Cynthia had never even seen a penis, and didn't have a clue how to handle one when she and Pest knocked on the first hotel room door. The Raiders were good sports, telling the girls they'd come up with a great idea, sending them on to the next room until they finally got to the singer, Mark Lindsay.
Mark had company, but was intrigued enough to invite the cunning plaster girls to come back at midnight. They both called home to fib about spending the night at each other's houses, and were back at Mark's door when the clock struck twelve. "He was really fascinated, especially by the fact that we were virgins. He thought we were funny, and it was so romantic being on his fire escape with him, like a scene out of West Side Story." Cynthia had to invent another tall tale for the Warden because Mark was tantalized enough to invite her back the next day. "I wasn't sure what would happen but I had a funny feeling I was gonna be relieved of something, and I was right. He took care of the job in forty-five minutes, then had to be on the tour bus. Even though it was really speedy, he was flattering and a real good kisser and had a gorgeous naked body. Oh, my God ... It did feel good." Cynthia actually fans herself, recalling her very first time.
"Virginity was a major appeal. Virgins were becoming an endangered species. It was so groundbreaking for me. I mean, I thought I was in love, but you know what was most on my mind, even though I had never spoken the word `fuck'? That plain old me had fucked Mark Lindsay. That's all I knew-that's all I was thinking about. And that the road to getting laid was paved in plaster."
For homework, Cynthia turned in a plaster vegetable, but her sights were soaring much higher. "After that weekend, Pest and I became the Plaster Casters of Chicago. Itwas so silly, but silly was all we ever wanted to be! I put a generic-looking logo on the side of a small case, and thought, `We should really learn how to do this, put all the materials in the suitcase, and make ourselves look like salesmen, traveling from hotel to hotel.' The bands thought it was hilarious, and the word got around really fast-way before we ever figured out how to actually make a cast!"
As Pest and Cynthia practiced British rhyming slang and discussed plaster casting at a local pizzeria, an eavesdropping chef listened in and asked if they had ever heard of alginate, a substance used by dentists to make impressions of teeth. His description made it seem plausible, so Cynthia bought a can, hoping she'd soon have use for the fluffy pink powder.
As "The Last Train to Clarksville" scurried up the pop charts, teenybop fans believed the Monkees were as squeaky clean as their cutesy tunes, but groupies knew better. The mod TV foursome came through Chicago, and as Cynthia and Pest waited outside the hotel, a couple of roadies invited them upstairs. "We were out there with a large number of girls and were singled out because of that fucking suitcase."
The Plaster Casters of Chicago soon found themselves in front of a very willing Monkee. "I tried to open the can, which in those days opened up like Planter's Peanuts, and it's dangerous because you can really cut yourself. Which I did; my pinkie finger wouldn't stop bleeding." As Peter Tork stood ready, able, and naked, Cynthia had to make apologies. "That got me off the hook, gratefully, because I found out later you have to be more scientific with alginates. The water can't be too hot or too cold. The best way to mix is with your hands, kind of slowly, not get too many air bubbles, and keep monitoring the water temperature."
The next brave young bloke willing to proffer his member for the cause was Gary Brooker, Procol Harum's lead singer. But sadly, the daring attempt failed. "Yeah, all he got was a mountain of pink barf on his dick," Cynthia concedes. I marvel at how these fellows offered up their private parts for an untried, untested, brand new concept! "It was a major part of the sexual revolution!" she enthuses brightly. "They had a social obligation to put their dicks into something new and different."
Cynthia and Pest were in serious rock star pursuit. "By then we had calling cards: `The Plaster Casters of Chicago: Lifelike Models of Hampton Wicks.'" The girls tried various substances, such as wax, sand, and oatmeal. "That wasn't gonna go over too big; and nothing was gonna go over big with sand and water."
As she pondered these deep artistic issues, problems were brewing at home. "All this time the Warden had been reading my diaries-each and every one of them. So she found out I was no longer a virgin and grounded me for a month."
Instead of dashing around town with her suitcase, Cynthia moped around the house, eating to assuage her pent-up resentment. She gained forty pounds in thirty days. But a month later and a tad chubbier, she was right back at it. Pest "retired" and Cynthia met her next "plater" (rhyming slang for "Plate of Meat=eat"), Dianne, hiding out on a hotel fire escape. "She was willing to join ranks with me because I paid the for the pricey dental mold-it was $4 a can-and learned how to mix it. I remained the mold and plaster-mixer, and Dianne became the designated plater. She discovered she had a certain skill: she was very good at giving blow jobs. She had a gentle touch that the bands liked."
As much as she was thriving in college, Cynthia had to quit and get a job. "It was scary. I didn't know what the Warden might do to me when I fell asleep. She was sneaky, trying to control me behind my back, like throwing out Beatles memorabilia-she threw my Beatle dolls away!" How dare she! The nerve! The injustice! And because of the Warden's punishment, Cynthia had put on forty pounds at exactly the wrong time.
"We had our heyday for about two or three years, and throughout it all I was fat. It was really hard to lose that weight once I escaped from the Warden. I had one more little scene with Mark Lindsay, but I had gained weight and I think he was no longer attracted to my body. In fact, the next time he came to town he was with another girl and I was crushed."
Brokenhearted yet undaunted, Cynthia stayed the course, and soon turned her attention to another rock star: a certain scrawny British bass player. The Jimi Hendrix Experience was coming to Chicago and Cynthia wanted to be ready. "I was thinking, 'OK, this is a band I've really gotta learn to use alginates for.' So I practiced on my college friend, Joel, who said, `Oh, somebody's gonna give me a blow job? I'm in!"
The Experience was playing two concerts at the Civic Opera House and after the first show, Cynthia, Dianne, and Marilyn, another avid rock fiend, followed the Hendrix limo to the Hilton Hotel. "When we held up the suitcase with our logo on the side, they started waving and following us. We couldn't believe it-they were the hottest band at that time. Noel came along with a new way of looking groovy in Britain: big Afro-curly hair and psychedelic clothes, this impish little guy; there was nothing more English than the elfin look. When we got to the hotel, they're looking at us, we're looking at them-in the flesh! And Jimi says, `Ohhhh yes, I've heard about you from somebody in the Cosmos-come on up to my hotel room.' The first big thrill was riding in the elevator with the band for a change instead of charging up the fire escape. There were six of us: Jimi, Noel, Mitch, me, Dianne, and Marilyn, in this little bitty elevator. And we didn't say a word."
The Plaster Casters had been boning up for this very occasion, and although the band seemed calm and ready for action, Cynthia freely admits to freaking out inside. "Jimi was so flamboyant and gorgeously dressed, wearing an orange and yellow panne velvet top and a gaucho hat. And what a body! He had the body for casting-one of the most beautiful bodies I ever saw in my life. Oh, his thighs were really muscular but graceful at the same time, almost like a dancer's legs-shapely but skinny. He had a round butt-my God, he was so perfect. Anyway, we set up shop in the hotel room, and Dianne started giving Jimi a blow job while Noel and Mitch just sat there, quietly watching."
All these years later, I am still downright impressed that Hendrix took this newfangled experience in stride, as if having his penis plunged into plaster for posterity was an everyday occurrence. "Yeah, he was perfectly comfortable," Cynthia asserts. "Dianne gives him a blow job and he has this really big, honkin'-it's true what they say about black men. So he dipped his dick in the alginates-we used Vaseline or Kama Sutra oil, but I hadn't lubed him much-and his pubes got stuck in the mo
ld. Jimi was in the mold for a long time, longer than we planned, but he was very mellow, cooperative, adaptable, and patient. He was fucking the mold while he waited."
While all this phallic magic went on, Cynthia was cognizant of Mitch Mitchell and her fave-rave, Noel Redding, taking it all in. "They were real nice; not lofty at all. None of them were. They were quiet and curious about us. Marilyn was a virgin, and never having seen a dick before, she hid behind a piece of paper. I liked to get stoned when I measured alginates, but I'd lose count between twenty-five and thirty-five, so I let Marilyn write down how many scoops I measured."
After the nouvelle deed was done, Hendrix and the band played another show, then invited the plaster trio to party with them. "It was not only monumental because we were with them, it was the first time I knew of an English band going to a party in Chicago. Graham Nash was there and I didn't even know he was in town! It was totally groovy, unreal. My horoscope that day said, `You rarely get everything you want in life but today you will,' and it was true."
In 1967 I danced in one of the first music videos, a short film to promote "Foxy Lady." When Mr. Hendrix made it known that he fancied teen-green me, I was too agog and virginal to succumb to his palpable prowess. Cynthia had the same reaction when the guitar god gave her the come-hither eye. "Noel was more approachable and besides, he had that pixie/fairy look: hunched over and so pale with bad posture." We both heave sighs recalling the dazzling splendor of malnourished English musicians. "I had posters of him in my bedroom before they came to town, so I was ready for him. He didn't come on really strong-we got to the hotel and somehow I wound up in his bed. He weighed a lot less than I did. I was twice his weight. We had great, straightforward sex. I was so happy it was good with him." Cynthia and I agree that Noel was right at home under the sheets, and taught us both that sex could be a bundle of fun and feel very good indeed.
Cynthia was terribly shy, a fact that most people find difficult to believe due to the audacious nature of her art. "Back in those days I had a hard time bonding with the guys I worshipped because I was in disbelief that they'd want anything to do with me. I had trouble with the great in-between: the ability to relax and feel that I was up to their level or that they were down on my level-that took a while."
Despite that, the next time the Experience came to Chicago, Noel found himself with Cynthia again-in the sack and in the alginates. "Noel's was the first cast to come out twisted. That happens when they have a curved dick and when they start to lose their erection; instead of going straight down it twists around and the pressure of the alginates pushes it down further. But the only way that can happen is if they have enough length to begin with, folks, so don't laugh. It happens with a normally, a slightly curved, long dick."
Let's take a peek at Cynthia's casting journal:
NOEL REDDING
March 30, 1968
Conrad Hilton Hotel (Chicago), Room 1136
Dianne-Plater
Cynthia-Mold and Plaster Mixer
I would like to note that Marilyn was present to resume her duties as general assistant. However, at the time, being very stoned, she was unable to offer any service, save a couple random scratches on a newspaper with a marking pen. Being under the same circumstances, I (Cynthia) could do little better, and faced with the additional chore of counting scoops (meanwhile trying to ignore Marilyn's insensible mumblings: "Sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-seven, sixty-nine xty-she was only trying to help). There was a short delay in getting the alginates measured (I lost count 3 times) and heaven knows how warm or cold the water was. It was SUPPOSED to be a 28:28 ratio (water to alginate powder), but what with my scrambled measuring and the huge overflow from the vase when I began mixing, I doubt if it was even alginates. Still, it molded SUPERBLY. Dianne applied some baby oil to Noel's hair, and he only got stuck for five minutes. I had been counting aloud the time before we thrust Noel in the mold, and when I announced the crucial moment, he became panicky and started to get soft. Thus, instead of diving mightily straight in (to the vase), we had to shove and pound it in, and it twisted like a worm. This is just what the cast looks like-a worm peeking out of the ground. We managed to get the balls (or ball, I'm not sure) and, I'd say, it's well, humorous. And very life-like, although that is NOT the best Noel's rig can do. Noel said that my counting aloud didn't help matters, and when it came time to put his rig in, he grew frightened his rig might not stay hard at precisely the right moment, and all would be ruined (Niagara Falls divers and motorcyle jumpers will know what he means) ... and so his rig got butterflies. He didn't KNOW HOW his rig felt inside the mold, and gasped, "This is INDEED an EXPERIENCE!!" Yes indeed, Mr. Redding. He expressed a desire to make a second attempt in the future. YES INDEED, MR. REDDING!!! Noel is one of the Jimi Hendrix Experience and is my favorite person in the world ... Bass Player ... English ...
A few months later, the Experience returned, and Cynthia wanted to cast Mitch, but wound up in the sack with him instead. "I slept with Mitch, and Noel was with somebody else." Ah, yes, in those heady days there sure was a lot of sharing and sharing alike going on.
It seemed as if the fine art of plaster casting would take off, so the girls set about honing their craft. "As we tried it with more people, we learned things. Before Dianne started plating, she would ask them, `Do you happen to know how long you can maintain a hard-on once I start getting you hard?' and `Once Cynthia starts mixing, get ready to stick your dick in the mold roughly two minutes later."'
Cynthia and Dianne found more willing subjects, among them Eddie Brigati, singer for the Young Rascals, and Wayne Kramer and Dennis Thompson of the MC5. "Wayne and Dennis wanted to be done simultaneously-it was a brotherly thing. I only had one mixing container, so all I had for Wayne was the actual alginate container. That didn't work so well, and it set prematurely before he was able to penetrate it all the way, so it looks like all Wayne has is a thimble, but he's got a long shaft. He was a very good sport about it. I always tell people that Wayne is one person who has not fully been captured."
On another hopeful casting excursion, Eric Clapton was the catalyst for a thunderous, life-altering event. He suggested Cynthia ply her craft on his band's opening act. "That was pretty unbelievable! We found Cream's hotel and went up to Eric Clapton's room. Dianne and I just chatted with him-he was nice as pie. We asked if he was interested in being casted and he said, `I might be, but I have a friend who may even be more interested-Frank Zappa.' Deep down I'm thinking, `Ooh, isn't that guy a big drug addict?' But Eric took us to meet him and he wasn't scary, not scary and loud the way I thought he'd be. He was intelligent, respectful, and very curious, and he seemed interested in my idea about having a rock-cock museum."
A couple months later, the Mothers of Invention were headlining the Kinetic Playground, and the owner, who had previously ignored Cynthia's shenanigans, breathlessly told her that Frank Zappa was looking for her. "I said, `You're kidding. Does that mean we get in free?" Frank had been pondering her handiwork and was full of grandiose ideas. "`I want to help you further your dream of collecting more casts for the museum of rock-cocks you told me about,' he said. `I want to bring you out to Los Angeles and pay you a stipend to create more cock.' For a girl like me, that was unheard of. I mean, I was a keypuncher! I had just escaped from the Warden and didn't have much hope for a future-I wasn't raised to think about what I wanted to do in life because my mother told me what I'd be doing: taking care of her."
The GTO's were in the throes of recording our album, and before she made the move to the West Coast, Cynthia was featured on side B, track 7, called "Miss Pamela's First Conversation with the Plaster Casters of Chicago."
Our high-pitched voices joyously trilled and burbled over each other when we realized we had the same drooly crush on Noel Redding. Because of this and other breathy discoveries, we knew we were rock sisters forever and couldn't wait to kiss and squeeze each other. I hurriedly made plans to spend a wintry week with my newfound friend in Chicago.
; It was love at first gaze. I soon realized that Cynthia was surprisingly shy and tender hearted, and the pounds she had added to her slender frame exacerbated her already low self-image. I told her how beautiful she was. We divulged our deepest secrets, played loads of records, and the days flew by, even though I had all the wrong clothes for the subzero, snowy weather. I remember my lips and toes were numb as I staggered through the slush in vintage chiffon and spike heels to see Fleetwood Mac on New Year's Eve. We dribbled over Peter Green and marveled joyously at Mick Fleetwood's testicles that seemed to be hanging out of his trousers while he bashed the drums. Later we were told he wore a pair of red wooden balls on his belt for good luck, but we didn't believe it for a minute. We lounged around for hours, gushing over Noel Redding and various other rail-thin rockers. On the wall next to the canopied bed, Cynthia had tacked up a poster of the dangerous new British quartet, Led Zeppelin. "Just my type!" I crooned, but Cynthia warned that they already had a severely roguish reputation. She should have paid attention to her own stellar advice, because shortly after I left, she cast their scandalous road manager, Richard Cole, and had an encounter that left her sadly dazed and confused. "I'm saving that big, juicy story for my own book. There was a routine involving Robert Plant, John Bonham, and Richard Cole. Robert was the bait, and Bonham and Cole were the violent ones. Jimmy was always off with a girl, and John Paul was horrified by it." Let's just say that Zeppelin lived up (or down) to their bad reputation.
"I felt like shit. It made me wary-it didn't make me want to stop being a groupie or Plaster Caster, it just made me realize I couldn't go into any band's hotel room without researching them first. To this day, I tell young girls to find out whatever they can about a band before going into their hotel room."
Let's Spend the Night Together: Backstage Secrets of Rock Muses and Supergroupies Page 10
