Indeed, if you imagined two opposite people, save only for their evident mutual ambition, it might be Rupert and Wendi.
Rupert, the cold, cryptic, scowling, impersonal, rock-hard conservative Australian aristocrat, with his four adult children unable to get over his marriage to the woman 39 years his junior. And Wendi, the energetic, ebullient, social creature, with natural liberal tendencies, whose first job in the US was at a Chinese restaurant and who had given him – "from the fridge", after his prostate cancer – two young Chinese children (and moved her parents to New York).
And yet, something seemed to work, too.
There was the orange hair die; the workout regimes; his protestations that he had finally learned how to be a good father; and his new friendship with, gasp, liberals. David Geffen, via Wendi, became one of Rupert's closest confidants.
Certainly, business seemed to energize them. I often heard them, like teenagers in love, talking on the phone – albeit about business deals and, more than not, from different cities. I even saw them holding hands.
But his children continued to dislike her. Even when they made every effort to tolerate her, it was with clenched teeth. And his mother, who died this past year, always refused to meet Wendi.
For her part, Wendi remained ever-furious with him for not standing up to his children – which included locking their children out of full participation in the trust that controls all the Murdoch assets.
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