The life of Tab Hunter, the golden-haired heartthrob of 1950s Hollywood, was a carefully constructed facade of celluloid dreams, hiding a labyrinth of sinister secrets, treacherous betrayals, and a relentless struggle for survival. At 86, the legendary actor, who passed away in 2018, left behind a 𝓈𝒽𝓸𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 testament to the brutal reality behind the glamour. Born Arthur Gelien on July 11, 1931, in a New York City hospital, his entry into the world was marked by abandonment.
His father, a careless man, was absent at birth, tossing a cheap candy bar onto his mother’s bed before denying his own son’s name. Gertrude Gelien, a 20-year-old German immigrant, was left to raise Arthur and his older brother, Walt, alone in a society that offered single mothers little but solitude, poverty, and harsh criticism.
Growing up in a devout Catholic home, Arthur never felt the warmth of his father’s love, a void that shaped his reserved and contemplative nature. His mother provided everything but emotional warmth, forcing him to constantly erase unpleasant feelings from his mind. The family’s move to Los Angeles in the 1940s only deepened his sense of being an outsider.
His remarkable good looks—golden blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and a tall athletic frame—made him a target of adoration from schoolgirls who chased him through hallways, forcing him to hide in lockers and empty classrooms. This attention only amplified his anxiety. Arthur soon became aware of his attraction to men, a truth that terrified him in an era when homosexuality was considered a mental disease and a criminal offense punishable by forced sterilization, electric shocks, or lobotomies.
After experimenting with his sexuality, Arthur was overwhelmed with guilt, confessing to a priest in hopes of salvation. Instead, he was met with severe reprimands and expulsion, leaving him feeling beyond redemption. In an attempt to escape his inner turmoil, he lied about his age and joined the Coast Guard at 15, but the harshness of reality followed him.
Assigned to a meteorological station in the Pacific, he was isolated and alone. Later, during training in Connecticut, he sought out his father for the first time. The door was answered by a furious woman; his father sat in the shadows, refusing to meet him.
The door slammed shut, and Arthur felt the sting of rejection more acutely than ever before. The Coast Guard soon discovered his lie about his age and discharged him, sending him back to Los Angeles.
Returning to a city that promised nothing but despair, Arthur fell into a deep melancholy, unsure of his future. He wearily sought male companionship, narrowly escaping a car crash after a drunk man accosted him. It was his brother Walt who introduced him to horseback riding at Griffith Park.
Initially terrified, Arthur found a profound sense of peace on horseback. He began working at the stables in exchange for riding time, and it was there, with a shovel of manure in his hand, that he felt closest to God. This was a beautiful emotional anchor in a sea of sorrow.
A chance encounter with a small-time actor named Dick Clayton while cycling in the park changed everything. Clayton saw potential in the tall, blue-eyed young man and suggested acting. Arthur dismissed the idea, but Clayton persisted, befriending him and pushing him to finish high school.
After graduating, Arthur and Walt rented a flat from a gay man named Terry. Needing solid work and money, Arthur recalled Clayton’s advice and decided to try acting. At a glitzy Hollywood party, Clayton introduced him to agent Henry Wilson, a powerful figure known for representing handsome men like Rock Hudson.
Wilson saw a star in Arthur and immediately set to rebrand him. He chose “Hunter” from Arthur’s favorite type of horse and “Tab” from the word “tab,” which sounds rough but means a bill. Arthur Gelien became Tab Hunter that night, leaving the party with a new identity.
Wilson secured him a small role in “The Lawless” in 1950, earning him $500—a fortune compared to his previous jobs. Tab used the money to help his partner, Ronnie Robertson, a figure skater, pursue her dreams, but Wilson primarily used him as a date for clubs and meals, sending out few auditions.
Tab’s career stagnated, and he took odd jobs and government assistance. Then came the night of October 1952. Terry invited him to a party in Walnut Park, which Tab believed was a fun gathering.
It was actually a gay men’s meetup. When police raided the location, Tab hid in the kitchen, scarfing down free food to avoid detection. In the 1950s, gay parties were considered illegal and obscene.
Tab was terrified for his budding career and his mother. A visitor called Greg Bautzer, a studio lawyer who specialized in scandals. Bautzer managed to reduce the charge to disturbing the peace, offering probation and a minor fine with no media attention.
Tab promised to keep quiet. His first 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓁 was a sinister mystery that nearly ended everything. His career continued to flop, and he fired Henry Wilson, who became enraged and spread vile rumors about him, calling him a “sleeping tab” for being uninteresting in bed.
In 1952, Tab signed with new agent Dick Clayton and auditioned for “Island of Desire.” Screenwriter Stephanie Nordley cast him as a sailor opposite the seductive Linda Darnell. Critics panned his performance, but his body won him a legion of female fans.
Magazines put him on covers, linking him to Debbie Reynolds, and fan mail flooded in. Directors took notice, casting him in macho soldier roles, often shirtless, in films like “Battle Cry” in 1955 and “The Girl He Left Behind” in 1956. “Battle Cry,” based on Leon Uris’s novel and shot at Camp Pendleton, became Warner Bros.’
biggest blockbuster of 1955, earning $8 million. Tab, however, realized his acting was lacking and left Hollywood to study theater in Taft, a small town of a few thousand people. There, he was questioned by actress Marilyn Erskine, who called him a “clumsy oaf.”
But intense training in audience participation and emotion transformed him.
Impressed, Marilyn brought him to Eddie Fisher, the singer known for “Oh My Papa.” Fisher knew Warner Bros. needed a good-looking actor to portray complex emotions in “Battle Cry.”
Paul Newman and James Dean had tried out, but Tab’s chemistry won him the role. He signed a six-month contract with Warner Bros. at $500 per week.
While filming in Puerto Rico, Tab made such an impression that Life magazine named him a rising star. Jack Warner signed him for seven years, promising to turn him into a star like Humphrey Bogart or Bette Davis. Tab starred in a series of Warner films, including “The Sea Chase” with John Wayne, “Track of the Cat” with Robert Mitchum, and “The Burning Hills” with Natalie Wood.
Natalie, a fellow Russian immigrant’s daughter, became his mentor and close friend. To conceal his sexual orientation, the studio staged a relationship between them, sending them on 𝒻𝒶𝓀𝑒 dates and planting stories of romance.
Tab hated the facade, but he had to comply. His mother had undergone electric shock therapy for a mental breakdown in the 1950s. When he visited her, he found her in agony with a shaved head.
She begged him, “Why did you do this to me?” Doctors blamed stress. Tab promised to care for her forever, even making a public service announcement on mental health, a rare move for a celebrity at the time.
The stigma of being gay persisted. Tab felt like he was living two lives, burdened by guilt when his own sexuality was diagnosed as a mental condition. The tabloid “Confidential,” edited by Howard Rushmore and backed by wealthy Republicans who hated gays and progressives, added to the pressure.
The magazine targeted celebrities like Rock Hudson and opposed interracial marriage. Agent Henry Wilson, still resentful of Tab, struck a deal: expose Tab, spare Rock Hudson.
In 1955, “Confidential” published a story about Tab’s 1952 arrest at a “limp wrist pajama party,” describing it as “two dozen of the gayest guys the cops ever saw.” Stunned, Tab believed his career was over. Warner Bros.
retaliated with favorable publicity. Tab took care of his mother, dated women, and maintained a clean-cut image. He had male friends but no romantic partners.
His handwriting was even praised at the Audience Awards, where he won the prize for Most Promising New Male Personality. A photographer mocked him, saying, “Today’s headline, tomorrow’s toilet paper.” Jack Warner personally intervened, and Hollywood learned not to snoop on Tab or Warner.
The media brushed “Confidential” aside as flimsy rumors. It was a poignant moment: rescued from the precipice, but Tab understood the value of secrets and the power of studios.
Tab began a two-year courtship with Anthony Perkins, the Broadway star of “Tea and Sympathy,” who was portraying a potentially gay character. Their relationship was mysterious, risky, and endearing. Paramount, needing a straight image for Perkins, considered paying $15 million to sign him.
They went to theaters separately, hiding their connection. Studios pushed female dates, teaming Tab with Debbie Reynolds or Natalie Wood. They used different cars, lived close by to slip over at night, and sat together only after the lights went out.
But insiders knew. Tab’s mother’s neighbor, Dorothy, found missing money and blackmailed him over his male associates. Feeling betrayed by someone close, Tab paid to keep his mother safe.
His career aspirations included musicals, but in 1958, director George Abbott made him imitate Ray Walston’s Broadway character, leaving him feeling like a shadow of someone else.
He played Lieutenant William Fowler in “The Lone Ranger” alongside Gary Cooper and Rita Hayworth, earning recognition for more nuanced acting. In the western “Gunman’s Walk” with Van Heflin, Tab played a disobedient son. After a DJ praised his voice during “The Burning Hills,” Dot Records released “Young Love,” which became a number one hit, topping Elvis Presley for six weeks, selling 2 million copies, and earning an RIAA gold certification.
It reached number five in the UK and number 11 in the US. Enraged by Paramount’s profit, Jack Warner established Warner Bros. Records and banned recordings.
Tab considered doing television a step backward. He was suspended, pleaded to go, and refused. Warner demanded $100,000.
Tab felt free yet nervous as he agreed, paying 25% of his salary. Departing from Warner, he missed out on “West Side Story.” Although Tony was played by a younger Richard Beymer, Natalie Wood played Maria.
Terence Stamp took on more roles for “Billy Budd.” Debt persisted, and Tab performed for $1,500 in low-budget films like “Dinner Theater,” “Exhausting,” “Lonely,” “Variety Shows,” and “Operation Bikini” in 1963 before returning to a hotel alone. He and his partner John moved to Virginia, living cheaply, breeding horses, and pretending John was his secretary.
His career reduced to dinner theater, where older audiences reminded him he was once someone. Tabloids mocked him for using varied advertising to solicit work while spreading false rumors about dog 𝓪𝓫𝓾𝓼𝓮 or acid overdoses. He paid a price for winning litigation.
His reputation was ruined, and the boy-next-door image fell apart. California sued “Confidential” in 1957, threatening to bring Tab and other celebrities to testify. He was afraid of lying or revealing his sexual orientation under oath.
During the six-week trial, celebrities like Frances Farmer were so humiliated they nearly committed suicide. A resolution was reached, and the lawsuit was withdrawn. Perhaps out of fear that his sexuality would influence the court, Tab chose not to testify.
His career continued to decline. There were few guest appearances, like “The Virginian” in 1964, and the 1960-1961 sitcom “The Tab Hunter Show” failed. His relationship with John ended when John used love letters to extort $10,000 from him.
Feeling betrayed again, Tab paid. After learning of Walt’s death in Vietnam, Tab sobbed alone in a horse stall in San Francisco, lamenting the brother who kept him safe. He used a satire of a dog saving Hollywood, “One Ton Ton,” and “The Dog Who Saved Hollywood” in 1976.
In the early 1980s, John Waters, the eccentric director of “Pink Flamingos,” referred to Tab as a “tab aficionado” after a dinner theater performance in Indianapolis. Waters offered him a role in “Polyester” in 1981, co-starring opposite the 350-pound drag diva Divine. The film featured scratch-and-sniff cards for audiences, with smells ranging from feces to flowers.
Tab paused. Friends said it would damage his reputation. “But what’s to lose?”
he wondered. “I’ve lost my career.”
For three weeks, Tab felt free while filming in Baltimore without a trailer, enjoying cold pizza at 2 a. m. “Polyester” was popular.
The New York Times described Tab as charming, and others commended him for enhancing the film. Reaching a new generation, he felt motivated and renewed. In 1982, Tab joined puppeteer Wayland Flowers in “Madam’s Place,” singing a hilarious reproduction.
In 1985, he wrote and starred in “Lust in the Dust,” a western spoof featuring Divine, shot in New Mexico. He fell in love with producer Allan Glazer. Allan took a chance, stopping production but having faith in a better future.
Variety described the film as “sultry, provocative, and hilarious,” and it became a cult classic. Tab was present when Rock Hudson died of AIDS in 1985 amid social disapproval and fears of gays being blacklisted. In 1992, Anthony Perkins passed away.
Tab had been offered a role in “Lust” but turned it down. There was regret in their last meeting.
When Tab retired in the 1990s to farm horses, he found simple joy and felt closest to God when working with a shovel of manure. He publicly discussed his sexuality and life in his 2005 New York Times bestseller, “Tab Hunter Confidential,” written with Eddie Mueller after learning of an unauthorized biography. In 2015, Jeffrey Schwarz produced an award-winning documentary featuring interviews with Debbie Reynolds, Clint Eastwood, and John Waters.
Tab married Allan in 2015 and died from a blood clot on July 8, 2018, at the age of 86. His legacy is one of love and tenacity. Tab Hunter is a symbol of Hollywood’s heyday in the 1950s, when stars were created from nothing by studios like Warner Bros.
that had complete control over their lives. Like a controlling parent, Jack Warner stifled Tab’s freedom while safeguarding his assets, keeping him in the ideal boy-next-door role. Being gay was a huge hardship.
Tab lived with guilt because society considered it a crime and a mental disorder. He battled for his life, more taciturn than Rock Hudson, but both were victims of a system that allowed private information to be used for retaliation or financial gain.
From an orphaned youngster with a sick mother and no father to a 𝒔𝒆𝒙 icon, then to dinner theater and B-movies, Tab’s journey is one of courageous acceptance of truth, even if it came late. It is a lesson in fortitude and genuineness. This story reminds those over 65 of societal changes.
Pride Month and same-𝒔𝒆𝒙 marriage have replaced a time when being gay meant jail or electric shocks. Tab encourages authenticity. Discover small pleasures, like caring for horses, and persevere in the face of life’s setbacks.
The plot is spectacular and full of mystery. Who actually called the lawyer to his aid in 1950? Why did Henry Wilson’s resentment lead to treachery?
How did he survive the private 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓁? He triumphed, finding contentment with Allan and horses, a heartfelt and motivational conclusion. It is a human journey full of optimism amid dark sadness, not just a Hollywood controversy.
David Lambert’s legacy endures, as seen by his celebration of Tab’s birthday with a “Damn Yankees” picture or his official reminiscences of Tab and Divine in “Polyester” as the ideal couple. Bruce Le Bruce highlighted his complicated politics by calling him a “gay Republican dreamboat.” Despite being a conservative Republican, Tab lived an authentic life.
These blogs connect the past and present with sentimental comments and vintage photographs, demonstrating that Tab continues to inspire both seasoned Hollywood fans and the LGBTQ+ community.
