June 1957 marked the Windsors’ twentieth wedding anniversary. The state of their marriage had long been fodder for international gossip columns, with rumors of imminent breakups, rifts, adultery, and other such allegations rounding out the insatiable press interest. Although friends of the Duke and Duchess would later insist that the marriage had been without any friction, this is not quite correct. The truth lies somewhere between these two extreme views.
The Duke and Duchess were both stubborn, strong-willed individuals who, each in their own way, had had to learn to adapt themselves to the other. To the Duke, this meant grateful submission to the more dominant Duchess, allowing her to take on a sort of perpetual mother-nanny role which many outsiders found startling. The Duchess, too, had learned to adapt: in many ways, her role was the more difficult, for she had to accept the Duke’s overwhelming love for her, a proposition which bound her with certain restrictions and meant the loss of much of her own personality to his.
Writing in 1961, Wallis said:
I am well aware that there are still some people in the world who go on hoping our marriage will break up. And to them I say, Give up hope, because David and I are happy and have been happy for twenty-four years, and that’s the way it will continue to be. ... For my part, I have given my husband every ounce of my affection, something he had never had a great deal of in his bachelor life. Notice, I use the word “affection.” I believe it is an element apart from love, the deep bond one assumes as a part of marriage. You may know the phrase “tender loving care;” it means much the same thing. It means doing the things that uphold a man’s confidence in himself, creating an atmosphere of warmth and interest, of taking his mind off his worries.
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This, of course, was the ideal, but occasionally the veneer of tender care cracked. In this, there was nothing unusual about the Windsors, who, like any other couple, had their share of disagreements and quarrels. Temperamentally and in practice, Wallis and David were two very different people, and inevitably there were clashes of both will and temperament. Fleur Cowles, meeting with the Duke and Duchess, recalled “how coolly she responded to his insistent attention.”
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Although Wallis had loved David, it is clear from both her letters and from what she told friends that she had never intended to marry him. Her affair with the Prince of Wales was just that—a passing infatuation which opened many otherwise closed doors. But when David became king, the rules of the game had suddenly changed. There is no denying the attraction that possibly being married to the king held for Wallis; but at the same time her goal had never been marriage. And yet throughout these months her feelings for him grew deeper and more certain. Although she was always willing to give him up for the sake of England, she wanted nonetheless to remain at his side.
In the aftermath of the abdication, Wallis had faced a personal dilemma: how to reconcile her fierce independence with the Duke’s overwhelming, obsessive love. She was largely successful in this, but there were certainly times when the constant struggle became too much. Wallis had been cast into a role she had not wanted: She had no taste for public life, had not been raised to guard her every action or thought, and had not learned to hide her feelings, as had her husband. Many times, and in many ways, the Duke simply smothered his wife with his attentions, so much so that they threatened to consume her own identity completely. Petty disagreements and bursts of temper—natural in all marriages—were amplified in the case of the Windsors, much of whose lives were lived in public, and Wallis’s frustration sometimes erupted before witnesses eager to believe the very worst.
The Windsors’ occasional losses of temper or bitter words, sometimes witnessed in public, were almost gleefully seized upon by those already predisposed—either through aristocratic snobbery or political and social ambition—to expect nothing less from Wallis. But it would be wrong to characterize the Windsors’ marriage as a series of petty quarrels. The close friends of the Duke and Duchess and those who worked for them for many years contradict the popular image of a constantly bickering couple. Helen Rich, a Palm Beach friend of the Windsors, told author Denis Brian, “They were always pleasant. If she humiliated him, or told him off in public, I never was on the scene, thank God.... She was too smart for that. She was not stupid, you know. She knew perfectly well that they were being observed every minute from all directions.”
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“All of their arguments were just little things,” says another intimate. “Nothing that one wouldn’t see elsewhere a hundred other times. But because it was the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, everyone blew it out of all proportion. Theirs was the love story of the century, and any crack in that fairy tale assumed the very worst interpretation immediately.”
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The Duchess, too, suffered in comparison with the Duke’s very public, almost fawning displays of affection over his wife. Wallis had never been given to great shows of emotion, and this lack of feeling was often wrongly interpreted as both coolness and outright hostility toward her husband. But her true feelings are a bit easier to gauge in the private letters she wrote to her husband during this same period. “Darling,” she said in one, “I love you so very much and miss you every minute.”
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Leaving New York to join David after being apart several weeks, she wrote, “Never will I be away from you so long again. Can’t wait for Friday.... I love you more and more ... your Wallis.”
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“We’ve never had a real spat,” she told a reporter. “I give him most of the credit there. I think we’d laugh first anyway.”
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“She was wonderful to him,” C. Z. Guest recalled. “She adored him. They were very, very happy.”
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This deep affection came out occasionally for all to witness: during a game of gin rummy, one of her partners declared, “You’ve thrown away three kings!”
“But I kept the best one, didn’t I?” Wallis replied with a soft smile and nod toward her husband.
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Throughout the thirty-five years of the Windsors’ marriage, there was only one serious public breach between the Duke and Duchess. During a party at Delmonico’s Hotel in the late 1940s, Wallis first encountered James Paul Donahue Jr. Donahue was the son of Jessie Woolworth Donahue, daughter of billionaire Frank Woolworth and cousin of the famous heiress Barbara Hutton. Donahue’s childhood had been an unhappy one: His father committed suicide in 1931, allegedly as the result of a homosexual liaison gone wrong, and his mother Jessie was an overpowering, domineering woman. When his grandfather, Frank W. Woolworth, died in 1919, Donahue, known to his friends as Jimmy, inherited the substantial sum of $15 million in cash and Woolworth stock.
Donahue was in his early thirties, of medium height, slightly full in the face, with a receding hairline and piercing blue eyes. He was renowned for his biting, often vicious wit and practical jokes. Donahue was also a notorious homosexual. “Jimmy made no bones about the fact that he was a homosexual,” recalls the Countess of Romanones. “Everyone knew about his pursuit of men—it happened all the time, and he never tried to hide it from either the Duke or the Duchess.”
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Any number of sordid tales surround Donahue: orgies at his mother’s Palm Beach estate, call boys and bribes of police, and even the accidental castration of one of his lovers. He was also heavily involved in drugs. “He was an
awful
character,” recalls one of the Duchess’s friends, “and he was always drunk or stoned out of his mind. He popped pills, snorted cocaine—God knows what all. The Duchess can’t have been so naive that she didn’t know—we all knew what he was doing.”
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The Duke of Windsor was not known for his love of homosexuals. He referred to them as “those fellers who fly in over the transom.” As he said this, he would make little flapping gestures with his hands. “I won’t have ’em in my house!”
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Donahue, however, was a notable exception; he was not only befriended by Wallis, but the Duke himself welcomed him into their circle. “There’s been such a lot of nonsense about the Duke and Jimmy not getting along,” recalls the countess of Romanones, “but I never saw it. I doubt he enjoyed Jimmy’s company as much as did the Duchess, but there was never any animosity between them that I witnessed.”
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Donahue came along at a time when David was busy working on his memoirs and Wallis was left largely on her own. Although she sometimes bristled at the Duke’s constant attentions, she quickly found that she missed them when he was consumed with his own affairs. Donahue managed to successfully slip into the role of escort; while David remained in Paris working away or returned home early on evenings out, Wallis and Donahue would travel to New York and celebrate with friends all night.
Wallis enjoyed Donahue’s biting humor and his vigor. His money—and the luxuries it helped supply—was another welcome asset. Donahue was also of a different cut than the Duke. “Perhaps she was looking for someone to help her plan her parties and enjoy life with,” said one friend. “He made her life exciting, and his money made it unpredictable. The Duke’s unceasing adoration simply wore her out at times, and she needed to break free now and then. Donahue gave her that chance.”
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There was another element to the relationship: with David, Wallis was always the responsible party, the one who made the plans, who did the entertaining, who ensured that her husband was happy; Donahue took on much of these same functions for the Duchess, and Wallis was ready and willing to sit back and let someone else take charge for once.
Inevitably, tongues wagged, and speculation as to the exact nature of the relationship between Wallis and Donahue was a source of endless gossip. Despite Donahue’s well-known homosexuality, people assumed that he and Wallis were lovers. Donahue himself did nothing to dispel this belief and even amplified it with stories of his own. “She’s marvelous!” he allegedly declared. “She’s the best cock sucker I’ve ever known!”
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Those who knew Donahue well were acutely aware that this was “just the sort of goddamned rubbish he was likely to spew,” in the words of one of the Duchess’s friends. “Everyone knew he lied and lied and lied—nobody believed a word he said.”
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But to those who were unaware of Donahue’s propensity to distort the truth, such tales only fueled the ceaseless gossip alleging that he and Wallis were conducting a scandalous affair right under the Duke’s nose.
More and more, on their evenings out together, David began to disappear earlier, leaving his wife and Donahue with their friends. “I think it was simply because he didn’t like to be out late,” says the Countess of Romanones, “whereas Jimmy and the Duchess loved to stay out all night.”
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Wallis herself made light of the growing concern.
“Really,
David!” she once exclaimed. “What could possibly be more harmless? Everybody knows what Jimmy is! Why, his friends call me the Queen of the Fairies!”
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In the fall of 1950, the Duchess, according to the usual schedule she and her husband followed, sailed to New York for an annual two-month holiday in America. The Duke, who was busy working on his memoirs, was left behind in Paris at the insistence of his collaborator, Charles Murphy. Over the next few weeks, as the Duke followed press reports of his wife’s adventures with Donahue in New York nightclubs, he became increasingly concerned; finally, he abruptly told Murphy he had to go to America and sailed aboard the
Queen Elizabeth
.
While he was at sea, on December 4, Walter Winchell reported in his column in the
New York Daily Mirror
that “the Duke and Duchess thing is now a front” and hinted that a divorce was imminent. The press was out in force to witness the reunion of the Duke and Duchess when the ship docked on December 6, 1950. “The Duke,” wrote Louis Sobol in the New York
Journal-American
on December 7, 1950, “threw his arms around the Duchess ... seven times they kissed.” The
New York Times
noted that the Windsors “embraced for the benefit of the camera men.... The couple denied published reports that they are estranged....”
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The Windsors had been reunited, but this public display did not mean that Donahue had disappeared from the scene. Indeed, David simply joined his wife and her friend on their nightly round of New York’s fashionable clubs: El Morocco, the Colony, the Stork Club, and Le Pavillon. Unfortunately, the Donahue story was only replaced in society columns by rumors of a new infatuation on the part of the Duchess. On January 24, Louella Parsons’s syndicated column declared: “From New York comes word that Russell Nype, Manhattan’s new rave—he’s with Ethel Merman in ‘Call Me Madam’—is the Duchess of Windsor’s favorite dancing partner. She and the Duke, who are admirers of his, are reported giving a big party at the St. Regis, where he’s booked for a midnight stint after the show.”
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Five days later,
Newsweek
reported that the Windsors had attended the American National Theatre and Academy Ball, where the Duke had stayed all of ten minutes for photographs before leaving. Wallis had remained and danced until dawn with Cecil Beaton, who acted as her escort. This did nothing to convince the columnists that the most famous marriage of the century was not about to collapse.
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