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At home in Los Angeles, Christopher Isherwood was struggling to write a book about the Buddha, but kept finding himself interrupted by thoughts of Princess Margaret.

He was due to meet the Princess at a party Kenneth Tynan was throwing that evening, Friday, 13 October 1978. Fearful lest his guests say the wrong thing, Tynan had issued instructions to both Isherwood and George Cukor to address the Princess as ‘Ma’am’, a skill that came easier to the British expatriate than to the American: ‘George is working himself up into a nervous cramp, like a young actor with only one line to say; he feels sure he’ll get it wrong and call her Mum or Mom or something.’

The evening came close to going pear-shaped. In an effort to cut down on costs, the cash-strapped Tynans had decided on soul food served by a hip, cut-price caterer. When it looked as if the caterer was not going to materialise, Tynan vowed to go to the bathroom and kill himself. Fortunately the caterer arrived in the nick of time, and Tynan was soon back on form greeting his guests, who included Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, Joan Didion and her husband John Gregory Dunne, Gene Kelly, Sidney Poitier, Ryan and Tatum O’Neal, David Hockney and Neil Simon.

The Princess proved even more of a catch in America than in Great Britain. ‘It was quite a sight to see Hollywood royalty scrambling over each other’s backs to get to real royalty,’ noted Tynan’s daughter Tracy. ‘People were shoving each other aside to get the princess’s attention.’

Isherwood played it cool. ‘Meeting Princess Margaret was hardly a dance. We only got her in very short hops, and although Ken Tynan honored me by putting me at her table, I hardly got to tell her more than that I had been at a school which produced three archbishops of Canterbury in a row* – that was all the royal talk I knew; and Neil Simon’s wit, as he sat opposite me, was altogether silenced.’

Isherwood’s final verdict was that the Princess ‘seemed quite a common little thing, fairly good-humored but no doubt quite capable of rapping your knuckles’.

Ten days later, the Hollywood agent Sue Mengers arranged a party in honour of Princess Margaret at her home in Beverly Hills. Security was intense, with helicopters circling above and police everywhere. Every guest was carefully checked.

Princess Margaret arrived in a black and silver dress by Dior with a diamond necklace and earrings left to her by her grandmother, Queen Mary.

‘I already knew Princess Margaret, so I was considered socially safe enough to be seated at her right hand at the dinner table,’ recalled Michael Caine, who over the years had become what he called ‘a sort of British Social Ambassador whenever royalty or the aristocracy came to visit us’. The others on the Princess’s table were Barbra Streisand, Robin Williams, Nick Nolte, Danny Kaye, Joni Mitchell, Steve McQueen (‘high on coke’ according to his ex-wife Ali MacGraw, who was also there), Neil Diamond, Gene Hackman, Peter Falk, Barry Diller, Jack Nicholson, Anjelica Huston, Clint Eastwood and – by royal request – Barry Manilow. Scattered across the remaining half a dozen tables were Sean Connery, Farrah Fawcett-Majors and John Travolta. This was, in many ways, the Princess’s perfect environment. It was said of the Duke of Windsor that what he liked best was to meet new people for not more than ten minutes at a time, and this weakness applied to her too.

Sue Mengers had placed the fashionable governor of California, Jerry Brown, to the Princess’s left. It was clear from the start that he was not going to stand on ceremony. He had mastered the first lesson of royal etiquette – the correct form of address – but considered further deference unnecessary.

‘Good evening, Your Highness,’ he said. ‘I just dropped by to say hello. I have another appointment so I’m only staying for the first course.’

This did not go down well. Caine noticed that throughout Brown’s little introductory speech the Princess maintained a rigid smile, but once he had finished, ‘she just turned her back on him without a word and engaged me in conversation until he left’.

The Princess was served her meal first, and then Governor Brown was served his. At this point the governor’s girlfriend, the singer Linda Ronstadt, walked over to the table in a white cotton mini-dress and little red boots, put one hand on the governor’s shoulder and the other on the Princess’s shoulder, peered closely at their plates and said, ‘What are we having to start?’ She then took a piece of food off Brown’s plate and popped it into her mouth.

‘I have seen people shrug many times,’ recalls Caine. ‘But the Princess’s shoulder shrugged that night like a punch from a boxer and with almost the same effect on Miss Ronstadt. She almost overbalanced and fell on the floor. The Princess never again during the evening acknowledged Jerry Brown’s presence, nor his departure when he finally left.’

Once Governor Brown had gone, the atmosphere perked up, though there was a bit of a blip when Jack Nicholson allegedly leaned over and offered the Princess some of his cocaine, ‘in a bid to get to know her better’. The Princess declined his invitation, but took it in good heart. She remained at the party until 12.30 a.m., dancing with John Travolta, among others. Before she left, she told Michael Caine how much she had enjoyed herself, adding, ‘But I didn’t like that dreadful man at all.’

Like many an over-conscientious hostess, Sue Mengers failed to enjoy her own party; nerves had clearly got the better of her. ‘Every time Princess Margaret looked my way I curtseyed. I was curtseying all night! She thought I was an idiot.’

* Repton: Archbishops Temple, Fisher and Ramsey.