Are there screener copies out there? Oh, bay-bee.

I thought shirley temple was the only child star to turn raunch porn star.

Admit it Michael, you only found out about this story because you google yourself every day... ;-)

S.

Are you out of your mind? I google myself EVERY FIVE MINUTES! And I'm quite open about that. But I actually found out this film was being shown at the festival when I got an email from the publicist.

Oh yes, Jack and Margaret were the guests of honor when I married the late Joey Stefano. Like poor dead Joey, Jack just couldn't be straighter. I mean, he married Maggie Whiting, a woman so butch that she makes Kaye Ballard look like Celine Dion.

I STILL remember the ads in the NY POst, the only daily paper thaT would accept advertising for gay porn movies in theaters at the time. The ones for Pacific Coast Highway, Kip KNoll Superstar ad a few Jack Wranlger films tightened my pants every time. I could not quite reconcile Margaret and Jack's marriage in my suburban closeted mind in those days - even though I saw them on Midday with Bill Boggs, but I do adore her duet of "Baby It's Cold Outside" with Johnny Mercer! Those ads made me want to be here in NYC and get fucked, just like the ads with Greg the bartender from The Eagle for The Chelsea Gym that appeared in The Village Voice. What a studman.
By the way Tallulah, I actually passed Joey on the night he passed away, on my way back to J's with beers from the deli on 13th & 8th, and he was standing in the doorway to the courtyard of the building he was apparently living in at the time. He was - for real- soliciting guys and I turned him down, only because of my waiting partner, otherwise I would have gladly taken a ride on that sex god. I partly blame my cavalier, off-handed rejection as an indirect cause of his untimely demise.

Tim, dahling. I blame your cavalier, off-hand rejection of me as the direct cause of MY untimely demise. You were quite a number in those days and, well, I didn't throw myself at every gay boy in tight pants (although it appeared that I did). As for Joey still hustling on the night of his death: He was a tragic creature. All he wanted was someone to love and support him, not necessarily in that order.
Speaking of tight pants? Whatever happened to Greg the Eagle Bartender?

Tallulah Hallelujah,

Greg is a supermodel and is still one sexy ass mofo. Go to the Eagle Bar website and see his sexy ass pic on the staff section. What a toally fantastic body, face and superior ass! Plus he is a sweetie. I have wanted that man's cock up in me for decades. His website url is http://gregorynyc.com.
As for you, you forget how may times the opium made you swat ME away! You had many distinct moments when Lucille Ball directed you and Eve Arden to go for only girls, remember, and I was left gagging on Billy Haines root while Caesar Romero spewed all over my open gaping ass while Van Johnson cried about Spencer Tracy in the corner with spooge all over his chest. Katherine hepburn loved every second and John Ford took those incriminating pictures which were buried with Roddy McDowall, if you do not recall!

I think I need a Valium.

'To this day when I hear Margaret sing "Far Away Places with Strange Sounding Names," because of Jack, the same names always seem to come to mind (Hell Fire, Mind Shaft, Adonis, & Anvil).

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I seem to remember a quote from one of your '80s colomns when you wrote that Margaret Whiting cut you an look equally abrasive as the ear of corn her husband Jack took up the ass in "A Night at the Adonis." Ah, Thanks for such sweet memories! xoxox

Calling bullshite on Tim on the Joey Stefano story. He o.d.'ed in L.A. in a hotel room and he was expected at a porno shoot and when he didn't show, they discovered him. There was also evidence that the dealer was there when he died but didn't call for help!

Maybe I got the dates wrong, but he was around and was in the village, that WAS him.

Yes, I'm sure it was him, I'm just saying for you to claim it was the night before he died is bogus, since he died in L.A.

That's ok, I still love you.

My goodness. The Whiting-Wranglers used to be fixtures on the cabaret/charity circuit. I remember standing behind them in line to get into Radio City one night to hear, if memory serves, Ella Fitzgerald. He looked the Duke of Windsor in a blue yachting sort of blazer; she looked - well, she looked the Duke of Windsor in football pads and drag. Great set of pipes, though - on both of them!

I caught this story on the web and thought, "Wow!" gay porn stars are now celebrities.

That is a really smart idea.

that last comment was awful...come on man!

Jack Wrangler: An Emasculated Icon :(

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