Celebrity Estate Planning - Estate of Brooke Astor - Episode 210
- Jenny Rozelle, Host of Legal Tea
- Aug 19
- 7 min read
Hey there, Legal Tea Listeners! This is your host, Jenny Rozelle. We are here for episode 210 –and we are circling back to an “estate planning of the rich and famous” episode where we chat about celebrities and their estate planning (or lack thereof!). Today’s episode is on Brooke Astor … which is one of those names that just meant something in New York City. People know Brooke mostly for her incredible generosity and the way she helped shape New York City through philanthropy. For years, she was this grand, elegant figure who gave a TON of money to places like the public library, museums, and parks—but what made her stand out was that she actually showed up. She visited the places she gave to and got involved. People say she wasn’t just a checkbook donor. She really cared. She became kind of the face of old-school New York society—graceful, classy, and completely devoted to the city. As we always do on these episodes, let’s talk a little about Brooke first, then get into what happened following her passing estate-wise.
So, according to her Wikipedia page, Brooke was actually born Roberta Brooke Russell in 1902 in New Hampshire, but really grew up all over the world because her dad was a high-ranking officer in the marines. That kind of upbringing—living in China, Haiti, and other far-off places—gave her this global perspective and a certain elegance that stayed with her, her whole life. Now, her personal life was a bit of a rollercoaster. She married young—like, 17—and that first marriage to a politician named John Kuser was not great. It ended in divorce, but they had one son, Anthony. Her second marriage, to a stockbroker named Charles Marshall, was happier, but that one eventually ended too.
But her third marriage? That changed everything. In 1953, she married Vincent Astor, the heir to the incredibly wealthy and influential Astor family, whose fortune was built largely on New York City real estate. When Vincent died just a few years later in 1959, Brooke inherited a massive estate—and, more importantly, control of the Vincent Astor Foundation. From there, she became one of New York’s most beloved philanthropists. And like I said earlier, she wasn’t just signing checks. Brooke would actually go and visit places—libraries, parks, housing projects—to see where the money would go. She helped fund the New York Public Library, the Met Museum, the Bronx Zoo, and all kinds of social programs. Brooke once said, “Money is like manure—it’s not worth a thing unless it’s spread around encouraging young things to grow.” That really captured her attitude: use wealth to lift others up.
But sadly, her story has a rough ending. In her later years, people started raising concerns about how she was being treated. Her grandson eventually stepped in, claiming that Brooke’s only son, Anthony Marshall, was taking advantage of her—financially and otherwise. It led to a very public legal battle and eventually a criminal trial, which is what we are going to talk about. At the end of it, Anthony was convicted of stealing from her and manipulating her estate. It was very heartbreaking, to say the least, but it also brought national attention to elder abuse, even among the ultra-wealthy.
Sadly, Brooke ended up passing away in 2007 at the age of, are you ready for it… 105. What a long life! And while the end of her life was complicated, her legacy is huge. She made philanthropy feel personal and meaningful, and she showed what it looks like to use privilege with purpose. If you’ve ever enjoyed a library branch, museum, or green space in New York, there’s a good chance Brooke Astor had something to do with it.
In the public eye, Brooke Astor spent most of her life as a symbol of grace, generosity, and the best of New York society. For decades, she poured time and money into the city’s cultural and charitable institutions, becoming as iconic as many of the buildings her name helped fund. But behind the scenes, her final years were far more complex—and tragic—than the elegant legacy she had so carefully built. What began as whispers of concern among those close to her became one of the most high-profile elder abuse cases in recent memory, involving financial mismanagement, emotional neglect, and a deeply fractured family.
According to Vanity Fair and the American Bar Association, by the early 2000s, Brooke was in her late 90s and struggling with Alzheimer's disease and other health issues. While she had once been a fixture at society events and philanthropic meetings, she had largely retreated from public life. Her only child, Anthony—often referred to as “Tony”—had assumed increasing control over her personal and financial affairs. As her mental and physical health declined, many assumed she was being well cared for, given her wealth, prominence, and the resources at her disposal. But behind closed doors, family members and longtime staff began to notice troubling signs.
In 2006, the situation erupted into public view when Brooke’s grandson and Anthony’s son, Philip Marshall, filed a petition in New York State Supreme Court seeking the removal of his father as Brooke’s guardian. The filing alleged that Anthony was neglecting his mother and enriching himself at her expense. Among the accusations: that Brooke was living in deteriorating conditions in her own home, wearing tattered clothing, sleeping on a torn-up couch, and being denied access to adequate medical care and basic necessities—even as millions of dollars were moving through her accounts.
The public was stunned. How could a woman so devoted to the welfare of others—one who had personally visited homeless shelters and public housing to make sure her donations were used wisely—be treated so poorly in her final years? The idea that this could happen to the Brooke Astor shocked many and brought long-overdue attention to elder abuse, especially in wealthy and seemingly well-protected families.
The petition launched a court hearing that quickly captured national headlines. The battle over her care and finances pitted family members against one another and raised serious questions about the legal mechanisms in place to protect aging individuals. Eventually, even though the court appointed Annette de la Renta (wife of fashion designer Oscar de la Renta and a longtime friend of Brooke’s) as her temporary guardian, the controversy was far from over. FAR from it.
Following the petition, a criminal investigation was launched. In 2007, just months before Brooke's death, a grand jury indicted Anthony and his attorney, Francis Morrissey, on multiple counts, including grand larceny, conspiracy, and forging documents. The charges alleged that Anthony had manipulated Brooke, his own mother, into changing her will while she was suffering from dementia. One of the most damaging accusations was that he had inserted clauses that significantly increased his own inheritance and gave himself and others millions in fees, gifts, and property—moves that diverged sharply from earlier versions of her estate plan.
The trial began in 2009 and lasted for months. It was a dramatic, often uncomfortable look into the world of extreme wealth, entitlement, and betrayal. Witnesses included household staff, doctors, attorneys, and longtime friends of Brooke, many of whom testified that she had become confused, frail, and unaware of the legal documents she was signing in her final years. One of the most infamous moments involved testimony that Brooke had been wearing clothes so worn they were held together with safety pins and had gone without necessary medications—all while her son had access to her fortune.
Anthony and his attorney, Francis, both denied wrongdoing. They claimed that Brooke had been mentally capable of making decisions and that she had willingly made changes to her estate. But in the end, the jury sided with the prosecution. Anthony was convicted on 14 of 16 counts, including grand larceny, and sentenced to 1–3 years in prison. He ultimately served just over two months due to declining health and was released in 2013. The attorney, Francis, was also convicted on forgery and conspiracy charges.
Like I mentioned earlier, Brooke died in 2007, which was before the trial ever even began. She was buried with honors and praised by many for her lifetime of civic and charitable contributions. But the shadow of the court case lingered, reframing the way the public viewed her final chapter. It became a story not just about a famous philanthropist, but about aging, vulnerability, and how easily even the most powerful among us can be taken advantage of when we’re no longer able to advocate for ourselves.
The case had far-reaching implications. It led to increased scrutiny of guardianship laws, inspired legislative discussions around elder abuse, and prompted many families—especially those with aging relatives and complex estates—to reassess their estate plans, powers of attorney, and caregiving structures. For legal and financial professionals, Brooke’s case became a textbook example of how elder financial abuse can happen quietly over time, often involving family members who have both access and opportunity.
In the end, Brooke legacy remains. She gave so much to New York—countless institutions still feel the impact of her generosity. Her name is etched into buildings, galleries, plaques, and the city’s collective memory. But the story of her final years added another dimension—one that made her more human, more vulnerable, and, perhaps unintentionally, even more of a public figure. She became a face not just of philanthropy, but of the very real risks aging individuals face, regardless of status or fortune. The exposure about her mistreatment forced uncomfortable conversations around elder care, family dynamics, and the legal tools meant to protect vulnerable adults. In a way, even in decline, Brooke helped bring about change—this time not through a foundation or a grant, but by highlighting how even the most respected lives can unravel without proper safeguards in place. Her story became a wake-up call, a cautionary tale, and a reminder that dignity in aging is something that must be protected, not assumed.
Alrighty, let’s wrap this one up and shift to a sneak peak at next week. Next week we’re back to a “cautionary tale” episode where we talk about real-life clients, real-life cases that I, or my office, have worked on -or- maybe they are just generally good things to know/be aware of so you don’t slip up and turn into a cautionary tale one day. I haven’t yet decided what next week is going to be – so sorry about no specific sneak peak! So that is next week, Legal Tea Listeners…until then, take care and be well!
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