The staff at Promises, the Malibu rehab center known for its luxurious accommodations and Hollywood clientele, is well versed in the perils of cocaine, methamphetamines, alcohol and prescription drugs, but these days, the tony facility finds itself bedeviled by a different toxic substance: snark.
Thanks to relapsing starlets and rehab stays that seem more public relations strategy than medical decision, many who read the tabloids have come to regard celebrity rehab as a joke, and Promises, with its $54,500-a-month price tag and roster of famous and not-always-sober alumni, makes an easy punch line.
Promises is routinely skewered by gossip bloggers and comedians -- Jay Leno never seems to tire of zinging the addiction center. In a recent "Tonight Show" bit about a terrorism detainee who rejoined Al Qaeda after his release, Leno told his audience, "Apparently, Guantanamo Bay has the same success rate as the Promises Rehab Center in Malibu."
On the center's carefully manicured grounds, no one is laughing. Promises' CEO insists bookings have remained strong in the face of the potshots and an ongoing state investigation into whether it provided medical care without a license. But the facility recently launched a public relations campaign emphasizing the seriousness of its program. The effort included inviting reporters to tour its normally ultra-private property on the condition that they not identify or speak with clients staying there.
"This is not a celebrity flophouse," said publicist Jonathan Franks, who himself got sober at Promises, as he stood in the living room of one of four residences on a picturesque hill above the Pacific. "There is just a disconnect between the way people perceive this place and the way it is."
In some ways, Promises has only its clients to blame. Two of Hollywood's biggest media magnets -- Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan -- chose Promises to get sober, but as was well documented by packs of paparazzi, their problems outlasted Promises. Lohan later went to a Utah facility and her troubles remain a staple of the checkout-aisle racks. Spears continued in free fall until a court gave her father control of her affairs.
Celebrity clientele
Their experiences fed into a public cynicism that veteran publicist Howard Bragman, the author of "Where's My Fifteen Minutes?," said was rooted in a fact of life in Hollywood.
"Certain celebrities go to rehab because they recognize they need help. But certain celebrities go to rehab to get the heck out of Dodge, to escape the scrutiny of the media and the blogs," he said. For them, places like Promises provide "a place that has walls and privacy and where everything they do is not filmed with someone's videophone."
Dr. David Sack, Promises' chief executive and a UCLA-trained psychiatrist, said confidentiality rules prevented him from discussing particular clients, but he acknowledged that bad press was a hazard of catering to the rich and famous.
"When you make your living treating people who are conspicuous and in the public eye, you have to expect that you are also going to be in the public eye when they fail, and not everybody succeeds in treatment," Sack said.
High-profile clients, including Ben Affleck and Christian Slater, have credited Promises with helping them get and apparently stay sober, but Sack said train wrecks get more attention than triumphs.
"The ones who succeed are boring and the public has less interest in them. The ones who fail spectacularly, who do things that are reckless and show poor judgment, are going to wind up in the papers," he said.
The hits to Promises' image have not been confined to the center's relapsing clients. In December, Star magazine reported that the enrollment at the facility was down due to the economy and that in an effort to get more publicity, Promises had "asked around Hollywood to see who wanted to stay there for free." The magazine claimed "American Pie" actress Tara Reid, a notorious party girl, was getting her treatment comped.
Promises immediately and vehemently denied the story and Star later removed it from its website. Sack said the matter was in the hands of an attorney.
"It was untrue and it was offensive. The truth is, I couldn't afford to treat people for free," he said.
In a February interview with In Touch magazine, Reid touted her new sobriety and Promises, but was not asked who paid for her treatment. Reid did not return messages seeking comment.
Asked if the negative publicity has hurt the center's bottom line, Sack said, "Not really. It sort of becomes yesterday's news after a while."
