Turner's rum-fueled revelations: a newport legend's chaotic legacy
Ted Turner, the media titan whose empire spanned news, Entertainment, and conservation, has died at 86. But beyond the headlines of global influence and environmental activism lies a more colorful, and considerably raucous, story – one fueled by copious amounts of rum and unforgettable press conferences.
The cup defender's downfall
Erik Loomis’s obituary rightly captures Turner’s vast reach: TCM, daily sports broadcasts, his ongoing commitment to land preservation in the American West, and, of course, the infamous battles with the Atlanta Braves. Yet, it conveniently glosses over a particular moment, a singular instance of sheer, unadulterated debauchery that cemented Turner’s place in sporting lore. It happened in 1977, after the Newport Yacht Club crew decisively defended the America’s Cup.
The delay between the final race and the boat's arrival at the dock offered a familiar opportunity: the sailors’ customary celebratory indulgence. Usually, this involved a rather spectacular display of drunken revelry – swinging from rigging, bellowing sea shanties at the top of their lungs, a scene reminiscent of the Men at Work’s “Down Under.”
But that night, Turner went further. Witnesses described a scene of utter chaos: the billionaire, swigging directly from a bottle of rum, disappearing beneath the table to replenish his jug, a solitary figure battling the amassed liquor.
A colossal son of a bitch
As my friend George Reedy famously observed about Lyndon Johnson, Turner operated with a singular, unapologetic intensity. He wasn’t a man for nuance, for diplomacy. He was a force, a whirlwind, and his press conferences reflected that perfectly. He was, in short, a colossal son of a bitch—a phrase I hesitate to use, but it’s undeniably accurate.
The memory of that rum-soaked press conference – the concealing tables, the hidden bottles, the sheer, unbridled joy – remains a potent symbol of Turner’s legacy. It’s a reminder that even the most powerful figures are, at their core, just human. And sometimes, those humans just need a bottle of rum.