PORFIRIO RUBIROSA |
LAST OF THE FAMOUS INTERNATIONAL PLAYBOYS
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Much has been written, speculated and
whispered about the man, Porfirio Rubirosa. One thing is for sure, he
led a life that few can imagine, let alone rival. Truth is always
stranger and more interesting than fiction, especially in this case– the
infamous and always dapper diplomat, skilled sportsman and legendary
lothario. Pass the (eh-hem) pepper grinder, please.
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Porfirio Rubirosa – Rubi to his countless
conquests and to grateful headline writers across the globe – stood
head and shoulders above the rest of this international pleasure pack.
Rubirosa, the Dominican Republic’s answer to Pepé le Pew, provided the
model that others could only emulate. A tireless presence at chic
nightspots and watering holes, a keen race-car driver
and polo player, a friend to the rich and infamous, a relentless
pursuer of women with huge bank accounts, he went on a lifelong tear
that ended, fittingly, with a spectacular car crash in 1965 after a
night of heavy drinking at a Paris club. Even his 28-year old wife – his
fifth – agreed that Rubi would have wanted it that way.
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As Shawn Levy amply documents in “The
Last Playboy,” his bubbly, breathless and appropriately inconsequential
biography, Rubirosa worked hard at having fun. Well into his 50′s, when
he crossed paths with the Rat Pack, he set a pace that few could match.
Sammy Davis Jr., wrecked and staggering after a night on the town with
Rubi, ran into his host the next day at lunch. Rubirosa, none the
worse for wear, was leaning against the bar, elegantly turned out and
casually sipping a Ramos gin fizz. Davis asked him how he did it. “Your
profession is being an entertainer,” Rubirosa said. “Mine is being a
playboy.”
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He found his vocation early. While
attending school in Paris, where his father had been posted as
ambassador, he took every opportunity to haunt the nightclubs of
Montmartre. ”Books didn’t find in me a very faithful friend, nor did
the professors find a conscientious student,” he wrote in his memoirs.
”The only things that interested me were sports, girls, adventures,
celebrities – in short, life.”
That version of life requires money, and
Rubirosa, despite his polished manners and undeniable charm, had none.
That changed when he caught the eye of the Dominican Republic’s new
strongman, Rafael Trujillo, who saw in Rubirosa a potential ally who
could win over the country’s golden youth to his regime. For the next
30 years, Rubirosa profited by the connection, sometimes serving in
diplomatic posts and, just as often, playing the unofficial role of
goodwill ambassador and high-level fixer.
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Rubirosa’s first audacious move was to
marry Trujillo’s daughter, a potentially career-ending, or even
life-ending, bit of chutzpah. In time, he would capture even bigger
prizes. While a diplomat in Paris, he set his eyes on Danielle
Darrieux, France’s biggest female film star, who quickly became his
second wife.
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When, after the war, the couple were
interviewed by Doris Duke, heir to the R. J. Reynolds tobacco fortune
and one of the richest women in the world, Rubirosa suddenly decided
that the American version of the woman could be rather appealing too.
Marriage No. 3 took place in 1947, followed quickly by divorce and, in
1953, by marriage No. 4, to Barbara Hutton, another fabulously wealthy
American heiress. All the while, Rubirosa pursued his side interests
with zeal. ”One woman is not enough for him,” Darrieux complained to
the press. ”A man like him needs a harem.”
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Just what was the appeal? Mr. Levy, the
author of “Rat Pack Confidential” and the film critic for The Portland
Oregonian, makes a fairly convincing case that the Rubi magic came down
to a combination of charm, mystique and, quite possibly, physical
attributes, not limited to Rubi’s darkly handsome features. (Mr. Levy
writes that cheeky waiters referred to the largest pepper-mill in the
house as “the Rubirosa.”) Rubirosa spoke five languages, three of them
fluently. His dress and his manners were impeccable, his appetite for
women stupendous. He preferred that they be rich and beautiful, but in a
pinch, anything with curves would do: the hat-check girl, a waitress, a
low-rent prostitute.
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In his prime, he was unstoppable. ”He
wraps his charm around your shoulders like a Russian sable coat,” the
gossip columnist Hedda Hopper wrote. Even women determined to resist,
and warned in advance, found themselves saying yes when Rubirosa mounted
a full-scale offensive. Even Zsa Zsa Gabor, a grandmaster at the
sex-for-money chess game, succumbed, although she drew the line at
marriage. Her tempestuous relationship with Rubirosa provides Mr. Levy
with some of his best material.
Rubirosa, who surely saw in Ms. Gabor
the challenge of a lifetime, pursued his prey ardently and relentlessly,
in full view of the panting press.
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It made for spectacular theater. When
Ms. Gabor refused to leave her current husband, the actor George
Sanders, Rubirosa struck her. Ms. Gabor called a news conference and
showed up wearing an eye patch. “In Spanish, Rubirosa means a red rose,
but to me it’s a black eye,” she told reporters. The headline in The
New York Daily News read: “I Said No, So Porfy Poked Me: Zsa Zsa.”
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Strapped for cash, Rubirosa proceeded to
marry Barbara Hutton. The marriage lasted 75 days and netted the happy
husband cash and property worth $3.5 million, enough to finance his polo
ponies, tailored suits and lavish partiers for years to come. And
Rubirosa, a superbly conditioned nightlife athlete, had lots left in
him. Eartha Kitt, Ava Gardner, Rita Hayworth, the Empress Soraya of
Iran – there was scarcely an actress or princess alive whose name was
not linked with Rubirosa’s at some point in the 1950′s and even the
1960′s, when he began to slow down just a bit.
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There’s some poetic justice in Rubirosa’s
increasingly desperate attempts to keep up with his fifth wife, the
French actress Odile Rodin. A ferocious nightclubber, she would
frequently skip off to Paris, and the arms of her many male admirers,
while Rubi stayed home in the suburbs, tending the garden and playing
with his Chihuahua. He came to enjoy the simple pleasures, but then
again, for Rubirosa, everything in life was simple.
“Women like to be gay,” he once explained
to a radio interviewer. ”I like to be gay. They want to be happy. I
try to make them happy.” That’s all there was to it.
Story from The New York Times
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Story from The New York Observer
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A god, the envy of all men. He had it all. And he deserved it.
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