The Watery Flame of L.A. Dayz

The Watery Flame of  L.A. Dayz

The L. A. music scene  in the mid-1970’s was in a flow to several genres of music, all from the same source and as it's artistic license and part of the process was interpreted some albeit considered themselves more so rebels than the others, some commercially blatant other not so much.

Attire was a de facto sign of your leanings, still shards of the 1960’s rebellious spirit lived loudly, but more in terms with some in anarchy as protest, realizing the establishment, the machine was never in the people’s interest. So the rivers of music in the rock genre went to disco, rock, heavy metal and punk and rockabilly. The blues and R&B and some country was always part of the influence as being the soul of rock music.

Although I do like all music and did go to a few disco bars and many varied punk clubs I will stay with the rock end of the scene. These will be different escapades of those days, seemingly disjointed by that was part of the tapestry of those days.

One evening I was with a couple and my femme fatale at the time and the couple I had known for years. We were at The Rainbow on Sunset having some appetizers and Glenn truly enjoyed his alcohol, no judgement here as I know I do not walk on water. Someone came by our table and said there was a party for some band up in Mount Olympus, (Laurel Canyon-a more upscale - with the moniker "hip"-progressive-artist area) and had an invitation with directions and gave us one after some banter about bands , music and the local scene. Usually, my drink of choice, apparently a candy substitute was usually anisette (I enjoyed licorice) and I had partaken several, with a low alcohol content, it was more relaxing than a personality changer which harder alcohol always managed to accomplish in the end. There was a feeling I get when I feel its gonna be one of those evenings that you couldn’t make up a plot to go along with the evening. Appetizers lasted for quite awhile, usually stuffed mushrooms with an Italian feel. Conversations went on and the oblong shape of the booths allowed a jaunt around 

 all the tables and more often than not you’d see someone you knew or an acquaintance make small talk and many times meet new people. On the idea of making the rounds….

Not or ever quite sure what brought this about, needless to say, this impromptu craziness was part of a twisted charm of the day or /or evening……Well Glenn had apparently made  either a bet or some macabre pact which entail these two vagabond’s going from Table to table and with the feigned voice of an English waiter or butler proudly exclaiming your appetizer is here, and placing down a plate proceeded to plop their member upon it…uncouth no doubt…but harmless even if an affront to your sensibilities. While chatting we noticed the two twisted individual’s  coming up the aisle of booths and stopping at every table not quite sure what was ensuing…..they reached our table and proceeded with their prank…my femme fatale was a bit embarrassed and glens wife shook her head and said glenn please…so the inebriated twosome  stopped the antics only to head around to the other side of booths.

I excused myself to use the restroom and made my way through the people talking to people at booths  or trying to transverse the crowd as I was….as always ran into a few friends, some you just acknowledged and others you would exchange a few words…always a few flirtations…but that was in any scene, always a few you’d rather not see, those were still the days of forgotten one –nite stands and some with dull regrets…some jovial, some with a simmering animosity. On the other side of the coin, guys whom you- nor they could care less about with a bubbling despise popping thru the surface with little sparks. Others who were maybe only acquaintances, but a good friendship even with not much quality time, maybe seen at the same parties –clubs and homes.

 Well, the night carried on  and sans too many more hijinks that were that noticeable, granted you can’t be everywhere, nonetheless there are always miss or mister 411 who seems to be self-elected to be the gossip-news source for those concerned or not. The last order of stuffed mushrooms, we did eat a bit more substantial at one point-while superb when hot or warms does have a tendency to take on a metamorphosis into something akin to spackle covered in some oozing glue once it has gotten colder which was a subtle omen that whatever festivities lie ahead would take place elsewhere.

Being in agreement that we should at the least, check the party out in Mount Olympias and it being about 2 a.m. we headed out the doorway, which seemed to spark the same idea in many others and it became a slow move out to the door, but that was also part of the ambience of it all as you said hello to those you missed-people came in and out and many times late just to catch some people or grab a late bite to eat. You could always catch up a bit on many you knew in quick passing or either be completely ignored or get a flirtatious glance or blatant stare.

Finally made it out to the parking lot, which had its own rituals, where was the party, meet at which coffee shop,  the meat market for boys and girls generally, always with exceptions. Many wanted to parade their vehicles from the valet others like us just wished to get to the car, I will admit, the Jensen-Interceptor always caught my eye in that or any parking area-Ferraris-Cobras-Porches-Lamborghinis-TR6-Vettes-Rolls-Bentleys and such are nice but the Interceptor was the mobile, to me.

After a few quick chats we had a voyage to a party next on the evening menu...it appeared Glenn had gotten something on his pants from his hijinx and his stained pants we now with that segue- the center of sarcasm from the three of us....hence, we had to go to let him get a clean pair of pants...they lived down the hill from sunset...considered West Hollywood...but not the popular artsy and gay community which was a bit further west, where the "Blue Whale" building located and loving called the "Swish Alps"-but that was the popular publicized area, that missed Silverlake, Hyperion, Hollywood at the least. 

 Of course there was only one pair of pants clean,  and Glenn magically found a bottle of Smirnoff 100 proof vodka and started drinking from the bottle-to be in the right frame for the party....i too a shot and knew that ended that, just never had a taste for hard booze, Glenn saw no end and we took the bottle with us and he keep trying to get his blood level 100 proof. 

Drove up Sunset to Laurel Canyon Blvd, made the left turn and then the co-pilot and I chimed in on directions...and I trying to trying to confuse him, but if you have ever been in Laurel Canyon and not a native of the area, you needed no help getting lost. We headed up according to directions and could not find the street, not too strange as some streets were only a block long back then.  You sometimes feel as if you are in a maze, many times ending up back where you were a few minutes before and getting to a target confusion rate....targeted or not. 

Onward up the hills which had areas of trees and brush before you'd see homes and if the homes were on hillsides, they tended to not be there, especially if their parking was a path that went down to their home, so you only have the home numbers on stenciled on the curb and usually not too well lit or barely at all. Hoping that wasn't the case now, we keep peering albeit squinting for any address numbers or street signs. About half an hour elapsed and what little sanity we clung to was ebbing away and Glenn was demolishing the 100 proof vodka. Then magically the street appeared and the party house was  several doors up at the top and was that lavish lot with an actual front yard with avant -garde  architecture and there were some cars parked on the street in from usually signaling the party spot.

Glenn was several sheets to the wind but he could hold his liquor, as an aside to show a case in point, Glenn was an accomplished roadie for bands and had at this time toured with Detective where Kiss was the opening act. This was for sound checks for the next evening. Well it seems that Kiss wanted to be the loudest band and as Glenn was plugging in the amps to a wall of Marshalls, one of the Kiss roadies, many were English told Glenn he couldn't plug in all the amps, so he went over and unplugged several, needless to say Glenn calmly tossed the Kiss roadie off the stage and plugged the amps back in. More Kiss roadies showed up and Glenn threw a few more off the stage, outnumbered Glenn said if they could drink him under the table, he'd limit the use of amps, and these were mainly Englishmen who, not to profile but as roadies and some of their homeland activities were capable of handling the challenge that Glenn presented. So they found a bar and the challenge began, no surprise that Glenn drank them all under the table and that's how the story was told to me, at least what I remember of it.

So off to the house and the door was open and a few of the band members who were renting it were by the door...a few we both knew from music circles or same friends shook hands and they said there was food, booze and goodies located around the house. It was one of the homes that had a lot of white, which we ribbed Glenn saying he had coordinated quite well for the home white rugs and chairs with white marble floors in between. A nice view- partially of Laurel Canyon and then of Sunset Strip and West Hollywood. It was a different crowd to a degree some we knew- many we didn't and Glenn had levitated to one of the wet bars and we three had found a few appetizers worth eating. There was some music on but at least not at a mind-numbing volume so we could converse without have to yell into each other's ears. So we were looking out at the view and people-watching. Once in awhile someone we knew would come over and say hi and give us their take on the party and the band and of course-the people here too. 

Well, seems that Glenn (he could have been sarcastic) decided to talk with some people and  from what we could hear, they made the mistake of being arrogant with him and that is always preceded by Glenn when he says " Well Mister" so a few more barbs went back and forth. Glenn, and remember he had nearly killed a bottle of 100 proof vodka and then was partaking of the drinks around the house and so he turns around and pokes his ass in their direction and lets loose a (fart) that was a cross between a foghorn, trombone and blubbering lips..... so the glenn turns around and there is a poop/fart stain on his pants, which was exaggerated by his white pants, my femme fatale with me , was in a bit of shock, but the broke into laughter along with us, noticing we were more matter-o-factly about Glenn's hijinx...I called him over and once he understood what we were talking about, he took off the sweater he was wearing and left and came back with it around his waist, I shuttered to think what he had done with the dirty underwear but was rest assured it was on display somewhere in the house.

This was fun to listen to the two ladies talk about what the other's were wearing interspersed with my kind jibes about someone who was there they didn't know I knew and told what little of their story i knew. The femme fatale I was with was considering moving to New York as she had had a few offers to join a few modeling agencies there and that was the mecca, and too in the days of Warhol, GBGB and at that juncture in time, a mecca for artists, designers and the modeling capital for fashion. I thought it a good idea, said we'd all miss her but if that was her calling, a move there would make sense.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught Glenn running to the front door....and they with his usual gusto was throwing up in the street in front of the house as i followed him out the door and a small audience was watching behind us....it seemed he had eaten something that had fish in it and it turned his stomach, oddly the alcohol on a level to cause alcohol poisoning to many didn't bother him.. Seems he tried to get into several bathrooms but to no avail. To his credit, he didn't kick the door down, probably restrained by the vortex of fish and whatever else was swirling in his stomach.
And so a grand entrance had been made and a grand exit had too been accomplished, culminating with someone in the middle of the street throwing up on Mount Olympus gave the party a highlight, possibly surpassed by someone staining his pants in a physical salute to some arrogant shits.
Glenn made it back into the house and magically a bathroom was unoccupied and he cleaned himself up a bit. It was time to go, we assumed Glenn would pass out in the back of the car and we'd go to Canter's...n Fairfax ...

...best deli ever...for some coffee and a bite to eat and get something to go for Glenn whenever he did wake up, which if he passed out would be much later. We got out of the car and as we got to the doorway, there was a gentleman lighting up a cigar and it took a second before we realized it was Buddy Hackett and as we entered you had two different superb food smells....one one side there was a bakery still baking with their goodies in a long glass case and on the other sides was all the making of sandwiches and the salads and goodies that go with them, this was the to-go area we'd hit on the way out and we headed in and found a table as Glenn no doubt dreamed of Sugar plum fairies...