high school after just two years, joining the Civilian Conservation Corps in May 1942. Shortly after that, he found work as a carpenter. But a life of woodworking and calloused hands wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. He knew he had a different calling.

When the “Zero” fighters of Imperial Japan attacked Pearl Harbor one bright Sunday morning, Ira Hayes knew what he had to do. He confessed to a classmate, Eleanor Pasquale, his burning determination to join the Marines. The quiet Pima boy was about to become one of America’s finest warriors.

On August 26, 1942, Hayes walked into a Phoenix recruiting station and made a decision that would shape, not just his future, but the future of the country. Without a moment’s hesitation, he enlisted in the Marine Corps Reserve. Platoon 701 at San Diego’s Marine Corps Base would transform the soft-spoken carpenter into an American icon.

Even though he was shy and reserved, Hayes’s fearlessness stood out—and it made him the perfect candidate for a job that few others could do. He volunteered for Paramarine training at Camp Gillespie in October 1942, jumping from perfectly good airplanes when most men wouldn’t dare. One month later, he pinned silver wings to his chest.

It was more than just a proud moment for him.

By pinning those silver wings to his chest, Ira Hayes became the first Pima person in history to earn paratrooper wings. In recognition of his groundbreaking achievement, Hayes earned the codename “Chief Falling Cloud”, honoring both his Pima and American heritages.

His name would strike fear into his enemies on the other side of the world.

December 1, 1942, brought Hayes his first promotion to private first class. The next day, he joined Company B, 3rd Parachute Battalion at Camp Elliott, California. With each step up the ladder, he was getting closer and closer to his place in history—he just didn’t know it yet.

Finally, on March 14, 1943, Hayes’s destiny called him out. Along with the rest of the 3rd Parachute Battalion, Hayes shipped out for New Caledonia. After a quick redesignation, he was sailing the Pacific Ocean, headed to the most brutal battles of WWII. The question at that time wasn’t whether he would make history—but whether he would become history.

The 3rd Parachute Battalion reached Guadalcanal, the blood-soaked island where Marines had proven their mettle months before. From there, Ira Hayes moved with his Battalion to Vella Lavella on October 14, 1943, occupying territory won with American lives. His first taste of battle was almost his last.

On December 4, 1943, Hayes hit Bougainville’s beaches armed with a Browning Automatic (BAR), his platoon’s heaviest firepower. Company K battled to gain every inch, relying heavily on Hayes to unleash the thunder and push their position forward against the unrelenting Imperial Japanese fighters.

WWII raged on—and Hayes’s fight had only just begun.

Despite their gains on the battlefield, Hayes’s 3rd Parachute Battalion shipped back to Guadalcanal in early 1944. Then, in February, the Navy brass officially disbanded the 1st Parachute Regiment at Camp Pendleton, scattering Hayes and his brothers-in-arms into new units. Something bigger awaited.

Ira Hayes soon found himself assigned to Company E, 2nd Battalion, 28th Marine Regiment—part of the newly formed 5th Marine Division at Camp Pendleton. By late 1944, he sailed to Hawaii’s Camp Tarawa, where he and other Marines prepared for an assault on a volcanic island that none of them had ever heard of.

A place called Iwo Jima.

On February 19, 1945, Hayes and Easy Company transferred from USS Missoula to USS Talladega, then plunged into landing craft bound for Iwo Jima’s southern beach. Mount Suribachi loomed above them like a sleeping giant, its volcanic slopes hiding thousands of enemies, carefully watching their approach.

Over 20,000 Imperial Japanese soldiers awaited Ira Hayes and his brothers-in-arms. They had meticulously transformed Iwo Jima into a fortress of tunnels and bunkers, sworn to fight until their last breath. But they didn’t know the strength of Hayes and the Americans like him—only 216 Imperial Japanese fighters would survive the brutal fight.

After four days of fighting, Lieutenant Colonel Chandler Johnson ordered a patrol to claim Suribachi’s summit. What ensued would become a moment in American history like none other.

At 10:30 am on February 23, 1945, Lieutenant Schrier’s patrol reached Suribachi’s peak with Platoon Sergeant Ernest Thomas, Sergeant Henry Hansen, and Corporal Charles Lindberg. Once there, they raised a small American flag over the mountain, claiming victory. But the momentous achievement required something bigger.

The first flag fluttering atop Suribachi was barely visible to Marines fighting below. Lieutenant Colonel Johnson demanded something bigger, something that would inspire the thousands still bleeding for every yard. Captain Severance tapped Sergeant Michael Strank to lead a detail up the mountain. A detail that would include the unassuming Pima fighter.

Sergeant Strank chose his men carefully: Corporal Harlon Block, Private First Class Franklin Sousley, and Hayes himself. They grabbed supplies and began their ascent, unaware that photographer Joe Rosenthal was also climbing toward the summit armed with something more powerful than any artillery: a camera.

Hayes and Sousley discovered a Japanese steel pipe among the wreckage atop Suribachi. Together, they hauled the heavy pipe to where Strank and Block waited near the first flag. This simple piece of enemy material would become the most famous flagpole in American history.

At 1 pm on February 23, 1945, Hayes joined Strank, Block, Sousley, Harold Schultz, and Harold Keller in raising the second flag in a moment that would change history. Six Marines straining against gravity, pushing the Stars and Stripes toward the sky. Thankfully, someone was there to capture the moment.

Joe Rosenthal’s camera clicked at the perfect instant, capturing Ira Hayes and his brothers mid-struggle as they hoisted Old Glory to her full height atop the mount. Rosenthal’s photograph captured the struggle, the patriotism, the fight, and the hope of WWII that propelled the Allies to victory on the Eastern Front, snagging him a Pulitzer Prize in the process.

Hayes had done his duty for his country—but it would cost him dearly.

Ira Hayes fought through Iwo Jima’s volcanic hell until March 26, 1945, when the island finally fell silent. That same day, he stood among the survivors at the 5th Marine Division Cemetery, watching his fallen brothers receive their final honors beneath foreign soil.

He would never truly be the same after the horrors he had witnessed.

Of the 45 Marines and corpsmen who started with Hayes in Easy Company’s platoon, only five walked off Iwo Jima alive. Sergeant Strank and Corporal Block—his flag-raising brothers—fell on March 1. Private First Class Sousley followed them on March 21, leaving Hayes haunted by the memory of his fallen brothers-in-arms.

On March 27, 1945, Hayes boarded the USS Winged Arrow, leaving Iwo Jima’s black sand beaches behind forever. The volcanic island had taken his brothers but left him breathing—a burden heavier than any flag he’d ever raised. But, back at home, there were only celebrations.

President Roosevelt ordered the flag raisers from Rosenthal’s photograph brought to Washington immediately after the battle. Hayes left Hawaii on April 15, 1945, landing in the capital four days later. C Company, 1st Headquarters Battalion became his new assignment—and his personal nightmare began.

On April 20, 1945, Hayes joined Private First Class Gagnon and Navy corpsman Bradley at the White House. President Harry Truman—Roosevelt’s successor—wanted each man to point out his position in the famous photograph to claim their place in history. Hayes obliged, though he’d rather have been anywhere else.

The spotlight, it turns, was even more dangerous than the shores of Iwo Jima.

May 9, 1945, brought Hayes back to flag-raising duty, this time in Washington. Alongside Gagnon and Bradley, he hoisted the same Stars and Stripes that had crowned Suribachi, kicking off a tour of the country to sell bonds to raise funds for the effort. Whether he wanted fame or not, he would get it.

The bond tour launched on May 11, 1945, in New York City’s concrete canyons. Hayes endured the crowds and cameras for over two weeks when, finally, he got orders that freed him from the cameras and stages and microphones. Before long, he was back in Hawaii. His efforts to raise funds were nothing short of staggering.

In all, Hayes and his surviving flag-raising brothers toured 33 American cities. Their mere presence inspired their countrymen to open their wallets—big time. By the end of the tour, Hayes and his brothers-in-arms had raised over $26 billion—money that fueled America’s final push toward victory.

But the cost to Hayes was mounting daily.

Try as he might, Hayes couldn’t escape the fame that came along with being one of the men in the famous photograph. When a journalist asked him if he enjoyed “all the pomp and circumstance” of the bond tour, the quiet Pima warrior gave an answer that revealed everything. “I don't,” he said simply.

Fame was a battle he was not equipped to fight.

On June 19, 1945, the Marines promoted Hayes to corporal in recognition of his service beyond that famous photograph. From September to October, he served occupation duty in Japan with E Company, watching his former enemies rebuild. Soon he’d head home to face his own reconstruction.

After years of fighting and serving his country, on December 1, 1945, Hayes finally received an honorable discharge. Two months later, the Marine Corps pinned a Navy Commendation on his uniform for “meritorious service in combat”. But, for Hayes, it wasn’t an honor he cared for—it was a reminder of the brothers who didn’t get to come home.

In May 1946, Hayes set off on a 1,300-mile trek from Arizona to Texas—mostly on foot—to right a terrible wrong. Public reports had misidentified one of the flag-raisers in Rosenthal’s photo, and Hayes couldn’t live with the lie. He showed up at the Block family farm to tell Harlon Block’s parents that their son—not “Hank” Hansen—was the true Marine in the frame.

Sadly, he couldn’t walk off the memories.

Peace came to America, but it didn’t come for Hayes. What doctors would later call PTSD tormented him daily: the memory of his fallen brothers, the haunting sounds and sights of their final moments. While others celebrated in parades, Hayes wrestled with the guilt of surviving Iwo Jima when so many of his friends did not.

Hollywood came calling in 1949 with Sands of Iwo Jima. The film was a major production, starring none other than John Wayne. Hayes appeared in the film as himself, recreating the flag-raising moment that had made him famous. Audiences cheered—but for Hayes, each retake reopened an old wound.

The camera’s flash could never outshine the memories burned into his mind.

Back in Arizona, Hayes tried to live the civilian dream—but the world of plows and paychecks had no place for heroes. He struggled to keep a job and even chauffeured Dean Martin’s wife around Beverly Hills. However, to erase the memories that haunted him, he turned to the bottle, losing each job because of his growing addiction.

Soon, his addiction became even more famous than him.

Between 1945 and 1955, Hayes’s name appeared in local papers 52 times—but not for his distinguished service to his country. The papers reported, in horror, each time that Hayes landed himself in cuffs or behind bars for his crippling addiction. It got so bad that authorities across Arizona knew him on sight, not as a dangerous man, but as a haunted one.

He had left Iwo Jima behind—but it hadn’t left him.

On November 10, 1954, Hayes traveled to Arlington County, Virginia, for the dedication of the Marine Corps War Memorial—the giant bronze sculpture inspired by the photo that had made him immortal. As the flag rose once more, Hayes stood quietly among the crowd, staring at the frozen version of himself cast in metal.

Even after he was gone, his accomplishment would stand.

Just months after watching the unveiling of the memorial built in his and his brothers’ honor, on a frigid January night in 1955, Hayes met his end. After a night of heavy drinking, he wandered into the desert outside Bapchule, Arizona. By morning, the hero of Iwo Jima was gone—found lifeless near an abandoned adobe hut. He was only 32 years old.

The land that birthed him had finally taken him back.

Officials ruled Hayes’s demise accidental—exposure to cold and poisoning from his addiction. But whispers spread through the Gila River community that something darker had happened. Family members weren’t convinced the story added up. And they had a suspect in mind.

Rumors soon pointed fingers at another Pima man, Henry Setoyant, as the one responsible for Hayes’s demise. They alleged that a dispute between Setoyant and Hayes turned to blows, leaving Hayes with fatal injuries. Yet tribal authorities refused to pursue the case, and no autopsy followed.

For a man who had faced Japanese bullets and Hollywood flashbulbs, it was a strangely silent ending.

Decades later, photo analysts discovered that two men once credited as flag-raisers—Rene Gagnon and John Bradley—weren’t actually in the iconic shot. History had finally caught up to the truth Hayes had walked 1,300 miles to defend.

Folk singer Peter LaFarge turned Hayes’s life into legend with “The Ballad of Ira Hayes”. When Johnny Cash recorded it in 1964, the song spread across America like a mournful prayer. It told of a man who could raise a nation’s flag—but not his own spirits.

Still, Hayes’s truest legacy was one that lifted millions to their rightful place.

On February 2, 1955, the Marines buried Ira Hayes with full honors at Arlington National Cemetery, Section 34, Grave 479A. At the service, one of Hayes’s brothers-in-arms summed up his heartbreak and hope: “Let’s say he had a little dream in his heart that someday the Indian would be like the white man—be able to walk all over the United States”.

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Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

George Jessel was born on April 3, 1898, in New York City—more specifically, Harlem. Both of his parents were Jewish and they were both involved in show business. Jessel’s father wrote plays and mom worked selling tickets at the local theater. Jessel’s father had not done well as a playwright and did not—under any circumstances—want his son to work in the theater.

Yes, Dad didn’t want Jessel in the theater, but he couldn’t stop him. This was for a tragic reason:He didn’t live long enough. When Jessel was just 10 years old his father passed, and Jessel was required to bring home an income.

Jessel’s next desperate attempt to become the breadwinner for his family was an inspiration. You see, mom worked at The Imperial Theater and she noticed that the patrons were often bored while waiting for the show to begin. With mom’s help, Jessel formed a threesome of ushers that entertained the patrons of the theater. They called themselves The Imperial Trio after the name of the theater.

Jessel learned a ton about show business while working the aisles at the Imperial, so he was soon ready to move on to bigger things. At the age of 20, he produced and starred in his own solo show, George Jessel’s Troubles. He then moved on to music: His first hit song was “Oh How I Laugh When I Think How I Cried About You”.

In 1919, Jessel was ready to make it big. He got a role in the silent movie The Other Man’s Wife. Set during WWI, the studio dedicated the film to the women who stayed at home while their men went to fight. I’d like to say what a great job Jessel did on his first film but I can’t—and it’s for a sad reason. The film has been lost forever.

Jessel excelled in his vaudeville act and it soon became his bread and butter. There was one gag that he often repeated where he would pretend to call his mother and it always began the same way. “” Because of this engaging gag—with his unseen, but very Jewish mother—people often referred to him simply as Georgie.

In these days, making movies was a step down from appearing on Broadway, and Jessel soon found his place there. He quickly became the number one leading man in Broadway productions.

One role that made him famous was in the drama The Jazz Singer. The play is about a Jewish actor who struggles against his father and his religion. He wants to be a famous jazz singer and his father won’t allow it. This was something Jessel could relate to—his own father was against him being in show business.

One thing that was pretty ordinary back then—but completely forbidden now—is performing in blackface. In his vaudeville act, it was common for Jessel to do this. In The Jazz Singer, which was actually based on the true story of Al Jolson, the character has to perform in it—it’s actually part of the story.

Warner Bros had already made Don Juan using a new system called Vitaphone to add sound to silent films. Now they were ready to use it again with The Jazz Singer.

You see, Warner Bros did want Jessel to play the part of Jolson—they just couldn’t afford him. In fact they already owed him money from some of his past films. So, the obvious question I’b be asking is: If they couldn’t afford Jessel, why could they afford Jolson? There was one really good reason. Jolson had offered to help pay for the film.

The Jazz Singer went on to become a classic. It was the first full length film to have lip-synchronous singing and synchronized music at the same time. The film also was the end of an era: Silent film wasn't long for this world.

One of the other reasons that many people give for Jessel’s lackluster career in films is that he was too ethnic. A lot of Jessel’s on stage comedy revolved around being Jewish, including his famous call to his mother. Directors tended to see him as just one thing—and not capable of anything else.

Regardless, Jessel was convinced that The Jazz Singer had been his one chance at stardom and he spent a lifetime complaining about messing it up.

Jessel had clearly missed out on The Jazz Singer, and things were only going to get worse. In 1929 the stock market crashed and Jessel found himself in a financial mess.

One day, when Jessel was at his lowest point financially, he was sitting in a club with some show business friends. There was an announcement that Jessel had a telephone call. Jessel didn’t move an inch, and his friends wanted to know why. After all, it could be a job offer.

Jessel spent some time in Europe, and when he returned his career took a much needed upswing. In 1930, he appeared on Broadway in the musical Sweet and Low opposite Fanny Brice. Brice would go on to be the inspiration for the musical Funny Girl starring Barbra Streisand.

In 1930, Jessel met and married , who was an actor herself. The marriage was going fine until Courtney had a religious epiphany and…well…Jessel didn’t. This led to the two getting a divorce and then—to everyone’s surprise—getting married again.

While Jessel was settling into his second marriage with Courtney, he met someone special, whom he called “the one great love that you never find a second time”. Luckily the woman also had a shorter name: Norma Talmadge.

Jessel was still married to Courtney when he met Talmadge. But it gets even messier. Talmadge was also married...to Jessel’s poker buddy. The truth was that Talmadge was separated from her ex-husband, Joseph M Schenck, who she was also in business with.

Jessel was so sure that Talmadge was the one, in 1932 he got a divorce from Courtney. This wasn’t well thought out because at the time, Talmadge was still married and unlikely to convince her husband to divorce her.

In those days, it was not easy to get a divorce in America. You had to do annoying things like prove there was adultery or at least bad behavior. In Mexico—at this time anyway—all you really needed was a strong desire to get away from your spouse.

Talmadge got her Mexican divorce quickly and efficiently, just like Charlie Chapin had and how would one day in the future.

Just ten days after Talmadge had gotten her Mexican divorce, Jessel married her. This was on April 23, 1934. It had taken a lot of maneuvering to get here, but life was now going to be a bed of roses for the happy couple. Or so you’d think.

Around this same time, Jessel saw that his career as a performer was drying up. He made the decision to start producing musicals. Jessel wanted to help his new young wife get her career going, so he gave her minor roles in his films.

He also gave her something else: a daughter, whom they named Jerilyn Jessel. Yes, Jessel’s teenage bride was now a teenage mom.

By 1942, Jessel had married and had a child with 16-year-old Andrews. That same year he had another idea for her: How about a divorce? In two short years, Andrews had gone from teenager to wife to mother and now to single mom.

Jessel didn’t only produce musicals, he also made a foray into film noir. In 1947, Jessel produced Nightmare Alley for 20th Century Fox. This was a vehicle for Tyrone Power to change his reputation. He wanted to play a dark character and Jessel’s Nightmare Alley allowed him to do it.

Besides producing films, Jessel had another career: host. At this time there was something called the “banquet circuit” and Jessel made a living roasting his fellow celebrities at fancy dinners. Eventually this turned into a members only club called the Friars Club of Beverly Hills. Jessel, along with legendary comedians Milton Berle and Bing Crosby, were the founding members.

In the 1950s there was a TV series called Four Star Review that featured a rotation of hosts. Based on Jessel’s success here, ABC offered him his own show. The George Jessel Show had Jessel in his element.

The first problem with The George Jessel Show was a big one. One of the sponsors of the show—the BB Pen Company—sued ABC because some of the local stations that aired the show preempted it so that the pen ads weren’t always aired. The lawsuit that BB Pen Company brought to the courts was for $1.5 million.

The reviews for The George Jessel Show were worse than bad: They were abysmal. One critic placed the blame squarely on Jessel’s shoulders. He praised the guests, and even the production personnel, but for Jessel he saved his most unpleasant remark.

Of course, getting canceled hardly kept Jessel off the airwaves. In 1958, Jessel had another show, this time more of an interview and variety show. It aired from September 1958 to June 1959: less than a year. At least it lasted longer than the last show!

There was even another try in 1968: George Jessel’s Here Come the Stars. This one also didn't last a year. It seemed that Jessel couldn’t make it work on the small screen.

When Taylor announced that Jessel was the father of her child, Jessel didn’t take the news very seriously. Instead of making an official statement, he just said that being the father of an illegitimate child of Taylor’s was a compliment.

Jessel was very philanthropic and, over the years, donated his talent to the USO. He went overseas to entertain servicemen in WWI and II, Korea, and Vietnam. He became so well known for his hosting abilities that he received this title: “The Toastmaster General''.

Because of his devotion to the USO, Hollywood wanted to honor Jessel. They couldn’t exactly give him an award for his acting as he hadn’t really wowed audiences that much with that.

In the end, the folks at the Academy Awards cooked up a special offer for him: In 1969 he received the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award. I can say with some certainty that Joan Taylor didn't applaud too hard when that was announced.

Jessel had a particular comedy style that had been very popular—but it was now fading. There was something else that people thought was outdated: His response to the situation in Vietnam.

Jessel very openly supported sending Americans to fight in Vietnam. While he wasn’t alone in this opinion, it would probably have alienated a good chunk of his fans.

When it came to equal rights, Jessel moved from the right to the left team. He spoke out against race-related prejudice and anti-Semitism. He even found himself kicked off a televised interview once.

Jessel was talking about The New York Times and decided to compare it to Pravda, which was the propaganda machine of the USSR. The interviewer on theToday Show didn’t feel comfortable with Jessel’s comparison and shut the interview down.

In 1975—when he was 77 years old—Jessel wrote a tell-all autobiography called The World I Lived In. Well, the world he lived in contained a few romantic entanglements with some big stars of the time.

According to Jessel, he had affairs with femme fatale actress Pola Negri, torch singer Helen Morgan and wild girl Lupe Velez, AKA the Mexican Spitfire. Whether this is the truth or an old man fantasizing about what could have happened, we’ll likely never know.

As he got older—and as his cohort began to pass—Jessel became famous for his eulogies at funerals, especially for famous people.

Once when Jessel was sitting around with his pals the Marx Brothers and Jack Benny, an older man walked up to Jessel to ask a favor. The man wanted Jessel to write and perform a eulogy for…get this…his dog. Jessel was outraged and told the man that he did not do eulogies for animals.

The old man continued to try and get Jessel to perform a eulogy for his dog. As a last resort he offered Jessel $2,500. Then he went one step further. He said he would donate $25,000 to the United Jewish Appeal. Jessel’s reply to this has gone down in history. He accepted that man’s offer and added: “You didn’t tell me the dog was Jewish”.

The Hillcrest Country Club had a special table put aside for comedians and Jessel often sat there to hang out with fellow funny men like George Burns. One day Burns was shocked to see Jessel wolf down three shots before it was even nine o’clock in the morning.

George Burns wanted to know why Jessel was slugging back the drinks in the morning, and Jessel was ready with an answer. He asked Burns if he had heard that his ex wife Norma Talmadge had passed.

Once he hit a certain age, giving eulogies for departed friends and fellow performers took up most of Jessel’s time. As the time for his own eulogy approached, Jessel just kept right on working.

In early March 1981, Jessel—now 83 years old—was still performing. On the 23rd of that same month, Jessel had a heart attack and it was all over. Sadly, it seemed that we would never hear the sound of his distinctive voice ever again. Well, it wouldn’t be forever.

Jessel was against prejudice of any kind and it wasn’t just about the words he used, it was also in his actions. Back in the day, there were some restaurants and clubs that didn’t permit Black people to enter.

Even though Jessel had made a reservation for himself and his Black date, the head waiter at The Stork Club was trying to find some reason not to seat them.

He pretended that he couldn't find the booking and then asked Jessel who had made the reservation.But Jessel had a quick and witty response: “Abraham Lincoln”. The waiter was flustered and found a table for Jessel and Horne.

Shirley Temple was a rare thing: a child star who continued to have a career as an adult. In 1964, Jessel told a 35-year-old Temple that he wanted to discuss a role with her for one of his films.

According to Temple, while Jessel had his arm around her, he also managed to get his pants off. His arm then went from her shoulder to her chest. Temple had faced this kind of casting couch behavior back when she was just 12 years old, so she knew enough to go into attack mode.

Shortly after he’d divorced Norma Talmadge, Jessel found out that his ex-wife already had a new lover who happened to be a doctor. This infuriated Jessel and he wanted to let her know how much. Jessel then found out that Talmadge and her doctor lover were in Florida together.

Both Talmadge and her lover were in the hotel room and it soon became apparent that Jessel wasn’t alone either: He’d brought a pistol with him. Jessel fired some shots at the lover and somehow managed to completely miss him.

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When the British Member of Parliament, John Thomson Stonehouse, vanished into thin air in 1974, he caused a scandal unlike any other. But when he reemerged a short time later, he left everyone wondering whether they ever really knew him at all. 

Had he just suffered a psychotic break? Or was he, indeed, a Czechoslovakian spy and con artist extraordinaire?

John Stonehouse was the youngest of four children born to William Mitchell Stonehouse and Rosina Marie. Right out of the gate (or the womb) he found himself traveling in powerful political circles. His mother, who had worked her way up from scullery maid, was mayor of Southampton. He inherited her love for politics, but not her honest work ethic.

John Stonehouse always wanted fame. Or power. Or money. Or excitement. Actually, no one really knows what he wanted but it was obvious from the beginning that he wanted something—and he didn’t really care how he got it. One of his classmates at the London School of Economics recounted some disturbing facts from his early years.

Sir Bernard Crick, a prominent political scientist, attended LSE as one of Stonehouse’s classmates. He recalled that Stonehouse seemed to have a preoccupation with gaining political office. As Crick recalled, “his [Stonehouse’s] conversation was openly and restlessly about how best to get a parliamentary seat”. He was almost suspiciously obsessed with it.

Stonehouse’s obsession with status led to a tongue-in-cheek nickname. It was something of a back-handed compliment that followed him throughout his career. His classmates at LSE called him “Lord John”. They probably should have called him “Lord Disappeared”. Or “Lord Spy”. In the end, he would have more aliases than he knew what to do with anyway.

Stonehouse managed to find his way into the upper echelons of power. After running two unsuccessful campaigns, he became the Labour Co-operative Member of Parliament (MP) for Wednesbury in a 1957 by-election. He showed a great deal of promise that had some eyeing him for prime minister. But he had an even greater talent for causing trouble.

Shortly after getting elected, Stonehouse traveled to the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland, where he caused quite a stir. While there, he openly and publicly criticized the ethnically white minority government. He then proceeded to tell the ethnically Black majority that they would have the full support of the Labour Party in standing up for their rights. He didn't exactly foresee the consequences for this...

While Stonehouse might have come across as a champion of civil rights to some, to others he was a trouble-making demagogue. The Rhodesian authorities weren’t exactly keen on his criticism of their government. Following his inflammatory remarks, he had to deal with the aftermath. 

As the MP for Wednesbury, Stonehouse made a decision that left some people scratching their heads. He twinned his constituency with the Czech town of Kladno. Ostensibly, the odd twinning “provided for the exchange of specialists and information, facilities for study and research in technology”. Really, however, there was something more clandestine at work.

In 1969, a Czechoslavakian defector and former spy, Josef Frolík, gave explosive testimony to the American intelligence services. Frolík asserted that John Stonehouse was not who he appeared to be. In fact, Frolík claimed that Stonehouse was one of their guys; a Czech spy operating under the name Agent Twister. He was full of twists, that’s for sure.

Stonehouse’s great-nephew, Julian Hayes, stated, “He [Stonehouse] was not a spy in the sense of James Bond or the novels of John Le Carré”. After digging through the archival files, however, he’s convinced that the Czechoslavakians had Stonehouse exactly where they wanted him. “They massaged his ego and gained his trust”.

Hayes further asserted that his great-uncle “knew what he was doing” because his Czech partnerships lined his pockets. According to Hayes, Stonehouse “provided the Czechs with information and got a lot of money from them”. But there’s another version to this wild story that paints Stonehouse in a very different light.

The allegations against Stonehouse dragged on for years and roped in one of Britain’s most recognizable political figures: Margaret Thatcher. But her involvement seems to have been nothing more than Stonehouse’s “clean-up”. She refused to ever bring charges against Stonehouse because, she claimed, there was never enough evidence.

In mid-July 2021, Stonehouse’s daughter, Julia, published a tell-all book about her father. In the explosively revelatory pages, Julia defended her father against the allegations of espionage. She stated that if her father received any money from the sale of the commercial planes, then it went to the Czech spies involved in the deal.

She did not, however, have the last word.

In the official history of Britain’s spy agency, MI5, there’s almost irrefutable evidence that John Stonehouse was an agent—of the enemy. In The Defence of the Realm, Cambridge historian Christopher Andrew laid out the case that Stonehouse, though lacking the sophistication of James Bond, was almost certainly an enemy spy.

So, where did all of that money go?

Between 1970 and 1974, Stonehouse’s business ventures all went belly-up. If he had been using them to launder spy money, he clearly wasn’t doing it very well. Or, maybe he was just doing it too well. The Department of Trade and Industry began investigating his books and found that he had been using “deceptive creative accounting”.

With the Department of Trade and Industry snooping around his affairs in 1974, Stonehouse knew that he had to do something. What he decided to do in the end certainly did not help his case if he ever wanted to prove that he wasn’t a spy. After all, assuming false identities might as well be the opening chapter of Espionage for Dummies.

Seeing the walls closing in, John Stonehouse did the only thing that a true spy would do: He changed his identity. Clever as he was, he scoured the records of the recently deceased people in his constituency, looking for a male of approximately his own age and appearance. As an MP, he was determined to represent his constituents as literally as possible.

Turns out, Stonehouse had more than just a few options to choose from. He could be just about anyone he wanted. Ultimately, he landed on the late Joseph Markham and Donald Clive Mildoon. Now, he just had to learn to play the part of these men if he was going to truly assume their identities and pull off his master plan.

In what we can only assume was an attempt to get to know his new personas, John Stonehouse reached out to both Markham’s and Mildoon’s widows. Presumably, he visited these women under the guise of consoling them as their MP—but he had a more nefarious purpose.

In reality, he was gathering the information and documents that he needed to impersonate their dearly departed husbands.

In 2005, the British government declassified secret documents pertaining to the Stonehouse investigation. These documents revealed just how dedicated Stonehouse was to pulling off his master plan. For months before his disappearance, he rehearsed his new identities. But he was a spy, not an actor. Clearly, he overestimated his powers of disguise.

By November 1974, Stonehouse believed that he was ready to assume his new identities for good. Full of confidence, he put the rest of his plan into motion. He flew to Miami Beach for what was, ostensibly, a bit of fun in the sun. He just had to convince everyone that he had, perhaps, had too much fun while vacationing.

John Stonehouse left his clothes in a “neat bundle” in a locker near a beach. Then, he simply vanished into thin air. When authorities discovered his clothes sometime later, they believed the worst had happened. The official story was that Stonehouse had either drowned at sea or, worse yet, was making his way through a shark’s digestive tract.