Darwin Porter - Merv Griffin: A Life in the Closet

Television is the world's first truly democratic culture, the first culture available to everyone, and entirely governed by what people want. The most terrifying thing is what people do want.

Clive Barnes

In the end, of course, the issue is not whether Merv Griffin's secret would be buried with him. In the age of Wikipedia, it's a given that anyone interested enough to Google Merv would quickly get the gist of the story, if not the gory details, or even the less savory details, such as those recounted by Michelangelo Signorile in his 1993 book Queer in America, in which an unnamed Hollywood mogul is described as firing men from his company for being openly gay. The real point of the episode is the enduring power of the Hollywood closet that held even a billionaire locked in its embrace, paying homage to the presumed prejudices of the public.

Larry Post, author of
Truthdig--Merv Griffin's Bodyguard of Lies (2007)

This is an unauthorized biography

Blood Moon Productions

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Hollywood's Silent Closet

Many editions of the Frommer Guides to Europe and the Caribbean

Printed in the United States of America
Cover designs by Richard Leeds
Mythical Griffin illustration courtesy Sandro Castelli

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The author dedicates this book to Danforth Prince

All heads turned as Merv Griffin made his way across the floor of L'Escoffierthe most exclusive restaurant in the worldon the eighth floor of the Beverly Hilton. And well they should. He not only owned the hotel but was the chief honcho of a multi-billion empire. The matre d' rushed toward him to usher him to the best table in the house. In fact, legend had it that Merv had bought the hotel to make sure he always had his favorite table.

Leading the march across the elegant room, with its panoramic views, was the Hungarian beauty, Eva Gabor, who'd become his permanent arm candy. He'd never seen her look more stunning in her taupe gown and what she called my Cinderella slippers. Around her swan-like neck was a diamond-andruby necklace he'd presented to her only that afternoon. He told her that it had once belonged to Marie Antoinette, knowing that she didn't really believe that but would loudly advertise it as fact.

She loved the necklace but had really wanted an engagement ring to solidify their relationship. He knew, however, that wasn't going to happen. There would be no other Mrs. Merv Griffin. It'd taken him three years to untangle himself from his one and only marriage. He had no interestcertainly no sexual interestin entering into another permanent bond with a woman.

Earlier in the evening he and Eva had stopped off at the hotel bar, making the rounds and encountering Steven Spielberg, Harrison Ford, and Nancy Sinatra. She told him that she'd come just to sample the egg rolls at Trader Vic's that night.

He also ran into a deeply suntanned George Hamilton, who said, Look around you. There are at least five or six big-time movie stars here with their off-the-record girlfriends. But it's so God damn dark you can't make out anybody. Thank God there are two entrances. If a wife walks in one, the waiter can hustle the mistress out the other door.

In spite of the sad news he'd learned earlier in the day, Merv had a light step as he made his way through the restaurant greeting guests. He'd long ago learned to disguise his true feelings. He was still every mother's favorite sonin- law, although getting a bit long in the tooth for that appellation.

He always felt more of a man when he had a beautiful woman like Eva on his arm, even though she was an expensive adornment. Hollywood was nothing if not public images. It was a city where truth didn't matter. Only the method you chose to deceive the public. All his life he'd believed in playing by the rules, not changing the game.

Still eager to accomplish bigger and better deals in the future, he could rest secure that he'd become The King of Television. He'd failed to make it as the replacement for singing star Gordon MacRae in the movies, but he ruled the tube.

After all, for nearly a quarter of a century he'd been a household word as host of the Emmy Award-winning The Merv Griffin Show where he'd interviewed everybody from John Wayne to Joan Crawford. He'd created and launched TV's two most successful syndicated game showsJeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune. The Beverly Hilton was just one property in his empire.

He estimated he had another ten to fifteen years to live, and he wanted to maintain his image until his dying dayand even after death if that were at all possible.

He didn't want to die like his best male friend, Liberace, did in disgrace, succumbing to AIDS and having his reputation destroyed. If Merv could control events, there would be no notoriety to surround his death the way it had in the case of Rock Hudson, his former lover in the 1950s.

Unlike Rock and Liberace, Merv knew how to protect himself. No virus would get to him. As he candidly told Eva, his most trusted confidante, who knew all his secrets, I plan to die of natural causes. Not some disease I picked up from an overnight trick.

He had spent a lifetime creating the character of Merv Griffin. If his true character was never revealed, and his self-created image could prevail, even beyond the grave, then he felt his life would have been a success. To most of his fans, he symbolized the good life, a man who had it all. One day he was going to write a book about being on top of the world, the way he felt tonight as he looked out over the sparkling lights of Los Angeles.