Death of Tony Curtis: What Really Happened in that Henderson Bedroom

Death of Tony Curtis: What Really Happened in that Henderson Bedroom

He was the guy who had it all. The face, the hair, the fame, and that unmistakable Bronx accent that he never quite shook, even when he was playing a medieval knight or a Roman slave. But when the end finally came for the man born Bernard Schwartz, it wasn’t on a movie set under bright lights. It was quiet. It was in a bedroom in a Las Vegas suburb called Henderson.

The death of Tony Curtis on September 29, 2010, marked the closing chapter of Hollywood’s golden age. He was 85. For a man who had survived everything from the brutal studio system of the 1950s to a long-standing battle with addiction, his passing felt both sudden and, in a way, expected.

The Night Everything Stopped

Tony didn’t die of some mysterious illness. His heart just gave out. The official cause was cardiac arrest. According to his wife, Jill Vandenberg Curtis, he passed away peacefully at 9:25 p.m. local time.

It’s kinda wild to think about how much he had fought to stay around. Just a few months before, in July, he’d been hospitalized because he couldn't breathe. He was at a Costco in Henderson for a book signing of all things. People were lined up to see the legend from Some Like It Hot, and he ended up in a hospital bed instead.

He’d been struggling with COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease) for years. His lungs were a mess, mostly thanks to a heavy smoking habit he’d kicked thirty years prior. But the damage was done. In 2006, he nearly died from pneumonia and spent several days in a coma. He was a fighter, though. He kept showing up.

Honestly, his widow put it best when she told the press that his heart had survived things that would have killed an ordinary man a long time ago. This time, it was just ready to go.

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A Funeral Fit for a "Prince"

If you want to know who Tony Curtis really was, you just have to look at what they buried him with. It wasn't just a suit. It was a collection of things that defined him.

The man was buried with:

  • His favorite Stetson hat.
  • An Armani scarf.
  • Driving gloves.
  • An iPhone (he loved tech).
  • A copy of the novel Anthony Adverse—the book that inspired his stage name.
  • Gold coins and small stones he’d collected from the grave of Dodi Fayed.

The service held at Palm Mortuary in Las Vegas was less of a funeral and more of a show. There were 400 people there. Arnold Schwarzenegger showed up and gave a eulogy, talking about how Tony had mentored him when he first came to Hollywood.

Jamie Lee Curtis, his most famous daughter, was there too. Their relationship had been, well, let's say "complicated." They’d been estranged for years but had reconciled toward the end. She stood up and told the crowd that they all got something from him—and she, specifically, got his desperate need for attention. People laughed. That was the vibe Tony wanted. He hated the idea of a "funeral-y" funeral.

The Will That Stunned His Children

Now, here is where things get messy. About five months before the death of Tony Curtis, he changed his will.

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He didn't just forget to leave money to his children. He explicitly wrote them out. The document literally stated: "I acknowledge the existence of my children... and have intentionally and with full knowledge chosen not to provide for them."

Ouch.

He had six children in total, though his son Nicholas had tragically predeceased him in 1994 from a seizure. The remaining five, including Jamie Lee and Kelly Curtis, were left with nothing from his estimated $60 million estate. Everything went to his fifth wife, Jill.

Naturally, this sparked a massive legal battle and a lot of tabloid headlines. Some of the children claimed "undue influence," suggesting he wasn't in his right mind or was pressured into the change. But the courts didn't see it that way. The language in the will was so specific and deliberate that it was hard to argue he had just "made a mistake."

It’s a reminder that even in death, Tony Curtis knew how to cause a stir. He lived his life on his own terms, and apparently, he ended it that way, too.

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Why the Death of Tony Curtis Still Matters

You see, Tony Curtis wasn’t just a "pretty face." He was one of the first actors to prove that a "beefcake" could actually act. Look at The Defiant Ones. He insisted on being chained to Sidney Poitier, a move that was incredibly bold for 1958. He wanted the world to see him as a serious artist.

By the time he died, he’d mostly traded the camera for a paintbrush. He spent his final years in Nevada painting vibrant, surrealist art. He once said that painting was "the most rewarding thing" he’d ever done.

He was a man who escaped the poverty of the Bronx, survived the horrors of World War II in the Navy (he actually witnessed the Japanese surrender in Tokyo Bay from the deck of his ship), and became a global icon.

Lessons from a Hollywood Legend

If there’s anything to take away from the life and death of Tony Curtis, it’s these few things:

  1. Reconciliation is possible, but it takes work. Jamie Lee and Tony didn't have a Hallmark movie relationship, but they found a way to be in each other's lives before the end.
  2. Health isn't just about what you do today. The smoking Tony did in the 50s caught up to him in the 2000s. COPD is a long, slow burn.
  3. Estate planning is public record. If you have a complicated family and you want to keep your final wishes private, a will isn't the way to do it—a trust is. Tony’s choice to use a will made his family drama front-page news.

Tony Curtis lived 85 years at full throttle. He was a movie star in an era when that actually meant something. He died at home, in his own bed, which for a guy who started with nothing in a crowded Bronx apartment, is a hell of a way to go.

To really honor his memory, skip the biographies for a night. Go watch Sweet Smell of Success or Some Like It Hot. You'll see the spark that he was so afraid would go out—but thanks to the magic of film, it never really will.

If you are dealing with your own family estate planning, take a cue from the Curtis drama: make sure your documents are updated and your intentions are clear to avoid the kind of public fallout that followed his passing.