randulo’s unblog

I forgot a few people in my list of dead people I don't see anymore and one of them was Hervé Villechaise, most famous for a couple of roles, a James Bond movie, The Man with the Golden Gun in 1974, and Fantasy Island (1978-80's) where he co-starred with Ricardo "Rich Corinthian Leather" Montalban before quitting over wages. I was on the set once and Montalban and Hervé appeared to totally detest each other.
 

 
I met Hervé after meeting his ex-wife Anne, in Paris when I set up the Laserium in 1978. (I need to tell that whole story here soon.) They were both very good-hearted people, in different ways. Ann was motivated to finish school and become an RN. When I moved back to L.A., Anne was also living there and one day I got a call from a woman who identified herself as "the secretary of Mr. Villechaise". I was invited to Hervé's place out in the valley for parties. Each time, there seemed to be a mixture of typical Hollywood hangers-on but also some very cool, regular people. Hervé and I also cruised the bars a couple of times and I recall once pretending to not speak any English in one of those bars. When I later married, my wife and I went out there for dinner several times.
 
I was pretty shocked that Hervé took his own life, but not surprised after all. He was an artist, and I guess pretty confident in that area, but as an actor and a man, probably unsure of himself. He scowled at me once when in passing I used the expression "my boy" which it was common to use ironically among friends. I do know that he did a lot of good work for children out there until at the age of 50, he blew himself away.

You can play this song, "The WOman in WHite" while you read this:

This is an anecdote about two ordinary Los Angeles couples. T and his wife were dealing H out of their Hollywood apartment. J and his wife were regular customers.

I was at T's place one evening and the J family was there. I'd met them several times before. They were nice folks. He had a goatee and was a big guy and she was blonde, pleasant-looking and only a pound or two over her ideal BMI. Neither looked in any way vulgar or trashy. It's unfortunate that I can't recall what we were talking about - people do actually converse in these situations - but I do know J wanted some H and had insufficient $ to pay for it.

Although you could literally buy a house under the HollywoodLand sign on credit, you could not get a quarter bag as easily. This is where I got a surprise on the human behavior level. I've always thought that working in a bar, especially seeing everyone there from the height of a raised stage, gave a unique psychological point of view.

Forgive the digression, but a tiny bar gig anecdote comes to mind. We were playing in a club one night and a bunch of bikers came in. About an hour later, there was the pretty much inevitable bar fight, with at least 5 major events taking place at once on the dance floor. At one point a mic stand got slammed into the bass players face and one of the two guys in front of him, who was being choked at the time, squeezed out "Sorry!" before dancing away with his partner in strangulation. Unforgettable vignette! Possibly explains my great enjoyment of Sons of Anarchy. I've already said, it's The Sopranos on motorcycles and it rings true to life.

Back to the J family. So they didn't have $25, but Mrs. J made a few phone calls and was able to set up an "appointment" at a nearby motel. I thought maybe she was a hairdresser. While I talked to J within 50 yards of the sleazy motel room door (Don't ask me what I was doing with them or what could we have been discussing at that moment) Mrs met a guy in the lot and led him upstairs. I do remember J saying we needed to stop talking for a few minutes because it would "spook the John". I swear those were his exact words. So picture me standing with J in sight of a motel room where his wife was pleasuring someone for money. J was not just calm, but totally indifferent, cheerful even, as if his wife were dropping off some laundry, which was about the amount of time that we passed together in silence. I guess there wasn't much of a line. When she joined us again, I almost expected her to be holding a receipt so strong was the "business as usual" vibe.

I've quoted the Dalai Lama in the past who said that one distinct characteristic of prostitution is the mutual lack of respect. Isaac Bashevis Singer once wrote [something like] "Who knows what goes on in another man's head?", a line, I think, from the Magician of Lublin. Indeed, who knows what J was thinking.

I hope it has occurred to anyone who considers themselves human that a person can be driven to do unimaginably difficult and sometimes horribly damaging things by necessity, whether they create it themselves by being addicted to a drug or whether they just happened to be born in a place so hopeless, they will throw their children into the sea from a boat if this can obtain a better life. You shouldn't need to walk a mile in anyone's shoes to feel these things if you have a brain and a soul. What the world needs now isn't so much "love, sweet love" but empathy and respect.

Extra points:

- Who or what is The WOman in WHite?
- Why am I numbering these things in octal?