by Howie Gordon
I just wanted us to finish what we had started.
Sally shared none of these visions with me. She went from being angry and frightened, when I had first approached her on the subject, to being somewhat amused, then later intrigued, and eventually grateful for my continued attention.
It happened in Pittsburgh during one of my trips back there alone to help care for my aging dad. On one occasion, Sally was in town to visit with what remained of her own Pittsburgh family. By now, she had been divorced for a number of years and was single once again.
It was finally the right time and the right place and she said, “Yes.”
The foreplay had lasted for forty-four years. I think we were ready.
The sex we had that night was perfect.
Life gave us a pass. We were the fourteen-year-old kids again. Only, this time, we were not afraid of sexual pleasure. We had the benefit of knowledge and appreciation. There was no fear and there was no shame. There was consummation. There was completion.
And when we were done, we were done. We could put on our clothes and go back to our adult lives.
What a gift she had given me!
Chapter Seven
When I came home, I told Carly about what had happened. She got very still and quiet, and said,
“Well, are you ready to be monogamous now?”
She seemed pragmatic and matter of fact. It had skipped all the drama that we could have had about me having had a sexual encounter, and for that, I was grateful.
But it was still a question I hated. It was a question that I had hated for years. It always drew an angry response from me. It was physical. My hands would curl like claws were going to extend from my fingers in some kind of full-moon, wolfman transformation. It was like a fight or flight response.
And just for the sake of perspective, let me say again that I pretty much already was living monogamously. In the time between my last sex scene in the movies and when I connected with Sally, I could count the number of other women on one hand. To my way of thinking, five other women in the space of nineteen years hardly qualified as promiscuity. Carly, however, had arrived in the land of — one other woman was one too many.
“Well, are you ready to be monogamous now?” she had asked.
I waited for my claws to come out. They did not come. They were gone. I waited for my anger. It was not there. It was gone. The great epiphany that remained was quiet. It was both obvious and stunning. It had gotten to the point where I had just been holding out against monogamy because of Sally. I just wanted to finish what I’d started with Sally.
That made sense, I thought to myself, because everything else I’d already done twice. I didn’t feel like I’d missed out on much of anything. All I could do now, would be to just do it all some more. I loved my wife. I loved my family. But I had been holding out for Sally. There was no way, if I could help it at all, that I was going to go to my grave without Sally and I having finished what we’d started.
And now we had.
“Well, are you ready to be monogamous now?” Carly asked. And for the first time in my life I answered that question,
“Yes.”
There came a great melting of Carly after that. It was a tearful release of all the years spent clutching her stomach, waiting for me to get involved with some other woman again. I thought she was afraid that I would fall in love, run off, and leave her.
“No, no” Carly said. “My fear was that you would fall in love with another woman and that you wouldn’t run off and leave me! You’d keep adding these women that you loved to our marriage and I would have to deal with them, and you, and your love. My fear was that I would have to leave you!”
In one way or another, she was saying that fear had always been with her. She was hoping maybe I could finally understand that she had lived with it all along. In that moment, I did. And in a wave of recognition, I figured if she could give me all those years living with it, I could give her whatever time we had left, without it.
She says now that she saw my offer of monogamy as my way of saying that I wouldn’t put her through that anymore. I would agree to control my appetites. And I would try to do it without resentment.
And, yes, that’s what it was.
Carly was skeptical. “Let’s try it for a year,” she remembers having suggested, “and then we’ll see where we are after that.”
Well, it’s been more than a few years since then, and they’ve all been pretty good.
“Are you still monogamous?” she asked me tonight.
“Yes, I am.”
Albert Einstein. Public domain
Gordon Archive.
Me and Betty Dodson had become pals. Patti Thomas
There was hanging out at a cocktail party with Vanessa Del Rio and Candida Royalle. Femme Productions
Since the snake was not present at the time, I didn’t mind her being there. Meridian
Nina Hartley, Richard Pacheco, & Meridian. David Steinberg
David Steinberg
And there was a good deal of laughter onstage when my fellow actors and actresses saw me standing there in my underwear. David Steinberg
You can see it even better in close up. David Steinberg
David Steinberg
Betty enjoying a well-deserved ovation. David Steinberg
Gordon Archive.
David Steinberg
“…is worth a thousand words!” David Steinberg
Adult Video News
Gordon Archive.
To Howie, Time goes by. John Leslie. John Leslie
Supporting John Leslie. Vincent Fronczek/Gordon Archive
Part Eight
The Last P.S.
Chapter One
Some Words from Carly
Howie has asked me to weigh in on his book rather than to argue with him about the things I would just as soon he hadn’t said. Finally, after much resistance, this makes sense to me.
My least favorite thing to do in life, hands down, is to argue with Howie.
Oral surgery sounds to me like an attractive alternative.
In my mind, we are each other’s advocate and champion and protector from harm, so when we become adversaries in any serious way it is a kind of lonely, piercing hell. Maybe that bespeaks the big, fat inescapable love and/or the deep dependency we have on one another. Or maybe I’m just a mess, and I come unglued too easily.
I am not, in this circumstance at least, an artist, memoirist, performer, or a person much in the mood to make public the details of my emotional life. Still, I am married to a magnificent man, who has been writing memoirs from the day I met him nearly forty years ago. He is a writer to the marrow of his bones and to the end of his fingertips, and he tells his own story with a kind of candor and honesty and humor that cannot be underestimated, let alone argued with. So, I will weigh in.
I must say I like this book very much, but I admit some of it is difficult for me. I am proud of Howie as a writer, an actor, and a person of excruciating integrity. I am proud of the work we have both done to live this life together, to raise three wonderful children, and to get to where we are today.
I have said before that after accumulating the war wounds of free love (to which I gave myself with equal abandon) I began to experience jealousy and hurt feelings that became harder to talk myself out of as time went by. I did not take other lovers after our marriage, because I believed I could eliminate half our misery right there. (He’s no fan of feeling hurt and jealousy any more than the next guy.) To me, it wasn’t worth it. For him, remaining sexually available in the world seemed to be an inescapable need. A birthright. A necessity. Honestly, I feel fortunate that I did not have the sexual urgency or interest in sampling the world that seems to be the clarion call to so many people, particularly men.
The playground/workplace of the X-rated film world, oddly, provided an interesting compromise. He was an actor, learning the world of film, making a living, and getting his “extra cookies” in a way that had structure
and limits that I could accept. It seemed contained, somehow.
So the stories of the movies don’t make me crazy.
They are more than “just tolerable.” They are tender, funny, and engaging. I must say I do love this book. It tells the story of my favorite person in the world, written in his own unmistakable voice.
Howie’s work in adult films did not make me nearly as uncomfortable as his hooking-up off screen with other women, be they friends, strangers, new crushes, etc. That continued to be very unsettling to me, and we made our best effort at compromises in that regard. In some instances we did better than others. I’m certain the times he stayed back at my request are as faded in my mind as the times he had a “moment” with someone else and I made the best of it. Such is the nature of memory.
After the children were born, my ability to be cheerful and flexible about it began to diminish even more. As I’ve said before, I used to be a good sport about it; I’m not a good sport any more.
As the story gets closer to the present, the tales get harder for me. The stories about his sexual forays while I was out of the country years and years ago are surprisingly not embarrassing to me because they are funny and long ago, and I can almost read them as if they were written by someone else’s husband.
But in all the years that followed, Howie would never promise monogamy, and at some deep level I remained poised for a “next time.” Then, many years of de facto monogamy would pass, and I would relax too much and be not quite expecting it, so when there was an occasional event, I would feel my knees buckle with the embarrassment of my possessiveness and of the insecurity I had been trying for years to talk myself out of. Then I would quietly vow not to relax in that way ever again. It wasn’t fair to him or to me to get knocked off my pins like that.
By the time of his climactic reunion with Sally, I had relaxed far too deeply into my denial. I was tucked nicely in with our whole family, keeping the home fires burning while he was off caring for aged parents. I confess I was completely, totally blindsided. The bottom fell out for me, hard, and I knew for certain I could not continue to live this way. I just didn’t have the chops any more. We had used me up.
This was one of the most horrid moments in my life, and boy-oh-boy do I not like remembering it, or knowing the story is being told. Not just told but retold in juicy prose.
For me, not enough years have passed for this to be held at a distance. It still shakes me to overlook the ledge I stood on. I don’t want to ever be there again.
When Howie offered monogamy, I was afraid to trust it. I said, “Well, why don’t you try it for a year, and see how it feels? Let’s talk again in a year.” I wanted to see how much anger or resentment or trapped-animal was going to surface after the warm glow of his decision. It turned out that the anger was there, but in manageable measure, and we’re able to dispatch it with good talking and good empathy in both directions.
So the last Chapter of the book makes me shaky. I dread being questioned or interviewed about it, because there are still tears there. I am fond of my dignity.
Should I have married someone who adored and protected my tender feelings all day every day? Should Howie have married someone who truly didn’t care who else he loved or who else he had sex with?
Probably if we shoulda, we woulda, but we chose each other. We still choose each other. We are not the victim of one another. If it had gotten impossible, someone would have left.
I aspired to be the all-loving, all-accepting, unjealous woman. He wanted to never give in to the confinement of monogamy.
So maybe we both failed.
I still want with all my heart to spend the rest of my days beside him.
So, go figure.
And Chapter The Last
We once got a fortune cookie that said:
Photo by Carly
The End
Acknowledgements
Mi famiglia. Carly, Juliana, Polly, Bobby, Gammy, Dan, Marina, Victor, Siona, Xena, Rajah, Kuno, and all the in-laws.
My Hindsight Team of Big Who, Lloyd “Bugsy” Segal, Myzz Lyzz Schwegler, Lou Cove, P. Wally McWiggles, and Matt Stenberg.
Ben Ohmart and Jill C. Nelson, Michelle Morgan, Ann Grant, Wendy Finn, and John Teehan.
John Leslie and Jamie Gillis. John Holmes. Marlon Brando and James Dean.
Cynthia Moore-Miller, Whoopi Goldberg, Bob Ernst, John O’Keefe, and David Schein of the Blake St. Hawkeyes and beyond.
Michael Rossman and Karen McLellan, Danny and Hilary Goldstine, all of BTI, and all of Dragon’s Eye, plus Kimmy Hahn, Kimmy Hahn, Kimmy Hahn-Hahn-Hahn.
Rabbi Dan and Yael, David Miller, Andy and Max Brier, Mary Ann, Amy, Steve Ciannella, Matt & Iggy, Bill Fox, Etta James, Jed Handler, Peter the Great and Ruby Barcelona.
Sam Singer, the Master of Disaster, Sharon Singer, Tim White, Kevin Berndt, Yancy Derringer, and Paladin. Kirk Douglas and Burt Lancaster. Doc Holiday and Wyatt Earp. Val Kilmer and Kurt Russell. Victor Mature and Henry Fonda. Eleanor Roosevelt and Doris Day. Helen of Troy.
Pat Morrow, Jeff Freilich, Carlos and Caroline Hill, Mike Fuller, Gary Horvitz and Jennifer, David Piloti, Kai and Kamani. Cheeseboard pizza and my mother’s goulash. Watermelon agua frescas.
Marcia Perlstein and Nyla Dartt, Devora and Jared Rossman, Dr. Andy Ross, Dr. Neil Stollman, Dr. Neil Malamuth, Dr. Susan Block, Dr. Cornelia Pessoa, and four different Bay Area knee surgeons.
Mark Kernes, Jared Rutter, and Paul Fishbein of the Adult Video News. Christian Mann, Kathleen Nuzzo, Edward Lewine and Richard Freeman of Batteries Not Included. Bingo Long and the Traveling All-Stars. Scott Small of Buttman, Dries Vermeulen, Dian Hanson, Joy and Valerie Gobos, and Juliana Piccillo. Rudolph Valentino and Florenz Ziegfeld. Ethel Merman and Vivian Vance. Johnny Yuma, the rebel and Temujin, son of Yesugai.
All the Ancestors.
All the MARQUIS.
All the defenders of the Alamo.
All the adult film crew people.
The Greenfield Cubs, Pittsburgh Pirates, and Pittsburgh Steelers. Roosevelt & John Minadeo Elementary, Taylor Allderdice H.S., Northwestern University, and Antioch College. John DeFebo, Lenore Mussoff, Arlene Sinkus Lewis, Faye Rattner, Bruce Forry, Horace Mann, Arthur E. Morgan, Judson Jerome, and Michael Kraus.
Every woman who ever said, “Yes.” And especially any of the women who added on an “I love you.”
Alexander the Great, Nikos Kazantzakis, Georgina Spelvin, and Barry Gifford. Elmer Bernstein, Cecil B. DeMille, Phyllis Cove, and Jimmy Durante. Sam and Roz Weston, Mitchell, Michael, Jody, and the new Sam. Annette Haven, Barry Manilow, and Trini Lopez. Muhammed Ali, Seka, Bob Dylan, Mona DeLeonardis, and Nina Hartley.
The Marquis de Lafayette and the Marquis de Sade. Tony Curtis, Laurence Olivier, and Elliot and Sharon Rosenblatt. Sandy Koufax.
Gary Graham, Joe Prosky, Gar Heard, and Steve Young. Joe Louis. Frank Sinatra and Joe Frazier. Sidney Poitier and Tyra Banks.
Warren Beatty, Jack Nicholson, Betty Page, and Emile Zola. Secretariat and Willy Mays. Bartholomew Cubbins and Gerry Damiano.
Peter Cove, Steve Freedman, Peter Sherin, and Adonis Torres. Adlai Stevenson. Desiderius Erasmus, Richard Pryor, and Skippy Peanut Butter. Malcolm X, Franklin Roosevelt, Abba Eban, Brigitte Bardot, and O.K. Freddy. William S. Hart and Lash LaRue. Kevin Costner and Lawrence Durrell.
Irma the Body, Julie Christie, and Johnson’s Baby Oil. Jerry Butler and Herschel Savage. Pete Seeger, Jackie Robinson, and Haystacks Calhoun. Harold Harris, El Cid, Leonard Cohen, and Yakima Canutt. Cal Ripken. The Beatles, Paul Thomas, Kay Parker, and Winston Churchill. Billy Dee, Bill Margold, Mike Horner, Milton Ingley, John Dirlam, and Marilyn Chambers. Sharon Kane, Jesie St.James, Lloyd, Jeff, and Beau Bridges. Barbra Streisand and Barbara Edelstein and Barbara Maitland. Uncle Izzy, Emma Johnson, Julie Andrews, and Bud.
Joey Silvera, Randy West, Harry Reems, Kelly Nichols, Cas Paley, and Wesley Emerson. The Cisco Kid and Pancho. Hope and Crosby. Bob Chinn. Phaedra Grant. Liza the Moaner. Chet Huntley and David B
rinkley. Stu Segal. Jon Martin, Carol Queen, Robert Lawrence, and Annie Sprinkle. Lou Rawls. Candida Royalle, Al Jolson, Robert Altman, and Gary Cooper. R. Bolla and Robert Mitchum.
Vincent Fronczek, John Seeman, Yevgeni Yevtushenko, and Louis Prima. Paul Johnson and Paul Johnson, Larry Bird, Eliot Ness, Neville Brand (fabulous Al Capone), and Keisha. Shana Grant and Anton Cermak. Pope Celestine V. Phil Ochs.
Tony Montana, Janey Robbins, Eric Edwards, Anwar Sadat and Menachem Begin. Hyapatia Lee, Lisa DeLeeuw, Christy Canyon, Ginger, Amber, and Porsche Lynn, The Lone Ranger, Tonto, and Laurie Smith. Daniel Ellsberg. Bruno Sammartino. Paul Robeson, Mai Lin, Helen Reddy and Ethelred the Unready, Roy Campanella, Nancy Wilson, and Peter Baum.
Netta Gilboa, Louisa Trotter, Davy Crockett, and Margaret Singer. Mike Ranger, Mike Tyson, and Michaelangelo. Loni Sanders, Carol Connors, Angel, Alex de Renzy, Dave Friedman, Eva Cassidy, and Israel Kamakawiwo’ole.
Legs McNeil, Legs Diamond, and Crazy Legs Hirsch. Roy Karch, Larry Ravene, Tallulah Bankhead, Hank Greenberg, Mark Twain, Ted Kluszewski, Pee Wee Reese, and Herb Gardner.
