Was lounging around my trap sipping green tea and thumbing through old photo albums. Especially my pictures of when I lived in Hollywood, California a million lifetimes ago. It seemed a different life - a different person. Nowadays and for the past ten years I never talk of my life in Hollywood because when I do relate any brush with the famous it is usually responded with a raised eyebrow of disbelief to a downright, "Stop lying." So, I never speak of it anymore.
However, of you Dear Readers that live in Hollywood and the Los Angeles area know as a fact that it is all that the outsider has heard about - movies and television production are going on all over the place and at all hours of the day or night and the locals; you just become jaded to it. Like the time I was walking home late and was upset that I had to detour because of the filming of Barry Levinson's Bugsy with Warren Beatty at the main post office on Wicox Avenue; had it all dressed as some 30's government building - only some tourists were thrilled to see Beatty and Harvey Keitel who were present, but a local elderly woman shared my annoyance, we stood there and bitched long and hard. Or the time I was walking to work at Macy's in Beverly Hill's and Nicholas Cage drove up to the curb and asked directions - directions were given as if he were a average citizen. No big whoop. Or like eating at a Sizzler steak house on Highland Ave. and seeing gay porn star Jeff Stryker there - okay, that was something. Your steak did seem a little tastier.
And working at that Beverly Hills Macy's had it's perks. I was in the women's accessories department - had a wacky time selling a leopard print hat to Roseanne Arnold and chic sunglasses to Terri Garr which jazzed me to see her wear to some comedy awards she attended on television that very night.
At one point I was a volunteer at the Teen Canteen on Hollywood Blvd. and Vine. Back in it's heyday, the Canteen was a nightspot of entertainment for G.I.'s of WWII by the Hollywood Stars, such legends as Bob Hope and May West performed there and many more. Now it was a day shelter for runaway teenagers - a safehouse for all the youth that flocked across the country to become stars but wound up junkies or prostitutes on the boulevard of broken balls.
Famous actress Shelley Winters, star of The Poseidon Adventure and A Place in the Sun - found it in her heart to teach afternoon acting classes. I remember the few short weeks that took place was a hoot - she brought with her once the legendary Don Knotts and the whole day was improvised hilarity. And obviously I am not alone - here is another blogger I found writing about his time at the Teen Canteen with Ms. Winter's:http://maxsparber.blogspot.com/2006/01/shelley-winters.html
Shelley Winters and I hit it off well and when she complained of the drive from her home to Hollywood I stepped up to bat and offered my free services as chauffeur. This lasted only a period of three weeks because she turned out to be a tyrannical dotting old weirdo.
Case in point - driving down Hollywood Blvd. and I mention I'm hungry cause I been dragging the cow all over town on errands, right? So, she bleats in her famous whine, "Let's pull into Musso and Frank's for a salad." So, we pull into this famous restaurant of the stars and she orders a small side salad. One. And we both share it. Ugh. Cheap ham.
But, it was all done for networking. I was a young filmstudent and I saw her as my key to hobbnobbing with some Hollywood hopefuls. Around this time, cable television was young and for $30 you could air a thirty minute show of almost anything on public access. The Edison Diego Show was born. My bizarre brainchild - a cross between PeeWee's Playhouse and The Tonight Show. A talk Show far before it's time - highlighting Hollywood's seedy underbelly - on Tuesday nights at 10:30pm on channel 3, Los Angeles was treated to Edison Diego, a slick talking greaseball with pencil mustache in a Beetlejuice suite, his wacky black transvestite co-host Velveeta Jones, and Duane Thomas and his all Asian orchestra decked out in black shades, berets and turtlenecks. Formula was simple, Edison opened the show with jokes and schtick, followed by a guest star, a comedy act and then a local rock band - peppered by real strange "about town" spots. Lasted five episodes - the first guest was Shelley Winters, followed by Don Knotts, Joyce DeWitt, Robert Culp, and then Oscar Dela Hoya.
Oscar Dela Hoya was the cause of cancellation. After some sweet talking to his agent, he agreed to be on the show. This was right after he had won the Olympic gold medal and would tub thump on anything - I told him it was a project for kids to stay off drugs of some stupid lie. I was shut down for accusing him of being homosexual...in so many words. It went like this -
ME - So, Oscar, there are many of our female fans that would like to know is you have a girlfriend?
HIM - No. Not right now. I am on the road a lot...I have the support and love of my trainer and agent to keep me occupied.
ME - Oh, so...you prefer the company of older men? Hmm...Sugar Daddy's are en vogue these days.
Next Morning after that aired his agent called the cable company and said if they ever run The Edison Diego Show again they will sue for slander. Goddam faggot! Hmmm, years later Jay Leno made similar quips when Oscar was a guest and Leno was never cancelled. I hate Dela Hoya to this day. This show was getting a good following and it was nipped in its infancy - I still wonder what would ever happened if it continued. Really must contact Mother, she has the only copy of those episodes on tape...
Speaking of hate. I landed a gig for Miss Kitty's Koncessions, dressing as a Bellboy and serving cigarettes, candy, water, and dope from a box slung around my neck at the underground clubs to those crazy club kids. Our group was asked to be at the opening of Club Arena on Santa Monica Blvd. It was a hip star studded event. I was working the crowd - selling cigarettes from my box when has been 80's pop star Madonna purchased a smoke from me. It is customary to light ones cigarette, hoping for a tip - but as I reached out with my lighter a dozen fag hands slapped my hand away and a black queen screeched, "Ms. Madonna don't need no light!" And the lackey lit her cigarette. Not to be upstaged, I retorted, "How about a tip?" She began to walk away. "C'mon, Bitch, you can buy Disneyland but you can't give me a tip?!" Can't stand that cunt even now.
Another bitch that worked me was Molly Ringwald. I was at a party in the Hollywood hills and got pretty toasted and decided to lay down on the couch. Next thing I know this red headed tart is snatching my beer out of my hand and yelling, "You had enough! You're making a fool out of yourself!" I pointed straight into her face and slurred, "I got two words, bitch "Space Hunter". Her boyfriend pushed me back into the couch and they just walked out. Lucky for them! Not so lucky for Kevin Dillon, brother of Matt. At another party weeks later, a gay one at that, I had made a pass at him and instead of saying no the fucker smacks me in the jaw with his fist. It was on like Donkey Kong, baby! We thrashed around the room knocking blows and smashing furniture and smashing priceless faggy artifacts until the host broke us up - cross eyed bitch left with Robert Downey, Jr. - probably to do dope and then to fuck him in the ass.
There are many other occurrences - after the Northridge earthquake (I was housesitting for a friend and his 50 pound metal framed portrait of Madonna hanging over the master bed would have smashed my brains in if I was over just a couple of inches - I swear that bitch is out for me!) Anyway, Northridge Quake - L.L. Cool J and I serving breakfast in the hotel adjacent to the apartment I was sitting. (He was attending the premier of House Party 2 and staying at the hotel.)
Yeah, so many more...do I miss it. Nope. Memories are sweet. Candy colored memories. I don't mind if people don't believe me nowadays. I know these things happened - like the bulk of this blog - I have been ridiculed about it's validity. Fuck those faithless philistines - it's not my fault they live boring dreary lives. I have lived these incidents firsthand - I know they happened. I can't control my life - it controls me.
And it continues.
However, of you Dear Readers that live in Hollywood and the Los Angeles area know as a fact that it is all that the outsider has heard about - movies and television production are going on all over the place and at all hours of the day or night and the locals; you just become jaded to it. Like the time I was walking home late and was upset that I had to detour because of the filming of Barry Levinson's Bugsy with Warren Beatty at the main post office on Wicox Avenue; had it all dressed as some 30's government building - only some tourists were thrilled to see Beatty and Harvey Keitel who were present, but a local elderly woman shared my annoyance, we stood there and bitched long and hard. Or the time I was walking to work at Macy's in Beverly Hill's and Nicholas Cage drove up to the curb and asked directions - directions were given as if he were a average citizen. No big whoop. Or like eating at a Sizzler steak house on Highland Ave. and seeing gay porn star Jeff Stryker there - okay, that was something. Your steak did seem a little tastier.
And working at that Beverly Hills Macy's had it's perks. I was in the women's accessories department - had a wacky time selling a leopard print hat to Roseanne Arnold and chic sunglasses to Terri Garr which jazzed me to see her wear to some comedy awards she attended on television that very night.
At one point I was a volunteer at the Teen Canteen on Hollywood Blvd. and Vine. Back in it's heyday, the Canteen was a nightspot of entertainment for G.I.'s of WWII by the Hollywood Stars, such legends as Bob Hope and May West performed there and many more. Now it was a day shelter for runaway teenagers - a safehouse for all the youth that flocked across the country to become stars but wound up junkies or prostitutes on the boulevard of broken balls.
Famous actress Shelley Winters, star of The Poseidon Adventure and A Place in the Sun - found it in her heart to teach afternoon acting classes. I remember the few short weeks that took place was a hoot - she brought with her once the legendary Don Knotts and the whole day was improvised hilarity. And obviously I am not alone - here is another blogger I found writing about his time at the Teen Canteen with Ms. Winter's:http://maxsparber.blogspot.com/2006/01/shelley-winters.html
Shelley Winters and I hit it off well and when she complained of the drive from her home to Hollywood I stepped up to bat and offered my free services as chauffeur. This lasted only a period of three weeks because she turned out to be a tyrannical dotting old weirdo.
Case in point - driving down Hollywood Blvd. and I mention I'm hungry cause I been dragging the cow all over town on errands, right? So, she bleats in her famous whine, "Let's pull into Musso and Frank's for a salad." So, we pull into this famous restaurant of the stars and she orders a small side salad. One. And we both share it. Ugh. Cheap ham.
But, it was all done for networking. I was a young filmstudent and I saw her as my key to hobbnobbing with some Hollywood hopefuls. Around this time, cable television was young and for $30 you could air a thirty minute show of almost anything on public access. The Edison Diego Show was born. My bizarre brainchild - a cross between PeeWee's Playhouse and The Tonight Show. A talk Show far before it's time - highlighting Hollywood's seedy underbelly - on Tuesday nights at 10:30pm on channel 3, Los Angeles was treated to Edison Diego, a slick talking greaseball with pencil mustache in a Beetlejuice suite, his wacky black transvestite co-host Velveeta Jones, and Duane Thomas and his all Asian orchestra decked out in black shades, berets and turtlenecks. Formula was simple, Edison opened the show with jokes and schtick, followed by a guest star, a comedy act and then a local rock band - peppered by real strange "about town" spots. Lasted five episodes - the first guest was Shelley Winters, followed by Don Knotts, Joyce DeWitt, Robert Culp, and then Oscar Dela Hoya.
Oscar Dela Hoya was the cause of cancellation. After some sweet talking to his agent, he agreed to be on the show. This was right after he had won the Olympic gold medal and would tub thump on anything - I told him it was a project for kids to stay off drugs of some stupid lie. I was shut down for accusing him of being homosexual...in so many words. It went like this -
ME - So, Oscar, there are many of our female fans that would like to know is you have a girlfriend?
HIM - No. Not right now. I am on the road a lot...I have the support and love of my trainer and agent to keep me occupied.
ME - Oh, so...you prefer the company of older men? Hmm...Sugar Daddy's are en vogue these days.
Next Morning after that aired his agent called the cable company and said if they ever run The Edison Diego Show again they will sue for slander. Goddam faggot! Hmmm, years later Jay Leno made similar quips when Oscar was a guest and Leno was never cancelled. I hate Dela Hoya to this day. This show was getting a good following and it was nipped in its infancy - I still wonder what would ever happened if it continued. Really must contact Mother, she has the only copy of those episodes on tape...
Speaking of hate. I landed a gig for Miss Kitty's Koncessions, dressing as a Bellboy and serving cigarettes, candy, water, and dope from a box slung around my neck at the underground clubs to those crazy club kids. Our group was asked to be at the opening of Club Arena on Santa Monica Blvd. It was a hip star studded event. I was working the crowd - selling cigarettes from my box when has been 80's pop star Madonna purchased a smoke from me. It is customary to light ones cigarette, hoping for a tip - but as I reached out with my lighter a dozen fag hands slapped my hand away and a black queen screeched, "Ms. Madonna don't need no light!" And the lackey lit her cigarette. Not to be upstaged, I retorted, "How about a tip?" She began to walk away. "C'mon, Bitch, you can buy Disneyland but you can't give me a tip?!" Can't stand that cunt even now.
Another bitch that worked me was Molly Ringwald. I was at a party in the Hollywood hills and got pretty toasted and decided to lay down on the couch. Next thing I know this red headed tart is snatching my beer out of my hand and yelling, "You had enough! You're making a fool out of yourself!" I pointed straight into her face and slurred, "I got two words, bitch "Space Hunter". Her boyfriend pushed me back into the couch and they just walked out. Lucky for them! Not so lucky for Kevin Dillon, brother of Matt. At another party weeks later, a gay one at that, I had made a pass at him and instead of saying no the fucker smacks me in the jaw with his fist. It was on like Donkey Kong, baby! We thrashed around the room knocking blows and smashing furniture and smashing priceless faggy artifacts until the host broke us up - cross eyed bitch left with Robert Downey, Jr. - probably to do dope and then to fuck him in the ass.
There are many other occurrences - after the Northridge earthquake (I was housesitting for a friend and his 50 pound metal framed portrait of Madonna hanging over the master bed would have smashed my brains in if I was over just a couple of inches - I swear that bitch is out for me!) Anyway, Northridge Quake - L.L. Cool J and I serving breakfast in the hotel adjacent to the apartment I was sitting. (He was attending the premier of House Party 2 and staying at the hotel.)
Yeah, so many more...do I miss it. Nope. Memories are sweet. Candy colored memories. I don't mind if people don't believe me nowadays. I know these things happened - like the bulk of this blog - I have been ridiculed about it's validity. Fuck those faithless philistines - it's not my fault they live boring dreary lives. I have lived these incidents firsthand - I know they happened. I can't control my life - it controls me.
And it continues.
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