Steve McQueen and Asbestos Exposure

Steve McQueen spent the late 1960s and 1970s cementing his place as Hollywood’s ultimate action hero. Bullitt, The Great Escape, Papillon—his films defined a generation’s image of masculine cool. What audiences did not know was that McQueen was carrying microscopic fibers in his lungs from work he had done three decades earlier, fibers that would eventually take his life.

McQueen’s story is not unique among American veterans. The same military that made him into the man who could command a screen also exposed him to asbestos in quantities that would prove fatal. Today, veterans remain the population most affected by mesothelioma, and McQueen’s experience helps explain why.

A Troubled Youth in the Marines

Before he was a movie star, McQueen was a troubled teenager from a broken home. His father abandoned the family when Steve was an infant. His mother struggled with addiction. By his mid-teens, McQueen had been in and out of reform schools and seemed headed for a difficult future.

In 1947, at age 17, he asked his mother for permission to enlist in the U.S. Marine Corps. It would prove to be a turning point—the beginning of the discipline and physical confidence that would later define his screen presence.

McQueen was assigned to the honor guard protecting the presidential yacht USS Williamsburg. He also served as a tank driver and mechanic, positions that frequently involved working with machinery insulated with asbestos-containing materials.

But his most significant exposure came during shipboard duty. In interviews years later, McQueen recalled being assigned to remove old asbestos lagging—pipe insulation—in the engine rooms of naval vessels. The work was done without protective equipment, in enclosed spaces where asbestos fibers hung in the air.

“The air was thick with the stuff,” McQueen later described. He had no idea he was breathing in a carcinogen.

Multiple Sources of Exposure

McQueen’s Marine Corps service was likely his primary source of asbestos exposure, but it may not have been his only one.

Hollywood sets: During his film career, McQueen worked on sets that used asbestos for fireproofing and special effects. The entertainment industry, like many others, relied heavily on asbestos through the mid-20th century.

Racing and mechanics: McQueen was famous for his passion for cars and motorcycles. He did much of his own mechanical work, including replacing brake pads and clutches—components that commonly contained asbestos to handle heat and friction. Each brake job released fibers into the air.

Home renovation: Asbestos was ubiquitous in building materials through the 1970s. Anyone who renovated older homes could have been exposed.

The reality of mesothelioma is that it typically results from cumulative exposure over time, and pinpointing a single source is often impossible. What is clear is that McQueen, like millions of other Americans of his generation, encountered asbestos in multiple contexts throughout his life.

Diagnosis and Desperate Measures

In late 1978, McQueen began experiencing a persistent cough. He initially attributed it to a respiratory infection or the lingering effects of years of heavy smoking. When antibiotics and quitting smoking did not resolve the symptoms, he consulted physicians.

In December 1979, a biopsy confirmed the diagnosis: pleural mesothelioma. The cancer had already spread beyond the lung lining, ruling out surgical removal. McQueen’s oncologists told him there was little conventional medicine could offer.

Facing a prognosis of months to live, McQueen pursued experimental treatments. He traveled to a clinic in Rosarito Beach, Mexico, run by Dr. William Kelley, who offered an unconventional approach combining coffee enemas, vitamin injections, and laetrile—a compound derived from apricot pits that the FDA had banned as an unproven cancer treatment.

The decision to seek treatment outside the medical mainstream drew criticism. But for a man who had built his image on defying convention, the choice was consistent with his character. And in 1980, conventional medicine had little to offer mesothelioma patients.

The Final Months

McQueen’s health deteriorated rapidly in 1980. The mesothelioma spread to his abdomen, causing fluid accumulation that required repeated drainage. He lost weight. His legendary energy faded.

On November 7, 1980, McQueen underwent surgery at a clinic in Juárez, Mexico, to remove a large tumor from his abdomen. The surgery was technically successful, but his heart could not withstand the stress. He died of cardiac arrest in the early morning hours, just hours after the procedure.

Steve McQueen was 50 years old—the same age at which many of his contemporaries were just beginning to experience symptoms from asbestos exposures that had occurred decades earlier.

Veterans and Mesothelioma

McQueen’s story illustrates why military veterans remain disproportionately affected by mesothelioma nearly 50 years after asbestos use began to decline.

The U.S. military relied extensively on asbestos through the 1970s. The mineral’s heat resistance and durability made it ideal for:

• Shipbuilding: Navy vessels were insulated throughout with asbestos materials. Sailors, shipyard workers, and Marines aboard ship faced constant exposure.
• Aircraft: Brake systems, gaskets, and heat shields contained asbestos.
• Vehicles: Tanks, trucks, and other military vehicles used asbestos in brakes, clutches, and engine components.
• Barracks and facilities: Military buildings were constructed with asbestos insulation, roofing, and flooring materials.

Today, approximately 30% of all mesothelioma patients are military veterans. The Department of Veterans Affairs recognizes mesothelioma as a service-connected condition, and veterans who develop the disease may be eligible for disability compensation and healthcare benefits.

The Long Latency Challenge

One of the cruelest aspects of mesothelioma is its long latency period. The disease typically develops 20 to 50 years after initial exposure, meaning that young service members exposed in the 1960s or 1970s may only now be developing symptoms.

McQueen’s timeline fits this pattern precisely. His Marine Corps service ended in 1950. His diagnosis came in 1979—29 years later. During all those years, asbestos fibers remained lodged in his lung tissue, slowly triggering the cellular changes that would eventually become cancer.

This latency period creates ongoing challenges:

For patients: Symptoms often appear gradually and can be mistaken for more common conditions like pneumonia or bronchitis. By the time mesothelioma is diagnosed, it has frequently spread beyond the point where surgery is possible.

For the healthcare system: New mesothelioma cases continue to appear even though asbestos use has dramatically declined. The peak of the American mesothelioma epidemic may still be in the future, as veterans exposed in the 1970s and 1980s reach the age when symptoms typically emerge.

For compensation: Proving which specific exposure caused the disease can be difficult when decades have passed. Many of the companies that manufactured asbestos products no longer exist or have declared bankruptcy.

Legacy

Steve McQueen’s death in 1980 came before mesothelioma was widely recognized as an asbestos-related disease. The connection between his Marine Corps service and his cancer was not immediately apparent to the public.

Today, we understand that McQueen’s experience was tragically common. Thousands of veterans who served alongside him were exposed to similar conditions. Many have since developed mesothelioma, asbestosis, or asbestos-related lung cancer.

McQueen’s widow, Barbara, has spoken publicly about her husband’s illness and its causes. His story has become part of the broader narrative of asbestos’s human toll—a reminder that the disease does not discriminate between movie stars and ordinary workers.

For the approximately 3,000 Americans diagnosed with mesothelioma each year, McQueen’s experience offers a recognizable trajectory: exposure decades ago, symptoms that initially seem minor, a devastating diagnosis, and a prognosis measured in months. His story also demonstrates that fame and resources cannot overcome a disease that remains among the most difficult to treat.

What McQueen’s story can offer is awareness. Veterans who served in the mid-20th century should know their risk. Those experiencing persistent respiratory symptoms should mention any history of military service or asbestos exposure to their physicians. And the military’s ongoing efforts to remediate asbestos in aging facilities remain important for protecting the next generation.

The King of Cool died too young, from a disease that was entirely preventable. That remains the lasting message of Steve McQueen’s final role.