I can’t help myself. In retrospect
it seems like such a quaint little scandal. Charming really—the short naked final tumble of the recent Vice President of the United
States and one of the wealthiest men
in the country. It seems almost like
a May-December rom com with a dark twist ending. Compare that with the current state of—you should pardon the
expressions—affairs. You would surely do it anyway without prompting.
Today
we have daily revelations of the tawdry trysts between another Republican tycoon-turned-politico who subsequently moved from his posh Manhattan digs to a certain publicly subsidized mansion in Washington with a blonde porn star billed as Stormy
Daniels who resembled and reminded him of his own daughter.
There may have been spanking
involved and at least one attempt to set up a ménage à trois with
another video bimbo who declined out of simple revulsion. And the
whole affair played out within weeks
of the birth of his latest son to
his third wife, a former model who had posed for soft-core porn
spreads herself. To buy his plaything’s silence there was a payment of $130,000 for a confidentiality
agreement with money that may have been laundered in interesting ways. The same man had two previous wives, both of whom he dumped for younger mistresses. He also boasted about sexual conquests on several appearances on a shock jock’s popular radio show and has
been accused by multiple women of lewd
advances and sexual harassment. You can’t make this shit up.
I'm sure it was his good looks and charming personality, Stormy/ |
All
of this has been dismissed with a bored wave of the hand by his most ardent supporters as just another case of Donald being Donald. The rightwing apologists, Tea Party programed
zombies, and the religious zealots who
smirked and celebrated the former Veep’s
indelicate demise, yowled for Bill
Clinton head, and were profoundly shocked
and offended by Michelle Obama’s bare arms are suddenly unconcerned and tolerant. One prominent
preacher simply shrugged that
his fellow Bible thumpers are just giving the Resident “a Mulligan for
past misbehavior” for doing their bidding now by tromping
on LBGT rights, attacking abortion and
contraception access, defending “religious liberty” by forcing everyone else in the country to
kiss their ass.
But
now, let us turn back the clock to
the simpler times when things were not thus.
On January 26, 1979
Nelson Rockefeller, former Vice President of the United States, Governor of New York, Assistant Secretary of State, one of
the richest men in America, patron of the arts, philanthropist, and Baptist collapsed with a massive
heart attack at the age of 70.
Unfortunately for him, he collapsed on 27-year-old Megan Marshak, an aide
to the political powerhouse. He was naked. So was she.
She struggled to get the large, heavy man off her. In doing so she may have pushed him off her bed and onto the floor. Anyway, that’s where
he was found by a responding ambulance crew.
Rockefeller and his second wife Happy, another former aide. |
In the town house
at 13 West 54th Street in
New York City where Rockefeller theoretically kept a secondary office, but was really
Marshak’s residence, the young woman
went into a panic. The affair between the two had been a very well-kept secret. Rockefeller was very publicly married to his second
wife, the former Margaretta “Happy” Murphy, herself a one-time
aide when Rockefeller was governor of the Empire State. Not knowing what else to do, Marshak phoned
her close friend news reporter Ponchitta
Pierce.
When Pierce arrived, she found
Rockefeller unconscious but still
breathing. The two finally decided to call an ambulance after
determining that they could not get the
man dressed. The ambulance arrived
after a delay of around an hour. Rockefeller died in the vehicle on the way to the hospital. Opinion remains divided on whether, given the state of medicine at the
time, he could have been saved if he
received immediate attention.
The press initially ran the cover-up story, but it quickly unraveled. |
Meanwhile the family scrambled into a protective mode. The first press announcements said that Rockefeller was found collapsed at
his desk at his main office in Rockefeller
Center by a security guard. That tale
unraveled quickly. The family acknowledged that he was with Marshak,
but claimed they were working together
in the second office. The press quickly surmised that this was a ruse and began hinting, as broadly as
possible in those more discrete
days, that there might have been hanky-panky
going on.
The widow Happy hastily arranged
for her husband’s remains to be cremated. But an official autopsy confirmed that Rockefeller died after a heart attack during or shortly after coitus.
The family and close friends gathered
for a funeral on January 29 and the
ashes were interred at the private Rockefeller
family cemetery in Sleepy Hollow, New
York. On February 2 a public memorial was held at the famous Riverside Church attended by more than
2,200 people including President Jimmy
Carter, former President Gerald R.
Ford, more than 100 current or former members of Congress, as well as official
representatives from more than 70 nations.
Among those in attendance was Senator Barry Goldwater, whose insurgent
campaign against Rockefeller and the hated
Eastern Liberal Republican Establishment
in 1964 denied Rocky his second shot at the Republican Party nomination for President—the one that was probably doomed by his hasty divorce from his first wife and
equally hasty marriage to Happy, who had just dumped her own long-time spouse.
Conservatives could hardly contain
their glee at Rockefeller’s demise
and the embarrassing circumstances. They considered it the death knell of liberal
Republicanism. And it pretty much was. It took a while, but the species Rockefeller represented is now as extinct as the dodo. Even today a Google search of Rockefeller’s death will turn up dozens of right wing web sites still gloating and many consigning their old foe to eternal damnation. These folks never give up a grudge.
Megan Marshack looked very businesslike and professional in one of the few photos of her ever published. |
As for the hapless young Megan Marshak, she held up for weeks in the town house, never leaving, answering the phone, or granting
any interviews. When Rockefeller’s will was read, Marshak was left the deed to the now infamous townhouse.
She briefly dated macabre cartoonist Chas Addams who
lived in the same building about a year after Rocky’s death.
Then she essentially
vanished. Only four published photographs, all taken before the
death, are known to exist and that
includes one of her at about age 12 and another that was high school mug shot.
Despite enormous press interest
she was able to disappear. In 1992 it was reported that she was living
in New York and working quietly as a
news writer and producer at WCBS-TV. In
2008 that pillar of journalism Parade
Magazine reported that she had married
and was living quietly in Southern California.
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