Tom Cruise: An Unauthorized Biography (24 page)

Given the couple’s decision to adopt in Florida rather than in their home state of California, there was considerable speculation both inside and outside Scientology that the episode had been engineered by their faith. People close to David Miscavige at the time believe that he was instrumental in orchestrating the quick adoption. Nicole declined to address the speculation, saying, “Some things are personal. We adopted Isabella because she was meant for us.”

That failed to stem the swirl of sexual speculation surrounding the couple. There were tabloid stories suggesting that the world’s sexiest man was sterile, doubts about his sexual orientation, and rumors that Nicole was unable to bear children. The gossip became superheated a few weeks later when Tom’s ex-wife, Mimi Rogers, discussed his desire to be a monk in the March issue of
Playboy
. While she later recanted, publicly stating that Tom was not gay—“I slept with the man for four years; I should know”—the damage was done. Her off-the-cuff remarks became a major fable in the growing body of folklore surrounding the actor’s sexuality. For a time the couple tried to let the ill-informed gossip wash over them, as they maintained a discreet silence about the real reasons behind their decision to adopt so early in their marriage. Instead, Nicole discussed her desire of giving birth one day and adopting more children.

For the most part, the couple just blissed out over their new baby, enjoying the daily miracle of bringing new life into their home. Even though the couple had two nannies on call twenty-four hours a day, Tom was very much a hands-on dad, wanting to be the kind of father that he had always longed for, the man whom Isabella could rely on completely. As he grew into fatherhood, he began to realize what he had missed from his own childhood, measuring his father’s behavior against his own. It is noticeable that there was now an angrier, less sympathetic edge to his public comments about his own father, observations that perhaps reflected his own experience.

Characteristically Tom, like millions of fathers before him,
became an instant and infallible expert on child care. In the Cruise household, it was father who knew best. When he was out, he called home constantly to make sure that baby Isabella was properly fed, bathed, and cared for. He wanted to make sure that everything was just perfect, vetting Isabella’s diet, feeding times, and sleeping patterns. In time her daily menu was inputted into a computer and included a long list of ingredients that were banned from her diet. “Being a father is what I always dreamed of, only a hundred times better,” he said. “I’ve never been happier.” When he wasn’t working, he read to her every night, and when he was at meetings or on set, he was known to take her along with him. “He was born to be a dad,” noted a friend who knew the couple at the time. “He absolutely wanted her, he’s a wonderful father, very loving, just adored Isabella.”

Baby Isabella was entering a household with a routine that was controlled and consistent. Every morning Tom and Nicole were woken at eight o’clock by their staff, who returned ten minutes later to make sure that they were fully awake. Models of healthy living, Tom and Nicole worked out in the mornings following a breakfast of oatmeal while reading
The New York Times.
She liked a regular massage after a workout or a beauty treatment, her stylist and colorist regular visitors to the compound. He read few books apart from the Scientology texts that filled the bookshelves, while spending his days poring over film scripts or reading flying manuals to study for his private pilot’s license. In his downtime he played volleyball, went for a round of golf, or simply watched sports on TV, especially the fortunes of the New York Mets, the baseball team he’d supported as a kid.

Just a few years after busing tables, he now had a $9.75 million, five-bedroom house in fashionable Pacific Palisades, employing a plethora of nannies, chefs, gardeners, housekeepers, and security staff. It was said that many were Scientologists who were carefully vetted by Scientology officials, the procedure often taking months in order to find a suitable candidate with the right background and attitude to work for Scientology’s poster boy. Candidates would be interviewed on videotape
by a Scientology executive before being approved. A Scientology executive later dismissed the claim as “preposterous.” There was also a degree of liaison regarding staff matters between Tom’s office and that of fellow Scientologist John Travolta. Loyalty and hard work were rewarded—at Christmas and birthdays, staff members at the Cruise home were asked to list their ten favorite “must have” presents, ranging in value from, say, a car to a board game. The couple would pick an item off the list, based on how well they considered a member of their staff had worked during the year.

However loyal his staff, life with “Tom Terrific” was demanding and stressful. He had exacting standards, testing staff on their knowledge of tasks he had previously asked them to perform, insistent that everything be done precisely the way he wanted. If a staff member ever used his initiative to change an order, however slightly, Tom would go “ballistic.” It was his way or the highway—no questions asked. “You always had to be on your toes with him, anticipating answers for any questions he had,” a former insider said. While Nicole was more disengaged and aloof, she was the kind of employer who would pick up on one fault but never acknowledge how smoothly her home was run. Even though she was a recent convert, Nicole was not above using Scientology techniques to admonish staff.

On one occasion she was infuriated about a flattering but accurate story in the British tabloids about her shopping habits. She was determined to find out who had leaked the information and ordered all the staff to write what Scientologists call a “knowledge report,” outlining any involvement in the incident. Both Tom and Nicole read and reviewed the statements by the staff before signing off on them. Staff could be forgiven for thinking that it was like being back at school. The culprit was Nicole’s personal shopper, who did not face the same strictures as household staff.

All staff members, whether or not they were Scientologists, had to sign an eight-page confidentiality agreement in which they waived their First Amendment rights to free speech. A word out of place, however innocent, to a friend or
family member about life on Planet Tom could lead to huge fines and legal fees. If a staff member ever dared reveal all on TV or in print, they faced huge financial penalties—$5 million for each broadcast and $1 million for every newspaper or magazine featuring an interview.

While the internal discipline and endless demands by their employers were irksome, most difficult was the constant transition from friend to employee. The Cruises, particularly Tom, wanted both service and companionship. When people were visiting the house, Tom and Nicole would treat their staff as friends, but as soon as the visitors left they expected them to return to their duties. Holidays were most difficult, employees trying to do their jobs without looking as if they were working. Even when they had finished for the day, Tom liked his staff to hang around simply in order to have, as he put it, “a warm body in the house.” This was a man who hated to be alone for a moment, a man with a desire for companionship that was almost tangible. In that regard, his private persona bears remarkable similarities to former President Bill Clinton—also brought up by an abusive, alcoholic stepfather—who will spend all night carousing and chatting. It seems neither man ever wants to be alone.

One question that was always on Tom’s lips was, “Where is Nic?” He liked to know where she was and who she was with every second of the day. It was a constant refrain. “Was he a control freak? Certainly,” recalls one insider. “He was always checking up on Nic especially.” In time she bridled under the constant attention—and inquisition.

Yet Tom, as boisterous and noisy as their Labrador puppy, was no match for Nicole’s subtle feline skills. Whatever Tom may have wanted, Nicole always got her way in the end. Around Christmas or for her June birthday, for example, she would often consult with art dealer Barbara Guggenheim, the wife of Tom’s lawyer Bert Fields, who provided much of the artwork in their home. Nicole was always keen to know about any interesting auctions of paintings or objets d’art and then ensured that her staff kept Tom apprised of what she wanted. She got it, too. Tom was a generous husband, always happy
to please the woman he loved. “She was very manipulative,” recalls an insider. “He always bowed to what Nic wanted.”

If Nicole was traveling, often flying to Australia to see her parents, Tom’s mother or sisters came to stay; or his cousin, actor William Mapother, who had worked as a production assistant on Tom’s movies, would hang out. While his mother’s generous nature and irrepressible spirit added gaiety and laughter to the normally subdued household, the arrival of her oldest daughter, Lee Anne DeVette, changed the domestic dynamic. A few months before the couple adopted Isabella, Tom had hired his elder sister, a fellow Scientologist, to deal with the deluge of press clippings and serve as liaison with charities linked to Scientology. It was not long before Lee Anne, who was seen by others as rather tough and mean-spirited, clashed with Nicole. While Lee Anne, whose two-year marriage had ended in 1981, liked everyone to know that she was Tom’s sister—and threw her weight around accordingly—Nicole treated her with ill-disguised disdain, viewing her as a servant rather than a sister-in-law. It was not long before neither could bear the sight of the other. As one insider said, with emphasis, “Lee Anne
hated
Nicole. And she had every reason because Nic treated her like a second-class citizen. But she wouldn’t stand up to Nic—no one ever did!”

The final piece in the domestic jigsaw puzzle was an infrequent visitor, but a constant presence—Scientology leader David Miscavige, who was represented in the household by the man Tom called “the Dovenator,” his chief of staff, Michael Doven. Tall, well-built, and with the square-jawed good looks of a movie star, Doven was something of a Renaissance man. A world-class skier, fitness fiend, and talented photographer, he could have chosen any career he wanted. Yet he chose to stay by Tom’s side, the Colorado-born Scientologist dedicated to ensuring that his faith’s most valuable recruit stayed locked down inside the church. His fanatical loyalty to the cause—sacrificing his own career for his faith—was crucial to ensure that Tom or Nicole never strayed off purpose.

No one appreciated Doven’s vital role more than the Scientology leader. While Miscavige spoke to Tom a couple of times a week on the telephone, he was in daily contact with Doven, assessing the actor’s mood, making plans, calibrating his message, and fine-tuning his control over Tom and Nicole. Doven, who married Tom’s assistant Andrea Morse, was first noticed on the set of
A Few Good Men,
where Tom insisted that all members of the crew refer to him as “the communicator.” Doven effectively kept Tom’s “lines” clear, controlling all the information that reached Tom, filtering everything down to essentials. In a purposeful life, Doven was the man who kept Tom focused on his work—and on his faith.

Not that Tom needed much convincing. “Let’s go to CC,” he often said to Nicole, his shorthand for Celebrity Centre, the Gothic mansion on Franklin Avenue in Hollywood that was a hangout for Scientology stars. Even within the Hollywood elite, Tom and Nicole were special. They had their own private entrance into an underground garage, their own rooms for auditing, and, of course, dedicated waiter service. Scientology, it seemed, was truly an Orwellian faith in which all men were equal, but some were more equal than others. At Gold, in addition to their VIP bungalow and personal chef and butler, Tom kept two motorcycles, a Mercedes convertible, and a motor home garaged in the compound, while Nicole had her own private garden.

When Tom and Nicole wanted to play tennis, there was a private court built by Sea Org laborers. Just as David had gotten Tom interested in shooting, so Tom encouraged the Scientology leader to see the value of exercise. Not only did Miscavige stop smoking, but he had a gym built for himself and Tom at Gold, which could be used only by senior executives and only when the actor was not around. After the Scientology leader instructed that his father organize the purchase of gym equipment, Ron Miscavige confessed himself “flabbergasted” at the cost to the church, especially when his son’s tinkering with the plans for the gym and the bodybuilding apparatus added to the expense, estimated at $150,000. The ecclesiastical largesse did not stop there. Not only did Miscavige
send Tom regular gifts of fine wine, but on at least one occasion he dispatched his assistant Shelly Britt with a picnic hamper to Tom’s Gulfstream jet for his enjoyment. While Tom bought his friend a Motorola mobile phone and expensive speakers for his apartment, he found that nothing was ever too much trouble for the Scientology leader. When Tom bought his first private jet, his Scientology friend ensured that in-house engineers installed their own Clearsound system.

Tom’s exceptional and privileged treatment was matched by the friendship he enjoyed with Miscavige. They were guys’ guys, hanging out with each other, smoking Cuban cigars, watching movies, racing their motorbikes at high speeds, challenging each other at basketball or softball or skeet shooting. Everything was a macho competition to see who could be fastest, quickest, bravest . . . the best. Miscavige, who hated to lose anything anyway, always tried to ensure that his teams had the best players. When Tom and Nicole went skiing in Colorado, David would be there, too, trying to outdo his buddy on icy black runs. “They were like glue,” recalls Jesse Prince, “two little people who really enjoyed each other. They laughed the same and acted the same. They were like glove puppets, he was a big star and he was head of a religion. They loved each other but it was not gay. It was way more complicated than that.”

In this backslapping world inside a macho religion that claimed to cure homosexuality and where the women dressed like men and were addressed as “sir,” Nicole tried her best to fit in. As tomboyish as she was, she began to see David—or more accurately Scientology—as the third wheel in her marriage. “She became very frustrated about it,” claims Jesse Prince, who says that, in his capacity as deputy inspector general, he was her case supervisor and read her confidential files where she voiced her concerns. “She was tired of David Miscavige being around all the time. She felt that her husband was spending too much time with him. Why do we have to have this constant monitoring?”