The Andy Warhol Diaries

by Andy Warhol

  Thursday, September 21, 1978—Los Angeles

  Went to Getty Museum. It was thrilling. A reproduction of a building they haven’t excavated yet in Italy—they know where it is but there’s another building on top of it. Bought a book on painting ($17).

  Bob arrived in L.A. and described the YSL Opium party for us. Then Joan Quinn arrived in fuschia hair and lots of matching amethysts. Fiorucci sent a limo in exchange for us going to their opening. We went to pick up Ursula Andress first. She’s staying with Linda Evans. The house is very big, English country-style, a pool and tennis courts. Ursula was wearing a YSL scarf over the cast on her broken arm. She was surfing in Malibu with Ryan O’Neal when Hurricane Norman hit her and broke her arm, tore it out of her socket. Joan whispered that everyone in L.A. wonders if it was Hurricane Ryan that actually did it.

  We went to Fiorucci where we ran into Ronnie Levin with Susan Pile and Tere Tereba. Susan screamed that the party was cancelled but we thought that was just a joke and started to get out of the limo but a cop pushed us back in and said we were blocking traffic, that the party was cancelled by order of the Beverly Hills Fire Department. A transvestite handed us business cards through the window.

  Then we went back to the hotel and then I went with Sue Mengers and everyone else waited around for Mick Jagger to call. Sue is really fat again. And God, her attitude is so cheap. There was no dinner, so she suggested we stop at Burger King on the way to Diana Ross. It was so abstract, you talk into a machine. She ordered a double Whopper but then she worried that maybe two separate hamburgers would have been cheaper.

  Sue treated the driver like dirt and I know that if I ever said one little remark to her that she didn’t like, she would never speak to me again. She said she’d introduced Isabella Rossellini to Martin Scorsese and that they’ve been living together for two months. She hates Jerry Hall because Jerry told Bob Weiner that Sue wanted to take an acid trip with Timothy Leary. “What do they think I amww.” Like it had ruined her reputation. So vulgar. God. Arrived backstage and she said, “I’m Miss Ross’s agent.” A cute little waiter was serving meatballs. She said, “If we knew there would be meatballs we wouldn’t have had to stop at Burger King.” I got myself really drunk drinking straight Stolichnaya. Sue told me she’d just been really after John Travolta, to represent him, but he reminded her that she’d turned him down when he was on TV in Welcome Back, Kotter and she didn’t remember it. But then, she said, sitting on the toilet seat one night she remembered it.

  Then Diana Ross came out looking really lovely. Thrilled to see me, kissed me. Then she went on stage. She had a shot of brandy in her coffee before she went on.

  We were sitting in the seventh row. Universal Amphitheater. A plane went over with lights on it that said, “Welcome to my show.” Laser beams on the stage. She came out of a big screen, down an elegant staircase. Her brother is cute. I want him photographed in Interview. She told me she got the whole idea for her show from the Interview photo of guys carrying her down a staircase.

  Diana didn’t say she liked her cover and I just know it’s because it made her look too black. At the end of the show she did a Wiz number and she apologized for the music being too slow, and said, “Forgive me, audience,” which she didn’t have to say because no one knew the difference.

  Afterwards, backstage, Diana started to cry. She wanted to have another rehearsal tomorrow. Then Berry Gordy and Diana had a fight, he told her he wasn’t going to spend the money on another rehearsal. Diana wanted Sue to take her side, but Sue said it wasn’t her area and then she said to me, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Friday, September 22, 1978—Los Angeles

  Back to Fiorucci. This time it really was opening. There were 3,000 kids on the street dressed in every form of punk possible, but it’s clean-cut Los Angeles punk. And we were pushed through the crowd, just like going to Studio 54 on a big night. I went behind a counter where they had 300 copies of Interview and I autographed them all. A star of Roots, Levar Burton, asked for one. He was covered in sweat from dancing. They turned the whole thing into a discotheque.

  Saturday, September 23, 1978—Los Angeles

  Wendy Stark picked us up and we drove out to Venice. Went to the Ace Gallery for my Torso show. It was a beautiful sunny day, 100 degrees but dry. The show looked good—cocks, cunts, and assholes. They had 1,000 copies of Interview ready to be given away.

  I did two interviews—one with Connoisseur magazine, and one with Society West. Wendy did them with me, and Fred was being funny and lied and told everyone that the shaved vagina in the painting was Wendy’s.

  Then we went to Polly Bergen’s house in Holmby Hills. Polly’s house is very modern and well-decorated. There were Architectural Digests everywhere. And her dressing room looks like a department store, with racks of blouses and skirts and dresses and gowns, and she has a telescope that’s for looking at the stars, but she uses it to look at the stars’ houses, and we looked into Danny Thomas’s house across the canyon, but nothing was happening there except a few geraniums were growing.

  Then back to our dump (room service tea with tip $3, breakfast $2). Wendy made a phone call to Stan Dragoti to invite him to the opening—he’s really unhappy about Cheryl Tiegs running off to Africa with Peter Beard. Then it was time to go off to Julia Scorsese’s and she told Fred on the phone to be sure no one we brought had any drugs on them because she’s trying to get more straight.

  We got to Julia’s and everyone was sitting around smoking joints. Tony and Berry Perkins, Firooz Zahedi and his fiancée, a lot of young writers and composers. Tony asked us how was Chris Makos doing these days, he said Chris was the biggest hustler, but that he was so seductive you ended up giving in. He asked me if I liked L’Ermitage, and I said it was a good quiet place to have an affair, and he said, “But could you have two affairs there?”

  And Doug Christmas told us earlier that Ronnie Levin had had a friend keep the receptionist busy while he walked in, took one of my drawings out of the frame, rolled it under his arm, and walked out. Then he had the nerve to try to sell it back to the gallery, and they pressed charges and the police said he had a record a mile long.

  Fred’s outfits on this trip were his new shirts from London—they’re really long so they look like Indian tunics—and Sue Mengers said to Fred, “In New York your hair is slicked back, you wear beautiful suits and gorgeous ties, and in L.A. your shirt’s hanging out, there’s no jacket, no tie—oh I know you, you probably said, ‘This is good enough for those Hollywood Jews.’ “

  Sunday, September 24, 1978—Los Angeles

  We went to pick up Ursula Andress and when we got to Venice I was dragged through the crowd. Marisa was wearing a gold sequined beret and a gold sequined jacket and skin-tight black stretch pants—you could see her pussy—and her sister Berry was wearing a blue and white-striped cotton dress. Sue was wearing a flowing hot pink chiffon gown. Three thousand, five hundred people showed up. Then we got it all coordinated so that I got into my car real quick and was taken to the restaurant, Robert’s, where the party was. It was on the beach.

  A guy came over and said that he had the biggest cock in L.A., so I offered to sign it and Marisa got so excited she leaned over to look at the cock and her hair caught fire in the flames of a candle—it was like instant punishment. And Ken Harrison was at the opening but he got lost in the shuffle, and Sue was dying to meet him. Everyone was dying to meet him because of his big cock in my show.

  Monday, September 25, 1978—Los Angeles—New York

  The new Interview arrived from New York and Fran’s column was so boring I told Bob we should fire her. So we had a fight. Then Wendy picked us up and she took us to Giorgio’s in Beverly Hills to sell some ads and Fred and Gale Hayman who own it were thrilled to see me. And now they’re selling mink V-neck sweaters and I said, “Oh I’d love one.” and he said, “I’ll sell it to you wholesale.” And then I realized I’d really stuck my foot in it and I said, “Oh no no no. I’ll jus
t pick one up the next time I’m in town.”

  Johnny Casablancas was checking into the hotel and a bunch of Rastafarians were out in front because Bob Marley was staying there (maid tips $30, concierge tips $20, bellboy tips $10, limo driver $10, Redcap tip $5, magazines for the plane $14.50).

  The plane sat in the airport for five hours having its fuel system repaired. Meanwhile, the talk of the town was the air crash in San Diego that morning that killed 150 people.

  Tuesday, September 26, 1978

  Dropped Fred. Truman was coming to the Factory at 3:00 for the High Times Christmas cover photograph of him and me. Truman was early, 2:30. Bob MacBride peed on one of the Piss paintings in the back for me, and he kept going back to see if the colors had changed. Truman told Brigid about the drying-out place, and she interviewed him, and that’s where her sister Richie is, too.

  Paul Morrissey was down, and he and Truman talked all afternoon about scripts and things. Then Toni arrived four hours late, she had a Santa costume for me and a little girl outfit for Truman. But Truman wasn’t in the mood to go into drag, he said that he was already dressed like a little boy. Truman was really drunk, hugging around.

  Truman was pleading with Brigid to get him a drink and not tell Bob—this is after she caught him drinking in the kitchen. Ronnie was trying to make the makeup girl. My makeup wasn’t working, it was no use, I had too many pimples.

  Wednesday, September 27, 1978

  Some German photographers came. Rupert came and helped with the Fruit drawings. The lineup for the evening:

  5:30 Roberta di Camerino’s at “21”

  6:00 Barneys for Giorgio Armani

  6:30 MOMA for the Rolling Stone anniversary

  7:00 Cocktails at Cynthia Phipps’s

  8:45 Dinner at La Petite Ferme

  10:30 Joe Eula’s party

  11:00 Halston’s

  12:00 Studio 54 for an animal benefit

  1:00 Flamingo’s for a tit-judging party that Victor arranged for me to go to.

  Thursday, September 28, 1978

  Bob was in a grouchy mood because the doctor told him he couldn’t drink anymore, and now he’s bored by absolutely everybody he sees, he’s a camp. He only perks up when there’s royalty around. He’s as bad as Fred.

  Saturday, September 30, 1978

  Went home and was picked up by the limo to go to the Jack Nicholson-Ara Gallant screening of the movie Jack directed, Goin’ South. The one Barbara Allen “auditioned” for.

  The movie—I’m not sure, I think it was a light comedy. It didn’t say anything, though. It’s good in the beginning and you think something’s going to happen, but it doesn’t. The new girl, Mary Steenburgen, is okay—she’s good, but not beautiful. She looks a little like Anjelica and you just know that’s why he did it, and he just should have used Anjelica, but that’s when they were having the Ryan O’Neal troubles.

  And you know, I was thinking the other day about commercial movies and then all the great art movies, and I’ve decided something: Commercial things really do stink. As soon as it becomes commercial for a mass market it really stinks. I know I always rave and say my favorite movies are things like The Other Side of Midnight and The Betsy, but I guess I’m … going to change my tune. You have to do stuff that average people don’t understand, because those are the only good things. And even though the arty foreign movies are boring to sit through, at least they try to do creative things. So I’m going to start going to the New Yorker and seeing strange movies again. I’m missing so much, going to parties.

  I was a little drunk and I went over to Jack and said I really really loved it, because Fred told me those kind of things really do make a difference to people.

  Afterwards Catherine and I went into this place on 54th Street that said “Female/Male Nudes,” and there were almost naked girls on like a big long banquet table with men sitting around and it’s so abstract. They put their tits and asses into the guy’s faces, an inch away, and the guys just sit there like zombies. And there’s a sign that says “Do Not Touch.” And one of the hookers looked at me and said, “Oh my God, oh my God.” And then the girls came over and one said, “Oh will you buy me a drink?” And I did—I (laughs) didn’t know yet that the drinks were $8.50 apiece. And then more girls came and they made me feel really good, like I was straight, and they kept saying to come upstairs, that upstairs was really really really fun. What do you think was up there? Is that where they do it? And the girl told Catherine she would really like it up there, too, she was trying to make Catherine, and I bought drinks for the other girls so that’s 3 X $8.50 plus $5 tip ($30.50) and then 8 X $8.50, plus $20 ($88) until I ran out of money. Then we left and went next door to a gay porno movie. Catherine wanted to see it and it was a glory-hole movie and it was too peculiar and we just stayed for ten minutes (cab $3).

  Sunday, October 1, 1978

  Brigid and I talked about old times. She was on amphetamines for twenty-three years. Isn’t that something? I mean think of it, twenty-three years. Then we started to watch The Users on TV and we called each other about five times. Jaclyn Smith was so good. They had her hair commercial on, too.

  Monday, October 2, 1978

  Doug Christmas wants to show the Piss paintings in Paris after we go to Denmark, so I’ll have to drink more water and make more. I can do two a day now, and Fred told me to put two of them together, that they look more interesting that way.

  Monday, October 9, 1978—Paris

  Went to Loulou de la Falaise’s party. Shirley Goldfarb was there, and she’s just beat her cancer. She’s 106 again—she’d been down to 78 pounds. She only lost a little bit of hair from the chemotherapy. She’s back being just as obnoxious as ever and now that she’s better, people treat her badly again. Her husband was there. Wished I had a tape recorder to tape her. She was happy, looking good. Loulou’s got a duplex with a balcony. There was a birthday cake but I didn’t have any, I was so involved with Shirley.

  Tuesday, October 10, 1978—Paris

  Club Sept invited us to a private dinner ($40 to chauffeur). We got there and our table was actually reserved for Bette Midler. Saw Isabelle Adjani, so beautiful. Bette came in and got an ovation. She saw me and made me kiss her hand. Told her we just missed her in Copenhagen, she said she knew all about it. I tried to talk to her but she reminds me too much of Fran Lebowitz—like she’s afraid you’ll steal her material. We just don’t hit it off.

  Valentino was there and he and Bette chatted, she asked him how the shmatta trade was, and what did Jackie O. buy and she wanted four of them and what was the new look. She gives everybody the Sophie Tucker answers. Then she left and the party kept going on.

  Thursday, October 12, 1978—New York

  Went over to Bob MacBride’s new studio and guess where it is—33 Union Square West! On the tenth floor! So I got pangs going over there, riding up in that elevator to the floor where Interview used to be. Bob MacBride has the room next to that. It’s too bad we didn’t buy that building, though, because it’s narrow and Interview could have had four floors already. Bob’s stuff, now I really like it, I honestly do. It’s bent wood sculpture. Truman was bouncing around. I don’t know if he’s drinking or not.

  We got a call—the call I didn’t want to get—saying that we had to go to Paris next week, the twentieth, Friday, for the Piss paintings.

  Dropped Bob on Park at 7:00 ($3.20). The police just arrested Sid Vicious for stabbing his twenty-year-old manager-girlfriend to death in the Chelsea Hotel, and then I saw on the news that Mr. Bard was saying, “Oh yeah. They drank a lot and they would come in late….” They just let anybody in over there, that hotel is dangerous, it seems like somebody’s killed there once a week. I was tired so I stayed home, did some drawings, worked, watched TV, snoozed. Then the alarm system went off and I was afraid to go down and look, but finally I got brave and took Archie under my arm and went down to the kitchen but there was nothing there. I watched TV but kept worrying that there was someone in the
house. All Fall Down. When Brandon De Wilde kicks the picture of Warren Beatty and Angela Lansbury grabs it and holds it close, it’s so good, you know? Who wrote that movie? Was it the one who committed suicide who was like Tennessee Williams? The one who wrote Picnic … Inge.

  Sunday, October 15, 1978

  Picked up Bob and we cabbed over to U.N. Plaza for lunch ($2). Truman was in the kitchen. He said that he was cooking but I think everything was actually bought. It was really hot in the kitchen, the oven was on and the sun was pouring in, but nothing was cooking. I think he was actually just in there drinking, pretending to cook. There was a bottle of Stolichnaya in the refrigerator. He offered some to Bob, who had to turn it down, and then he insisted that I have some, and he took one of those double wine glasses and poured it three-quarters full and then put in a drop of orange juice. I took it but just kept it in my hand. I went to the other room and talked sculpture with Bob MacBride but I kept running into the kitchen to check on Truman. He had some tomatoes sitting around the kitchen. He showed me a pie he’d baked, he said, but I don’t think he had. I think it was bought because it had cardboard under it. But he let me take a picture of him holding it, like he had just baked it. He was talking about what a great cook he was, how he’d made veal stew the night before.