Until the book came out, no one knew the real story. When the book came, people in the neighborhood reacted by thanking me for my courage and my strength. The lady across the street— who I thought was really not even going to talk to me anymore— had two daughters and she said "the book really helped me with my two girls."

I really didn't think things like this happened. They got to know me first, and then they learned of the LL thing. Before Ordeal, most people thought pornography was two consenting adults and normal sex. And it opened people's eyes that it's not like that at all.

When I needed my liver transplant, they had a fundraiser. They all chipped in. And my friend Matty went to all the video stores in Mastic Beach and they removed Deep Throat and they never rented it again.

I work in user support for an investment company in Denver and I have a part-time job at night where I clean office buildings. I'm up at five o'clock every day. I have thought about auctioning off my dresses on the Internet. I live in a condo that's less than 1,000 square feet and I have a grandson and my son just got married and she has a child from a previous marriage. I'd like to have a place where they could all visit. I miss Long Island. I miss everybody there, and I miss the ocean.

The '80s: A Studio Grows In Queens

Phil Goldmarx In Queens in the '80s there was an outfit called Adventure Film Studio. It's just off the No. 7 train, near the end of the line in Corona.

Carter Stevens All of us made our money on loops— eight-millimeter stag films back in the '70s. We were doing eight loops a day. We shot one day a week, every week for years. We did thousands of loops and they would go right into the peep shows. What went into making a loop? Two people, a bed, a cameraman, an assistant and 10 minutes of film. There was no plot at all. There was a set-up and then people screwed.

At Adventure, there were apartments upstairs, so shooting there during the day was fine. But the place was really not soundproof. After about 3 o'clock in the afternoon all the kids came home from school. And you had quite a bit of noise over your head. Nine times out of ten the residents did not speak English.

Even back in the '80s, it was underground. You were always afraid of being busted. We were outlaws, and we were having a ball being outlaws. Nobody made much money. Half the time you had no idea what part you were playing. If you were lucky they told you what suit to bring. You learned your lines sitting in the green room. We came in, they gave us our dialogue, if it wasn't completely improv. I got a lot of work because I could improv, not because I looked like Robert Redford.

You also found out who you were having sex with after you were there. At one point I started to feel like I was married to Marlene Willoughby. Every time I showed up on set, we wound up working together. I'm chunky. I'm built like a barrel, not as bad as Ron Jeremy, but even at my best I've never been svelte. She's tall, thin, model-style. No spare meat on her bones. To put us in a scene together was like watching Laurel and Hardy fuck. As a producer I could never understand it. But as an actor I shut my mouth and did my job.

In Crack of Dawn, I played a character who was a rip-off on Willard Scott— Dillard Twat. Scott Baker, who was also in it, has done some of his weirdest videos for me. I have a video of him dressed up as Mr. Clean and we had him screwing a refrigerator, a stove and a sink. We had him saying things like "Defrost, bitch." It was hard to keep the crew from ruining the takes with their laughter. He did a masturbation scene in a room full of blow-up dolls. In Crack of Dawn, Scott played a 100-year-old woman and I'm interviewing him on his birthday. It was hysterical.

Scott Baker Crack of Dawn was shot at Adventure in 1989. It was a big-budget extravaganza. In the big, big, big scene we had cowboys, cowgirls, a rock band. Nowadays, it's more like open-heart surgery, a close up of genitalia. The local cops and the fire department would come by and say hi to the girls. It wasn't illegal by any stretch of the imagination. It was naughty. I think the law was you could not have alcohol while porn was being shot. It was a little factory, a converted auto shop. Chuck Vincent was a very talented director and writer whose stuff still pops up on the Playboy Channel. He loved the comedic side of stuff and turned out some really, really remarkable stuff, softcore as well as hardcore. I had a great time, I have to admit. Working with Veronica Hart was always terrific.

« Previous Page
Next Page »