Out of the Blue: Confessions of an Unlikely Porn Star (32 page)

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Authors: Blue Blake

BOOK: Out of the Blue: Confessions of an Unlikely Porn Star
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Ron Jeremy, who is probably the most recognized male face in the entire adult industry, played the Internal Affairs investigating officer. He has parlayed his fame into several reality shows and is a genuine superstar in porn. Years later I was at a
Playboy
party with Ron and guys would literally freak out around him:
“HEY RON . . . YOU’RE THE MAN!”
“FUCK, RON . . . I WANNA BE YOU WHEN I GROW UP!”
It was insane. I knew exactly what this reaction to Ron was all about. He represented Joe Schmo . . . an everyman who got to spend his days fucking nubile chicks for cash. As the adult industry grew exponentially, so did Ron’s fame and belly. He was recognized everywhere. At the time he did
Men in Blue
, however, his star hadn’t yet risen, so appearing in a gay porn film was just a job to him.
Men in Blue
opens with my character in uniform getting drunk on raw bourbon in a squad car. I pull over two cousins, played by Gino and Paul and force them to suck each other off. Then Paul comes in Gino’s mouth. The scene mixed abuse of liquor and authority with just a smatter of incest thrown in for good measure. Gino had rented an authentic squad car, and clad in my police uniform, I threw myself into the role with all the realism I could muster.
In another scene I break down the door of a crack den to find four Latinos smoking crack. Ryan Block, Andreas Bergane, Rod Garetto and Juan Antonio played the Latinos. Juan didn’t speak English and mistook all the fake drugs on the set for real crack. He told his agent he would never make another porn film again. After my character is raped by the Latinos, he pulls out his gun and shoots them all to death. In the final scene when Ron Jeremy is exhausted from trying to force a confession from me, he leaves the room and eats the pussy of policewoman Sharon Kane. As he’s doing this, Sharon watches me get fucked by Cutter West on a table through a two-way mirror in the police interrogation room.
The film caused an uproar. Some magazines refused to review it, saying it promoted homophobia and illicit drug use; that it glorified rape and was just generally completely amoral. And some magazines loved it, calling the movie the best piece of erotic film making in years.
Men in Blue
earned a four and a half star rating out of five from
Gayvn Magazine
. I was extremely proud.
Every year in Chicago during the International Mr. Leather Contest there is an award show called the Grabby Awards. The show is presented by
Gay Chicago Magazine
and honors the best in porn. Over the years it has grown immensely and is now one of the major events on the porn calendar. Ten years ago the show wasn’t as enormous as it has since become. Back then, it was held in a bathhouse. I was nominated for Best Dramatic Actor for my role in
Men in Blue
. By this time I was so used to being nominated for awards and not winning, that I had lost all sense of anticipation. I flew to Chicago because I was curious to attend the International Mr. Leather event, having once been a leather title-holder myself. Also I wanted to see Chicago, which I had never visited. The city was packed with leather guys. At the host hotel there was a huge leather fair where people sold everything from inflatable butt plugs to pissing videos.
The night of the Grabby Awards rolled around and I trotted off to the bathhouse to attend. I had also been asked to present an award so I was done up in tight leather pants and jacket. Chi Chi LaRue was hosting the event. As I listened to the nominees for Best Dramatic Actor being read I noticed a stunning bodybuilder at the back of the room. He was a knockout. I wandered over to him and introduced myself.
“I’m Blue Blake.”
“I know,” he grinned. “They call me Caesar . . . and they’ve just announced your name on stage . . . you’ve won Best Actor, congratulations.”
I couldn’t fucking believe it. I spun around and ran to the stage. I was handed a perspex statuette with somebody’s arse engraved on it along with the words:
GAY CHICAGO MAGAZINE
“BEHIND CLOSED DOORS”
1998
GRABBY AWARDS
BEST ACTOR
DRAMATIC
BLUE BLAKE
MEN IN BLUE—NEW AGE PICTURES.
 
I’d finally won! I went on to win many more awards but this was my first. Although it’s a Perspex plaque with somebody’s arse on it, I still treasure it. The most tasteless looking award of all time was a Probie Award, which was a giant gold paper mache cock. I never won one of those.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
 
LAST YEAR I WAS IN SAN FRANCISCO to receive an award for a film I had produced and directed called
Musclemen Moving Company, Inc.
It was named one of the top ten best selling on-demand films of the year on the Internet. The award was presented to me by the video on demand site Maleflixxx. These days porn has moved from VHS to DVD to, finally, video on demand. We are living in the technological future and, as in years before, pornography is once again spearheading the technological advances.
Chicago Gay Magazine
asked if I would attend their upcoming Grabby ceremony in Chicago. The ceremony coincided with the International Mr. Leather event so Chicago would be full of fags, and I thought to myself, why not? I decided I could go and slake up some worship at the very least. I told them I definitely would be there. By this time I was enjoying my film infamy and there were a lot of the people in the industry that I genuinely liked and hoped to run into. It was always interesting meeting the latest models who worked for the other studios and I figured at the very least it would be fun to see how big the Grabby’s had become.
I hopped a flight to Chicago and the night I landed went straight to the International Mister Leather opening night party. It was just like being back at the Mr. Drummer contest, albeit seventeen years had passed, and I was a little more jaded. Make that a lot more jaded. Nothing could shock me now.
“You’re Blue Blake, aren’t you?”
I turned to face a guy about sixty years old. Balding and kind of starved-looking, he stood in front of me absolutely naked apart from a yellow jock strap and little leather ankle boots. He had the palest skin I had ever seen with clumps of hair growing from different parts of his body, mostly his ears and nose.
“I love the films that you make . . . I want to star in them.”
“Well,” I began rather smugly, “It’s a tough road into porn and I’m not quite sure if that’s a road you should be thinking of traveling. It’s long hours and before you can really become a star. . . .”
“Oh, I am a porn star,” he interrupted, “I just starred in
Piss Pigs 4
for Treasure Island Media.”
“Isn’t that a bareback company?” I asked with considerable disdain.
“Yes . . . I think you should have a little more piss and barebacking in your films, and I’m certainly the man to provide those things.”
And the night just spiraled downwards from that moment onward, one more bizarre conversation after the other. I learned something that night. There were still plenty of things that could shock me.
The Grabby Awards took place the next night. The show was now held in an enormous auditorium and the evening began with Chi Chi LaRue and two drag queens performing the entire score of
Dream Girls
. First on film, then continuing live on stage. I hadn’t been asked to present an award so I just sat back and enjoyed the show. Halfway through the evening they presented their Wall of Fame Awards—the Grabbys’ version of the Hall of Fame Award. Chi Chi appeared on the stage.
“Our next recipient was born in England.”
Oooooh, an English winner . . . I began craning my neck around the theater looking for possible honorees.
“He started his career as a COLT model.”
Oooooh . . . just like me. I must have been lost in thought, because all of a sudden everybody was staring at me. I realized suddenly that Chi Chi was announcing my name as one of the Wall of Fame recipients for that year! I climbed on the stage in a daze and I don’t even remember the speech I gave. As I walked offstage I realized I was clutching the award that Chi Chi had presented me with. And guess what? It was STILL a perspex arse . . . and I’m glad it was!!!
I didn’t win Best Actor the year Ryan and I were competing against each other, but neither did Ryan. He eventually left
Making Porn
and was replaced by Sonny Markham, a young straight bodybuilder who really was a terrible actor. The show began to suffer and fall apart. Although Ronnie and Caryn had both made great money from the show, Ronnie wanted to move on and work on other projects. He would write a handful of other shows but none of them would be as successful as
Making Porn
. One day when I felt I could no longer stand to do the show, which by now had become a hollow shell of its original incarnation, I told Caryn that I was returning to Los Angeles. She begged me not to leave but she knew my mind was made up. I wanted to get on with my life with Harold. I was deeply in love. Harold had flown in every other weekend for months and had been nothing but supportive and a tower of strength amidst all the craziness that had surrounded me. I had gotten into the industry to make money, and as this no longer was an issue, at Harold’s suggestion I agreed to retire from the porn industry. I was famous, and I could have carried on performing for years, but my heart was no longer in it. So I figured it was good to go out on top.
Caryn asked me as one last favor, to fly to Washington and join the D.C. road company. I didn’t want to, but I acquiesced for two reasons: I had never been to Washington so the idea of living there for three weeks appealed to me immensely, and I also wanted to leave the show on good terms in case I ever wanted to come back.
What Caryn had neglected to tell me was that the reason David Thompson had left the play was that Ronnie had flown into D.C., seen the appalling state of the show and had promptly fired the entire cast. Then, realizing that there were no understudies to fill the roles, he demanded that the cast perform for the rest of the run. David told Ronnie to stuff it and caught the next plane to Los Angeles. This left a hole in the show—my part incidentally—and so I stepped into my old role and joined the disgruntled cast.
Playing the ingénue role of Ricky was Kurt Young. Kurt was David’s boyfriend and had won more porn awards than any performer in history. He would later break up with David and go on to date the mayor of West Hollywood. But for now he was a shy, slim kid clutching a Chihuahua—his and David’s love child I presumed. The show was indeed an absolute wreck, full of barely adequate actors of the extremely mediocre variety. Bad word of mouth was destroying the sold-out D.C. show, but I had no intention of performing in a lousy production. I called together the actors for extra rehearsals and began to piece together the play until it resembled the Off Broadway version. We pumped up the humor and threw out all the lugubrious parts. After a week we were zooming along and everybody was much happier.
We performed the show in an old church that had been converted into a theatre in the middle of the gay district, Dupont Circle, affectionately known as “The Fruit Loop” or “Bouffant Circle.” We sold out every night, and once the cast had relaxed into the now hilarious show we tore the town up. Every night we went dancing and drinking and hung out with sexually ambiguous politicians.
At the end of three weeks I was sad to leave D.C. but happy to be returning to my life in Los Angeles with Harold. I had been gone for six months and despite the trials and tribulations of living apart, Harold and I had weathered it all and in fact became closer because of it. Once home, I moved in with Harold. I figured there was no point in running from my destiny.
That year the Gayvn Awards nominated me for my lead role in
Men in Blue
as well as for Best Screenplay. Although I didn’t win—the award went to Vince Rockland for his role in
Three Brothers
in which he had costarred with his two real life brothers Shane and Hal Rockland—I didn’t mind. Considering the thousands of performances given each year, it was an honor, as they say, just to be nominated. The show was much more upscale now, with even a bad three course dinner served to the audience. All the studios now bought tables and everybody schmoozed and hugged and kissed and secretly longed for their names to be called so they could climb on the stage and collect an award for having the biggest hole, or slurping more cum or . . . hold on . . . “Bitter, table for one.”
The day after the awards, Gino called and told me he had a surprise for me . . . what? That I hadn’t been beaten out of two awards for a film that I had written and starred in for him? I loved Vince Rockland. He was attractive and had a huge cock, but I always thought his eyes were too wide apart, and for some reason they always gave his face the appearance of a mountain goat. There was something almost devilish about his face. However, he had a tremendous body and was super friendly. So how had a goat-faced, brother-fucking model beat me for best actor considering he couldn’t act? I knew this for a fact because he had appeared in the play
Making Porn
in Canada with my girlfriend Jennifer whom I had met starring in
Making Porn
in Boston. She said Vince wandered listlessly around the stage searching not only for his lines but his character. But why should Vince Rockland make a great stage actor? He was a porn star and, like most porn stars, Vince just couldn’t grasp the technicalities of being on stage in a play. I am always astonished when producers cast porn stars in mainstream projects and then complain they can’t act. If half of the actors in Hollywood can’t get under a proscenium arch and successfully play Montague, why the hell should a porn star be expected to? Porn stars, unless they have had training, belong as delightful trifles in salacious romps. Everybody likes to see their favorite porn star live and in the flesh but nobody wants to be sitting squirming in the audience while he searches for his next line. It’s cringe inducing.

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