Now that I have your attention, you are forewarned that this post might be offensive to some people.....
.....but you're not easily offended, are you?
This originally appeared on my old Texas blog Lone Star Concerto. I'm rehashing it here. It's (annoyingly) long, but I have the desire to unleash some dark true confessions.......including an intricate encounter with a murderer.....
Jon V. 2025
Recently, I accidentally discovered a video on YouTube that jolted my memory. It recounted the savage murder of Danny Lockin (1943 - 1977). Lockin was a 34-year-old dancer and actor, who is best remembered for portraying the role of Barnaby Tucker in the 1969 film Hello Dolly starring Barbara Streisand. He also appeared in numerous other movie and TV roles.
One night in August, 1977, Danny Lockin was at The Mug - a gay bar in Garden Grove, Calif. He happened to meet up with Air Force Veteran Charles Leslie Hopkins (1943- 2006) who was a regular customer at The Mug. The two left together and went to Hopkin's apartment. It isn't exactly clear what transpired that fateful night, but Hopkins tortured and murdered Lockin - stabbing him over one hundred times.
Due to incomprehensibly lenient California laws, Charles Hopkins only served four years in prison. When the homicidal maniac was released, he got married and sired four children. His eventual long, slow death from cancer, I suppose, was appropriate karma.
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So, why is this of interest to me?
During the time of Danny Lockin's murder, I was a frequent customer at The Mug and knew the local bar "scene" very well. It was an extremely dangerous time for many reasons.
Orange County Memories
Garden Grove is a city in Orange County, California - which, at that time, was infested with vicious vice cops, homophobic psychopaths, and other assorted undesirables. There were also several Orange County serial killers who targeted young gay men - including Randy Kraft and William Bonin. Delving into the seedy underworld of hedonistic pleasures was very risky business.
during my turbulent terrible youth
In my youth, I divided my time between Orange County and Hollywood. The two places are only about 25 miles apart but seemed more a distance of light years.
Orange County - which consists of a haphazard conglomeration of many cities crammed together - was once a strictly white, very conservative, Republican area of Southern California. Things began to change after the Vietnam War, when a massive influx of Vietnamese refugees infiltrated Orange County. Most of them were good, honest, hard-working people....but that also happened to be the time when seedy "massage" parlors (featuring Vietnamese women) began cropping up on nearly every street corner. Much more than massages were offered.
Some parts of Orange County remained unblemished, but suddenly adult bookstores and porno theaters began appearing in certain areas. By the 1970s there were about a dozen gay bars in Garden Grove - which, ironically, was more than there were in Hollywood.
My familiarity of Orange County came from the fact that my parents lived there. I went to college in Orange County. I also got my first job as a security officer there (at Hughes Aircraft) my first gig as a pianist, and (strangely enough) my first job as a movie extra (I appeared in "Malibu Beach"). I even met actor/icon John Wayne in Orange County. Twice.
My (transitory) fascination with the bar scene culminated in Orange County. I got into the habit of bar-hopping on Garden Grove Boulevard, where most of the bars were located. I'd often start in early evening and traverse from one bar to another, until 2:00 a.m. closing time. By then I'd be so thoroughly drunk that I didn't care what I did or who I went home with.
My two favorite bars were the Tiki Hut and The Mug, but I also frequented The Saddle Club, Rumor Hazzit, The Iron Spur, and DOK West. DOK was more of a disco/nightclub. Since I didn't like to dance, it was the least desirable haunt on my agenda.
Fling with a Nazi
The Mug seemed to attract a host of sleazy characters. That's where I met the guy who turned out to be a Nazi. When I first went to his house and saw a startling array of Nazi flags displayed in the living room, I assumed I was in possible peril. After a drunken night of semi-rough debauchery (use your imagination), he showed me the sizeable collection of loaded guns that were stashed under the mattress of his bed. I was astonished (and relieved) that none of those guns went off.
Big sigh of relief.
My "relationship" with the Nazi quickly waned. He wrote me letters, asked me to move in with him. Nope. No, thanks. Trust me, boys and girls, I ain't no Nazi.
S&M with a Blond Mexican
The Mug is where I also met a handsome green-eyed blond, who was born in Mexico but spoke fluent German. It was an unnerving surprise when I discovered he was heavily into SM. He had an array of wicked-looking whips and buckled belts - and begged me to beat him. My hesitation only served to make him grovel on the floor and cry (real tears). Since pain is the very least of my hedonistic pleasures, my half-hearted attempts with the belt were met with annoying moans of displeasure. I faked my way through an evening that was much more tortuous for me than for him.
I'm definitely not into S&M. No way. I only saw the Mexican German once. Once was enough.
Tacos or bratwurst?
Caught!
One bar--hopping night I was so drunk I lost sense of everything. Can't remember what bar I was in. An intriguing stranger invited me to his home. I foolishly followed. Of course we wound up in bed. Right in the middle of.........inebriated ecstasy.....his wife came in!!! Screaming! Enraged! She grabbed a lamp from the nightstand and hurled it at us with remarkable aim.
I FLEW out of bed, grabbed my clothes, ran outside stark naked.
The End
Am I saying too much? Probably. Hang on and try to relax. The ride isn't over.
I'm not in the least surprised that a murderous maniac was a "regular" at The Mug (I'm referring to the aforementioned Charles Leslie Hopkins). I did remember seeing Charlie once or twice, but I had absolutely no interest. He gave me unholy vibes.
I never saw Danny Lockin, but heard rumors that he occasionally showed up at the Mug. His murder deeply disturbed me.
Come to think of it - - I encountered more weird, frightening, dangerous characters in Orange County than I did in Hollywood
I'm saving the very best for last
Grim Brush with Death
By far, the very worst and most dangerous incident I ever experienced didn't happen via the bar scene - but did occur in Orange County. I wrote a blog post about it called "The Midnight Shift" in case you're interested in more details, Look it up.
I was in my early 20s, working as a security guard in a large (well-known) store and warehouse in Santa Ana. I worked the midnight shift and was there entirely alone until 7:00 a.m.
The janitor - who was supposed to leave at midnight - began staying overtime. He would hang around with me for hours, annoying me with nonsensical (and disturbingly strange) conversations, and following me on my hourly patrol around the building and yard. I felt extremely uncomfortable with him tagging along, but reluctantly endured his company.
When he began making sexual advances, I politely but firmly declined.
To condense an extremely long and complex story, a few days later the janitor murdered a young (daytime) employee at the warehouse, who looked very similar to me and had the name John.
He hid the body right outside (a deliberate omen) near my office door. I was unknowingly there all night with a corpse - which wasn't discovered until dawn!
This incredible story is filled with many bizarre twists and horrifying turns. In the end.....the janitor escaped and was never caught. I quit my job, fearing for my safety.
There are many more astonishing details concerning this story that I haven't yet publicly revealed. I strongly suspect he murdered his wife ( for insurance money). And I still shudder when recalling psychopathic things he confessed in our long midnight conversations.....
I truly know for certain that he had planned to murder me - for private reasons that I won't disclose here (he stole information from office files and got my home phone number and address).
Yes, I had an interview with the homicide detectives. Said I feared for my life.
The janitor (Robert) is probably deceased by now. He was at least 25 yrs. older than me.
I write, reveal, and confess the absolute truth - - and yet I hardly scratch the surface.
This horrifying misadventure wasn't thrilling. It was extremely dangerous and sobering. I never had long, intricate conversations with a maniac before. He would go way "off" track, as though he was in a trance. I had a subtle way of calming him down and defusing him from evil intensions.
I think it saved my life.
Many thanks for reading this and enduring my verbosity.
Jon 💜 probably tainted but undeniably intriguing
P.S.
My horrifying "adventure" with the janitor Robert lasted several very unnerving weeks. He confessed many dark secrets to me. I have no doubt that he killed his wife and several others. He previously did medical work and knew a lot about drugs and medications.
And I have absolutely no doubt that he planned to murder me.
When he murdered the young man named John where we worked, and put the body near my office overnight, it was a bizarre "warning" to me. It's all too intricate to fully explain.......
I know far more than I can reveal.
By the grace of God, I know I have a guardian angel.
Your comments are welcomed! 😸
Well, now. You had a wild and crazy life, my friend! You quite literally had a narrow escape from death.
ReplyDeleteNo one would believe how dangerous my early life was. I honestly escaped death numerous times.
DeleteThis is a long comment Jon so I'll put it in pieces:Jon,
ReplyDeleteWow! I do believe you have a guardian angel. Thank you for your generosity in sharing these details of your early life. As you probably have surmised I have some interesting tales similar to yours also. I too believe, in fact I am convinced, that I too have a guardian angel. So many close calls I had during my bar hopping days from the time I was twenty-one years old until the night of my 37th birthday that as I stood in the 247 leather and western bar in center city Philly, and when the lights flashed on at five minutes until 2 AM for "LAST CALL", I decided that I had enough of that Life. "What was the point?" I thought. The sex aspect no longer interested me. It. was boring. But I was still looking for "Mr. Right" but it wasn't until thirty-five years later in the summer of 2013 I finally met "Mr. Right" and it wasn't in a gay bar. I had been looking in all the wrong places for all those years. Yes, I know I was with Bill, my longtime partner but when I moved in with i in 1965 I told him he "wasn't the One." He understood that and never held me back. He just asked that I be discreet, which I was. He said he understood he could never "hold a 22 year old back." I was 22 and he was 35 when I moved in with him. Fifty-nine years later in February of 2024 Bill died at 95. years of age. We were together for fifty-nine years. The last three years of his life I was his full time caregiver. He couldn't even dress himself let alone bath or eat on his own. Those three years were the best years of my life because I realized. how much I loved him and I miss him terribly to this day. I look forward to being reunited with him in the Afterlife (which I totally believe, we are just spirits here inhabiting this physical body). A week and a half before he died (he knew he was dying because he told me "nSomething happened, I feel different." that he wished me and Pat much happiness. I love Pat too but not in the same way as I grew to love Bill.
Part Two of my comment Jon: These days I feel Bill with me all the time, giving me comfort. Next week Pat has his final interview at the American consulate in Montreal to get his K-1 VISA and then we can get married. I will spend whatever years I have remaining with this kind and gentle soul that Pat is (I'm mightily physically attracted to him also, which is great! Even after all these years). My dangerous bar hopping days are long gone. This life (and we live many) has been very interesting and challenging as it has for you too. We are here to learn and haven't we? What an interesting movie our lives would be. But all those close calls we have had. Amazing that we survived. I'll tell you quickly of one close call I had. In 1980 I rescued a homeless guy. He had moved from his hometown of Cincinnati to Philadelphia to live with Jerry, a bartender he met during one of his visits to Philly. Jerry eventually threw him out after a time. Probably because Brad (his name) was an alcoholic and drug user. Brad was good-looking, and a nice gentle personality (think puppy) but a bum. Wouldn't/couldn't work because of his addictions. He was also a slut. At the time I had an apartment in center city Philly not far from the bars. Me and Bill's house outside Philly was still under construction and I was still working (Bill had retired early) so I rented an apartment near my banking job in center city Philly for a year. I told Brad he could stay there until he got some sort of living arrangements. He was till trying to get back to Jerry. And oh yes, Brad and I were having sex. Just being upfront with you. On the weekends I would visit Bill at our home under construction. Bill was living in the basement. We had an argument that weekend and I left early to cool off and returned to my center city Philly apartment. When I walked up to the fourth floor apartment (it was in an old Victorian building) I surprised Brad with some leather guy he was having sex with. The leather guy (trick) asked "Who are you?" I told him "I'm the one who's paying for this apartment and you can get out right now." He looked at me, thinking what to do next. Then I told him "You can walk down those stairs or I'll throw you down those stairs." He left. After he left, I confronted Brad. I told him he could stay at my apartment but it wasn't a flop house for all his tricks. Brad, usually very gentle, was furious. We began arguing loudly. After a few minutes of that he leaped at me and his forearm, he shoved it against my throat and yelled "Shut up! Shut up!".
ReplyDeletePart Three: I fell to the floor, gasping for breath thinking I should have taken a deep breath before he began choking me. I was flailing around with my arms and legs while on the floor, on the verge of passing out. While I was flailing about, my right leg ankle hit the knob of the floor radiator thus breaking the skin and I began spurting blood on the floor. Brad saw this and came to his drunken, drug addled senses and removed his forearm from my Adam's apple and I began gasping for air. We both realized what had almost happened. He almost choked me to death in a fit of drunken rage. He began apologizing profusely. We both came to our senses and calmed down. Later that night, as we lay in bed together I decided I had to send Brad back to his home in Cincinnati. He had lived with an older man prior to moving to Philly. That next morning, reluctantly, I gave him a hundred dollars in cash and a one way bus ticket to Cincinnati. That was in August of 1980. Of course after he left I begged him to come back. He never answered any of my letters. I eventually gave up and got over my "love" for Brad. Yes, I thought I was in love with him. How foolish of me. Then, I think in 2010 or thereabouts I sent him a Christmas card. I wasn't in love with him now of course but I was curious how his life since we parted ways so many years ago. I've done that with other friends and others over the years, many times with interesting results. He wrote me back in shaky handwriting. I called him on the phone and could hardly understand him. Of course there was no interest on either one of our parts in getting back together. But he did say he would like to visit but not stay at my home. I didn't invite him to visit or stay in my home. That was his assumption. He did say he would stay in a hotel if I would pay for it. Hey, those days were long gone.
ReplyDeleteI took him to Cape Cod twice, all expenses paid. Also tried to get him jobs. He should up drunk. One of his parting "gifts" to me was causing me to have to go to the public health center in Philadelphia because he had contacted a sexually transmitted disease and was passing it around. So embarrassing for me, to show up in my banking three piece suit with all those low life's in a bad section of the city. I was disease free, another gift from my guardian angel. He didn't visit. I sent some pictures of himself. He was no longer the good-looking 26 year old that I let use my apartment all those years ago. Now he was an emaciated shell of himself. He did asked if he could have a copy of a photo (he called it his "porn photo") that I had taken of him (unposed, he had came out of a shower during one of our Provincetown stays and had lifted the owner's cat out of the way, as he was going for his clothes). It was a totally candid unposed shot but captured his innocence at that time. Yes, I thought I was in love with him. I said "certainly" I would send him that picture. I'll send it to you by text message. When he received the picture he wrote to me thanking me. I could hardly read his handwriting. It was like a chicken scrawl. I appreciated him thanking me though. He made the effort. I didn't hear anything more from him until his niece sent me an e-mail that Brad had died from AIDS complications. That was in 2014. He was only sixty years old. I asked his niece "What kind of work did Brad do during his life?" She told me "Oh, Uncle Brad never had a job, he was on disability." Thus ended one chapter of my life because at one time of my life I was actually going to leave Bill and take care of Brad for the rest of his life. But my Guardian Angel intervened. My guardian angel, the same one who saved me from being choked to death by Brad thus ruining both of our lives. I think Brad had a happy life after he left Philly. He had moved back in with the older man he was living with before he moved to Philly. As far as I know that an is still alive. And that Jon, is my "short" story of just one of my episodes of my near death misses. I have others. Perhaps not as not in a glamorous location as Hollywood but out here on the East Coast. We all have stories though don't we Jon? I just posted one for generations from now to read.
ReplyDeleteHave a great day Jon and thanks for sharing your story.
Thanks for sharing your youthful stories, Ron. I'm glad you wound up with Bill rather than Brad. Brad seemed toxic.
DeleteI could write several books about my relationships. True love was rare.....the one night stands were endless. I'm SO glad that I never got involved with Robert the janitor. He was a true psychopath and a genuine killer. The chilling memories still haunt me.
I remember the janitor story. *shudders*
ReplyDeleteAfter I was snatched off the street when I was 17, beaten, and raped--and the police even treated me like it was my fault because I was wearing shorts and a tank top and bare feet (had been walking home after a beach dance put on by the school about a month after graduation)...I believed I was damaged goods and worthless. My guardian angel worked overtime for a few years back then.
Another lifetime, it seems. But I wouldn't be who I am today if I hadn't lived through those years...and all the rest after that...and all the years before. I'm sure you must feel similarly. You have a good soul, Jon. :)
We've both been through a helluva lot Rita. Unfortunately way back then, the police were very often against women and ffavored the men. This happened with my mother - - abused snd beaten by my father - - and she was viewed as the hysterical woman.
DeleteYes, it was a different world back then.
We both had guardian angels.
As a person born and raised in Orange County I can relate ! We mostly lived in the town of Orange. My grandmother told me when the family came down to OC in the late 1950’s they thought it was Hicksville USA, charming in ways yet deceptively so. Some streets in OC are named after local officials from the 1920’s and 1930’s who were members of the KKK. A lot of right wing John Birchers and racists as our family found when talking with the locals and neighbors. My grandmother didn’t dare mention she was a Democrat, and was shocked at the vicious contempt many in the county had for FDR and JFK.
ReplyDeleteWhen I came of age in the early 1980’s and the beginnings of AIDS, bar hopping was out of the question. Not to mention the serial killers at work in California like the freeway killers, the night stalkers and other psychos. Don’t go to ANY bars you might end up as one of their victims !
When I was a teen I well remember reading about Danny Lockin’s murder in the LA Times, OC Register and the Herald Examiner, how his killer got away with it and how broken our justice system was and is. I even remember seeing Lockin on the Gong Show.
Today the gay strip on Garden Grove Blvd is no more save for just one gay bar. And OC is no longer a Republican or right wing bastion like it was in the past.
-Rj
I'm not very familiar with the city of Orange, but I remember O.C. being conservative when I was a young child. It seemed to turn into Sodom overnight - - but only in certain areas. You had to be very careful where to go. Strangely enough, it seemed to be a magnet for gay-hating psychos.
DeleteI think the Gong Show was where Lockin made his final appearance.
I hope you know by now, there's little you could say that might shock/offend me. At the same time, your previous life(lives) feel like walking through a Tennessee Williams play. I'm glad to know you now; thank God you kept on walking!
ReplyDeleteI kept my extraordinary wild life under wrap for a long time. I was never proud of my lifestyle and I harbored a LOT of guilt - - but I was fiercely attracted to danger. I loved wild adventure. In retrospect, I'm glad I experienced it. I never had a boring life - - except for now.
DeleteI won't rehash my 'youth' as it somewhat aligns with yours .... minus the homicide issues (thank God). At least that I know of. There's a book there, Jon! Many of us here have lived to tell the tale and what tales! As Meverly stated.... Tennessee Williams, indeed! "Suddenly Last Summer" comes to mind. Thank you for sharing your story (stories). More please. Any word of 'the explosion'...results? Hoping for the best.
ReplyDeleteParanormal John
I'm finally unleashing my secret sordid past, but I haven't told everything yet. There is a LOT more. I kept all of my old diaries and journals so that I could write a memoir. Unfortunately they were ALL "lost" or stolen when I moved to Tennessee. Nearly fifty volumes. Now I have to rely on my memory.
DeleteIronically, I was thinking of "Suddenly Last Summer" recently. One of Taylor's best roles.