Inside Seka - The Platinum Princess of Porn (39 page)

With more product, there were more actors. I didn’t know these people from a hole in the wall. I wouldn’t know who to ask for or who to avoid. There were always a few bad eggs who would pass through the system — crackheads and crackwhores who did one or two films, got a bad reputation they richly deserved, and then faded away. You knew who they were. We had our own little “minor league” system. Now it was all minor league. With people like Randy West, Annie Sprinkle, Debi Diamond, and Ginger Lynn, you knew you were with people who at least cared about themselves, and by doing that, they cared about you, health-wise. But many of the kids I met who were just entering the business in the nineties and beyond seemed to have a death wish. They didn’t give a shit if they lived or died, just as long as they could say they were a porn star.

The industry didn’t do that to them. They did that to themselves. A small handful like Jenna Jameson and Lexington Steele have lasted, while most haven’t. I got out alive. That’s the most important thing.

44.
Radio Star

I always enjoyed doing radio. But I never imagined I’d become a radio host in a major market.

I had been a guest on several WLUP Chicago radio shows, including Steve Dahl and Gary Myers’ show. Steve was the guy who crushed thousands of disco records at Comiskey Park in support of rock and roll. They’d call me at like six o’clock in the morning and ask me dumb stuff like, “What are you doing?” I’d tell them I was sleeping or cleaning the apartment. I guess they found it interesting that an adult movie star would have a normal life. They were huge shock jocks on “The Loop,” so it was good publicity to be on with them. They liked me so they weren’t slamming me.

I did a New Year’s Eve show with them at a club called Park West, where I was in a hot tub the entire show (talk about getting pruney). Steve, who was totally loaded, would climb in and out. At one point, he was on stage with an electric guitar in his hands when he started drunkenly stumbling backwards towards me. I was in there thinking, “We’re going to fry because he’s going to fall into the hot tub.” I was right. At the last second somebody grabbed it out of his hand right before he fell in. That would have been some way to go.

At one point I was the “den mother” for the Kevin Matthews Show. He’d say, “Let’s call the Den Mother,” and I’d come into the studio. You never knew what he was going to do because he’d fly by the seat of his pants.

He would do fundraisers for a Catholic orphanage he was fond of. Believe it or not, he called his charity barbecue contest Beat Kev’s Meat. There were some pretty good cooks out there and he’d have celebrity judges. One summer, he asked me to come out and help the event draw better, along with celebrity hunter and fisherman Babe Winkelman. He was sort of like the Brawny Paper Towel guy. They’d have an auction with things like a guitar from Mötley Crüe or a painting from a gallery. Dinner was served under a huge tent. Kev would ask me and Dave to take this big fish bowl around asking for donations for the orphanage but we were toasted, having been drinking all afternoon. The priest was pretty drunk, too. It made for an interesting day of fund-raising — the porn star, the priest, and the outdoorsman teaming up.

Kevin kept remarking I had a good voice for radio. I finally said to him, “Make it happen.” And he did.

It was Saturday nights from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m. and it was called “Let’s Talk about Sex.” At first I was like, “How do you fill up four hours of time?” I dreaded dead air. The first night I thought, “This is going to be the longest night of my life.” But I was absolutely wrong. The phones just lit up. I also had guests like the gay women who wrote
Diamonds Are a Girls’ Best Friend,
a book about women’s softball. Johnson and Johnson had actual doctors on who specialized in sexuality. They could ask any of us questions. I remember one question in particular. A caller wanted to know, “Where was the strangest place you ever had sex?” My immediate thought was the famous
Newlywed Show
segment, so I said, “In the butt.” We all cracked up.

Although it did get wild at times and we had an awful lot of fun, we didn’t think of the show or treat it like a shock jock gig. A lot of the questions were from people with legitimate problems. Women worried about keeping things interesting and fresh, while men were more worried about whether they were cumming too soon. It was very satisfying because we actually helped people with good, solid advice from folks qualified to give it. We covered a lot of ground. We made them feel open and at ease. We didn’t have licenses on the wall. The intimidation factor was taken away. There was no judgment on our end.

We welcomed just about anybody who wanted to come to the studio. We had dominatrixes with their slaves. We’d spank people. Restaurant owners would bring foods that served as aphrodisiacs. Of course, everybody who worked at the station wanted to watch the show because we always had naked people there, sort of like Howard Stern.

We even had a big pajama party one New Year’s Eve. Some people came in trench coats naked underneath, because that’s how they slept. Marilyn Miglin, who sells the fragrance “Pheromone” and all kinds of perfumes and creams for body care, brought gifts for us to give to various callers. She’d talk about how important it was for both men and women to take care of their skin to look their best. Another gentleman owned a chocolate company and he’d do giveaways as well. There were all kinds of business people who had giveaways to offer, which helped build the audience because everyone liked something for free.

One time The Rolling Stones were in Chicago prior to heading out to Berlin, Germany. My co-host Stan Lawrence handed me an envelope and I opened it on the air. There were tickets for me and another person to cover the Stones in Germany for the Loop. I was so excited I could have died.

In Berlin, it was balmy with a light breeze blowing. It felt very upbeat. But as soon as we walked into the stadium, there was no air moving. It was like being in a mausoleum. It was eerie.

A big security guy took us around. I walked out on this platform — a big concrete slab. There were oceans of people before me. The security guy said, “You’re standing right where Hitler stood for the Olympics.” A chill went down my spine. It was a frightening feeling, like he was in that stadium. I said, “Move me now. Get me out of here.” I was visibly shaking.

I knew one of the Stones’ crew guys and they used to have these light and sound towers. My friend Janet and I were watching the show from up there. The lighting guys were always interesting. They had these gargantuan boards and buttons. I couldn’t imagine how they knew what to do, when to do it, and do it as smoothly as they do. The one fellow was sitting there doing the lights and was rolling a joint. He motioned for Janet and me to come up. They took our hands and put their hands over ours and showed us how to do the lights. He was very coy about this as he slid out of the chair and I automatically slid into it. There were about 90,000 people in the stadium and I was mesmerized by the whole thing. Suddenly, I realized the two guys were gone. They were five or six feet behind us getting stoned and they were laughing their asses off at how freaked out we were.

I knew the Stones’ music and I told my friend, “The end of this song is in about ten seconds.” I knew that would call for some dramatic lighting. I didn’t know whether to shit or go blind.

About a second and a half before the end of the song, these two guys swooped in and took control of the board to finish. I think it was the biggest rush I’d ever had.

Honey West and Alex were men who lived as women — they had all their boy parts. Alex really looked like a woman, but Honey looked like a big man in drag. The flamboyant duo were doing a play in Chicago called “Vampire Lesbians of Sodom.” We’d do theater ticket giveaways on air and it was always an experience having them on, since they’d say the most outrageous things. The producer/ director of the play asked if I would consider being Honey’s stand-in as the dreaded Succubus. Hence my stage debut came out of doing radio as well. That was difficult for me because standing on stage having to deliver lines with thirty other cast members wasn’t my forte. But I was a trouper and did my best, and got a nice response from the audience. I would do two shows Friday and Saturday, and then run in and do a four-hour radio show.

The checks from the play were bouncing, though. Finally, I got tired of working my ass off and not getting paid so I quit. However, it was a great experience.

It was an exciting time for me. Although the pay wasn’t particularly good, it did help my career to be on the air for three years. I hadn’t made movies for quite a while and it did boost my exposure. This helped my mail order business and such. It also meant a lot to me that I was publicly perceived as someone with talents beyond just making adult films.

Although we were on only once a week from 1994 to 1996, our numbers were bigger than guys like Danny Bonaduce, who was on every day and syndicated. But since we were about sex, they never would syndicate us. I also think because I had been in pornography, the combination of Seka and sex wasn’t what they were looking to promote. Different businesses would want to advertise with us, but the station was concerned some of their customers could potentially complain about being on a “sex show,” so it was always a struggle.

My co-host was African-American, and I was the token female. To this day I think they had us on just to cover their asses with affirmative action. There was never real support or promotion for the show. It had no room to grow. I got tired of being told “No” when I wanted to do promotions like Kevin, or even when I wanted to do charity work for The Rainbow House, which is a safe house for battered women.

One day there was a pink slip in my mailbox saying they didn’t think the show was enough of a success. I was asked to clean out my locker. Thus ended my radio career.

To this day I get emails from people telling me they used to listen to me on The Loop and that they wished it had never gone off. And I miss it myself. It was one of the most interesting and rewarding things I’ve ever done.

I loved the Cubs and the Cubs loved me.

In the first home I owned all by myself, Chicago, 1986.

On the radio. Literally.