Mavericks
Charles Finch celebrates the risky, racy, old-school charmer.
In the mayhem of my early Hollywood years—in fact, throughout my life—I have been lucky enough to stumble across men of great style, wit, flair and, most importantly, real substance. These men of original thought and independence of spirit not edited by their peers or by anyone else have been friends and often provided the inspiration or encouragement for me to continue trying to make an impossible film, build an improbable business or seduce an inappropriate woman.
When I had nothing, it mattered little to Jimmy Goldsmith or Gordon White or even Francis Coppola—who I first met at John Heaton’s beautiful home in Antigua Guatemala, over a stormy Thanksgiving. These mavericks have sometimes had business success, occasionally been lotharios or sportsmen (rarely neither). They have always had charm and humanity. They are gentlemen. They treat those less fortunate than themselves with kindness, waiters with fairness and charm, women with respect. They are the first to stand and give up their seat, the last to leave on the lifeboat—and do so well-dressed.
John Heaton comes from a long line of such men. His father was a 3 time Olympic medalist on the Skeleton bobsled and an adventurer who sired John when he was already in his fifties. John grew up in with Anglo-American wealth and looks. He left Europe in search of adventure and lived with and loved some of the great beauties of his generation, including, it is said, all of the Goldsmith girls with the exception of Jemima. His travels through Central America are legendary, as are his romances. A latter-day Rubirosa, with profound knowledge of Mayan and Incan culture. I have travelled in the mountains of Guatemala and crossed the Gulf of Honduras in a fishing boat with him—in the middle of a war. We arrived on a small island off Ranguana Cay with a bottle of scotch and fishing rods, hungry, horny and in need of help, only to find 15 Spanish air hostesses on a day-trip from Belize…
John’s homes and personal style have been written about in Vogue, Harper’s
and many other magazines. He is loved by the Indians—and I trusted him enough to try peyote!
Other great mavericks: Whitney Straight (my guardian, who brought me up), Peter Finch, George Ingle-Finch, James Goldsmith, John Aspinall, Gordon White, Edmund Hillary, George Mallory, Robert Falcon Scott, Winston Churchill, Maurice Saatchi, Terence Conran, Mario Testino, Taki, Graydon Carter, Arpad Busson, Giorgio Armani, Loro Piana, Luca Cordero di Montezemolo, Gianni Agnelli, Jean Pigozzi, Peter Langham, Mark Birley, Lucian Freud, Marc Quinn, Francis Ford Coppola, Luis Buñuel, Graham Greene, Robert Graves, Hugh Casson.
December 4th, 2008 at 3:25 pm
You forgot another great maverich: Brunnello Cuchinelli.
January 3rd, 2009 at 5:02 am
A little over 20 years ago, I had the privilege of assisting my pal Charles Finch in a historical upgrade from West Hollywood to his new abode in lower Beverly Hills. One sunny morning we rolled up our sleeves and strapped Charles’ mattress and worldly belongings to his then rickety convertible and set off from Whitley Terrace to a small cottage he had rented(?) and that was conveniently located behind the Beverly Wilshire hotel. This transfer was far from being a glamorous site. We had to stop and wrestle the mattress back in the car at every stop light for fear it would find a new home on some sidewalk before final destination. Duck below the dash board if we caught site of anyone to whom he had pitched he was a Euro producer. On arrival, Charles looked at me undaunted and proclaimed: “one day these shall be remembered as my early days” - Indeed those were the good old days - Cheers to that ol’Finchy!