When a film festival announced their intention to screen a documentary of Andy Warhol star, Jackie Curtis, I jumped at the chance to snatch up a ticket.
After all, my paths crossed with Jackie Curtis many years ago.
I was curious to see how the filmmakers would depict the underground star who appeared in classic low-budget projects such as "Flesh" and "Women in Revolt".
I was in an off-off Broadway play - "The Magic Hype" - which was a spoof on the Andy Warhol stars, when I first came into contact with Ms. Curtis.
The troupe I was involved with were known as the "Hot Peaches".
In "Magic" - the writers took jabs at Andy, his cast of off-the-street down 'n out on-the-edge characters, and the Factory - from whence they came.
Jimmy Camicia was the writer/director/producer cum chief cook and bottle-washer of the "Hot Peaches" troupe, as he likes to demurely put it.
During the successful run of the show (the reviews weren't half-bad in spite of the kitsch and campiness of the production) I struck up a friendship with Jackie who was this-close with a number of the actors in the review.
Jackie was well-known for having appeared in a handful of Warhol films with legendary counter-culture figures such as Candy Darling & Holly Woodlawn.
The raunchy, in-your-face films, were usually directed by clever Paul Morrissey.
When the camera (frequently manned by Warhol) rolled, there was generally a free-for-fall, with the actors - I use the term loosely - and as much improvised content as was theatrically possible in a single take.
On one occasion, I recall chatting with Jackie in her bed-sitting suite above a convenience store in a two-story walk-up in the East Village.
At Jackie's insistence - I recited a handful of my early poems while the lady-of-the-house prepared tea - of all things!
Jackie was a keen writer, as well.
The rambunctious underground star began writing plays in the late 1960's in which he/she usually appeared as the female lead.
"Amerika Cleopatra" ran during the summer of 1968 and co-starred Alexis Del Lago and Harvey Fierstein (Cleo's Jewish Mother).
Remarkable as it may seem, Robert de Niro made his first entrance on the stage opposite Candy Darling during the first run of the production of "Glamour, Glory, and Gold".
Jackie was penning that play in the days we first rubbed shoulders; occasionally, when we bumped into each other at Max's Kansas City, or elsewhere, she offered up snatches of the dialogue for me to critique.
Then, the mercurial Curtis got stuck on the idea of a musical. So, she whipped up a sweet little offering, "Lucky Wonderful". The stage show, with music composed by Paul Serrato, was produced in 1968 at the Bastianos Theater.
Another project - "Heaven Grand in Amber Orbit" - was taken under John Vaccaro's wing at the Playhouse of the Ridiculous in 1969 and toured internationally for two years.
One of my favorite pieces - "Vain Victory" - was produced at La Mama in 1971. The cast included: Candy Darling, Holly Woodlawn, Paul Ambrose, Eric Emerson, Mario Montez, and Andy Warhol.
Then, Jackie got on a kick with James Dean.
Out-of-the-blue one day, Jackie tossed a slick glossy photograph in my lap. It was an 8 x 10 head shot of Ms. Curtis copy-catting the James Dean "look". Excitedly, Jackie exclaimed that she was jetting off to Hollywood to audition for a part about the rebel without a cause, swearing she'd become the next James Dean.
Well, I had to laugh.
Bless her heart! I mean - if you knew Jackie, well - she was more Queen than Dean!
However, because of that momentary loss of her senses, a bolt of lightning struck bringing unexpected fame.
Lou Reed picked up on the madness, then - immortalized Jackie - by writing about the scenario in the tantalizing lyrics for the popular hit, "Walk on the Wild side".
If you recall, in that memorable chart-climber, Lou Reed sang, "Jackie was just speedin' away, thought she was James Dean for a day."
Lou Reed and I actually sang a rock 'n roll version of the Wizard of Oz ballad - "Somewhere over the Rainbow" - one late night, but that's another story...
Not to get sidetracked.
One day, Jackie dashed up to me on the street, begging me to appear with her in a skit for a New Year's celebration at a small Theatre in the East Village.
Of course, I was game.
The idea was worked out to perfection.
I'd gently push Jackie back and forth on a large swing adorned with flowers of all persuasion, center stage. Then - the two of us would dance a simple two-step cheek-to-cheek and side-by-side - to the tune of "Tea for Two".
But it did not go off without a hitch!
About forty-five minutes before the house manager was to wave us onstage, Jackie whipped out a bottle of Jack Daniels.
I was aghast and cried out, "Jackie, not before we go on stage..."
But, Jackie was insistent; it would loosen us up.
Despite my violent protestations, she foisted the bottle on me. Believe me, Jackie was a difficult person to say no, to.
Well, by the time we both got on stage, we were both bombed!
All I recall from that wild, zany night was the swing, a torrent of silky petals cascading furiously to the stage floor, blinding stage lights, and a lot of hilarious laughter and applause.
Oh, and a very nasty hangover the next morning!
Never again!
Whether Jackie was aware of it or not, that little escapade instilled in me a valuable lesson adhered to this day.
I never partake of alcoholic spirits before a performance on stage!
Unfortunately, Jackie did not - nor did she ever - kow-tow to convention; this was a truism in her professional life, to be sure.
The social graces were to be chided - trampled upon - mocked!
But, polite society received her none-the-less.
I surmise her motto was, "Live it up, so you can write it down".
Yeah, she was wild, impulsive, and daring in every conceivable fashion. A darling who pushed the limits.
As the filmmaker of the documentary noted, she could connive, cajole, charm - whatever - until the sights she set were within reaching distance.
Bright, witty, desperate, wacky - .she was all that - and then some.
Ah, I fondly recall Jackie with a smile on my face.
Another Curtis?
Forget it. After the little Warhol scamp was made the mold was broken.
No comments:
Post a Comment