Fawcett Farrah - Both of us: my life with Farrah

who always will be our greatest achievement
and our best hope

Everything here is true, although occasionally events may not be described in the exact order in which they occurred.

Play on, invisible harps, unto Love,

Whose way in heaven is aglow

At that hour when soft lights come and go,

Soft sweet music in the air above

And in the earth below.

James Joyce, from At That Hour

I remember taking her hand in the car, both of us joyous and laughing, the wind tousling those famous curls as we drove from Tahoe to Reno, to the church. The night before, someone had given me a Cuban cigar. I removed the gold band, slipped it onto her ring finger, and proposed. She accepted, saying, So, you think you can make an honest woman of me, do you?

The lake and the forest have a soothing beauty, magnificent nature in repose, almost as appealing to me as the ocean. Farrah preferred it there: the mountain air, the hikes, and, of course, the rugged horseback riding. It was one of those spontaneous moments when everything seemed aligned, as if nothing could get in the way of our future. We seemed perfect for each other. We had talked about getting married early on, but we were rebels. There werent many people in the early eighties who lived such a public life who werent married. We were getting pressured to do it, not by her parents, really, or by mine, but from society, so we finally decided to get hitched. Then the flat tire. I flagged down a car whose driver offered to take us on to Reno or back to Tahoe. He would have driven us to Cincinnati if Id asked, but instead we chose the lake. We thought it was funny, even joked with each other that it had to be a sign.

L ooking back, I cant help but wonder how my life with this rare woman might have been different if we had gone through with it that day. Why didnt I just fix the damn tire and get us to the church? Instead of finding a way to follow through with our plans, we let it go. We laughed about it for years. It wasnt the hand of God that flattened our tire that day. It was a lousy shard of glass.

Autumn, 1979

S hes married. Her name is Majors. I dont know her from Adam, well, Eve. Her husband is actor Lee Majors. He starred in a popular television series, The Six Million Dollar Man, and is also known for playing in Westerns. I know him. I first met him at 20th Century Fox when I was making Peyton Place, five hundred episodes at $750 per episode. Thats also where I introduced, pointed out, Frank Sinatra to my costar Mia Farrow. I never played Cupid again. Lee is in Toronto for a movie and Im there visiting my daughter, Tatum, whos shooting a film with Richard Burton. Shes fifteen. Tatum and Lee run into each other, and Tatum says, You know, Im Ryans daughter.

Oh yeah, where is he?

Hes at the hotel.

Next thing, hes calling me. Come down and have a drink with me, he says.

So I do. And we get a little drunk together and decide to have dinner. Tatum joins us. Lee and I are both leaving the next day. Ive been there a week. And he says, Lets go home together. Well take the same plane. He changes his flight. Lee is a companionable big guy, worth at least five and a half million. We fly home together and the limo drops us off at my house in town. Its on Tower Road, up Benedict Canyon and high in the hills, part of the old John Barrymore estate. We let the limo go and take my car. He lives farther up the hill near Mulholland on a street called Antelo Road, which has gates, and theres this beautiful girl waiting for him. Shes delightful, full of childlike warmth. There is no pretense or cattiness about her whatsoever; shes vibrant and wholesome, refreshing in this town.

They kiss.

We play racquetball. They have their own court. And then she says, Stay for dinner, which I do. She whips up this delicious meal of fried chicken with mashed potatoes and thick country gravy, a Texas treat. Farrah is so sweet to us. Lees a heavy drinker, kind of a sad drunk. Their house is handsome, a tasteful blend of western-style accents and fine antiques. There are pictures everywhere, mostly personal photographs. Years later, an earthquake will destroy the place, and the cacophony of glass breaking, which frightened everyone, will turn out not to have been the windows but hundreds of photographs emerging from hundreds of frames. Lee takes me on a tour of the house. He shows me his closet. Its a room you can walk into, deep and wide. He must have seventy-five pairs of boots. Where does Farrah keep her stuff? I ask myself. We walk down the hall and he opens a door to a room you can barely turn around in. Farrahs clothing is piled in there. Some months later, Tatum and I will make the switch. Farrahs duds get the grand space. Lees we move to his den.

I had gone to their home for dinner that first night, but the next night I was supposed to travel to Las Vegas for a boxing match. I have a friend, Andy the Hawk Price, who was fighting Sugar Ray Leonard. Im a fight fan as well as an examateur boxer. And Farrah says, in this lilting, ever-so-slight Texas drawl, Well, isnt that fight on TV?

I say, Yes, it is.

And she says, Why dont you see it here? You can play racquetball and watch it with us.

Hm, I think, hm okay. Ive just come back from Canada. I dont really need to get on another plane, so I return a second night. She greets me at the door with this winsome smile and says, Arent you glad you didnt go? And that night theres drinking. She doesnt drink but he does. I drink a little. Im watching them, and after dinner they start to talk about their relationship. Im sort of encouraging them, saying things like Youre a wonderful couple. Hes a man of few words, a monosyllabic cowboy type. Hes not naturally funny. Farrah is more natural, open, and she doesnt have any compunction talking about their problems. She says when they were staying in Nevada, he had a boat on Lake Mead. He was a TV star at this point, not the Six Million Dollar Man, but he was in a successful Western series with Barbara Stanwyck and Linda Evans called