Mrs. Astor Regrets (39 page)

As you may know, Tony and I have been going through a rather rough patch. But we've not had to endure this time of trial alone. You've all been there for us and our family Sunday after Sunday, week after week, with hugs, kisses and words of encouragement; praying for us when we couldn't stand, speaking for us when we had no words.

There were some days that were so very dark and worrisome. On one of those days during my morning reading I came across a story about a prisoner in a concentration camp who had scratched on the wall these words: "I believe in the sun even when it doesn't shine, I believe in love when it isn't shown, and I believe in God even when He doesn't speak."

I wept as I shared these words with Brenda [Rector Husson] that day because not hearing God speak in the midst of our troubles was very difficult for me. Tony and I arrived home later that evening after spending hours at our attorney's office and as I opened the day's mail, out of one envelope poured a whole array of words of love, affection and encouragement sent by all the Stephen Ministers at St. James' Church. And that was only the beginning. God has been speaking to us with a whole symphony of voices—yours. Here, truly, at St. James', is the body of Christ. Jesus can only be so happy that you are his and love you more than ever. Thank you.

By publishing this heartfelt letter, Charlene was conveying her hope that the Marshalls' bad times were safely behind them.

But the periodic rumblings from One Hogan Place, the headquarters of the New York County district attorney's office, were disquieting. In February, Charlene and Tony Marshall celebrated the christening of a new grandchild, Inness's baby boy. The reception at their home afterward lacked the gaiety typical of such occasions. "We went, we made our excuses, and then we left," says Paul Gilbert. "Under the circumstances, it was not very joyous. I was there for Inness." Francis Morrissey, godfather to Inness's older child, chatted amiably with the other guests, who included Daniel Billy and Sam Peabody. The threat of indictment had not eroded Morrissey's close relationship with the Marshalls. They were all in this together, their legal futures entwined.

Morrissey had been heartily telling friends that he was convinced justice would prevail and his name would be cleared of the forgery allegations, but in truth he was deeply depressed. "It has nearly destroyed him," says Catia Chapin. "I said, 'Frank, this is very hard, but you have to stay in there, you cannot let this get you down. A lot of us have crosses to bear—you can do it.'" She adds, "This has gutted his soul." News accounts suggesting that Morrissey had been the criminal mastermind did not sit well with his friends. The retired high school teacher Chuck Merten, Morrissey's former neighbor in South Salem, New York, says, "I don't know Tony Marshall from Adam, but he doesn't sound like anybody's fool. He's misled by someone like Frank?"

To sustain a legal practice was difficult, given Morrissey's notoriety. He lost at least one client, a friend of twenty years' standing, the photo-realist painter Richard Estes, who sounds mournful about the parting of ways. "I've never had a lot of legal things to deal with, but if I did, I'd call Francis," says Estes. "I took him out to dinner and said I didn't believe any of it. Then a month later, I sort of fired him." The painter adds, "I used to give him little pictures for my fee—he had a whole wall of things by me. For all I know, he's sold them, or doesn't want to look at them anymore." An Estes painting is not a trivial gift; his work commands hundreds of thousands of dollars. For Morrissey, it was distressing to look around his office and be constantly reminded of Estes's abandonment. He railed angrily to friends, What happened to loyalty and the presumption of innocence?

Morrissey was also weighed down by family tragedies: his sister Catherine was battling breast cancer; a niece had been injured in a cab accident; and he was underwriting the care of his elderly father, then ninety-six, living in Boston. The spry retired municipal judge Francis X. Morrissey, no stranger to scandal himself, offered a sympathetic ear.

Here they were, like actors taking a break between the matinee and evening performances, with time to contemplate the reviews and their relationships with their fellow cast members. Destiny and DNA plus Brooke Astor's unseen hand had led inexorably to this moment. What a troubled thread had passed down through the male line of the Astor family: Tony had been estranged from his own father, and now he was estranged from his son. Brooke Astor, charming and crafty, had contributed to family disintegration by heaping insults on her son and his wife while making loving gestures toward her grandson late in life. One look at her luminous, pleading eyes and Philip had leapt into action.

During this lull, I asked Philip, "Were you and your father ever close?" and a few weeks later he found and forwarded a copy of a letter that he had written to Tony on March 18, 1993, shortly after Tony had married Charlene and Philip's second child had been born. The letter brims with longing for a better relationship. As Philip wrote:

So much has changed during the past few years. But during this time I feel that we have gotten closer to each other. Perhaps from your end it might be ascribed to leaving Tee or perhaps it may be the constructive influence and effect of your developing relationship with Charlene. But ultimately it is because of a changing dynamic between the two of us—when we are talking on the phone or seeing each other or even thinking of each other when apart. As for myself, many questions may remain unanswered and there is much in the past which could have been said and done, but wasn't. But now I take a new look upon being a father and son, as I am both ... it couldn't be a better time to talk—or write—as father, and friend.

Many years had passed since Philip had sent out this nakedly emotional note to his father. Maybe Tony had wanted things to be better too; maybe he had tried. But oh how things had gone badly awry. Philip admitted that he was taken aback when he found this letter, and said to me, "It's kind of a killer, don't you think?"

Tony was also reflecting on his life, and he too dug up an item of emotional import. In March 2007, he and Charlene went to the Marine Corps base in Quantico, Virginia, where Tony donated the pistol that had belonged to his grandfather to the National Museum of the Marine Corps. The gun had been used by the general in 1914 in Veracruz, Mexico, and given to his grandson for luck. Tony took the pistol to Iwo Jima and then carried it with him through many moves and marriages. "I always kept it in a drawer and would take it out once in a while and ask myself, 'What good is it doing here?'" Tony told the
Quantico Sentry,
an on-line newsletter. Maybe he had once considered giving it to his sons, but he was no longer speaking to them. Whatever his reasoning, he did not want to have a gun so close by anymore.

No save-the-date cards were sent out in the weeks preceding March 30, 2007. This year Brooke Astor's birthday would be celebrated in a very private fashion. But it was nonetheless an extraordinary occasion. She was 105 years old, an age when simply waking up each morning is an achievement. She was not in apparent pain. Mrs. Astor had lived to see one more spring with its glorious fields of daffodils and crocuses.

The lawyers actually negotiated over her birthday celebration. Ken Warner got in touch with Paul Saunders to inquire whether Charlene Marshall could visit Brooke. Saunders denied the request, recalling, "I said no, let things remain as they are. I had a court order to obey. They could easily have gone back to Justice Stackhouse. They never even went back during the settlement talks."

Warner disagreed with that premise. He was convinced that as a matter of law, the temporary restraining order had expired once Annette de la Renta became Mrs. Astor's permanent guardian, and thus Annette could have granted permission for the visit. But Warner decided for future strategic reasons not to force the issue with the judge. As a result, the two sides then had to coordinate the birthday visits so that Tony would not overlap with Annette, Philip, and the others. Of course the press would be writing about Mrs. Astor's birthday—yet another public relations opportunity for both sides.

Tony went to see his mother early in the day, taking pink azaleas. She slept through her son's visit. She often dozed in her chair when Tony came and then opened her eyes the minute he left, to the point where the staff wondered whether her actions were deliberate. "She does spend a lot of time sleeping," Warner was forced to explain to the Associated Press. "It can be difficult to catch the lucid moments. But he did see her." Fraser Seitel had the pleasure of telling the press that Mrs. Astor was awake for her party later in the day.

The nurses dressed her up in a white shirt, bright pink slacks, an orange and pink scarf, pearl earrings, and gold bracelets and rings, which she fingered with pleasure. Annette took a three-inch lemon cake with white frosting; David Rockefeller carried a bouquet of sweet peas from his greenhouse. Philip's daughter, Sophie, and Alec's daughter, Hilary Brooke, sang "Happy Birthday" several times, giggling and laughing, while their fathers looked on proudly. As Annette recalls, "She knew that everyone was there for her. It was really sweet. Everyone had a glass of champagne." The celebrants included Alec, Nan, Chris Ely, Naomi Packard-Koot, and the philanthropist Florence Irving. "My grandmother was taking it all in, smiling," recalls Philip. "David and Annette and I hadn't been together since our meeting in June. We had come a long way." The family was all there—but minus two key members.

13. A Wonderful Life

A
LEC MARSHALL HAD
never supported the guardianship lawsuit and had rightly feared the family chasm that the litigation would create. But now, a year later, he was nearly as estranged from his father as Philip was. But unlike his brother, Alec nurtured the hope of a partial reconciliation. On a July 2007 afternoon, Alec was about to leave his apartment for a 4
P.M.
visit to his grandmother at Holly Hill when Chris Ely called to say that Tony and Charlene had turned up unexpectedly.

Alec had not spoken to his father since the legal fireworks went off. Tony had sent back Alec's Christmas gifts and in May had written a letter excoriating Alec for not speaking up in his defense on the elder abuse charges. Blaming Alec for ruining his and Charlene's lives, Tony insisted that by remaining silent, Alec had chosen to take his brother's side. The scorching letter concluded with Tony's statement that he was "ashamed" to call Alec and Philip his sons. Hurt by these words but determined to take the high road, Alec replied in a note: "I am very distressed about your letter. I am sorry that this is the way you feel about me. If your viewpoint changes, my door is always open to you. Much love, Alec."

Alec says he still thought their relationship could be salvaged. He loved his father, despite everything that had happened. So when he heard that Tony was at Holly Hill, Alec hopped into his Subaru station wagon and headed over. He could take advantage of the fact that Charlene was not allowed in the house. "I thought this was the only chance I had to talk to my father in a private conversation," Alec said. "I knew that once my grandmother died, that would be it. I arrived. I saw Charlene out in the car."

Alec waited downstairs. He was looking out the window at the lush summer scenery when his father walked quietly into the room. "I gave him a hug," Alec recalled. But Tony quickly backed off from the embrace. He had no interest in a heart-to-heart. No small talk, no hello, how have you been. Clearly he had already built to the crescendo, as he announced bitterly, "I never want to speak to you again." Then he walked out.

The next day Alec was driving north on the Taconic State Parkway en route to Vermont when his cell phone rang. Tony did not apologize, but he did ask whether Alec could come into the city to talk. Alec explained that he was heading out of state to see his fiancée. Tony asked him to call when he got back home. But the moment for reconciliation had passed. Alec was wary of his father's apparent change of heart. "I think that he and Charlene talked it over," Alec says. "I think they wanted to see what information they could get out of me. So I didn't call back."

Tony and Charlene had escaped to Northeast Harbor earlier in the summer, but while Maine was usually a refuge, on this trip they received a chilly reception. "Trust me, they're shunned up here," says Clare Stone, a photographer who is the widow of the renowned Manhattan art dealer Allan Stone. "I had a funny feeling about how things were going to play out when Brooke began to fail. I thought that he might make her life miserable. It's called payback. He's mean-spirited—he feels a slight and doesn't forget it."

The Marshalls' decision to fire Steve Hamor and his two sons upset the close-knit local community. "It was almost like we were all in mourning when they released the gardeners, because they had been with Mrs. Astor for so long," says Betty Halpern, from the Kimball Shop. Several doors down on Main Street, Dot Renaud, the proprietor of McGrath's newsstand, is positively vitriolic about the Marshalls. "They have a lot of nerve coming back here knowing that everyone in town dislikes them," she says. "They come in here to get the newspapers, she gives me this fake smile. She got what she wanted, she got the house."

Nonetheless, when I reached Tony in Maine, he sounded in reasonably good spirits and chatted pleasantly for a half-hour. "We came up the day before yesterday," he said. "It's the first time we've been able to give ourselves some time off in the last eleven months. It's a beautiful state." He and Charlene hoped to stay at Cove End for several weeks, but they ended up cutting their trip short. Reverend Mac Bigelow, of Union Church in Northeast Harbor, explains, "When the Marshalls came up to Maine, they were very tired and hoping to relax and refresh themselves. But the Marshalls were dealing every day on the phone with Tony's mother's care and medical issues. Tony finally said, 'I have to go back.'"