Richard Hatch is Recovering from "Survivor," Trying to Clear Up His Tax Mess and Also Hoping to Satisfy His Versatile Younger Boyfriend
At 64, the winner of the 2000 first season of "Survivor" was (to me) extremely normal and low-key. He has mixed feelings about the reality TV experience. He also hopes to expand his sexual repertoire.
Hi, Caftaners! I love this week’s interview, and I hope you do, too. But first—partly to avoid talking about the U.S.-Israel assaults on Iran, which are plunging the entire Middle East into deadly chaos and plunging my nausea over this nightmare administration we’re living through to further depths—I’ll talk about something that is giving me pleasure, which is the Ryan Murphy Love Story TV series about John-John Kennedy and Carolyn Bessette.
Even as someone who grew up half-Irish and all-Catholic in the Boston area, I’ve never particularly been obsessed with the Kennedys. (I do have a funny story about my dear, long-departed Nana once telling me that, at a political party she happened to be at in the 50s, JFK was “undressing me with his eyes.” LOL. I miss you, Nana!)
Also, I have no idea if the story on TV is true to what either John-John or Carolyn were really like, or like together. But I love this story as it’s told because it’s about someone (Carolyn) who had zero interest in him as a famous person and didn’t even want to be with him originally, but then fell in love with the boy who had no idea who he really was because the world didn’t give him a chance to find out. And I love how cool, low-key and kind Carolyn was. (As portrayed in the series! I have no idea what she was really like.) I also love the recreation of NYC in the nineties—my first decade here.
On Facebook, I asked the hivemind if they had any real-life stories about JJ and B. I got a few and I’m thankful for them, but the one worth telling is from my friend Kevin, who worked at Bergdorf in the late eighties. He said that one day, over the in-house phone system that the staff would use to communicate (and spill the tea with one another on slow days), a colleague called his department to tell him that JJ had just walked into the men’s department on the second floor—sweaty and shirtless in sneakers and shorts…
…apparently having just come from one of his athletic ventures. He said that the entire staff hightailed it to the second floor to discreetly gawk at him while he bought something and then left.
He walked shirtless into Bergdorf? I replied. That is so cocky, entitled—and HOT! Kevin joked, “Then we all jerked each other off” because they were so horny from the sighting. I mean…I think he was joking.
Okay, enough prurience. So I should preface this interview by saying that I hate reality TV—I never watch it, never have (except, occasionally way back, RuPaul’s Drag Race and Project Runway.) I just don’t get it. I like scripted series that showcase the talent of the writers and the talent of the actors who bring their words to life. So when I reached out to Richard Hatch, who famously won the 2000 first season of Survivor, it wasn’t primarily to talk to him about that first Survivor season or the Survivor sequelae he was involved in, or the many reality shows he’s been on since, including the recent House of Villains, where he apparently was kind of a bomb. I wanted to know what life was like now for this guy, now 64 and living in his native Newport, Rhode Island with his 30-years-younger boyfriend of the past year.
But I will admit I’m morbidly fascinated by the psychology behind people who go on reality shows, so I wanted to know how being one of the first out gay people on network TV—often naked—had affected the rest of his life.
We talked for two hours! He was super affable and funny and open-bookish. In preparation, in part because I’ve never watched Survivor Season 1, I watched a 40-minute supercut of Richard Hatch moments on the show.
What struck me about him on the show was, honestly, how low-key and analytical—to the point of dryness—he was, even when he was butt naked. (Yes, we talk about that.) I associate contemporary reality stars with these unbearable, dialed-up performative personae, and he didn’t strike me that way at all, nor did he on the call. I think that, in 2000, reality TV was in its early, what I would call unself-conscious phase, and what came off to viewers as Richard’s “deviousness” was really just him being strategic about the game—what has now become the reality TV cliché of “I came here to win, not make friends.” And so Richard won the $1 million—and his life has been an IRS mess ever since. (Yes, we get into that.)
I fancy that, after all these years interviewing people, I have a gut sense about whether people are being honest. Overall, I sensed honesty from Richard. There’s just one thing that gives me pause—and Richard, I imagine you’ll read this, so I’m saying this as one New Englander to another, someone who grew up near Boston and went to college in Rhode Island. So Richard, despite having grown up and lived I think most of his life in Rhode Island, has no trace of a Rhode Island accent. (It’s very distinct, believe me—a halfway accent between Boston and Long Island.) In fact, he sort of sounds like a radio announcer.
When I asked him about this, he said that he’d never had the Rhode Island accent, not even as a kid. I told him that was uncanny, as I’d certainly had the Boston accent growing up until, at a summer program right before college, some people pointed it out to me. I was mortified! (Kind of stupidly, I realize now. When I hear that accent now, I get all nostalgic and homesick.) I promptly set to losing it before I went to college.
But everyone from that region who once had the accent occasionally slips, with one of the biggest tells being that sometimes you say a word that actually doesn’t have an “r” at the end with an “r,” because you’ve trained yourself to do so. And twice in our interview, Richard did that. Once when he mentioned Tina Wesson, a fellow Survivor winner. He said “Teen-er,” then corrected it instantly to “Tina.” And another time too, but I forget it. So I’m just the tiniest bit doubtful about his claim that he never had the accent.
So thanks for letting me note that! And thank you, Richard, for a really great interview. Some of you may have heard that—I think it was on House of Villains—Richard went somewhat viral when Teresa Guidice (who I know is, or was, a Real Housewife, but I don’t even know or care from which franchise) asked him if he was a top or bottom, he instantly said “Bottom.” We definitely get WAY into that toward the end of the interview—WAY. (She also asked him if he uses poppers, which stupidly I did not initiate a conversation with him about.)
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I hope you like this interview. Please consider becoming a paid subscriber at $5/month if you do to help me keep doing this weird Caftan thing. If you are already, you know how much I appreciate it. It’s been a slow but steady build since I started this thing in 2021 (which seems like such a lighthearted and sane year from the vantage point of the fucking hell we’re living through now).
I have a Caftan interview tomorrow I am so excited about It’s about one of those hyperniche music things I geek out on so hard. But until it appears—here’s Richard Hatch!
Richard, thank you so much for chatting today. So—you are a native Rhode Islander, yes?
I was born and raised in Newport. My father was a lobsterman and I’ve always maintained a home here. I currently live here.
In a house you own?
I live in my sister’s home. That’s part of the story you’ll hear. My being gay, homophobia, destroyed my life after Survivor.
Mostly because of the tax targeting?
Uh, well, mostly, yes. But—yes.
In accounts I read online, it appeared you flat-out declined to pay the taxes on your $1 million from Survivor. Do you want to speak to that?
Perfect, yeah. That’s 100% horseshit and the kind of stuff that keeps getting put out in all kinds of stories because it’s easy. When I won the $1 million, I was told by my accountant that the taxes on that prize were owed to Malaysia, where we filmed. So we contacted the IRS and asked for guidance. The IRS worked with my accountant for more than a year in trying to figure out who had paid what to whom and how to pay my return. Out of the blue—this is all behind-the-scenes crap that nobody understands—internally, the process was changed from civil to criminal.
So that’s how it started. This crap about me refusing to pay my taxes is insane.
I read an account where your accountant said that you chose not to pay that money against his will.
It’s a she.
Okay, sorry.
And it’s not true. The IRS eventually demanded that I submit my 2000 return. I said, “You’re supposed to be telling me how to do it!” They refused, because the foreign tax credit expires after 10 years, so they couldn’t assess me until 10 years later. So anyway, I filed the return that she prepared for me. But then the IRS contacted her and she said to me, “I’m going to have to say whatever I need to say to protect my family.” She’d had me sign a cover-your-ass letter in which she said that the tax return she was giving me was something I’d requested. But it didn’t include the $1 million because that was owed to Malaysia. But I didn’t know that then.
Currently, how do you get by? Where does income come from?
We’re still in court. They’re trying to steal my sister’s property—long story. I’ve been insolvent since 2004, not allowed to earn any income. The IRS has prevented me from working. They blocked two Survivor opportunities.
What about House of Villains?
I guess I didn’t earn enough for them to take it, or they probably didn’t know I was doing it. Because they tend to take the income from anywhere they can think I’m getting it. When I was on David Letterman, the check was for $2,800. Before it even came to me, the IRS had taken $2,780.
A million dollars was worth a lot more than it is today, true. But do you regret doing the show and winning given that, at least according to the IRS, you now owe so much more than that $1 million? Was it worth it?
It’s moot to me. I’m in the process of developing a podcast called Deeper—an exploration of what’s true, where reality matters.
That’s very pertinent to our time.
[laughs] You think? But no, I don’t regret it. It’s just sad who we are as humans and how broken our systems are. Our judicial system has no interest in what’s true. It’s about trying to win at all costs.
I know you had reality stints after the first season of Survivor, like All-Stars in 2004. What’s the biggest thing you’ve taken away from involvement in those shows if it’s not financial?
This continuation of this introspective life I lead, this growth. I was raped at eight and molested at 10. My parents divorced when I was 11. When I was 15 and my brother was 13, he was run over and killed by a drunk driver.
Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t pick any of that up when I was reading up on you.
It’s probably not out there too much. But all these things led me to be very introspective at a very young age, and I’m grateful for that. My life is better because I’m aware of who I am and interested in who we are as humans. I have a bachelor’s in applied behavioral sciences and management and a master’s in education and counseling. And I’m a course shy of a PhD in humanities. I like exploring what’s true about us.
I watched an interview where you talked about Survivor from a psychological point of view. I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but that first season of Survivor was virtually the beginning of reality competition TV. I watched big chunks of you on the show from the whole season. Compared to today, Survivor was so quietly and straightforwardly produced. Reality shows now have so many bells and whistles and such heavy editing and post-production. There was something almost documentary style about Season 1 of Survivor. Reality TV hadn’t yet entered its self-conscious phase where everyone is kind of winking at you and playing a role. So tell me a little about how your love of introspection played out in that season.
It’s why I won. The people I was playing against didn’t even know they were playing. They landed on the island and were hugging and all this “I love you!” and crying. They couldn’t understand the game or keep focused.
Or, as you’ve said, understand that it was a strategic game rather than a life experience?
Yeah. Viewers, contestants, even the producers didn’t understand the game fully or realize what it was about. Viewers eventually got that, a decade later. Even now, it’s still challenging for some players to—
You mean that it’s kind of a chess game where you have to plot several moves ahead?
You don’t go down the football field—not that I’m a sports guy, ’cause I’m not—tapping some guy on the shoulder saying, “Excuse me buddy, I’m gonna plow you now.” No! You just run him over. And I was there to play. I’d already thought about who I am and was ready to play.
That whole “I’m not here to make friends” has become a reality TV cliché. But you embodied that at a time when the tropes of reality competition shows did not yet exist, and hence you were branded a bad person for basically playing the game the way everyone strives to play on the shows now, right?
Exactly.
So Richard—and I’m saying this as someone who grew up with a Boston accent and went to college in Rhode Island—you don’t have a trace of a Rhode Island accent. You almost have like a radio announcer voice.
If you’d like me to staht talkin’ about goin’ fishin’ with my fathah, we can roll right into it.
My father had a heavy accent. But I couldn’t tell you where my voice came from, or why. I guess hypervigilant cognition—I think it’s maybe from my childhood. I just pay attention to detail. Literally as a kid, I didn’t pick up the way my father talked. I knew it was different from how I was being taught in school, what words meant and how they were spelled. All that meant a lot to me. Weird!
You never had the accent as a kid?
I didn’t. I then went into the Army…
…and then West Point…
…and I interacted with people from all over the world. I don’t know how to explain it.
I hear you. So Richard, especially for 2000, the year Survivor’s first season aired, you were not a prevailing gay stereotype at the time. You have—I don’t know whether this is P.C. or not to say—but you have a kind of straight affect. Do you think that you baffled the other contestants because you were not giving them their idea of a gay guy?
But obviously you were putting something sexual front and center by being nude all the time.
What do you think they made of you?
I don’t think I was putting anything sexual out there with the nudity, but I was putting sexuality front and center intentionally in conversations. There were several reasons why I was naked. One is how stuffy we were, or are, as Americans, and how ridiculous and different that is from Europe. Sexuality and nudity aren’t the same thing and don’t need to be.
A friend asked me to ask you if you were a nudist before that, like did you go to nude beaches or camps?
It just didn’t bother me. I think it was from being a fat kid where a guy pissed on me in the shower as a joke. I was always shy about my body and I didn’t like being that way. So I think I overcompensated [laughs]. But I just didn’t care at all. I think it’s absurd, the way we treat nudity.
I loved your fuck-you to American puritanism, especially as the gay guy on the show. But there had to be some part of you that knew you were dropping a bomb into the show.
That was just one of the reasons I was naked. Another was that it was 100 degrees. Because I went nude, I was the only guy who didn’t get crotch rot. It was awful. And the other reason was that all the camera crew were straight and nobody wanted to follow my hairy ass around. So I had all this free time where I could sneak around and listen to conversations without a camera crew. So it really helped my game.
At the time, David Letterman called you “that naked fat guy.” But by today’s standards—especially with contemporary gay bear culture—you weren’t even that fat.
You were about 39 at the time. Did you have a sense that you were a bear?
I understood bear culture, but I never had the body that I wanted. I always felt somewhat overweight and struggled to lose weight. I’d gotten up to 360 pounds and, when I did the show, was down to about 275. Then I lost 43 or 44 pounds while we were filming.
I would think, yeah.
But before I forget…you were talking about my being a particular way when it comes to being gay. So Mark Burnett, the producer of the show, when he first met me, was saying to me that he wanted to present America with a different representation of gay people than they were used to seeing.
And in that same meeting, the other producer, Craig Piligian, his first words to me were: “What? No pussy ever?” So my being gay was very important to the folks who cast me. That was all intentional.
There were some hot young guys on the show who were shirtless all the time.
Did you have sexual feelings toward them? Did you masturbate?
Oh yeah, I jerked off a few times. I did it in the water a few times. I shit in the water, too. It was a great place to be alone and I spent a lot of time there.
How much down time would you have when the cameras were not on?
Literally none. They worked in shifts round the clock. But again because I was naked, they weren’t following me at times. I also spent a lot of time spearfishing. And in that first season, they weren’t equipped to film me when I was in the water, where I was a lot. I ended up feeding the crew with flounder, cuttlefish, lobster and eel. I’ve been playing in the water all my life.
What was your mom like?
She was a homemaker until they divorced, then she went to nursing school.
Did you grow up working class?
For sure. I actually grew up most of my childhood in Middletown, just over the border. But then I was a corporate trainer and consultant living in D.C. and my mom’s friend had this house in Newport that she was selling, that I bought over the phone. Fifty yards from the Cliff Walk.
Are you comfortable talking about the childhood abuse you mentioned?