Rush & Molloy: Scandal, By the Book

Joanna Molloy and George Rush in their Tribeca loft. Photo: Carl Glassman/Tribeca Trib

For 15 years, long-time Tribeca residents George Rush and Joanna Molloy were the popular gossip  columnists for the Daily News, chasing juicy stories on the romances, infidelities, legal woes and sex scandals of the rich and famous.

Little did readers know that the be­hind-the-scenes stories of the tabloid’s “Rush & Molloy” column were even more intriguing. Those have been saved for the couple’s new book, “Scandal: A Manual” (Skyhorse Publishing), a riveting read for the celebrity-conscious set.

Not exactly a “how to,” but a chronicle of reportorial exploits, the book follows the gossip columnists as they navigate the delicate terrains of finicky sources, celebrity backlash and the mad rush to get the story first.

Many of their subjects were surprisingly chummy—rocker Courtney Love would call to chat about her love life, and when the columnists’ son was born, Bar­bara Walters and Woody Allen sent gifts.

Others held grudges. Robert DeNiro didn’t want to be anywhere near them; Sarah Jessica Parker admonished them for revealing the tensions on the Sex and the City set. And then there was the time that Rush tried to overhear Princess Diana’s conversation at a party while pretending to examine a nearby artwork. “Could you please move your ear-ah over there-ah?” the princess said to him.

“Scandal: A Manual” not only puts celebrities under the microscope, but also takes a close—and amusing—look at the authors’ relationship. They began their life together as intense competitors—he at the Post, she at the Daily News—guarding their sources jealously.

“One of our marriage’s early issues was who’d get custody of The Donald,” Rush writes. He relishes the time he beat his wife to the home phone, anxious to get the scoop on Trump’s rumored im­pending wedding to Marla Maples. “Mar­ried or not, there would be no mercy!” Rush wrote.

Yet for every juicy headline Rush & Molloy printed, there were the ones they chose not to. They obliged director Mike Nichols when he asked that they not print that he was smoking (it would have upset wife Diane Sawyer). For a while after the death of JFK, Jr. and his wife Carolyn, they stopped publishing gossip about the family, out of respect.

Rush and Molloy watched the world of gossip evolve. The in-depth pieces  they once wrote were being replaced by  quicker items—what designer heels Kim Kardashian was wearing, for instance. “God forbid we missed a development in the romance of The Hills’ twits Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt!” says Rush.

The Daily News changed and the blogosphere grew. Three years ago, Rush & Molloy ran its last column, with a sidebar that read: “Today’s Top Item—Rush and Molloy Are Splitting! Now that we have your attention, let us clarify that we don’t need a divorce lawyer.

The two writers’ evidently have mixed feelings about their time as cel­ebrity reporters and, in their book, they leave “would-be gossips” with some advice. “Gossip about something that matters to you,” they say. “Go after liars, braggarts, quacks and hypocrites. Try to give your victim a chance to respond.”

IN THEIR OWN WORDS
From “Scandal: A Manual”
by George Rush with Joanna Molloy

At a big movie premiere at the Ziegfeld Theater, you’d be wedged cheek-by-jowl along a rope line with thirty reporters and their camera crews. Like most assembly lines, the red carpet produced a shabby product.

Stars were usually racing to the theater. So they didn’t have much time to talk. If you had a controversial question, their publicists were there at their side to tell them not to answer it. If you did get an interesting quote, the eavesdropping reporter next to you was likely to steal it or to ask the same question you asked, so they could claim it was their quote. That’s why I usually preferred to try to catch the actors at the after-party—after they’d had a few drinks.

If there was no after-party, or if we couldn’t crack it, the red carpet was unavoidable. The best strategy was to think of a concept or theme. For instance, at the premiere of Tim Burton’s musical Sweeney Todd, we asked one and all to donate their thoughts on blood, since Burton splashed a lot of it in the film. “I like to keep my blood inside me, thank you,” said Johnny Depp, who played the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Had he ever lost a lot of blood? “Yes,” he deadpanned. “But I found it!” Depp’s pal Keith Richards, said he was only creeped out by “other people’s blood.” Had he seen the Broad­way version of Stephen Sondheim’s ghoulish musical? “Nah,” said the cadaverish-looking rolling Stone. “But I knew the original Sweeney Todd. He gave a hell of a shave!” And so on. Sutured together, the quotes made for an amusing read.

The crimson conveyor belt sometimes delivered people you didn’t care to speak with. Typically, it was an eight-year-old who played the son of the lead actor. But the kid’s publicist might be the gatekeeper for the actor you needed to talk to. And so, the publicist might whisper that, if you talked to the kid, you’d get five minutes with the star. Deal!”