Barry Levine, ora executive editor del National Enquirer, ricorda i bei tempi del matrimonio tra Liz e Larry Fortensky quando lui lavorava allo Star.
We had Ms. Taylor to ourselves. At least, we did until her bizarre eighth wedding, in 1991, to a construction worker named Larry Fortensky. For those of us in celebrity land, this was the biggest event of all time. As Star’s boss in Los Angeles, I came up with an 80-page “battle plan” to infiltrate the ceremony, to be held at her close pal Michael Jackson’s ranch near Santa Ynez, Calif. Driving up there in the middle of the night from Beverly Hills, my team of a half-dozen reporters set up camp in a giant trailer in the wilderness on Jackson’s property before daylight. We even built a makeshift radio tower for our then brand-new “cellular phone.” But my best intentions and months of planning turned into a complete disaster. Tarantulas invaded our trailer, scaring us out of our wits. And then on the big day, my idea to get exclusive photos by sending up a reporter and a photographer in a giant hot-air balloon blew up big-time. The balloon snagged on trees upon liftoff, hurtling my reporter and photographer to the ground. Fortunately the heavy brush saved them. My main competition, The National Enquirer, ended up getting the big scoop — an interview outside the local police station with a photographer who had parachuted into the wedding (and was promptly arrested for trespassing). All I got was loud shouting from my editors back in New York over that newfangled phone.
New York Times