Redbook (March 1997)

The Vanessa Williams NOBODY Knows

She went from national scandal to international success, and now she tells how her acting career, her children, and the new man in her life have given her the strength to survive

By Marcia Froelke Coburn

WHEN THE PHONE RINGS IN VANESSA WILLIAMS´S ON-location trailer, the star jumps to her feet to answer it. She doesn't have far to go: maybe three steps. This past winter, while she was filming her latest movie, Soul Food, that trailer, parked on a fashionable Chicago side street, was Williams's home away from home. But this is no downtime chat for Williams; it's a call from her new manager that's she's been expecting all week.

"You know what?" she says softly but firmly into the receiver. "I've thought about it, and I just don't feel it. So I don't want to do it." She is quiet as she listens to the voice on the other end. "People are going to be mad at me, right? That's all right." And she sounds like she means it.

It has taken Williams-dethroned beauty queen, pop singer, Broadway star, and now movie actress-a long time to get to this place in her life. Now that she's here, she is reveling in it. "That phone call was about a song that everyone is saying is going to be a huge hit," she explains. "But I can't fake enthusiasm, so I´m not going to sing it. I'm sure the songwriter will be upset with me, and this other person who wanted to do a duet is going to be disappointed. But I´ve finally learned that I have to please myself first."

Williams calls this sort of situation a life lesson, and currently she is applying it to almost every phase of her existence. This is a transition time for her: She is finally winning leading screen roles: she is in the process of divorcing the man who had been her husband-manager for a decade; and she is feeling in charge of a career that is firmly and determinedly on track.

Could this possibly be the same person who was forced to resign her Miss America crown over a scandal involving private nude photographs? Thirteen years have passed since then, time that Williams, now tuming 34, has spent not just building a smashing career but getting her emotional act together as well.
"I learned to trust my gut and my own instincts," she says. "Posing for those pictures bothered me, but I wasn´t strong enough or assertive enough then to say what I really felt. That's not just a life lesson, that´s a woman's lesson: learning that you don´t have to please everyone.

Today the only people Williams worries about pleasing are her children-Melanie, 9; Jillian, 7; and Devin, 3;-and herself. Trim and toned thanks to her new approach to food (she's cut down on wheat and given up caffeine and dairy products), she is a stunning woman with mesmerizing green eyes-so light they sometimes appear blue-and perfect cafe' au lait skin. "Oh, the complexion is thanks to glycolic acid and alpha hydroxy acids," she says. "I´m hooked on this stuff."

With a slight wave of her hand, she deflects the hype-both good and bad-that has surrounded her. "What I am is very simple: I'm a survivor, a doer, and a normal person with three great kids. Just with a slightly higher profile."

A Nice Kid from the ´Burbs

Williams grew up an hour north of New York City, in the same tight-knit, upper-middle-class community where she is raising her children today. Her parents, Helen and Milton, were music teachers who got to spend afternoons and summers with Vanessa and her younger brother, Christopher (an actor who lives in Los Angeles). Because of their educational backgrounds-both have master's degrees-certain assumptions were taken for granted: that the children would play a musical instrument (Vanessa mastered both the piano and French horn) and that their grammar would always be correct.

"They used a lot of educational techniques on us" says Williams. "Over dinner we had flash cards about black history." As a girl, she was involved in an overload of activities: Brownies, Girl Scouts, dance, theater, track. She fit in with her mostly white classmates, but she nevertheless leamed about racism at an early age. "I knew I was different. I was called 'nigger.' But I never felt that an opportunity couldn't be mine because of my skin color. My mother always said, 'You're going to have to do better than anyone else just to be considered equal. But anything is possible."'

According to her mother, Vanessa was a leader even as a child. "There was a time when girls started wearing painter's pants." recalls Helen Williams. "It was a style in some places, but not here. Still, Vanessa thought it was a wonderful fashion statement and she started wearing them. Her friends thought it looked weird. But then, over time, they were all wearing them."

Like most teenagers, Vanessa occasionally exhibited a little too much independence. "We saw this personality change during high school," says Helen. "Outside, she would be cheerful and outgoing. But when she came home, it was like a blue funk had swept into the house. She'd march into her room, slam the door, and not come out until dinnertime." Her parents solution: Milton took Vanessa's door off its hinges. "We said, 'If you are not going to communicate and be part of this family, then you lose the privilege of privacy.' It lasted a week. When we saw a change in attitude, he put the door hack up. Vanessa always said we were very creative in our discipline."

"My mother always said, 'You´re going to have to do better than anyone else to be considered equal.'"

Five years ago Williams and her husband moved the family back to Westchester County from L.A., where they'd moved for work. "One major reason was that my parents still live there," she says. "I wanted lots of generational interaction, instead of the kids just seeing their grandparents on holidays." It also helps that the community, rather than being starstruck or invasive, is protective about her privacy. Last summer, when a tabloid reporter was snooping around, several different shopkeepers called Williams to warn her.

Another motivation for Williams's return to her roots is that she feels that her upbringing has served her well. "I try to apply the same theories and practices with my children that my parents did. Which is tough. It's an entirely different situation. Let's face it-my life is hardly consistent." True to character, though, Williams rises to the challenge. At home, she is just another mom-jeans and sneakers, hair back, no makeup-carpooling the kids in the Range Rover to dance and riding lessons. When she was making Eraser in L.A., Williams flew home on weekends to see her children. During the filming of Hoodlum and then Soul Food. the kids flew in every Friday to visit their mother. "The pull between being a mom and having a career is never in balance," she says with a sigh. "You always wish you were there. And when you are devoting time to your family, there is the pressure of making money, keeping this well-oiled machine running, which means you have to get out there and work. So the juggling act never stops."

Home base is a large hilltop house that Williams and the children share with Sebastian. their shih tzu; two turtles; and Kathianne Mead, their live-in nanny for the past eight years. Although Williams's lifestyle is different from her parents', she has set the same goals for her children that her parents set for her: "I want them to be educated, grounded, and wellrounded individuals," she says. "I want them to have great life experiences. But most of all, I want each of them to have a happy life."

Stripped of the Crown

When Williams was crowned Miss America back in 1983, she was a talented and strikingly beautiful 20-year-old Syracuse University student majoring in musical theater. The plan was that her reign would help launch her successfully to Broadway. The reality, however, took a few unexpected and nightmarish detours along the way.

First, with the title came the weight of expectations: As Miss America she symbolized purity; as the first black woman to capture the crown, she became a symbol for her entire race. "It was a lot for a 20-year-old to take on," she says. "At first, the press was trying to fit me into this predetermined story. When they found out it didn't fit-'Oh, you didn't come from the projects,' and 'You´ve had a privileged background'- then they felt there was no story there at all."

She wound up getting criticized from every side. "For some people in the black community, I wasn't black enough because of my looks or how I spoke. For white supremacists, I was too black. Then I was from New York, which alienated at least half the country. Plus, I was outspoken about my opinions, and the pageant organization was uncomfortable with my being pro-choice, because Miss America wasn't supposed to talk about subjects like that. At times, I felt like, 'Forget this. If I can't be accepted for who I am, then what's the point?'"

Williams got the chance to ponder that question for real less than a year later. Private nude photos of her surfaced in Penthouse (the webmaster: have I already told this?: "Fuck Penthouse!"), and her reign as the first black Miss America came to a scandalous halt. "You need to be in touch with yourself and know what you want in life," she says, obliquely referring to her teenage decision to pose for those pictures. "But being a teenager is a confusing time. That's the lovely thing that happens as you grow older: You are more confident and more loving of yourself. It's easier to say, 'You know. that's just not me."'

In the middle of the media frenzy that followed, Williams met Ramon Hervey, an L.A.-based publicist who was brought in to do damage control. A few years later, he became her husband and manager, although at first there wasn't much of a career to manage. "People just saw me as this scandal-ridden beauty queen who suddenly thought that she could act, instead of someone who had been training and working on her acting for years and then was derailed by a scandal."

Hervey's plan was for Williams to take an end run around the notoriety by focusing on her singing. Recording and producing albums would give her some measure of control over her career and serve as an image rebuilder, though certain showbiz "authorities" doubted that Williams would ever be able to recover from the scandal.

"Oh, sure, I heard that," she says hint of a smile. "But people who said that didn't know me. My family, and the people who sweated next to me in dance class and performed with me in shows over the years all said to me, 'When the dust settles, you´ll get the last laugh.' And I knew it was only a matter of time. You can call that being arrogant or cocky, but I knew I'd get a shot. And the more shots I got, the more people said, 'Oh, I didn't know she could do that.' At first, you get defensive and you say, 'Of course I can do that. There's so much more to me than what's been in the papers.' Now I know"-she holds out her hands, forming a sort of balance with them-"that you'll have your fans, and some people will never be among them."

These days, Williams regards the experience as her baptism by fire. "It was definitely a huge life lesson that I had to carve my way through. But after having done that at 20, I feel like I can handle almost anything." And, as it turns out, she did get the last laugh. Last fall, when the pageant was running ads for its 76th annual event, there, in the highlights footage, was a smiling, triumphant Williams.

The Long Road back

Even as she was beginning to make it as a singer, acting remained Williams's primary goal. But Hervey's plan was proving to be a savvy one, and Williams was willing to bide her time. Her three albums-The Right Stuff(1988), The Comfort Zone (1991), and The Sweetest Days (1994)-have sold over 4 million copies and garnered nine Grammy nominations. And "Colors of the Wind," the theme song from Pocohontas, which she sang, won an Oscar nomination (it later snagged the Oscar) and gave Williams the opportunity to perform at last year's Academy Awards. Was she nervous? "Not really," she says with a shrug. "If anything bothered me, it was the weight of the dress"-a five-pound metallic-lace Versace showstopper.

Williams's acting career got a jump start in 1994, when she was offered the title role in the Broadway hit Kiss of the Spider Woman. Originally she was only going to complete the run for Chita Rivera, who was stepping down. But thanks to critical acclaim, the play's three-month run was extended to nine. The professional rewards were incalculable, but Williams says the emotional payoff was even more satisfying. "I finally got a chance to show people my forte-musical theater," she says. "On opening night, my family and friends were all in tears. They knew this was a dream come true for me."

The next year, Williams learned that the female lead in a big-budget Schwarzenegger film was being cast, so she booked herself a flight out to L.A. for a meeting with Eraser's producer and director. "I had no idea that it was a big deal to fly yourself out," she says. "I don't travel in those showbiz circles. I just did it."

A few days later, they flew her back to screen-test with Schwarzenegger. They only knew me as a singer," she says. "Until they saw the screen test, they didn't know I could act. Sure, I'd had some small movie roles before and I'd done Broadway, but when you're making a $100 million film, you want to be sure you have someone you can count on." Her gutsiness, along with her impressive screen test, convinced the producer and director to hire her, despite their initial reluctance. "The studio didn't want it to be another The Bodyguard, with a black woman in distress and a white protector, so they rewrote the ending," Williams explains.

The roles are more plentiful these days. In Hoodlum, a 1930s epic about Harlem gangster Bumpy Johnson (Laurence Fishburne) and Lucky Luciano (Andy Garcia), Williams plays Francine, a nurse who falls in love with Fishburne's character. "Her big dilemma: She loves this guy because of his brains and his strength, but she hates the world he lives in," says Williams. In Soul Food, a low-budget story about African-American family ties coming later this year, Williams plays a smart, tough, and ultimately betrayed wife. And in The Odyssey, an upcoming TV miniseries shot in Turkey, she plays the goddess Calypso. What was the best part of that film-playing divinity, perhaps? "Two weeks in the Mediterranean," she says, "with heavenly beaches and the best baklava in the world.

"Movies are great, she adds, "but for me, Broadway is the ultimate. I get to sing, dance, act, and work with an ensemble cast every night. I can come home at night and wake up with my kids in the morning. I can't wait to go back." A couple of projects are currently in development, including the story of Sally Hemmings, Thomas Jefferson's black slave mistress, and an adaptation of The Blue Angel, the movie that made Marlene Dietrich a star.

"I try not to be too hurt if some role gets away from me," she says. "Sometimes the unexpected things turn out to be the sweetest. I didn't go after the in Spider Woman. I had auditioned for a part in Show Boat. But the producer thought that it would be great for me to replace Chita, and it wound up being my biggest career success." She breaks into a full-blown smile. "Now, that was either the Master working from above or pure luck."

The View from the Top

Williams is a list-maker. with a tendency to write down things she'd like in the future. "OK, it's a New Age thing," she says, "but it helps me get it out of my system." What's on her list right now? "Sometimes I'm just thanking God for the blessings in my life and for guiding my children." After a pause, she adds. "I wouldn't object if movie musicals came back into style. If they did, I could be in luck."

Williams is also a firm believer that birth order in a family affects one's personality. "The oldest child is very productive and responsible, the middle child is the compromiser and peacemaker, and the baby-well, the baby is the fun-loving, doted-upon baby!" She is interested not only for her children's sakes, but for her own. Currently, Williams is still in the process of divorcing Hervey. "We have an agreement not to talk about it," she says. Words aren't necessary; it's clear from her suddenly subdued manner that this is a painful subject. Last spring, she fired Hervey as her manager and hired someone new. "That was a relief, to be able to do business with someone and not take it home with you."

In describing how the birth-order phenomenon applies to her marriage, Williams reveals a lot about the problems that led to the divorce. 'The relationship with my husband was very goal-oriented," she says. "We were two oldest children together, so there were two people used to being in control, and neither one was comfortable with taking a backseat. In my new relationship, there is more give-and-take and less struggle for control and power, like you tend to get when you share the same birth order."

About the new man in her life, reportedly a young screen-writer named Christopher Salomine, whom she met last summer when filming The Odyssey, Williams is discreet but enthusiastic. "I'm much more assertive in a relationship now. I ask for what I need and I am able to give it back. I'm very happy with the situation." That sentiment easily extends to other aspects of her life. "The kids are happy and adjusted. I feel great. I´m picking and choosing what I really want to do careerwise, not just working to have something to do."

A knock on the trailer´s door serves as a summons back to the set. "Give me five minutes, " she calls out. Jumping up from the sofa, she grabs her next costume change and heads for the bathroom. On this film, which Williams is doing not for a big-bucks salary but because she believes in the family-oriented story, perks are almost nonexistent. Within 90 seconds tops, she is out, dressed, and heading for the set. Her dress is zipped, her hair is in place, her accessories are changed. She looks fabulous and she is ready to roll: the ultimate professional who is also the ultimate beauty.

It has been a long-and sometimes bumpy-road for Williams to reach this point. Does she feel that she has finally arrived at her destination?

Almost,' she says, practically singing the word.