Out of the Blue: Confessions of an Unlikely Porn Star (31 page)

BOOK: Out of the Blue: Confessions of an Unlikely Porn Star
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UPON MY ARRIVAL IN NYC, I learned that Rex Chandler had been a disaster in the show. He fought constantly and bitterly with his fellow actors, particularly the actress Joanna Keylock who was playing his wife. Rex wasn’t a trained actor, and the stress of performing eight shows a week Off Broadway had been more than he could bear. There had been a huge fight amongst everybody, and Rex stormed off. That left Ronnie and Caryn without a porn star in the play and that was their main “hook.”
Of course I jumped at the opportunity . . . OFF BROADWAY . . . was she kidding? I would do it in a heartbeat! I called Gino who told me I could stay in his NYC apartment just off Central Park. I packed a suitcase and bid a tearful farewell to Harold. The play had had a long run in L.A., so who knew how long I’d be in New York? He promised to fly in every other weekend and said he would send me care packages to get me through the NYC winter. It was October and had just starting to get cold on the East Coast.
I arrived in Manhattan feeling like anything was possible. No longer Glenn Marsh from Nottingham selling my blood to pay the bills, now I was Blue Blake from London starring in an Off Broadway show. I pinched myself because none of it seemed real.
Gino’s apartment was a cozy one-bedroom. I settled right in and was met the first night by Vince Lambert, a journalist from the gay magazine
Next
. He was friends with Ronnie and Caryn and filled me in on all the drama that had occurred with Rex. I listened spellbound as I ate raspberry sorbet. All that eating out with Harold had made me plump and if I was going to be on stage naked I had better be looking sharp. Vince told me that there were rumors that Ryan Idol was also going to join the cast, replacing Rex, so there would be two porn stars in the show, me and Ryan. At the moment there was another actor playing the role but he wasn’t as big a draw as Ryan would be. I had never met Ryan Idol properly but he was a serious superstar. We would sell a ton of seats with his star wattage.
Once again I was afflicted with terrible stage fright due to lack of rehearsal time. I realized this was Ronnie and Caryn’s modus oporandi. They expected you to just climb off the plane and onto the stage and give a brilliant performance. Luckily I had been prepared for this and had been sleeping with my script to remind me of my part.
Even so, I had opening night jitters. We were performing in the West Village at the Actors’ Playhouse. Ronnie was again playing the role of the evil porn director and the show, under his eagle eye, went zipping along full of peppy one-liners and brief nudity. The audience ate it up. We were sold out every performance and the cash came rolling in.
Caryn placed an ad in the
New York Times
theatre page and they shot me for the poster and for the playbill. I walked home every night after the show to Fifty-seventh Street because it would take me the fifty blocks to decompress, heady from the audience applause. I became enormously close with Joanna, the one girl in the show. I had a total gay boy crush on her. She had blonde hair down to her waist and porcelain skin and reminded me of a mermaid. She was obscenely talented and I worshipped her. Years later she named one of her sons Liam Blue to my absolute delight. After each performance Joanna and I would run out of the stage door and walk arm in arm through the crowd outside the theatre. People would stop us to sign their playbills and tell us how hysterical we had been in the show. We were shallow but loving it. Life was immaculate it seemed.
Then Ryan joined the cast.
Ryan Idol is one of the most spectacular looking people to ever work in the adult industry. He really should have been playing a dashing doctor in
General Hospital
but he missed his calling and ended up in porn. Ryan had originally been a marine stationed in Hawaii but after a big fight with one of his commanding officers he was thrown out of the service with no way to return to his hometown on the Mainland. Of course that wasn’t going to stop a resourceful guy like him, so before he knew it he was turning tricks and coining it in. This of course led to porn films and in no time he was a mega star.
Thick brown hair, amazing body, great teeth but as mad as a box of frogs, Ryan arrived in NYC looking a little the worse for wear. Since he had partially retired from starring in porn he had hit the bottle hard but he was still a handsome bastard. So despite the fact that he liked his liquor, he still had a great face and girls (and boys) would always swoon around him. My relationship with Ryan was always unusual; we were incredibly ambivalent about each other. He could be as sweet as pie or, if he was drunk, a raging lunatic. What kept his ego in check when he first arrived Off Broadway was that the cast was all trained actors who had been doing the show for a while so he was constantly playing catch up.
My name and image were removed off the playbills and poster and replaced by Ryan’s. I didn’t mind, since he was a much bigger star, and I liked the fact that his name guaranteed we played to sold-out audiences.
Ryan and Caryn became very friendly . . . a match made in hell, if ever there was one. They bonded over their love of cash and, boy was Ryan a cash cow waiting to be milked. He got a percentage of the box office. I was being paid a thousand dollars a week to flaunt my bits on stage nightly, so I was happy with that, and the situation was rosy. Until the night of the big fight.
A few days previously the Gay Erotic Video Award Nominations had been announced. I was nominated as Best Actor for my role in
Cockfight
and Ryan was nominated for Best Actor for his role in
Idol in the Sky
. So there we were, doing eight shows a week together and competing for the most prestigious porn award in the world. Something had to give. Starring in a successful Off Broadway show became a disaster waiting to happen when mixed with Ryan’s love of booze.
One night he arrived drunk half an hour before curtain. Ronnie told him he couldn’t perform that night and Ryan grew belligerent and refused to leave the theatre. Knowing that Ryan didn’t have an understudy and he couldn’t perform sloshed; I collected my belongings and began to leave the theatre.
“Look,” said Ronnie, “Blue is leaving, so there definitely will be no shows.”
“Get back on this stage!” Ryan screamed at me, “I’m the fucking star, and what I say goes!”
Man . . . I flew onto the stage like I had a Pershing missile up my arse. Ryan took a swing at me, but I deftly dodged it. I grabbed him and began beating his head against the stage.
“You’re killing each other,” Ronnie shrieked. Meanwhile, the other cast members fled to lock themselves in the dressing rooms. As I shook Ryan by the neck, I suddenly came to my senses, dropped him and rose to my feet. I left the theatre fuming. That night’s two shows were cancelled.
The next night, before the show, Ryan apologized to me. I forgave him for two reasons: [1] I had to do eight shows a week with him and [2] it was Christmas and on New Year’s Eve Ryan and I were booked to make a personal appearance at the Palladium in front of three thousand gay men and their girlfriends to promote the show.
Two days before Christmas Harold flew in. I had been feeling lousy. Being naked eight shows a week in a freezing cold theatre was taking its toll on me. I caught double pneumonia. My doctor ordered me to stay in bed for a week. Caryn went crazy. The show was completely sold out. There was no understudy for me and she insisted I do the show. She told me I could lie down on the filthy backstage couch to rest between scenes. I refused; telling her the only place I was going to lie down was in my own bed. At her wit’s end, Caryn summoned another actor, David Thompson, and begged him to perform my role. David had been learning the lines anyway because he was heading to D.C. to play my part in the touring company Ronnie and Caryn were forming. Even so, David was weeks away from being ready to play the role. But that didn’t stop Caryn. She had once had the stage manager play Ryan’s role, script in hand throughout the night, when Ryan was sick. Anything rather than cancel a performance. The poor guy had walked through the curtains at the beginning of the show and begged the audience to suspend all disbelief as he was a positive TWIG and he had to strut around naked. It was all about the cash for Ronnie and Caryn. It was total lunacy.
David faired as well as could be expected under these circumstances and then fled back to Los Angeles a week later when I was ready to resume my role of Ray Tanner.
On New Year’s Eve, Harold and I, along with Ryan and his beautiful Persian girlfriend Ellie gathered in my apartment. Ryan always had stunning girlfriends. I liked Ellie a lot, as did the entire cast. We did a couple of lines of coke; more to keep us awake than anything, and set off to the club. It was freezing but the glow of fame was keeping me warm. The club was packed with New Year’s Eve revelers who were more than a little “partied up.” The ecstasy was flying and the general atmosphere was one of unrestrained euphoria.
Ryan and I didn’t take the stage until 3 a.m., but when we did, the crowd screamed so loudly our hair was blown back as if in a wind tunnel. We introduced ourselves, invited everybody to see the play and then we told the audience we had a surprise for them. We introduced . . . Madonna!!!
Actually it was a skinny drag queen in a bleached wig and coned bra corset, more like McDonna really. But the blissed-out crowd of partiers was oblivious to the fake-out. Some started crying as if having an epiphany. We fled the stage and wended our weary way home. Life was good; life was great in fact. Years later I came to realize why there was always such madness around Ryan. He was gorgeous, and great beauty attracts great chaos. Having worked with some of the most spectacular looking men in the world, sadly very few have had spectacular lives to match. But Ryan hung in there and was cast in a Broadway revival of the hilarious sex romp
The Ritz
starring Rosie Perez. I was delighted. Ryan had beaten me to Broadway by a mile and I was actually elated for him. For some reason I felt like a proud father . . . now there’s madness for you.
The documentary Ronnie and Cary produced,
Shooting Porn
, was finally released and was an enormous hit. It overflowed with colorful characters from the industry but the three personalities around which the documentary was structured were Chi Chi LaRue, Gino Colbert and myself. Even better, the poster for
Shooting Porn
pictured me sitting naked in a director’s chair holding a megaphone to my mouth!
Shooting Porn
was incredibly explicit. There is a scene where Blade Thompson is fucking me on a bed and the shooting had to stop because his dick was so big it made my stomach ache. You see me crawling off the bed rubbing my stomach while Gino begs for just a few more strokes of insertion. Ronnie and Caryn had spent months trailing around porn sets and had created a superb expose of the industry. There were models holding pet lizards, chatting about dildo scenes and douching, confessing they’d be selling shoes if it weren’t for porn. All in all it was an extremely entertaining piece of porn pop culture.
Shooting Porn
was screened at gay film festivals all over the world, so when Caryn asked me if I would like to travel to The London Gay Film Festival and discuss the film in front of a live audience I said yes in a second. The film was showing on the South Bank, a very chic art district. When we arrived at the theatre, we were told that the film was sold out. In fact, it had been the quickest selling ticket ever in the history of the festival. We were incredibly flattered. After the screening we fielded answers from the audience. Caryn was actually very good on the stage. She was incredibly insightful regarding the industry, which was strange as she wasn’t actually involved in the porn industry, but she had been so deeply immersed in the lives of porn stars for the past couple of years that she obviously had a good sense of the business. All the London muscle boys were out in force, and they asked me questions regarding their favorite porn stars. It was truly an exhilarating experience and it made me so pleased that I had agreed to appear in the documentary.
The movie opened in limited release around NYC and soon I was being approached on the street regularly to be complimented on the film. Everywhere I went, people had either seen the documentary or the play or both. I was finally feeling fulfilled as a performer. I was starring in a hit play and had a film in movie theatres. I was literally giddy . . . all of a sudden I had a greater appreciation for Ronnie and Caryn. In hindsight I don’t think I would have become as well known without them.
Around this time I had begun work on the final film of Gino’s trilogy
Men in Blue
. I flew back to Los Angeles to shoot the final two scenes to complete the film. The plot I had written ran like this: I played a rogue homophobic cop being investigated by Internal Affairs after my new partner commits suicide on the first day of the job. Also my character had shot and killed five Latino crack dealers in suspicious circumstances after having been sodomized by them in a crack den. Internal Affairs was out to prove I was a bad cop and the film took place in a police station over a series of flashbacks. The guy playing my police partner who commits suicide was Brent Cross.
Brent was a straight jock with thick dark hair and a bubble butt. In the film he comes round to my apartment on his first day of work and I answer the door in my underwear. I tell him I’m running late and make him a cup of coffee, which I then fill up with some unnamed substance that renders him semi-conscious. Then I put him in girls’ panties and rape him. After the rape, my character takes Polaroids of him and says if he breathes a word of what has happened, I would show his young wife the pictures. This leads to him killing himself and my character being investigated by Internal Affairs. What a potboiler.

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