My stint as Maitre d’ of the new sunset strip continental hotel, built during  a few  bumpy periods of sobriety, of the clown cowboy, Gene Autry, was short, lived but food filled. I remember the european waiters, asking me if i new anything at all about being a host,i responded, i know enough to know your all stealing everything thats not nailed down,that brought a hushed but respectful silent period, followed by a approving nod, that let me be one of the boys, for a while .

I loved looking out the roofgarden window, zonked, into a prism, and could see the duplex, south of Santa Monica blvd,that housed me , and the den mother Marika, with her unusual, retired nuclear sub commanderoyfriend , who always thought I was greasing  her . He had been  liberated from his cerebellum , by falling into a sponges filled with l.s.d. between her more than ample  thigh cheek  tasty  pillows .

 Marika had her court,  which she conducted daily, with much aplomb I might add  .Her  main courtesans at the time included the Momma’s and the Poppa’s ,who had just then made their first bundle, an like the mench  john was, were spreading the bounty around, in the form of unbeleivable opulent parties catered by orchestras.It was there i saw Scott McKenzie write the first draft of "San Francisco" and him and john play it.

The Sunset Strip had become my home, my way of life, a barometer of what was  cool .Doug Weston, the original beatnik, had just opened The Troubadour, on La Cienaga blvd, where the coronet theatre now resides. The troubadour was the first of the l.a.beat scene jazz clubs and birthed around 9pm and went into the night pounding out cool jazz riffs, punctuated by waves of images surfing the last toaks of the super pot of the past.Upstairs were the trusty bathrooms that served as the shooting galleries of the night.A spoon of fresh smack, with a chunk of hash on a pin head, now that was eating.Watching smoke rings turn blue and wobble seamed at the time to mean something,As i think back it actually created a context ,A pot,psychedelic context that seems better than the assigned reality plan,it might just be.

 I  left my family in Reno, and at 17 here I was a beatnik ,cool on smack,a trophy girlfriend who was a beautiful doll  like dream girl eager to please Making a bundle  as a tin man and  living in the old Hollywood landmark hotel, the Breevoort,learning, about  the maids, who stole cufflinks or anything. Just to piss them off, I got a picture of the virgin mary and with a crayon wrote across the bottom THANKS FOR THE GOOD TIME. The overly  exuberant, smiling, friendly, outgoing, sincere , neighbor of mine, in his horrible green plaid sport coat ,was such a marked contrast to the b movie life I was living, that I lent him 5 bucks ,he went on to be Regis Philbin,and still no 5 bucks in the mail. Saw him at the opening of the "cocoanut Grove" dance club in bev hills ,what a snob he's become ,i was with a aging beauty Queen ex movie star, who confided to me that she had received the holy roll from smiley on a yaucht in New York moons ago.His neck was siffer than a cork in a old bottle of merlot making sure not to make eye contact with me or her,especially.Sad no 5 bucks there for me. 

 Sunset Blvd was in my blood literally from syringes to my mantra.

At the, untender or maybe untendered,age of 16, i spent  my last year in the academically #1 High school in the usa, fairfax high. My mother had the first of the remainder stores on santa monica blvd and crescent heights blvd, the triangle where it was, is still ,thereas a park for gay guys to meet one another, like a smorgassborg slurpie gaggle.

Another cigarette moocher, frequently visited moms  store to cop a bargain going by the name of howard hughes ,nice guy very down to earth but cheepo deluxe .Howard the smoke yeg usually came with his buddy, Rock Hudson, big sissy, liked  to wear womens dresses. At first i couldnt figure why this giant masculine guy would wear a dress, till my mother informed me about gays then i still didnt get it maybe he's a comedian?

Who cared i was busy living it up  to the max,  at the "Garden of Allah",ultimate Sunset Strip night club, with cottages around a central pool ,2 decks, 2 bands  and spending my nights with Havis, my moms friend,who was a knockout call girl, who liked me,and let me get stoned with famous celebs who came to visit her.

What a dummy i was,  i found out my 15 year old friend larry was having sex with her ,wow he certainly worked fast , leaving me to create new standards for time management.