🔥At 73, Agnes Moorehead UNLEASHED Her Fury: The 5 Actors She Secretly HATED—And One Was a TV Icon!

By the time Agnes Moorehead turned 73, she had lived through Hollywood’s most glamorous and vicious eras.

With a career spanning radio, film, stage, and television, she had seen—and endured—it all.

But what no one expected was the firestorm of honesty that came pouring out in her later years.

According to biographer Charles Tranburg and long-time friends, Moorehead had a “private enemies list” that she discussed only with her closest confidants.

These weren’t petty grudges—they were deep-seated resentments that stemmed from betrayal, disrespect, and clashing egos.

Topping that list? Dick York, the original Darrin Stephens on Bewitched.

Though their on-screen interactions were limited, sources say Moorehead couldn’t stand York’s “lack of discipline and constant health excuses.

” According to a show insider, Moorehead once stormed off set after York botched a scene for the third time, muttering, “I’ve worked with dying war veterans who had more stamina.

” She reportedly saw him as unprofessional and weak, and never forgave him for dragging down the show’s shooting schedule.

Even after he left the series due to chronic back issues, Moorehead allegedly said, “Good riddance.

The show might finally run on time.

Next on the hit list was a co-star from her Citizen Kane days: Joseph Cotten.

Though they shared the screen in one of the most acclaimed films of all time, Moorehead found Cotten “arrogant, insufferably smug, and dismissive toward women.

” During an afterparty, he allegedly belittled Moorehead’s radio work, calling it “a warm-up act for real acting.

” Moorehead, who was fiercely proud of her radio roots and Orson Welles’ Mercury Theatre, never forgot the slight.

She is quoted in a letter as saying, “Cotten thinks charm excuses mediocrity.

It doesn’t.

He’s as deep as a martini glass.

Third on the list? None other than Charlton Heston.

The two appeared together in multiple Hollywood social circles and shared several dramatic readings for radio and stage in the 1950s.

But according to Moorehead’s correspondence, she found Heston “cold, self-important, and emotionally unavailable.

” She allegedly clashed with him during a radio performance in 1954, accusing him of ignoring direction and refusing to rehearse.

One friend claimed she described Heston as “a granite statue trying to emote—without success.

” She added, “He can lift a chariot, but he can’t lift a scene.

But things got even more personal with Elizabeth Montgomery, her co-star and on-screen daughter Samantha in Bewitched.

While fans adored the snarky chemistry between Endora and Samantha, Moorehead apparently resented Montgomery off-camera.

The rift reportedly began when Moorehead suspected Montgomery of siding with producers to tone down Endora’s role in later seasons.

Tensions escalated when Montgomery allegedly showed up late to set one too many times, leading Moorehead to remark, “She’s riding the show like a broomstick, and she thinks the sky belongs to her.

” Though they maintained a civil relationship in public, insiders claim Moorehead called her a “shallow diva” in private.

And finally, in a twist that stunned even her closest followers, Moorehead allegedly saved her harshest words for Orson Welles himself—the very man who gave her one of her first major film roles.

Their working relationship was electric, but Moorehead’s letters reveal years of resentment that built up after Welles consistently failed to give her due credit in interviews and appearances.

In one scathing note to a friend, Moorehead wrote, “He loved to create greatness around himself, but not beside him.

I was his puppet until I wasn’t needed.

He never said thank you, not once.

” She saw his genius, yes—but also his ego, which she described as “big enough to eclipse the sun.

”

What makes Moorehead’s confessions so shocking isn’t just the names—but the timing.

These were reflections she kept close to the chest for decades, only to be unveiled through private letters and audio diaries recorded in her final years.

She had nothing to gain by naming these names—only the catharsis of saying out loud what she had endured behind the stage lights and studio walls.

And to be clear, Agnes Moorehead wasn’t known as a petty woman.

She was deeply respected in the industry, revered for her professionalism, range, and dedication to the craft.

But she was also a no-nonsense, iron-willed actress who refused to suffer fools—and in her view, these five men had crossed the line between colleague and liability.

Biographers now believe these revelations help paint a fuller portrait of Moorehead—not just as a performer, but as a woman fighting to be respected in a male-dominated industry where talent was too often overshadowed by egos.

“She was brilliant, complex, and unapologetically sharp,” says historian Rachel Sterling.

“If she hated someone, there was usually a damn good reason.

”

Though Moorehead died in 1974, her final reflections continue to spark conversations today.

As audiences revisit her work in Bewitched, Citizen Kane, and beyond, they’ll now see more than just a performer—they’ll see a woman who endured the slings and arrows of Hollywood, and never forgot the names of those who made the journey harder.

In an era where celebrities are still pressured to “play nice,” Agnes Moorehead’s posthumous honesty is a bombshell reminder: even icons have limits.

And when those limits were crossed, she didn’t just remember—she made sure everyone else would, too.