Inside Studio 54
Page 35
They each worked the effect to their advantage.
Shelley Tupper is married and lives in Manhattan. She produces corporate events around the world, appears live as a storyteller on occasions, and is trained as an executive coach/positive psychology practitioner.
Gwynne Rivers lives in Maine with her three young children and boyfriend whom she’s known since grade school. She is president of the PTA and has never been happier. She considers herself a survivor of her early reckless and crazy years in New York City’s night life and says, “But it was fun and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” Gwynne embraced the effect and learned along the way.
Hilary Clark lives in the UK, in a charming town near Norwich, not far from the sea, with her husband and two Chihuahuas. She owns a flower shop in the market square and enjoys painting and writing. Her five children come and go from all their various studies and adventures. Hilary had this to say recently:
“Mark Fleischman and I had a great relationship. We both had such fun with each other. Working at Studio 54 was like acting in a wild play every night. It was brilliant and I loved every bit of it. I was very young but also sensible enough to know not to lose myself. I am forever grateful for the experience.”
Victoria Leacock Hoffman lives in Washington, DC with her husband and young son. She is a producer, filmmaker, and writer. She was the cinematographer for Jonathan Demme’s award-winning AIDS documentary One Foot on a Banana Peel, the Other Foot in the Grave. In 1992, she cofounded Love Heals, The Alison Gertz Foundation for AIDS Education, and lectured on their behalf for the following fifteen years. In a recent interview, Victoria shared the following about Studio:
“Working for Mark in nineteen eighty-three for eight months was one of the most adventurous and extreme experiences of my life! I loved many aspects of it and met many lifelong friends, but also lost many to AIDS in the years that followed. Though I have never tried drugs, I witnessed the harsh effects they had on Mark and some of my coworkers. I did enjoy way too much champagne and have been happily sober since nineteen eighty-eight! I am glad so many people made it out and moved on to healthier lives.”
Shay Knuth, director of catering, partied hard but never let the effect interfere with putting in the hard work and long hours necessary to make the catering department as lucrative as it was. She left Studio 54 when it all came crashing to an end in 1985 and moved on. Shay lives outside Marbella in Spain and remains a valuable PR asset to Playboy Enterprises Inc.
Some of our friends and guests passed away either directly or indirectly as a result of drug and alcohol abuse, perhaps encouraged by the safe haven the effect of Studio 54 fostered within all of us. Andy Gibb, Vitas Gerulaitis, and John Belushi would stop by on a regular basis to partake in some of the effects Studio had seduced us all with. They enjoyed us way more than whatever or whomever awaited them at home—if not, we wouldn’t have had the pleasure of their company as often as we did. They chased the negative rather than the positive—caught it and never let go.
Truman Capote craved the company of “characters,” and we had plenty of those at Studio 54. His sarcasm and wit always took the conversation to another level the few times I remember him hanging in my office into the early-morning hours. He thrilled in the back-and-forth banter with the busboys and reveled in “kink” with Japanese psychiatrist Dr. Masao Miyamoto, assistant professor at Cornell University, who authored the book Straightjacket Society. I had granted Masao unlimited access while researching a piece for Playboy. Truman spoke of writing a book that took place over one night at Studio 54 but, sadly, never did. He died soon after I last saw him in 1984 of liver cancer and the complications of multiple-drug intoxication.
Tinkerbelle, who had a column in the Studio 54 magazine, was another life and talent cut short. Tinkerbelle spent a brief time in the orbit of Andy Warhol in the 1960s. Blonde, very pretty and intelligent, she became a regular contributor to Andy Warhol’s Interview magazine in the early 1970s. Having become well-known for her biting wit and scathing criticism of others, she landed her own film critic spot with Newsweek called Tinkerbelle Goes To the Movies, a video magazine piece. From the first night that Studio 54 opened in 1977, Tinkerbelle was a regular and became immediately addicted to the scene and the measure of notoriety and celebrity it afforded her. It was often seven or eight in the morning before she went home to bed. As a result, she was fired from her job at Newsweek in 1978. Finding herself reduced to accepting secretarial jobs to pay the bills, she became increasingly depressed. She jumped to her death from the window of her friend’s apartment in 1986. In the words of actress Sylvia Miles, Tinkerbelle had “run out of gas in the fast lane, and when a person like that gets into the fast lane, there’s no satisfaction on the other side of the road.” Tinkerbelle allowed the Studio 54 Effect to take over and consume her life.
My buddy Rick James began his lifelong abuse of drugs when he was a teenager, falling in love with Sister Cocaine in the 1960s. I was very happy to reconnect with Rick at The Century Club. Once again we were spending time in an office, in a club that I owned, but this time I was straight. In our moments alone together, Rick was insightful, and sometimes sad, but then he always turned it around with something funny. I remember one night very well when Rick reflected on his drug use—“Mark you know me, I’m a people person. But when I was basing it wasn’t about anything else but me. I didn’t give a shit about any other living thing. I lost all sense of humanity. I surrendered—I fell to my knees and I sucked the devil’s glass dick.”
Rick’s health slowly deteriorated until he had a stroke in the 1990s. Rick was found dead in his Los Angeles home on August 6, 2004. The autopsy found a shitload of drugs in his system, which was no surprise to anyone who knew him, and yet I was numb for days after hearing the news. For the rest of my life I will ponder, “What if my friend had chosen to glean more from the positive effects that Studio had to offer rather than the negative? Why didn’t he draw on the strength of all those people whom he met at Studio 54, the ones that embraced the positive effect of Studio 54 and whom he found to be, in his own words, “the most interesting people I had ever met in my life”?
Grace Jones worked the Studio 54 Effect positively then and now. She is a great talent. She partied hard, got a handle on any issues she had with drugs, and kept the creative juices flowing through the years in both music and film. She blew my mind in 2012 at Queen Elizabeth II’s Diamond Jubilee Concert in London performing with that hula hoop. I enjoyed reading I’ll Never Write My Memoirs, a must-read for her fans. She has great style. There will never be another like her, she’s all Grace.
Liza Minnelli partied really hard, weathered a troubled marriage and divorce, and then struggled through several extended stays at Betty Ford to reemerge as the incredible talent and star she always was. At times Liza was controlled by the Studio 54 Effect, and then she fought back and won.
Tony Curtis, whose star from the 1950s and ’60s diminished when he got involved with drugs and alcohol in the 1970s, was left with a floundering career until he went to Betty Ford in the 1980s. He successfully returned to acting, having appeared in thirty-three films in his career, completed his memoir American Prince, and was able to enjoy painting, his lifelong passion. Tony enjoyed the Studio 54 Effect and was almost destroyed by it, but in the end he conquered it. Tony lived to see his dream come true. Red Table by Tony Curtis joined the permanent collection of the film and media wing of the Museum of Modern Art in 2005. Tony passed away on September 29, 2010.
Christopher Atkins went from being a big-time partier to a complete teetotaler, living a clean, healthy life as a writer and producer in Hollywood. In the end the Studio 54 Effect was a positive.
Tanya Tucker, whose hard-partying ways landed her at Betty Ford in the late 1980s, got her life together, and returned to her music career. She wrote and published her memoir, then starred in her own reality show, Tuckerville. Tanya Tucker was voted the Country Mus
ic Association’s Female Vocalist of the Year in 1991. She continues to record today. In the end, Tanya won and conquered every negative effect she partied with at Studio. She’s a winner.
In 1984, NBA star of the Seattle Supersonics, David Thompson, got into a fight at Studio 54. Witnesses claimed David was stoned and drunk by the time he got into the fight, sometime after 2:00 a.m., with one of our much smaller busboys over a hat check girl. Thompson fell down a flight of stairs and destroyed his left knee, permanently ending his pro basketball career, which had already begun to deteriorate due to his off-court antics and abuse of alcohol. Of course, the way Thompson tells the story is entirely different. In his version, which he tells in his memoir Skywalker, he was innocently seeking out the men’s room when Studio 54’s menacing busboy came at him for no reason, shoving him down the stairs and injuring his knee to such an extent that his return to the ranks of pro-basketball was all but doomed. Only the busboy and Thompson himself probably know what actually happened, but it should be noted that Thompson was a troubled player with a load of talent and a lot of bad habits. Whenever he joined us at Studio, he was seduced by the negative aspect of the Studio 54 Effect.
Thompson sued Studio 54 for $10 million. I was recently asked what became of the lawsuit, and from what I read in Thompson’s memoir, it appeared that he did not follow through with it. Word had it Thompson continued to devolve into a life of drugs and alcohol for a number of years. Then, after serving 180 days in jail in 1986 for violating his probation on domestic abuse charges, Thompson found God and sobriety and changed his life. He has been a community relations director for the Charlotte Hornets and a motivational speaker, and now runs kids’ basketball clinics. He is a good example of someone who ultimately overcame the negative aspect of the Studio 54 Effect.
Calvin Klein became addicted to the negative effect of Studio 54’s nightly offerings of sex, drugs, alcohol, parties, and the nonstop adoration of beautiful young boys early on. But he never allowed the effect to interfere with his responsibility to the company and its people. Ultimately he cleaned up his act and was wise in seeking the help he needed at the Hazelton Clinic. There are designers and then there’s Calvin Klein—an American treasure.
Robin Leach, who produced and appeared in Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous and who led a decadent, sometimes out-of-control lifestyle, is now living well and happy to be working in Las Vegas promoting products on TV and appearing in commercials. Robin always chose to embrace both the negative and the positive charms of the effect. I am happy it turned out so well for Robin. I was always very fond of him.
Ian Schrager was part of the drug scene at Studio 54, but he was never out of control—he fell under the spell of the Studio 54 Effect, but wasn’t overcome by it. However, Studio 54 affected him in a way that has caused him much grief in his lifetime. He flagrantly defrauded the federal government and was found guilty of tax evasion. It was all very public and reported on in the newspapers. Ian, being a very private person, abhorred this kind of attention. It could have been avoided. Studio 54’s glamour and lifestyle went to his head. He participated in and fed off of it. He and Steve ended up as convicted felons, and Ian was disbarred as a lawyer.
Ian was quoted in an interview in the British newspaper London Evening Standard admitting that he doesn’t like to dwell on the Studio 54 years, saying, “It’s difficult because I didn’t handle the success well. There was nothing you could do at night in the 1970s you couldn’t walk away from in the morning. I admire the accomplishment from a distance—we were a couple of guys from Brooklyn—but we created a Frankenstein’s monster that almost destroyed us.” He went on to say, “I got intoxicated with success and I paid for it.” Ian sums up the Studio 54 Effect with that quote, and as one of the most successful people to escape its clutches, he is well qualified to describe it. The experience set him back for several years in his life. But in 1985, Ian reinvented himself and became the cofounder and driving force behind a group of highly successful boutique hotels, first in New York and then nationally and internationally. He was not only a successful hotelier but has become a major superstar in the hospitality industry copied by hoteliers all over the world. In the end, Ian rode the Studio 54 Effect that he and Stevie created far beyond anyone’s dreams.
I was happy to learn that Ian Schrager received a Presidential Pardon from President Obama in 2017.
Steve never really outed himself publically in interviews, or with business associates and especially bankers. Whenever it was that Stevie discovered he was gay, the fact is, he was having fun with it and there was no reason not to. By the time he and Ian were at the helm of Studio 54, Steve was doing five or six Quaaludes each night and purchasing enormous amounts of cocaine, which he consumed and shared with others. By 1:00 a.m. on any given night he’d be staggering around Studio, slurring his speech and spitting all over himself when he spoke to people, but everyone loved him anyway. He was Stevie. So up until the crazy moment when he announced that Studio 54 made more money than the Mafia, Steve stayed out of trouble. He always had Ian watching his back. And then AIDS hit and Ian couldn’t protect him from that. Steve died of an AIDS-related illness at age forty-five. He embraced all the effects, both negative and positive—sex, drugs, music, alcohol, and most of all the press. He rode the Studio 54 rocket that he and Ian had created to his end.
Steve was just one of many taken from us much too soon. Zoli, the owner of Zoli Agency, succumbed to the virus in 1982 along with a number of Studio 54 bartenders including Cort Brown, Bob Petty, and Randy Kelly; light man Robert DaSilva; DJ Federico Gonzalez, our very talented early-evening DJ at Studio 54 on Jerry Rubin Networking nights; David Rodriguez, Walter Gibbons, and Larry Levan; my good friend and songwriter Paul Jabara; Roy Cohn, George Paul Roselle, Peter Lester, Guy Burgos, Keith Haring, Halston, Anthony Perkins, Rudolf Nureyev, and Perry Ellis; jewelry designer Aldo Cipullo; and other friends of Studio 54 all died as a result of AIDS.
As you can see, many went off road along the way
They will remain forever in our hearts and memory.
But if those of us who are lucky enough to still be here remember:
The joy in the music
The thrill of the dance
And the magic that was Studio 54…
Then I did a good thing.
Acknowledgments
Mark:
First, I would like to acknowledge Bev Currier, a Bar Method teacher at Rancho La Puerta, who together with a group of fun people at dinner heard some of my stories and kept saying, “You’ve got to write a book.” Then I attended Les Standiford’s Creative Writing class, which inspired me to start outlining this book.
I want to acknowledge my beautiful wife Mimi, who was supportive in every way, including helping me with the structure of the manuscript. I would also like to thank my daughter Hilary for her edits, and my writing assistant Amy Lamare whose help in this process has been invaluable. Then, I bumped into music industry maven Denise Chatman at the Sirius XM Studio 54 launch party in 2011 and she helped jog my memory of what happened back in the day.
Denise:
To Brad Guild…I will never forget you. Thank you for insisting, “Now is the time, Denise…before you forget everything!”
Thanks to my buddies at the various gyms I worked out at over the last five years. You all kept me sane. To my friends Wes Bradley, Tony Gioe, Marsha Haber, Bacho Mangual, and Tom Savarese…bless you for never hanging up on me…research is a bitch. To Richard G. Cushing…there will never be another you. To my son Peter and daughter Clara…thank you for your patience and support. You are my greatest productions.
Mark and I would like to thank Mark Kerrigan, the new managing director of Celebrity Bulletin’s New York office, for granting us access to the archives and permission to include several copies of Celebrity Bulletin in the book.
Index
Symbols
1964 World’s Fair—34
21 Club—20
A
A Quiet Little Table in the Corner—44–47, 50
ABBA—140, 153
Adams, Cindy—244
Adams, Joey—160
Addis, Keith—269, 274
Addison, John—20
Aerosmith—165, 296
Agnelli, Gianni—43
AIDS—124, 160, 200, 213, 234–235, 290, 294, 298–299, 303–304
Al-Fayed, Mohamed—211
Alcoholic Beverage Control/ABC—67–68, 70, 71, 73, 75, 144
Alexis, Kim—198
Allen, Peter—119, 161, 167–169, 176
Allen, Woody—30, 82
Allred, Gloria—274
Alt, Carol—89, 198
Altman, Robert—269
Alvarez, George—229, 295
André the Giant—91
Andress, Ursula—186
Angel Dust—129, 217, 222, 223, 225, 227, 230, 233, 242
Anka, Paul—35
Annie Hall—82
Antoine’s—69
Anvil, The—120, 121
Area—182, 230
Armstrong, Louis—25, 259
Arnaz Jr., Desi—88
Arnaz, Desi—258
Arthur—43
Aruba—40
Ashe, Arthur—31
Ashford & Simpson—140, 209
Ashford, Nick—204
Assante, Armand—262
Atkins, Chris—89, 171, 219, 220
Attica Correctional Facility—46
Aucoin, Bill—122
Auletta, Richard/Dick—30, 44
Autet, Ludovic—110
Avalon, Frankie—34
Aykroyd, Dan—118, 168, 196
B
Baa, Lorraine (Miss Virgin Islands)—58
Babyface—284
Bacall, Lauren—78, 186, 290
Bacon, Karin—195
Baird, Scott—86, 96, 105, 181, 295