Authors: Candy Spelling
Fabienne happened to be the president of the Beverly Hills Women’s Club at the time, so that’s where we all started taking lessons. Once we all learned, we started meeting every week to play. Usually we played at someone’s home, but there were times when we would meet either at Hillcrest Country Club or the Los Angeles Country Club.
As comfortable as I felt with “the girls,” I didn’t discuss Aaron’s illness when I was out with them. Even after Aaron died and I was being slapped left and right by the media, I chose not to discuss what was going on. It was good to get away from my troubles for a while, but more than that, I was compartmentalizing, and my feelings about Aaron and Tori did not belong in my “Mahjong compartment.”
I don’t think it was a trust issue as much as it was that I didn’t want to create a lasting impression. What I was going through was without a doubt the big elephant at the Mahjong table, but it never occurred to me to discuss either situation with my friends. The Mahjong was a diversion, and I suppose I wanted to keep it that way.
I learned pretty quickly that there is only so much emotion you can keep stuffing down before it starts to destroy you. One day I was out to lunch with my friend Denise, who works for Range Rover, and her boss, Mike O’Driscoll. I honestly can’t remember what was going on at the time, but there were stories in the press making a fool of me yet again, and for some reason this time, the dam burst and I couldn’t stop crying at the restaurant. Denise and Mike were so amazing and compassionate. I knew Denise had her own children and understood my pain.
Later that afternoon Mike called me. I was surprised to hear from him, and I was more surprised that he wanted to talk about the public flogging I was allowing myself to take. These were private family matters, and I believed I
was taking the high road by not speaking to the press about my daughter. It didn’t matter how many awful photographs they printed of me, I had no intention of addressing my personal issues with my daughter with the press. I also thought anything I said would be taken out of context and used for a sound bite or headline, so I chose not to speak at all. I kept hoping some other really big news would break, but the spotlight continued to stay on me.
Mike was absolutely right. I was at my breaking point. He strongly suggested I get a crisis publicist to handle all the public ridicule, but I wasn’t entirely convinced. Aaron had a publicist, and Tori had a publicist, but I didn’t know what a publicist could do for me. It seemed like anything I said would just sound like I was on the defensive, so I saw no point to that. But despite my reservations, Mike was persistent. He had someone very specific in mind and told me she had created Johnny Carson’s character Carnac the Magnificent. I wondered if this woman who had created Carson’s “mystic of the East” could make all of this drama disappear. I was nervous about making the call, but then again, anything had to be better than the way I was living.
I don’t know what I thought Linda Dozoretz would be like. I guess I thought she would be some tough broad. She was all business as they say, but she was very genteel. She was the originator of the signature thick black glasses later made cool by Tina Fey, and she was always dressed in grays and blacks. There was something about Linda that was very striking. I’m not sure how to describe it except to say I just knew I could trust her.
Linda took me on despite the fact that she was ill and hadn’t been looking for new clients. Her mother had taken the drug DES when she was pregnant with her, and as a result, Linda was plagued by very serious health issues. DES was known as a synthetic estrogen that was widely prescribed to women who were at risk of miscarriage. The drug was taken off the market in 1971 when doctors realized the risk it posed to unborn fetuses.
After our first meeting, Linda outlined a plan for me. I was no longer going to be anyone’s punching bag. She helped focus attention on my charity work and my civic work as Commissioner for the Department of Recreation
and Parks for the City of Los Angeles. She also encouraged me to write about causes and issues that were important to me. It was because of her that I became a columnist for The Huffington Post and TMZ and a contributing writer for
LA Confidential.
Under her guidance I was elected to the Board of Directors of L.A. Inc., the Los Angeles Convention and Visitors Bureau. I am a native Angeleno and love this eclectic city of ours, so it was a perfect fit for me. I am also one of the few women members of the Los Angeles World Affairs Council, which is dedicated to bringing influential and visionary leaders in international affairs to speak at events in Los Angeles. Margaret Thatcher, Martin Luther King Jr., Henry Kissinger, and David Petraeus are just a few of the individuals who have spoken at their events.
There is no doubt that Linda was a brilliant woman. She was also kind and caring, and she was always there to listen. We became very close friends and spoke every night on the phone, even when we didn’t have business to discuss. In refocusing the media’s attention on who I really was and not the role I was written into, Linda also reminded me of my own worth.
Linda lost a thirty-year battle with cancer in November 2010. She was only sixty-two years old. She was incredibly brave until the very end. I learned a lot from the courage she demonstrated. She taught me to stick up for myself and not to take anything lying down.
She was the orchestrator of many savvy media strategies for the biggest names in film, television, and sports. She was also on the board of the Doris Day Foundation and got them to donate a beautiful shade and bench to the Laurel Canyon Dog Park up on Mulholland Drive. Then she persuaded me to donate some trees. It gets very warm up there in the spring and summer, so those trees were a nice addition to the park.
Out of all of Linda’s masterful strategies, I think she was most proud of that one.
28
My Story with Tori (and Dean), Part II
My father was a newlywed with a younger wife when we were building The Manor. Appropriately enough, they had both been working as extras on
The Love Boat
when they met. It’s not easy making a living as a television extra, so Aaron and I were helping them out financially. We decided it would be better to give my father a real job so that he could feel good about himself. I didn’t entirely trust our contractor, so I thought it would be ideal to have my father act as our controller. It would be his responsibility to read the contracts, make payments to vendors, and keep track of the man hours and inventory. I mean, who could be more trustworthy than my own father?
The first sign that I was wrong in my assumption was the pricey Mercedes two-seater my father purchased for his wife. The second was the European vacation they took. Instead of waiting for the next shoe to drop, I did some forensic accounting on my own and found an entire list of financial indiscretions. I never dreamed that my own father would end up taking kickbacks from
vendors and misappropriating funds. Not even in my wildest dreams did I think this was possible. After this my relationship with my father was strained, and it remained that way until he passed away.
I have learned a lot about money over the years. My father is a good example of a situation in which I thought I could help solve someone’s problems with money. I thought my father’s problem was a financial one, but my father obviously couldn’t manage his money. He was a terrible overspender. But his core problem was his entitlement issue.
It took me years to get to the topic of money in therapy. I thought I had anger issues, not money issues. Then as I explored my relationship with my children, I realized we had a pattern. When I denied Tori an extravagant purchase, it resulted in radio silence.
It was hard to watch Tori use our latest mother-daughter problem as the central story line for her reality show. I was also the cliffhanger of many episodes. Her book
sTORI telling
also breathed new life into my old role as Lady Macbeth.
I am by no means saying that I am the perfect mother now or that I didn’t make mistakes when my children were growing up. In therapy I learned that I was passive-aggressive and that I also had poor communication skills. It’s true. The Spellings were a family who didn’t confront issues. There, I said it.
There is another truth about the Spelling family. It’s probably a truth shared by countless traditional families in which there was one very ambitious or trailblazing parent. As much as Aaron loved being with our children, he was always working, and when he was home, he was very preoccupied. There were times when the kids were playing in his office while he was on the phone. He had absolutely no idea what they were up to. They could have been cutting off each other’s hair for all he knew.
I think Aaron’s demanding work schedule and also the fact that he was a writer who logged out of reality and into his imagination left us all wanting more quality time with him. I think it set up a competitive dynamic where we all had to vie for his attention.
Having said that, I also believe that there comes a time when you have to stop blaming your parents. I have learned from my own journey that at some point you have to take responsibility for your own actions and attitudes. I made a deliberate effort to look in the mirror and change. That’s where the real work is and where the rewards are.
I was in Portland recently visiting my son. He is married to a wonderful woman, and they have two beautiful little girls. Randy is a lot like me, I think. He is more introverted and very sensitive. When I was up there, he brought up something I had done that had really hurt his feelings. It was a big moment for both of us. Instead of blaming me, he told me how I made him feel, and I in turn got to explain myself without feeling defensive. It was huge and I made sure to share with him how happy I was that we could have this kind of communication. I was very proud of both of us.
A couple of years ago, I planned my first vacation since a girls’ trip I went on in about 1998. On that particular trip, I had gone to Europe with my friends Paula Meehan and Joanna Carson. We docked in St. Tropez, and while I was walking around, I saw some stunning paintings by a local artist. He was a short, little man with a handlebar mustache and this great big hat. His wife invited me to come upstairs and see the rest of his work.
I got so caught up looking at his collection and hearing about his inspirations that before I knew it, it was eight o’clock at night. I dashed back to Paula’s yacht and explained where I had been. I told them about meeting this artist and going to his studio. Well, I suppose that was the wrong way to start the story because they immediately started teasing me about having an affair. They were picturing French actor Jean Reno when really it was more like Danny DeVito.
It was a fabulous trip, but once Aaron got sick, we didn’t leave the city limits. Years later, once I was on my own, I finally took a leap and booked a month-long cruise to Europe, England, and Morocco. It was a milestone for me. My first trip as a single woman and the longest time I had ever been away from home. I was excited and nervous.
But after I had booked the trip, Tori unexpectedly got pregnant with my little grandson Finn, and there were some complications that required her to be on bed rest. I did everything I could to be supportive including renting her an apartment so she could be closer to the hospital.
Even though she was stable and in the best possible care at Cedar-Sinai, I was obviously conflicted about going on my trip. I shared my feelings with her one afternoon while I was visiting.
“No, Mommy, I want you to go.”
I took my daughter at her word, accepted her blessing, and went on my trip. Before I left, I promised her that at the first sign of any trouble I would jump on a plane and fly home so I could be at her side.
Thankfully Tori and baby were fine when I returned home to the United States. She was still on bed rest, but she and the baby were both stable. She stayed there in the hospital for about sixty days, and then my youngest grandson, Finn, was delivered by c-section. I got to the hospital just after he was born, and there he was in his little bassinet with the most beautiful big full lips. In my day, newborn babies were taken to the nursery. I have say, I think it’s very cool that these days the babies are taken straight to their mothers once they are measured, cleaned up, and checked out.
I love and adore my grandchildren, and it’s amazing to spend time with them now that they can talk. I have the same feelings for them that I did for my own children, but now I have wisdom that comes with being a grandparent. My husband and I handed everything to our children, only later to realize that pushing up your shirtsleeves and digging in your heels is character building. Aaron had a tough childhood and never wanted to see his children struggle, and neither did I.
I think the best way to explain my perspective is to quote George Clooney’s character, Matt King, in
The Descendants
. At the beginning of the movie, Matt explains his family’s intergenerational wealth. Matt says that his father wanted him to have “enough money to do something but not enough to do nothing.” That pretty much sums up how I feel now.
Randy has really turned out to be a fine young man. It was hard for him to be taken seriously since he was Aaron Spelling’s son. He has taken the road less traveled and found his way. I always knew he would. When he lived in Los Angeles, he would read to the kids at L.A.’s BEST, an afterschool enrichment program here in Los Angeles. He also came out and made Christmas ornaments with the kids one year, so it’s no surprise he is such a wonderful father and husband. I am very proud of what he has accomplished. I am proud of Tori too. She is as creative, hard working, and as entrepreneurial as her father was.
I do worry about her, though. Tori is capable and tireless. She is a working mom with four children, a husband, several businesses, and lots of family pets. Even with help, she definitely has her hands full. Migraines run in our family, so we are prone to them. Although they are genetic, they can also be triggered by routine stress. She called me one afternoon about this when she, Dean, and the kids had just come back from vacation, and a migraine was picking up speed.