A couple of weeks later, Suzie called me about the pregnancy. She told me that she had a sonogram and the baby was alright. I was pissed! I asked her not to wake me up at 3am and tell me things like the baby was great. After all, she was going to give the baby up for adoption. Suzie seemed a little crazy to me. She was so matter of fact about giving the child up for adoption. Suzie asked me to come and see the sonogram and she would make me dinner. I agreed to meet her a few days later. I had always wondered how Suzie could carry an unborn child for nine months and then simply give the baby up for adoption. What an selfish ass! I hated her for even considering that option.
I did not go to Suzie’s apartment without backup! I brought a drummer I knew named Mark Prince. I thought he would make a good buffer when I got there. Mark and I arrived and guess who answered the door? Her cousin Sara! The night was very uncomfortable and I basically let my self down. My one chance to attempt to talk Suzie into keeping the child that she was to have in nine months, but I did not. Instead, Mark and I finished a twelve pack of beer while I flirted with Sara. Mark and I left that evening without anything accomplished, except for flirting with Suzie’s cousin. What a dumb shit I was. Could I have been more thoughtless or stupid? Did I really think that Sara would want the guy who just knocked up her own cousin? What an idiot! I obviously did not want to address the problem with Suzie. I just wanted to drink my problems away. I did not see Suzie again.
So here we are 16 years later, and my daughter Jordan is all grown up,beautiful, and apparently fairly happy with her life. I was contacted by Jordan with the help of her aunt Peggy. Jordan has several issues with being brought up without knowing me. She tells me that she is very happy with her whole family, but I sense different. Her mother has since told Jordan all types of cute little stories about how her and I were in love and had a wonderful relationship during the conception of Jordan. Someday Jordan will realize that her mother has told her some great untruths and has omitted several very important details regarding her life over the past 16 years. When I met her mother, she was a stranger, and I’m not kidding. How much can you know about somebody after ten drunken minutes? I am extremely happy I was never emotionally involved with Suzie. I have since seen her in person and what a piece of work she has turned out to be.
Years have passed and the image of Jordan passes through my mind everyday. I hope someday I can know my daughter, but have to wait for Jordan to make that decision. My door has always been open, she just has to be willing to enter.
HOLLYWOOD BLVD. - Vinnie Vegas
I spent a lot of time on Hollywood Blvd. because of my job at Scarlet Letters. It became a strange home away from home for me, and I grew to love the place. You would see the same girls on all the same intersections and got to know all the characters that made Hollywood all that it was. There was a place at Hollywood & Cahuenga called Jamaica John’s, which was the quintessential Hollywood grill. It was basically one long counter where the short order cook fried up whatever you wanted. The place was a little seedy, but it lived up to the Hollywood reputation. I always felt so “street” when I was there. I only had enough money for fries and a coke, so I would have to watch other people macking on cool burgers and stuff. The place reminded me of that diner in the picture somebody painted of Marilyn Monroe, James Dean & Elvis kicking back. On payday, I’d go there and treat myself to whatever I wanted which was a joy. All in all, it was a cool place.
Hollywood Blvd. had a couple of famous places that really made you scratch your head. One was called the Command Post. This was a military surplus store smack in the middle of Hollywood Blvd. The place had creepy mannequins wearing Nazi uniforms and smelled like musty burlap. How this place got there, and how it stayed in business is beyond me. I actually frequented the store to buy squadron patches and military pins. There was a store the size of a closet that fixed watches, (who gets their watches fixed?) as well as an even smaller one that sold pipe tobacco. Those were obviously throwbacks to a day when people smoked pipes and got their time-pieces repaired, and those places were the last echo of a long-gone time that helped give the Boulevard it’s desperate heartbreak reputation. One place called Deja-Vu sold “swimsuits” that could never be worn by the pool. You know the type, the red, white and blue Uncle Sam suit in the style made famous by Borat. This was obviously a place for strippers to get their wares, and in Hollywood, business was good. Of course, just about every block had a store chock full of studded wristbands, skull pins, and cheap metal bracelets that we all needed for our rocker look. Throw in the last piece of this unorthodox puzzle by adding a couple of Scientology outposts, and you complete the dysfunctional neighborhood of Hollywood. Scientology preyed on the weak, but like Deja Vu, in Hollywood, business was good!
Hollywood Blvd. was also the home to famous landmarks like the Chinese Theatre and the Egyptian Theatre. Both of these theatres were a marvel to see, and the inside of both theatres was absolutely awe inspiring. In those days, most of the theaters had gone to the smaller multi-plex screens, so seeing a grand theatre intricately decorated as these was something straight out of the past. You knew that with the history of the place, all sorts of stars had been right where you were. The Chinese Theatre had a huge vaulted ceiling supported by huge hand carved beams. Dim red lights lit up the walls and high above you, intricate Chinese figures and motifs were back-lit in rich blue and yellow light. Red velvet curtains accented by gold reliefs were everywhere, and you never got tired of looking around at the decor even after the movie started. To see a movie in that theatre, on that huge screen was definitely a throwback to a time when movies were king, and Hollywood was the center of that universe.
The Egyptian Theatre was equally impressive as the Chinese Theatre, with of course, a more Luxor type of feel. It was equally expansive as the Chinese Theatre and had a balcony and private boxes that all the grand theatres of the day had. But the Egyptian Theatre was open and closed sporadically due to earthquake issues. There was an infamous double date I had there with Cupkake that I laughed about for a long time. As was common back then, if you dated a girl, she usually tried to set up her best friend with your best friend. I guess then we could all be one happy dating family. I don’t remember this ploy ever actually being successful, but it was attempted all the time. My old girlfriend Barbara tried this with her friend Gina. One night in San Diego, Cupkake and I had gone back down to see David Lee Roth at the San Diego Sports Arena. Barbara and Gina had rented a hotel and expected us to return later that night to party with them. We partied with them before the concert and made a huge mess of the place in the process and then hooked up with separate chicks while at the concert leaving Barb and Gina alone at the end of the night. But they didn’t give up and later came up to Hollywood for the weekend. Of course I had Barb, but Gina ended up getting entirely naked with Cupkake in his bed, only to say no to everything after that. Needless to say, this put the kibash on any inklings of future bonding. I don’t know what she was thinking, but girls can be fickle and Cupkake surly did not need to put up with that crap. Not with the girls we were seeing every weekend!
I took Karizma to the Egyptian Theatre one night and she brought her friend “Blaze” for Cupkake. A lot of girls in Hollywood had one-name monikers like “Blaze”, “Kat”, or the ever popular “Stormy”. I’m not sure where this came from but I know all the street urchins had these names. For a guy, “Spider” or “Animal” were the most popular nicknames. Anyway, we went to see Edward Sissorshands and for both the girls, a real date was a big deal. We bought our popcorn and took our seats and the girls were so excited that they couldn’t stop chattering with each other. I was having a good time because as much of a dog that I could be at times, I really liked the idea of having a good old-fashioned wholesome date.
The lights went down and I looked over to see a silhouette of Cupkake who had immediately fallen asleep with his head tilted back and mouth wide open. He slept through the entire feature and didn’t wake up until the credits were scrol
ling up. Blaze was appalled, but Cupkake was totally unapologetic. He simply brushed himself off and seemed eager to get back to the business of grabbing some booze and getting sauced. For him, this date seemed to be an annoying sidebar that interrupted his favorite pass-time. So quite refreshed, he was now ready to roll. So we stopped by Pappy Smear’s on the way back and got down to more familiar business... drinking!
Later, I saw the 10 pm movie at the Chinese Theatre on a Tuesday night, and had the entire place to myself. The only one in a 500 person theatre! I’m sure the workers were grumbling as to why this jackass needed to see Flight of the Intruder at 10 O’Clock on a Tuesday night, but I didn’t care. I had the time of my life and will remember that night forever! It was fun.
Hollywood had a few areas that you needed to be aware of. You never crossed the to the east side of the 101, it was literally the other side of the tracks. You soon learned the major east-west arteries, but you also learned the cross streets because in Hollywood, that could really make a difference. On the Boulevard, names like Cherokee and Cole meant that you were getting closer to the dreaded 101. The intersection of Yucca & Wilcox was notorious as a crack ho paradise. It was only one block off the Boulevard but looked like the worse New York Slum you ever saw. For the life of me, I never understood why the LAPD didn’t simply park a unit on that corner and make a bust every 5 minutes.
The closer you were to La Brea, the better it was. But while Santa Monica Blvd. was well known for it’s prostitution reputation, it also crossed one end of Hollywood to the other, so where you were on that road meant everything. At La Brea & Santa Monica, there was a Carl’s Jr. that was notorious for the crowd of black transvestite hookers that would always be at the bus stop right in front of it. Every night, they’d all be there, every single night. This is where Eddie Murphy got busted years later. People liked to say that they looked so good, you’d never know the difference. I don’t know what they were talking about because I saw them all the time, and I saw big African men in drag! I think this was one of those cases where people just repeated what they heard from other people because they weren’t really street, but wanted to act like it. Now mind you EVERBODY, in Hollywood knew about this intersection and what it was all about, so nobody just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, if you catch my drift.
If you went anywhere east of La Brea towards the 101, you would find nothing but festering crack hoes which got business from god knows who. I guess for some guys, ten bucks is still ten bucks! Gross. Isn’t it funny how some guys you know will pay bottom dollar for anything? Even a whore? You all know what these guys look like! Throw them together with crack hoes in a dank alley in their Astrovan and you must quite the sight. Or even worse, in their Ford Courier pick-up with all the fast food bags and banana peels on the floor board! Even the LAPD abandoned this cesspool like Lot leaving Gomorrah, they knew better than to dig through that dump!
Further west, between La Brea & Gardner, you might find a few young Russian girls trolling the streets. Most of the normal girls walked Sunset between La Brea & Fairfax, and some of them were actually quite hot. Now that’s what I’m talking about! If you’re going to score a whore, get your money’s worth! These girls were pretty discreet about their work and didn’t cause too much of a scene, so the cops pretty much looked the other way. Some of the men didn’t help. I remember one hot blonde who appeared on the scene for a few weeks, and she was always in a white short clingy dress. I always thought that if you wanted a hooker, you’d cruise down Sunset until one crossed your path. But, I learned that wasn’t the case at all, in fact, the true “Johns” circled the streets like sharks waiting for any car to pull over. I once saw that blond get dropped of on a corner and immediately three separate cars swung into action. One screeched a burn-out u-turn across Sunset as another stomped on the brakes and tried to back up against the flow of traffic at high speed. The third spun into All-American Burger and cut across the speed bumped parking lot and was first on the scene. Seeing a girl that hot on Sunset was a treat, so this guy got his just reward. She hadn’t got out of the car for more than 5 seconds before she was whisked off again. Being a “John” suddenly seemed like hard work to me.
Santa Monica Blvd. was different and you could spot a streetwalker miles away, but that was the design. Santa Monica streetwalkers were more desperate, either for customers or in their lives. In Hollywood, there is a huge population of Russian immigrants, but back in the 80’s, they were just arriving, and were chased off Sunset Blvd. by the veterans. Santa Monica Blvd. was basically a ghost town at night in this area so the place had a well deserved sinister aire. If you asked me, those Russian girls were a better catch because they were younger and cheaper. Actually Bobby was sure that’s where I spent a lot of my nights, but I never copped a hooker. Why would I? I was getting all the chicks I needed for free. But I think Bobby knew something that I didn’t. That’s because for an addict, there’s something about the sleaziness of it all that is the main motivator. That’s a big part of what drives you to cruise Santa Monica Blvd. for hookers, or MacArthur Park for drugs. It’s not the final score, but the ritual of the hunt in it’s sleaziest form. In hindsight, I’d say there was more to Bobby than he ever let on. Hmmmm....
Once you got to Gardner St. at Santa Monica Blvd., you arrived at ground zero for the “chicken-hawks”. These were the guys who liked young boys, not twinks mind you, but normal looking young boys. These monsters were not your typical gay men, they were predatory types whose treks into West Hollywood were no doubt just a quick fix between things more sinister. These were the same guys you would see lurking in the bushes of Griffith Park at sundown, silent and unmoving like grim tombstones in the purple-grey fading light of dusk. They looked like the dads you see at little league game. They looked like the guy you see smoking a cigarette in front of his room at the Motel 6. They looked like the guy in your neighborhood who’s outside mowing the grass, but looks up at you when you drive by. They looked like the guy you see in the bathroom at the Greyhound Bus station. This area had a dark aura that was completely opposite of my beloved Sunset Blvd. The guys these “chicken hawks” came for were strung out teenage boys who hung out on Hollywood Blvd. during the day in their leather jackets and safety pins. After dark, the addict boys would hang their heads and shuffle down the hill to Santa Monica Blvd. to hop in the first car that pulled over, scoring whatever money they could. This of course went right to drugs,
So the same process repeated itself the next night. Every night, score enough for a bag or bindle, then shoot up to erase the pain. The next morning the pain was back and the process continued. It was the saddest thing I ever saw in Hollywood.
Ground zero for this nightly macabre drama was Astro Burger on Santa Monica & Gardner. Astro Burger was not a chain like every other fast-food joint in America, instead it was one of Hollywood’s last hold-outs from a different, more innocent time. It was all lit up in bright blue and orange neon, practically bursting with the energy and pop of the 50’s where all the hamburger joints looked exactly like this. But at night, instead of chicks in poodle skirts sipping milk shakes while Fonzie-type guys bragged about their hot-rods, it would be occupied by the soulless chickens taking a short break from sucking dick or getting it up the ass in some guy’s Buick LeBaron, only to do it all over again in a few minutes. All the while, the Mexican cook would be wiping down the counter oblivious to the tragedy being played out before him. It was quite the contrast, let me tell you.
Once you headed towards Fairfax Blvd, it was pretty much all gay dudes hustling the street. In those days, there was still a couple of good old-fashioned porn movie houses that seemed to attract a fair number of dudes. It was all twinks there, no muscle guys. I’m sure some of these guys had some of the same issues as the “chickens” at Astro Burger, but most of them did it not for the money, but more to satisfy a need for quick anonymous sex. So if you get paid as well... so much the better! Their customers were well-to-do older gay guys w
ho were probably big time movie producers as well as married! It was no secret in Hollywood that many high-powered hot-shots had a secret life that even their wives did not know about. But as for the Hollywood wives with cushy lives, their mind-set was, “Don’t go looking for trouble because you just might find it!” I’ll be the first to admit that when it comes to love, men are really clueless, and even if you’re gay, some of the same shenanigans pop up. You still see the young, hot slutty guy with an older sugar-daddy, who may have no idea where is partner is spending so much time at night. So the guy climbs into bed with him after he got reamed by multiple studs all night. Yes, men can be naive.
Hollywood: Rock Of Ages Page 38
