THE DAY I MET REAGAN

 My parents lived in Pomona, California for about five years - from when I was age seven to eleven.

Pomona was a sleepy, rather uninteresting city back then. My parents chose it solely because it was centrally located for their jobs. 

Dad worked for a steel company in nearby Los Angeles. Mom had a top secret government job with the Convair Research Center, which had to do with blueprints for military aircraft. Convair (later General Dynamics) was within walking distance from our home.

When my parents finally moved away (to a nearby small town), Mom occasionally came back to do shopping in and around Pomona.

Pomona was one of the first cities in the U.S. to turn the main downtown street into a pedestrian mall. It generated a lot of interest at first, but years later the mall became run-down, stores started losing business and many folded up. From what I heard, Pomona is now largely sleazy and crime-ridden.

The Pomona pedestrian mall

Things were different when I was a kid. Buffums was an exclusive high class department store on the mall. Elizabeth Taylor bought plane tickets there while she was working on "The Sandpipers". Groucho Marx's wife Eden occasionally shopped there.

Buffums Department Store

On a balmy October day when I was thirteen, my Mother decided to go shopping in Pomona. We went to several stores on the mall including Frashers, my favorite bookstore, where I bought a biography of Mozart.

As a last stop we decided to go to Buffums, mostly just to look around. In the men's clothing department on the first floor, we ran into Anthony - a family friend - who worked there. He said to us " Do you want to see Ronald Reagan? He's upstairs in the book department. I think he's promoting his new book. "

My mother seemed more interested than I was. She remembered Reagan from some of his films.

Suddenly, I remembered Reagan in "Dark Victory" with Bette Davis, where he had a minor role. Anyone who did a film with Bette Davis was nearly a God in my eyes.

We hurried upstairs to the book department, timidly wandered in, and got the shock of our lives.

Apparently the book signing hadn't started yet. The large room was completely empty, but Ronald Reagan was sitting all alone at a desk - surrounded with copies of his book entitled "Where's the Rest of Me?".

This was before Reagan got into politics and became the governor of California. At this time he wasn't exactly in public demand.

Mom and I lingered cautiously, deciding what to do. Finally I decided to go forth and get his autograph.

That's when Reagan looked up and spotted us. He seemed surprised that we were in the room. He had a very subtle quirk, cautiously sizing up strangers to.....see if they were kosher ( that's the only way I can described it).

He smiled. We passed the test.

I noticed he was looking at my mother a lot more than me. Mom was beautiful and well-dressed. Reagan wasn't a flirt or a womanizer, but I figured he knew class when he saw it.

Mom lingered behind, but I walked up to the desk.....

....and said the most brutally embarassing thing I ever said in my entire life (I still shudder when I think of it).

"I can't afford your book right now, but can you please sign this?"

I pulled the Mozart book out of the Frashers bag and presented it to him.

He looked at the cover, thumbed through it, and graciously signed the title page.

Afterwards he spoke to my Mom and I. We talked about trivial, benign subjects - life in California, Hollywood, the weather.....

My impression of Reagan was that he was soft-spoken, kind, and congenial. I never thought he was particularly photogenic, but he looked much better in real than on film. He had a deep tan and a natural look without makeup. He was wearing a casual sport jacket with an open-collar white shirt. His eyes looked very deep blue.

Since we didn't want to be imposing, we thanked him and graciously left the room.

At that time we didn't know if he'd be governor - - and we certainly never dreamed he'd become President. He was just a humble actor.

In retrospect, I look back at this incident in astonishment. We were entirely alone with Ronald Reagan, talking freely and casually with him almost as if he was a friend.

I only wish that I had been older than thirteen....and more mature.

Jon

LONELY (REMEMBERING RAMON NOVARRO)

I'm always trying to devise blog posts that will amaze and enthrall you (he says with acute sarcasm).
Today I'm presenting Ramon Novarro singing!!

I can hear your gasps of enthralled astonishment.

This is my latest YouTube video (best viewed full-screen)


When I was a wayward youth slumming through the sleazy streets of Hollywood, I had an intense fascination with movie stars of the silent film era. I was especially intrigued by silent stars who were associated with scandals, mysteries, or murder/suicides (and many of them were).

I was extremely intrigued when I heard about the murder saga of Mexican-born  Ramon Novarro (1899-1968) - - a Hollywood superstar golden boy of the silent era, whose popularity catapulted when he starred in the 1925 blockbuster Ben Hur (which I personally think is far superior to the 1959 remake with Charlton Heston)

Novarro's popularity began to wane with the arrival of the talkies - - mostly because Hollywood film-makers were becoming more interested in featuring all-American Clark Gable types rather than outdated Lothario Latin lovers.

 Ramon Novarro and Dorothy Janis in The Pagan (1929)

one my favorite Novarro films

Novarro could sing and was a decent pianist, but his charming Mexican accent did little to enhance his screen presence in the rapidly-advancing talking movies. He continued getting some bit parts in films, and later did theater and sporadic appearances on Television. 

 Across to Singapore (1928)

with Joan Crawford

By the 1960's Novarro's career had completely fizzled and booze (and loneliness) became his constant companion. His fate was sealed on Halloween Eve, 1968, when he invited two male hustlers to his Laurel Canyon mansion. 

In his heyday, it was a well-known Hollywood secret that Novarro was gay, but his private life was well-maintained and there were never any scandals. As he aged and began drinking heavily he became much more reckless.

The two hustlers who arrived on Halloween were brothers, Tom and Paul Ferguson. They considered themselves to be "straight", but frequently had gay sex for money (Paul even appeared nude in several gay magazines).

 Murderer Paul Ferguson

in a vintage beefcake photo

circa 1964

After an evening of heavy drinking and indulging in sex with Novarro, there was an extremely violent altercation during which Novarro (age 69) was tortured for hours and then savagely beaten to death.

The Ferguson brothers were tried and convicted, but their "life-sentences"  ended up with surprisingly quick paroles. Tom Ferguson was (if I remember correctly) paroled in seven years. He eventually committed suicide - slashing his own throat in a Motel 6.

Paul Ferguson, now nearly 70, is back in prison (in Missouri), serving a 30-year sentence for rape.

When I was a freelance writer, I published four articles about Ramon Novarro. I mainly did this to reignite interest in his largely forgotten acting career. While doing research on Novarro, I saw the house where he was murdered and talked with several people who knew the actor. I also corresponded with James Ideman, the prosecutor at the Novarro murder trial. 

After my two-part feature article appeared in Classic Images (I think it was in March, 1992) I got a letter from Allan Ellenberger, who later wrote a biography on Novarro (first published in 2000).

 

Some of my articles

Classic Images and The Male Insider 

IF I HAD YOU

I recently made a video with Rudy Vallee singing A Girl Like You, in which I included photos of actresses from the silent film era.

In order to be balanced and fair to the sexes, I just made another video. This time Rudy Vallee is singing If I Had You, and I included photos of actors from the silent film era.

I actually have better things to do than make these worthless videos, but I thoroughly enjoy it. It quenches my creative urges. Sort of.

There is (perhaps) a mundane "sameness" about the actors of the 1920's - the hair, the look, the style - but they are intriguing nevertheless. Not to mention sexy.

I'm definitely no prude, and I'm consistently unshockable - - but I am surprised at how many of them were gay. Out of the fifteen actors I've chosen, only seven were straight.

Who are the "straight" ones"? you ask.
Hugh Allan, Francis X. Bushman, Douglas Fairbanks, Wallace Reid, Antonio Moreno, Lou Tellegen, Harold Lloyd.

And don't let the marriages fool you. Many actors married simply as a cover-up to save their careers. Charles Farrell, Richard Barthelmess, and Valentino come to mind. And perhaps Buddy Rogers.

Rudolph Valentino was married twice - both times to lesbians. His first marriage to Jean Acker lasted less than 24 hours. Acker locked him out of their hotel room before the honeymoon began.

While I'm on a roll, here are a few more random facts about some of these actors:

George O'Brien (the first actor on my video) was the son of the San Francisco chief of police. O'Brien started out as a nude "art" model before getting into films. He had a sexual fling with Rudolph Valentino (so did Richard Barthelmess).

Lou Tellegen was a popular actor of the 1920's, but in 1929 his face was disfigured in a fire. He fell asleep smoking in bed. After undergoing extensive plastic surgery, he became deeply depressed. In 1934 he committed suicide by slashing himself with a pair of sewing scissors and attempting to cut his heart out.

Wallace Reid - known as "the screen's most perfect lover" - became hopelessly addicted to drugs and died at the age of 31. 

William Haines - very popular in the 1920's - was so obnoxiously gay that he was eventually fired and banished from making films. He later became a highly successful interior decorator.

Douglas Fairbanks was married to actress Mary Pickford for sixteen years. He deeply regretted their divorce in 1936. 
Mary Pickford subsequently married Charles "Buddy" Rogers, who was much younger than her. Rumor has it that Buddy Rogers wanted a mother, not a wife.

Ramon Novarro was notoriously gay and had affairs with more actors than I can remember.
Novarro was brutally murdered by two male hustlers on Halloween night in 1968. I saw the house where he was murdered - and it's supposedly haunted.
More about Novarro in a future post.

Hopefully this wasn't too boring.

MY BRUSHES WITH THE DUKE

A YOUNG JOHN WAYNE

I first wrote about this on my old blog Lone Star Concerto. It's not particularly interesting, but I'm rehashing it anyway.

One night, while surfing the web for no plausible reason, I stumbled upon some old photos of Hollywood celebrities. I was stunned to see one particular photo of John Wayne because it was taken the night that I first encountered him - and it was taken while I was standing there, about five feet away. Unfortunately I'm not in the photo - - the photographer was interested in the Duke, not some unknown 18-year-old kid.

I've met a lot of famous people during my adventurous Hollywood years. I also had  brief, casual encounters with others. I saw John Wayne twice. Both times were brief, casual encounters. 

My two brushes with the Duke didn't happen in Hollywood. They occurred in Orange County, where he lived (Wayne lived in Newport Beach).

Just for the record, I've never been a John Wayne fan. Never cared for any of his movies and couldn't remotely relate to his personality - - on screen or off. Seeing him in person didn't generate much excitement on my part. And I doubt if it generated any excitement in the Duke.

My first encounter with Wayne happened when I was eighteen, before I ever went to Hollywood. I was living in Orange County. Sometimes, on warm summer evenings, I'd walk to Knott's Berry Farm (in Buena Park) which was about two miles from where I lived. Hanging out at the "Farm" was a pleasant way to kill a few hours. I'd smoke a few cigarettes, get something to eat, and amuse myself by watching the tourists. Often I'd sit by the antique carousel and listen to the music.

One night it was getting late, near closing time, and I was almost ready to leave. I happened to strike up a conversation with a girl who worked in the Candy Shop. She told me that John Wayne was going to arrive for a private party in the Banquet Hall. "Do you want to go see him?" she asked.

"Sure, why not?"  We walked to the Banquet Hall and waited by the entrance. No one else was there. Only me, the girl, and a couple of photographers from local newspapers.

A long, white limo pulled up and out came John Wayne, his wife Pilar Pallete, their daughter Aissa, and actress Maureen O'Hara. I think Wayne's son Patrick was there, too (well, one of his sons was there).

Wayne was so close to me that I could have easily picked his pocket. He was tall. I'm six-foot-one and he towered over me. Maureen O'Hara was beautiful, all decked out in a green silk gown. She and Wayne were close friends for nearly forty years and they made five films together.

Daughter Aissa kept smiling at me and I would have been flattered - - if it wasn't for the fact that she looked exactly like her father. Picture John Wayne with a long blond wig.

The photographer snapped the photo that I discovered on the Internet. I think it was used in the Orange County Register (I was a proofreader there briefly).

John Wayne and his wife Pilar Pallete.

This is the photo that was taken while I was standing right by them.

My second encounter with Wayne happened about four years later at a party in Newport Beach. I went there with an actor friend and the Duke happened to be one of the guests. My impression of Wayne could be summed up in three words: aloof, gruff, and soused. He was always soused. It seemed to be his trademark. Maureen O'Hara was also there and she was very lovely and gracious. O'Hara  seemed to be the Duke's constant sidekick. It's rumored that they had an affair long ago and I strongly tend to believe it.

Ironically, around the same time, my mother happened to meet John Wayne at an Orange County cocktail party. My Mom was an executive secretary for a top honcho O.C. businessman. He invited her to the cocktail party. My mother generally disliked parties and mindless social gatherings, but she went anyway and she did meet John Wayne. Much like myself, she wasn't particularly impressed.

What do I know about John Wayne? Only the basics. He could be nasty at times, and I've heard a few firsthand stories about his unpleasantness from people who knew him. He was a hardcore drinker. Smoked five packs of unfiltered cigarettes a day. Battled numerous serious illnesses, including lung cancer and a stroke. Suffered fractured ribs and broken limbs while making movies. Wore a hairpiece. Had plastic surgery for eye bags and sagging jowls. Was a staunch Republican and member of the John Birch Society. Believed in conservative values. Real name was Marion Morrison. Nickname came from a dog named Duke that he had as a child.

Wayne holds the record for the actor with the most leading parts in films - - a total of 142.

What have I observed from my personal encounters with Wayne?
One thing for certain, his personality wasn't fake. What you see in his movies is exactly what he was in real life. He wasn't acting. He was merely being himself. I don't think he was ever comfortable with all the Hollywood fluff.

Anyway, that's my take on the Duke.



If you hate this blog, you'll really hate my other one.
Here's the link: 
Cabinet of Curious Treasures 

MY BRIEF AFFAIR WITH OSCAR

My recent blog posts have been ladened with dreary accounts of Tennessee snowstorms and dangerous ice. As a change of pace, I'm turning my attention to Hollywood. Glitz.. The Oscars. And the time I crashed the Oscars when I was eighteen.
Readers of my previous blog Lone Star Concerto have heard the story before. This is for those who didn't.


The 87th Academy Award extravaganza was held last Sunday and my interest was minimal. When I was young and lived in Hollywood I was obsessed with the Oscars and knew every minute detail of the entire procedure. I loved Hollywood and was completely caught up in the stardust.

Those days now seem like a different era on a different planet. Here in a modest shack on a frozen Tennessee mountain, I'm about as far away from Tinseltown glitz as I could possibly get. I miss my turbulent, exciting youth. I miss Southern California. But I've moved on. 


Every year, the entire concept of the Oscars seems more and more trite and irrelevant. Despite all the media hype, the true golden era of Hollywood is long gone - and glamour, as it once was, is nearly dead and buried.

Old Hollywood, of course, was tainted and only had a grand illusion - but the illusion was created with style and panache. Most of the glamour was genuine. Most of the stars had at least some degree of talent and class.


Nowadays, trash and crass have replaced class. The Academy Award ceremony has diminished into nothing more than a political format and an opportunity for drug-glazed gaudily-attired Hollywood Bigwigs to thumb their noses at us and symbolically pat each other on the ass. 

Today the term star is used much too loosely. Everybody is a star. Motion pictures come and go so quickly that they leave little impact. It seems like movies are released in theaters on Monday and become available on DVD by Friday. Soon they're completely forgotten.
Who the heck can remember last year's Oscar winners?

 Jon - you're living in the past. You're getting old and cynical. Glamour isn't dead. Hollywood is still alive.

Wrong, Kemo Sabe. Hollywood is on a respirator, waiting for somebody to pull the plug. The golden past will never be resuscitated.

So, what's my take on last Sunday's Oscars?
Warning:
I'm in a rotten mood, so this is going to be vicious.

First of all, who the hell designed the sets? Looked like an explosion of leftover Christmas decorations from the K Mart "reduced item" bin. 

Doogie Howser as host????
I always wondered who could be worse than Ellen Degenerate. Oops, I mean DeGeneres. Well, they found him. Neil Patrick Harris is a mediocre actor (at best), can't sing, and isn't funny. As the host of a major award show he didn't hold my interest for thirty seconds. Not even when he appeared in his Fruit of the Looms. What the heck did he stuff in his crotch? A pair of socks??
His body looks fake - - like he had lypo suction, or some of his ribs removed.

Well, I'll give him one thing - - I envy his flat stomach.

more of Doogie

than we really wanted to know

The mentality of the Academy Bigwigs is this:
Let's use an openly gay person as the host. It'll be politically correct and Hollywood will blow a fairydust fart in the face of the unsuspecting public.

What's the matter, Jon? Are you some kind of homophobe?

Hey,bucko, call me that again and I'll slap you silly with my hanky. Then I'll deck you with my signed copy of Tales of the City.

If I ever revealed the kind of debauchery in which I indulged when I lived in Hollywood it would make Oscar Wilde faint - - and it would make Doogie Howser and his husband look like rank amatures.

Of course, the Hollywood libs never fail to use a public moment as an opportunity to force-feed us their personal agendas.

Patricia Arquette bitching about the fact that women are underpaid. 
"I paid more money to my dog walker than I got for Boyhood," she complained.

Here's a flash, sweetheart: most of us plebeians can't afford a dog walker.

Sean Penn, putting his foot in his mouth......but we're used to that....

And John Travolta - nuzzling up to Idina Menzel in a feeble attempt to pretend he's not gay. 

Three hours into the agonizing Oscar Ordeal, Lady Gaga appears out of nowhere, waving her tattooed arms, and bursts into a medley tribute to The Sound of Music. She's no Julie Andrews, but she saved the night nevertheless. She does have talent and.....well, class.

gaga

So, what's all this about your affair with Oscar, Jon?

 My first encounter with Oscar night is my favorite, because I managed to really get up-close and personal. That was way back when the Academy Awards used to be held at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion of the L.A.Music Center.

The Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, L.A. Music Center

  

I was eighteen-years-old and a helluva lot more brash and adventurous than I am now. To shorten a very lengthy story, I managed to sneak into the Music Center (I was very familiar with it) on Oscar night and watch part of the show. 

How did you sneak in, Jon?

I was familiar with every aspect of the Music Center. And I was fast. I used a side door that was a musician's entrance. Security was lax and I had no trouble at all. I sat way in the back and only stayed for about fifteen minutes. I'm sure I could have stayed longer but I was fearful of being caught and tossed out on my ass.

Later that night I befriended the chauffeur of actress Helen Hayes and watched the rest of the Award show on a small TV in her limousine. Afterwards I met numerous stars, including Sammy Davis jr., George Hamilton and his then-wife Alana. Sammy Davis was extremely nice. Hamilton was somewhat of a snob.

This was an extremely abbreviated account of a long and memorable night.

Several years later, when I was more established in Hollywood and knew some quasi big-shots, I attended a private post-Academy Award party at a posh mansion (very near where Burt Reynolds lived). Courtesy of too many drinks and drugs, I wound up having sex with someone under a grand piano in the library! Not one of my proudest moments, but reckless fun nevertheless. Kinda like an Academy Award bonus.....

I have numerous other personal stories about Oscar night, but I'll spare you. At least for now.

A rare (and pretty bad)  photo of me

when I first went to Hollywood.

I was twenty years old and should have

been shot for wearing that shirt (and Billy Jack hat).

I had "crashed" the Oscars a few years earlier

when I was eighteen.