I am still processing this information, and it will not compute. My brain is unwilling to accept it.
My sister asked me last week, for the millionth time, "How do you remember shit like this?" Believe me, honey, if I had an answer for that, I would hopefully also have an answer about how to turn it off. But I don't obviously. And why do I bring this up, you may ask? Because I remember the day that I first became, well, obsessed with this woman.
It was back in 1977. My brother had come over to our parents' house, and by coincidence, "Suddenly Last Summer" was on that afternoon, on the channel 7 "3:30 movie". This was, of course, in the days before all those stupid talk shows glutted the afternoon airwaves; this was programming presumably directed at those women who were at home (in other words, not at work), had kids who were home but otherwise occupied (i.e. homework, not drugs, computer games or whatever), and maybe had the time to sit down and watch something of "quality". And so we sat down to watch it - not because of Elizabeth Taylor, but because of Montgomery Clift, who he had a major thing going on about.
And I remember seeing that face for the first time, and being completely bewitched. And it only got worse over time. I got the only biography available about her from the library, a big, thick book that was definitely not a journalistic effort, because as I recall, the first six or so pages were all about how the planets were aligned just so at the time of her birth, and her birthday had this significance in terms of numerology, and how it all pointed to the fact that it was an event unlike any other before or since - I am NOT kidding! This was not a biography, this was an ode to a living goddess (at least in the writer's mind). And I devoured it - read it cover to cover at least twice. And I remember it listed her filmography (to date) in the back, which I then wrote out for myself, and started scanning local theater listings for any of her movies to go see. And the TV listings as well (remember, of course, that this was LONG before video or DVD's). And then, I started reading the books that were the source materials for the movies (or at least the ones that were around - Dreiser's "American Tragedy" that became "A Place in the Sun" - not light reading for a teenager, of course, went completely over my head; "Raintree County", "Butterfield 8", and of course, all of the Tennessee Williams plays that she made movies of, "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof," "The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore," and naturally, "Suddenly Last Summer".
And then there was - my scrap book! I MADE a huge scrap book, and by that I mean LITERALLY MADE one, using 12x18 inch newsprint sheets, bound with cardboard, to accommodate the magazine covers that I collected with her on them - all of the "LIFE" covers she was on, plus any others I could find. I went to the library, and starting in 1932 (her birth year), I went through the periodical directories looking for anything and everything that was printed about her in magazines deemed "worthy" of listing in them - "LIFE", of course, but also "LOOK", "Vogue", "Harper's Bazaar," and the list was endless! After all, she was one of the most beautiful women in the world, not to mention one of the most notorious! And I collected, and collected, and mounted them all in this huge scrapbook I had created. Which was then lost in my move from the West Coast to the East Coast. When a friend of mine flew out to visit me the summer after I moved, he was supposed to bring it with him, but left it in the car of the person who took him to the airport, and never recovered it. Damn him!
And then, when I was taking art classes in high school, I started drawing her, from the photos in my scrap book - it got to where I could practically draw her face without a picture. And finally, after being overheard talking about her and Montgomery Clift by some gay guy in San Francisco, I received what was to me the ultimate complement, that I "looked like I could be their love child", with my eyes and coloring! And that was even BEFORE I dyed my hair black!
Naturally, as I "grew up" (to use the term loosely), the obsessive nature of my fanaticism slacked off considerably, but never completely. Like, I named my motorcycle "Bessie Mae," because that was Montgomery Clift's nickname for her. And that's just the one example I will cop to here.
But then, as AIDS started to rip through the very fabric of my life, Elizabeth took a step that forever deified her in my eyes - she became THE celebrity in the fight against AIDS! The first Hollywood notable who was willing to step up and talk about the "gay cancer" as something to be fought, not just to be afraid of! Who wasn't afraid to touch, be seen with, or talk to these people who were otherwise treated as "lepers" by just about everyone, even in the gay community. God, how much MORE I loved her for that!
Her loyalty to those she loved was completely unflagging and eternal. Her commitment to what she thought was right was unshakable, even if the same couldn't be said about her marriages. She was an inspiration to me constantly. And all I ever wanted was to meet her, just one time, just to say "Thank you." For everything that she has meant to me over the years, for everything that she had done for the fight against AIDS, for the unbelievable contribution she h ad made to the world.
And now she is gone. And I no longer have the chance. DAMN IT TO HELL!
