When George Peppard died of pneumonia on May 8, 1994, at the age of sixty-five, the world mourned a Hollywood icon. To film lovers, he was Paul Varjak, the charming writer opposite Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. To television audiences, he was Colonel Hannibal Smith of The A-Team, cigar in hand, grinning as he declared, “I love it when a plan comes together. ” But at Northview Cemetery in Dearborn, Michigan, a smaller gathering laid to rest a father and grandfather, a man whose private life was far more complicated than the confident characters he played.
Peppard’s rise to stardom was anything but predictable. Born in Detroit in 1928, he served in the Marine Corps before studying engineering. He abandoned that secure path to pursue acting, training at Carnegie Mellon and later at the Actor’s Studio in New York. His breakthrough came in 1961 with Breakfast at Tiffany’s, a role that made him an instant leading man and an emblem of early 1960s cool sophistication.
Critics hailed him as the next big star, and audiences worldwide responded to his understated charm. The following decades brought a mix of success and struggle. He played cowboys, soldiers, and detectives but resisted being typecast. During his run on the NBC series Banacek in the early 1970s, he portrayed a sharp-witted insurance investigator, yet Peppard later admitted he wanted more than repeated leading man roles.
“I wanted to disguise myself,” he said. “I didn’t want to play the same part over and over. ” Hollywood proved unforgiving, and by the late 1970s he faced financial difficulties and personal battles. He even mortgaged his home to fund his 1978 passion project, Five Days from Home.
The film brought him pride but did not restore his standing. The 1980s gave him a second defining role. As Colonel John “Hannibal” Smith on The A-Team, Peppard became a television legend for a new generation, known for his trademark cigar and his catchphrase about plans coming together. His career was also shadowed by alcoholism, which he finally overcame in the late 1970s.
After getting sober, he became an advocate for others in recovery. “I spent too many years drinking,” he said. “Now I want to spend the rest of my life helping. ”
Even after being diagnosed with lung cancer in the early 1990s, a consequence of decades of heavy smoking, Peppard refused to stop working.
Just days before his death, he finished shooting a pilot for a detective series called The P. I. He remained an actor until the very end. But behind the screen life was a turbulent personal history.
Peppard married five times, and from those marriages came three children. His first marriage was to Helen Davies in 1954, when he was still a young actor chasing roles. They had two children together: Bradford, born in 1955, and Julie, born in 1959. As Peppard’s fame exploded after Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the pressures of Hollywood strained the marriage.
Long absences, punishing film schedules, and the temptations of stardom took their toll, and the couple divorced in 1964. In 1966, Peppard married actress Elizabeth Ashley, his co-star in The Carpetbaggers. Their chemistry was undeniable, both on screen and off, but the relationship was volatile. Ashley later described it as passionate but stormy, intensified by Peppard’s intensity and his struggles with alcohol.
Their son Christian was born in 1968. Reflecting on the marriage, Ashley said, “George was brilliant, but he could also be difficult. I never stopped loving him, even when I couldn’t live with him. ” They divorced in 1972 but remained connected through their son and mutual respect.
Peppard would marry three more times: to Sher Boucher in 1975, to Alexis Adams, and finally in 1992 to Laura Taylor, a Florida real estate agent who stayed by his side until his death. Throughout these ups and downs, one constant was his role as a father, though it was not always an easy part for him. His alcoholism often made him absent or distant during his children’s younger years. After getting sober, he made a conscious effort to be more present, attending school events and working to repair relationships.
His three children grew up in very different eras of his life. Bradford, the eldest, grew up during the height of his father’s fame but did not chase Hollywood. He pursued a private life away from the cameras, carrying the weight of a famous name without seeking celebrity for himself. Julie, born in 1959, shared her father’s love of the arts but also lived largely outside the Hollywood spotlight.
Those who knew her described her as thoughtful and strong-willed. Peppard once remarked, “My daughter has more courage than I do. ”
Christian, the youngest, followed a path closer to the entertainment industry. He became an actor, writer, and documentary filmmaker, appearing in independent films and working on projects that explored human stories.
In interviews, Christian spoke about the duality of growing up as the son of a star: the pride of seeing his father on screen, and the challenge of living in that long shadow. “You have to find your own voice, your own identity,” he said. “And that’s not easy. ”
By the time Peppard died, his children were adults who had taken very different directions in life.
At his funeral, they came together, united not by Hollywood or fame but by the memory of the man they knew at home. Despite his flaws, his battles with alcohol, his turbulent marriages, his relentless drive, his children remembered him as someone who in his later years made a deliberate effort to be present, sober, and honest. Near the end of his life, Peppard reflected, “I’ve had good roles and bad roles. I’ve won and lost.
But the best thing I ever did was raise three fine children. ”
He was also a grandfather by the time of his death. Obituaries noted that he was survived by three grandchildren, though their names and lives have been kept private, a striking contrast to the public intensity of his career. His legacy continued quietly through his family line, even as Hollywood remembered him for the roles that made him famous.
Peppard once summed up his own life with a characteristic blend of honesty and wit: “Getting married and having a bad divorce is just like breaking your leg. It heals, but you still limp. I’ve had my share of limps, but if people remember me for my work and for raising good children, that’s enough. ” The duality of the legend on screen and the flawed man at home is what makes his story so human.
He admitted his failures, fought to get sober, and worked in his later years to rebuild his relationships. His three children, Brad, Julie, and Christian, grew up in different eras of his life, but together they carry the quieter legacy of the man behind the star. Through them and through his grandchildren, his story continues not in headlines but in the private memories of a family.