Hindsight: True Love & Mischief in the Golden Age of Porn

by Howie Gordon

  Then, like an alarm clock interrupting a dream, the phone rang. It was Carly. “Come home,” she said.

  Oh, yeah, I thought. I did.

  At home, Carly was truly upset. While I thought of the musical beds of LA as just part of my movie life, Carly was clutching her gut and feeling abandoned.

  Many years later, she told me that this episode was one of the worst times for her of our marriage. She had to invite our friends Bob and Kim to come stay with her just to help her get through it.

  When I came home, I saw even more clearly that Carly’s willingness or ability to tolerate me being with another woman, and therefore me having my X-rated career, was evaporating. With the kids continuing to alter the balance of power I could see the writing on the wall.

  If I wanted Carly as my wife, and if I wanted to be a father who got to live with his kids…then the as-yet unspoken choice was coming down to Casanova or Daddy.

  Who you want to be, gringo?

  On the surface, the arguing was all about Kelly Nichols, but beneath the waves, it was about the lifestyle conflict, monogamy or not.

  I was not ready to let go of my career. This was the battle of the sexes. I fought back. I was sticking up for my own rights. I had labored hard to get from the bottom of the industry to a position near the top. I was angry. I felt betrayed. I had never signed on for monogamy…ever. I had never misrepresented myself. I liked having sex with lots of women. And now, it had become the business I was in.

  Yeah…yeah…yeah…

  She said that she could live with the stuff when the cameras were rolling, but that the offstage stuff was now making her crazy. Yeah, I could see that. But sometimes, the offstage stuff was what made the onstage stuff possible. It was also a source of alliances and future work. It was the business I was in, but I had to admit that it was hard to draw a line between the personal and the professional. We had different ideas about where that line should be drawn. I loved Carly. I didn’t want to hurt her, but her suffering felt like a betrayal of us, of me, and I didn’t want to hurt me either.

  Yeah…yeah…yeah…

  Why did I get the feeling this was General Lee trying to avoid the decision to meet with General Grant at Appomattox?

  I was offering whatever I could to allay her fears. It wasn’t much. I didn’t want to quit. I felt like my career was just hitting high gear. I was telling her to back off. Times had changed. People changed. We had changed. It pissed me off.

  We were at odds. We bumbled on.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Alex de Renzy. Like Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo Buonarotti, Joe DiMaggio, Frank Sinatra, Arthur Fonzirelli, and Gerry Damiano, Alex de Renzy was yet another in the long line of the great Italian Masters.

  He was a legend of the adult industry and I was happy to finally get the chance to work for him. Alex operated as an independent producer and director and seemed to work completely outside of all the conventional porn procedures that most of the others had to follow. He made his own movies and he sold his own movies. His films were consistently celebrated as some of the best of the business. Unlike many of the other filmmakers, if a sex scene didn’t turn out hot, he just didn’t use it. Alex had only to please himself, and by so doing, had won himself a large and loyal following.

  It was June of 1984. de Renzy had hired me for just one day. His production manager called a few days in advance to get my sizes for a costume. When I asked her about the script, she told me that Alex wanted it to be a surprise. All I had to do was to show up at his house at 8:00 a.m.

  My work would include a sex scene with a new girl named Angel. Not too crazy about working with a new girl, but okay. This was de Renzy. In the meantime, his call hadn’t given me much notice. I thought I was perhaps sitting on the wrong side of pudgy, but there would be no time for the gym to make much of a difference. Fuck it. I was just going to show up. If it was okay with him, it would be okay with me. I was both grateful and flattered when he offered to pay my full daily rate without any haggling at all. Apart from my dealings with Spinelli, that was a pretty rare occurrence.

  de Renzy’s house in rural Marin County turned out to be the actual set that day. We shot some outdoor scenes in his gardens and did the sex scene in one of his bedrooms. Upstairs in his home, he had a complete editing facility for doing all of his own postproduction work. de Renzy had a production crew of four people including his current wife and an ex-wife. In short, he seemed to have a very nice little cottage industry going there.

  de Renzy, himself, was tall, sure of himself, and very low-key, not a lot of bullshit to the man. With me, he was simple and direct and very easy to get along with.

  There was nothing porny or sleazy about him. It was all pleasant enough and strictly business. We worked at a nice leisurely pace. The man knew what he was doing.

  And then there was Angel. Good Lord!

  Angel looked like a Miss Texas or something. She was a tall, leggy piece of fresh apple pie, the kind of young woman who never would have had anything to do with me were it not for the wonderful world of porn.

  It was like God said, “Here, Howie, have one on me. Just don’t be an asshole if you can avoid it.”

  Angel was clear-headed, bright, and cheerful. Still, in the early going, there was no way I could not be gun-shy around her. Like Colleen, she was young and a great beauty. Like Colleen, she was brand new. And like Colleen, she was about to get on that meteor ride straight to the top of the industry.

  Angel was the beginning of the story all over again. “I don’t know, Howie,” the words of fellow actor Eric Edwards came back to me again, “every year I get a year older and every year, they’re still eighteen.” I did not want to be stuck in a repeating Groundhog Day version of pornographic tragedy.

  But Angel wasn’t Colleen. She just wasn’t. It wasn’t three weeks alone in LA either, and there was no cocaine involved. This was just a bright sunny day in Marin playing romantic make-believe with a bright sunny young woman named Angel. It was one of the good days.

  We made a mini-movie, a vignette like a loop with sound from the old days. It was a fairy tale. A young maiden had captured a frog in her garden. We had a real frog too. He was a big one. She took it to her bedroom and gave him a kiss. Wouldn’t you just know it! He turned into a charming Prince in black tights with an English accent!

  We stumbled awkwardly through the preliminaries, but then got it going. It was like high school sex, all white cotton panties and wonderful. Surprisingly, we turned out to be a good match. When Angel’s genuine arousal became involved, it took us both to a whole other level. Yes, sir, amazing how all that stuff works. “Acting” took a backseat. Alex de Renzy got exactly the kind of scene he wanted. It was our pleasure, thank you. A wonderful time was had by all. And when it was all over, I turned back into a frog.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  I can’t believe a man of my refined sensibilities could ever be in a movie called The Maltese Dildo, but there I was.

  Who could say, “No,” to producer Dave Friedman, the carny Godfather?

  He was even acting in it himself. It was an X-rated parody of the classic The Maltese Falcon. He played the Sydney Greenstreet role.

  Just being around Dave Friedman, you could hear the calliope playing, smell the popcorn, and feel the midway. Stories, he had a million of ‘em. He played his character like an old Kentucky colonel of the deep South. He was pretty good.

  Not surprisingly, John Leslie played the lead Humphrey Bogart role. Seka, Angel, and Gina Carrera provided the heavy female artillery, but I didn’t get anywhere near them.

  I was booked for three days in this one. Dave Friedman asking me was some incentive, but it really was a job that I took for the money. We needed some. Dem babies was ‘spensive. And with cheap video production rising, there were fewer and fewer higher paying film roles coming my way. Compromise was the order of the day. I worked below my rate and took what I could get. Even at that, roles for me were becoming sporadic.
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  Day One

  I felt like an old-timer out there today in The Over-the-Hill Gang Rides Again. I was a fastball pitcher who had lost his zing and was getting hammered. I don’t know how many more of these fiascos I have left in me.

  My sex scene was today. It’d been two months since I’d last been on camera and naturally, I had to start out with a sex scene. Well, okay. I lost my weight. I had exercised and starved off twelve pounds in ten days. I got over a lingering summer cold, and I hadn’t had an orgasm in three days. That was my usual prep. I thought I was ready for anything.

  I was told that I’d be doing a sex scene with two women. A couple of names that I had never heard of had been mentioned at first, but I figured what the hell, no big deal.

  When I got on the set, there was Laurie Smith. She told me that I’d be working with her. Oi. If I’d have seen that one coming, I would have ducked.

  I didn’t want to have sex with her. At best for me, Laurie was like a kid sister who talked too much. At worst, she was Colleen’s best friend. Somewhere in my Hollywood convoluted universe, my real life aside, this was like being asked to have sex with my dead girlfriend’s sister. I did not want to do a scene with Laurie Smith.

  That’s when Laurie told me about Tina Ross. Tina played with us in the Colleen movie too. She was the lead actress opposite Jamie Gillis in what eventually was released as Bad Girls IV.

  Laurie told me that Tina Ross had also committed suicide.

  And that, my dear friends, was foreplay!

  (For the Record: I learned many years later that Tina Ross, aka Lauren Wilde, did not commit suicide in 1984. According to the Internet Movie Database, she did die that year, but it was from being in a car accident.)

  Our threesome was rounded out by a woman named Jill. This would be her first film. I was already in my makeup and costume when we met.

  When Jill found out that I was to be the guy in the sex scene with her, she made a face one usually reserves for discovering a fart in the elevator. Wow, that was distressing.

  Admittedly, with my hair slicked down and all dressed up as the village idiot, I may not have been at my ravishing best, but still, Jill, a fellow has feelings. No doubt about it, Jill was less than thrilled. She squirmed noticeably. It was just shaping up to be one of those days.

  Maria, the makeup lady, tried to tell Jill that underneath my character, was a very cute and a very nice man. I don’t think Jill was buying it, but she didn’t walk off the set. And when the sex scene got underway, she was still there.

  It started with Laurie Smith sucking me to erection. Okay, that was really weird, but, okay, it was working. They shot a little footage and then they cut. I looked around to see what was happening. They were having a nice little meeting about the lights. My penis shriveled as we waited.

  When we began again, “Action!” Laurie sucked me to another erection. Okay, I’m workin’ here! I’m workin’ here, but they soon cut again. What the fuck! They’re having another little meeting. My erection again retreats. My penis asks the obvious question,

  “Okay, what the hell’s going on here?”

  Uh-oh, by now you should know, that when my penis starts to get chatty, bad things can happen.

  I sought out the director and told him that this has to stop. I explain that I am not an up-and-down machine that can function at his whim. I suggest that when they want me to get hard, they better be ready to shoot this thing and stop messing around. He said he understood my dilemma and asked for my patience. Fine. Harumph!

  When we went back to work, I asked Jill to do the sucking this time. I wanted to give Laurie a break and get Jill involved.

  Jill flat out said, “NO!”

  I looked at Laurie and she looked at me and we both started laughing. My penis began looking at travel brochures. I didn’t want one partner and the other one didn’t want me. Okay, this was a weird day!

  We spent about half an hour trying to get me that next erection. Laurie was working overtime, but it just wasn’t happening. The director was telling me all about four different insertion shots that he wanted to shoot and my dick was on the phone trying to book a flight to Rio. We took a break. The director sent me off to take a cold shower. It actually turned out to be a very good idea. It calmed me down and helped me to reinhabit my body. I was only in a mild panic at this point. It was like visiting with an old friend again.

  Back on the set, Laurie worked really hard to get me going, but I had Colleen on the brain. I don’t know what it was, but it certainly wasn’t erotic. In the meantime, our partner Jill was trying hard to disappear.

  At one point, the director directed me to suck Jill’s pussy. I did. I licked and chewed for all I was worth, but it didn’t seem to be having any effect. None at all.

  In the meantime, Laurie Smith was doing whatever she could to compensate. And while I appreciated her efforts, my dick was still looking for the car keys.

  Finally, realizing that Jill was the answer to everyone’s problems, the director took her aside and told her that she had to get with the program.

  I don’t know exactly what he said to her, but I feel fairly confident that it may have had something to do with her getting paid.

  When Jill got back in bed, the director had her give me head. Well, Jill was now diligently sucking and I could be the forgiving sort. My whole body began to ease out of panic. Once again, the blood started flowing in the right direction.

  Earlier in the day, I had overheard Jill tell the director that she wasn’t into any girl-girl stuff. The director had said, “Fine.” Unfortunately, Laurie Smith never got that memo. While Jill was sucking me back to life, Laurie put an intimate hand on Jill’s body. Jill flew off the bed like a snake had just bit her ass.

  “Taxi?” my penis called out. “Taxi?”

  When we got this latest episode quieted down, I shoved my limp dick back into Jill’s mouth, closed my eyes, and hoped for the best. I crawled through all the old used-up fantasies until I found one that still worked.

  I pumped. Jill sucked. When I was up to full erection, the director told me to insert myself into her vagina. I tried. I couldn’t get it in. Jill was clenched so tight and dry that you couldn’t get an idea in there.

  My penis looked at me and started to weep. I stroked him tenderly and told him that it would all be over soon. All we needed was a little bit of baby oil. I gently lubricated Jill so that when I got hard again—now there’s an optimist for you—I’d be able to get myself in there.

  Once more, Jill deigned to suck. I got it up and then I got it in her. I pumped. It was like fucking a large salmon on Valium. Jill received my plunging as if she were doing her nails. I mean, the phone was ringing, but there was nobody picking it up, not even an answering machine. Still, she was earning her money, I suppose, but taking the absolute minimalist approach to this entire adventure.

  Hard to imagine there was ever anybody who watched this scene and tried to jerk himself off. Poor bastard.

  And while I pursued the money shot waiting at the finish line, Jill was whispering in my ear, “How much longer are you gonna be? What should I do? Is this the last shot? Are you close? Can I go home after this?”

  It was so odd, but the plumbing worked anyway. As per instructions, I eventually pulled out of the young wench and deposited 173 very confused sperms on her belly. They looked like cockroaches when somebody suddenly turns the lights on in a darkened New York City kitchen. We were wrapped.

  Loveless, lustless, mechanical, and haunted, it was one of the four craziest fucks of my entire life and I’ve repressed all memories of the other three.

  Day Two

  I worked a lot with John Leslie.

  As the story went, I was a petty gangster following him around in his role as the hero detective. He spotted me, roughed me up, and sent me back with a message for my boss, Morris Glutman, The Fat Man. That was it. That was gonna be the whole day’s work.

  In the course of filming, John smashed my knee, hit me in
the Adam’s apple, choked me, and drew my blood when he scraped my hand over something sharp on the prop phone booth. In addition to which, he spent the better part of an hour twisting my arm behind my back while he had to force my character to give up some vital information.

  When I told him that I wasn’t too crazy about my role in this one, he had the nerve to ask me why.

  One time, he hit himself in his own balls with my hand by accident. He hurt himself. I laughed and looked skyward to thank God. John asked me how I could do such a thing.

  Later in the day, John was telling me all about this wonderful new diet that his lady Kathleen had just put him on. He wanted to bet me a hundred dollars that his shit didn’t stink. He also told me that his farts didn’t stink and that his dog Louie’s farts didn’t stink either.

  These were the highlights of my day.

  Day Three

  I hung around all day as a background player in everybody else’s shot. Afterwards, they paid me. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  I liked Nina Hartley. I did. She was different. She was special. But coming along well into my married life and late into my career when she did, I had learned to be well-guarded.

  “An’ here I sit so patiently

  Waiting to find out what price

  You have to pay to get out of

  Going through all these things twice.”

  Bob Dylan, “Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again” (1965)

  When I picked up the phone and spoke to her that first time, she said, “Hi, you don’t know me, but my name is Nina Hartley and we’re scheduled to do an anal intercourse scene next week and I’ve never done that before on camera. I was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind getting together with me to rehearse.”