Book excerpt: Rudolph Valentino was less ashamed of his sexuality than he was afraid of being trapped by the image of his public persona. In 1920s America, men who preferred the company of other men were stereotyped as feeble, effeminate degenerates. None of these terms applied to Valentino-a powerfully-built man who excelled at most sports, boxing in particular. Yet it was Valentino's persistent and unnecessary need to prove his "manhood" which may have contributed to his early death. His is a remarkable story. But, who were these men, and what were their roles and significance in his life? Claude Rambeau, the chansonnier he met during his first visit to Paris, when he was 18. Alexander Salm (1890-1918), an Austrian tennis ace, a leading exponent of the Argentine tango, and a hero of World War One who died fighting for the Allies. Jules Raucourt, the Belgian actor. Norman Kerry, the matinee idol who appeared in such film classics as The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Phantom of the Opera. Emmett J Flynn, a director who, though thrice-married, had a penchant for sporting types and whose career was blighted by alcoholism brought about by trying to hide his sexuality. Douglas Gerrard, the Dublin-born actor-director, a big name in Hollywood when he took Valentino under his wing, but sadly forgotten today. Paul Ivano, a young French cameraman, sent to America by his family to recuperate after being gassed while fighting at the Front, and who went on to much greater things. Frank Mennillo, an Italian businessman and aficionado of "button boys", and who would be the last of his friends to see him alive. Thomas Meighan, the matinee idol, a friend who always there for Valentino to lean upon in times of trouble and stress. Robert Florey, a French publicist who came to America to work on one film, fell for Valentino, and stayed another 50 years to become one of the country's most eminent producers. Valentino's letters to him and Florey's responses, which form a large and significant part of his story, are in turn touching and humorous. Jacques Hébertot, the French showman who acted as Valentino's guide during his second visit to Paris, in the summer of 1923. André Daven, the French actor-manager who went on to launch and manage some of the biggest names in French show business, and who was unquestionably the great love of Valentino's life. Luther Mahoney, the former New York cop turned handyman, who provided Valentino with a friendly shoulder to cry on and became his confidant. Mario Carillo, a burly, former Italian cavalry officer who achieved moderate success in Hollywood. Valentino's partner at the time of his death, he was the only one of his men to live with him, though to the outside world he was perceived as his personal trainer. Barclay Warburton, the Philadelphia-born millionaire at whose home Rudy fell ill, in August 1926. Then there were the women... Coco, the Parisian demimondaine who mocked him in the bedroom, making him wary of women for the rest of his life. The lesbian wives, Jean Acker and Natacha Rambova, "baritone babe" members of Hollywood's most notorious sewing circle. The former slammed the door of the bridal-suite in his face, but returned to support him at end of his life, becoming a valued friend. The latter, rapacious and domineering, very quickly became Valentino's-and the studios'-very worst nightmare. Alla Nazimova, the Crimean born actress who mocked and ridiculed Valentino when they first met, and who subsequently became one of his most cherished allies. Sheila Chisholm, aka Lady Loughborough, the nymphomaniac Australian socialite who foisted herself on Valentino during the last year of his life. Pola Negri, the quintessential teller of tall-tales, who nevertheless cared very much for him. And finally, June Mathis, the most important woman in Valentino's life who became his surrogate mother and keeper of his soul.