At some point I came crawling back to Hollywood. I was at low ebb and had no place to stay. The wonderful Kathy Hammel who had launched the "Fantasy Artist's Network" with their own zine "Fantasy" put me up for a few days. There were some fine contributing artists at the time: C.L. Healy, Victoria Poyser, Arlin Dale Teeselink, and others. I contributed a few cartoons and tried to redesign the zine to give it a slicker, more contemporary look, but was immediately slapped with hate mail from the retentive sorts who preferred living the past.
I took umbrage with what I perceived as fandom playing to the lowest common denominator. In the end, Kathy won the Balrog Award>, although the magazine was losing steam and would soon fade away.
I used that point to start my own zine, something I thought fans could really get behind. A slick effort, completely offset printed with wraparound covers, typeset with lots of graphics. My conceit being fan artists would want the best, brightest paper to show off their art, writers would want their words typeset and 100% black. And thus came "Airwaves". Arlin Teeselink gave me a portfolio, my pal Robert Bloch donated a story (The Black Lotus), there was an artsy photo gallery and lots more.
I was thrilled with the outcome and my first stop was LASFS to hand out copies. Walking proudly into the clubhouse I handed a copy to the first fan I ran into. He gave it a quick thumb through and exclaimed "This isn't my idea of a fanzine" and threw it on the floor. My heart sank. I put a pile of the zines on the front table, but by evening's end not a copy was taken. I left thunderstruck, and I can't say that one incident hadn't soured me against LASFS.
I was cranking out tons of fillos, for File 770, Fosfax, Bangweulu, Dillinger Relic, Holier Than Thou, No Award, convention programs and others, but I was never as prolific as Rostler and at times, it was tough getting the energy to crank out anything. I never turned anyone down, but was continually miffed with donations never hitting the zine page or the zine collapsed and art would be gone forever. Joan Hanke-Woods gave me the obvious solution that was working for her: "Send copies!" that worked fine till I received a heated letter from Andy Porter excoriating me for destroying the spirit of fandom by sending copies. You can't win.
After 4 issues it was clear the audience I had made the magazine for, wasn't the least bit interested.
Equicon'81
There was a fantasy art gallery on Wilshire Blvd. in what appeared a spacious, big ticket corner location. It contained much of the same things one might find at any convention art show at the time but I thought it funny a specialized art form should have such a lavish location, not imagining anyone frequenting Wilshire Blvd., giving a hoot for a portrait of Mr. Spock. And, I'll wager, selling the entire inventory wouldn't have paid the month's rent. As it happened, the gallery soon evaporated.
But then, I am invited to Alicia Austin's new Pendragon Gallery on Third St. I loved Alicia's art and had several pieces on my walls, but was surprised to see another attempt at a fantasy art gallery, also in what I thought a lavish location. Invitation HERE. Alicia beaming at gallery opening>
Seemed everyone was coming together for Equicon 1981.
Planning meetings were held in the back room of Alicia's gallery with Bjo driving the big arty boat. I foolishly made the comment, that despite all the conventions, "You and Elayne Pelz put on the best art shows" to which Bjo replied curtly "Well! But Elayne is such a martinet!" I had to look that up when I got home.
<Program Book The convention is a complete blur of which I have absolutely no recollection. I think I had some grotesquely tedious job in the art show as after it was over, we minions received a participation certificate HERE.
In 1984, the gallery brought Alicia a Balrog Award for spreading the good word about fantasy art. Unfortunately, nobody actually heard that good word and the shop closed.
I think the huge success fan artists were having at conventions gave them the idea they could cross over into the real world, but not so.
Relative Comfort
I was still without proper digs when David Del Valle gave me a spot on his couch for the next few months and what could be more ideal than that? David was the ultimate monster kid and his pad was a functioning time machine corralling self-indulgence and keeping reality at bay. And thus was spawned some of the best parties ever.
I was with David at Forry's the day Susie the maid came in exclaiming "El Presidente, Bang Bang!" Turning on the TV to see indeed President Reagan had been shot! With that in mind, Forry took us to the House of Pies for a couple slices.
Working Stiff
I get a job. First a brief one at Terry Hines Agency working on ad campaigns. I did every ad for Private Benjamin you'll ever see, but this was my first job in a totally corporate setting and I just couldn't get the hang of it. And then came Landmark Theatre Corp. who owned a number of the local repertory theaters: Nuart, Vista, Fox Lincoln, plus 40 theaters around the country. Owned by Kim Jorgenson who had just given the place a name-change from Parallax, my job was designing advertising material and after impressing the art director with my deft use of border tape, was hired on the spot. The next few years would turn out stunning in many ways. Pia just loved me>. Click pic for close-up.
Kim Jorgenson was an interesting if not distant employer. On occasion he would zip into the art department with a load of that damnable white powder, toot everyone up and leave just as quickly. But he had bigger fish to fry than just keeping the staff happy and productive. He later quit the business to become a producer and had gotten his feet wet with Kentucky Fried Movie in 1977 but was heading for the big time with Out of Africa in 1985. He then immediately fell into obscurity and that was that.
The eighties were problematic. Yes, it was my most creative decade for work, but all that fed from incredible self-indulgence; sex, booze, drugs and constant work.
Designing posters and advertising materials was the coolest thing, and occasionally we got a chance for something different: a short animated cartoon advertisement. Jim Williams and I did this one in a day. No, it's not very good but got the word across .
We finished the animation cells and backgrounds, recorded appropriate sounds and took the whole mess to a small animation studio for filming. There was a fellow in the corner painting cells. Seemed to be from Disney's Snow White and said he was making antiques. "Antiques" I asked? "Well", he said, "They will be tomorrow". He had printed authentic appearing certificates of authenticity and on the walls hung other disney antiques, just as bogus as they ones he was creating.
<A birthday cake I made for one of the staff. Had more wacky fun at Landmark than anywhere else, but the work was constant, unrelenting and sometimes seven days a week 6am till 10pm. As the company became more successful, buying more theaters, the work load increased and to compensate, I began gobbling speed which was a bad idea on several levels. One being the bosses figured since I was so fast getting my work done, I could use a little more work. . . It became a vicious cycle which couldn' last forever and finally, I passed out, deader'n a mackerel. I found myself drying out for a week on the second floor of the Northridge Hospital sharing a room with a guy obsessing over Louise Tucker's song Midnight Blue and played it over and over and over again. 20 years later, every time I hear it I scream for my meds.
