“His response was to fight it with the only weapons at hand—passive resistance and open displays of contempt.” ― Kurt Vonnegut, The Sirens of Titan
What does porns most famous cock, Laurel Canyon, the Israeli mob, LAPD’s string of drug addled snitches, and protitution abolitionists have in common? INTELLIGENCE: it isn’t always what you see on t.v.
“…..John got strange,” says Amerson. “He got wild eyed. He didn’t make a lot of sense when he talked.”
Soon the man who once claimed to be making almost $500,000 a year selling his sexual charms was working as a drug delivery boy for the gang of outlaws and junkies who lived on Wonderland Avenue. He stole luggage, broke into cars, visited old girlfriends and tricks and ripped them off, charged $30,000 worth of appliances to Sharon’s credit cards. For a while, he and his half brother David tried to make a go of a combination antique store and locksmith service. Jeana ran the store, the Just Looking Emporium. It didn’t last long.
“….Laurel Canyon had long been a prestige address, an earthy, woodsy setting just minutes from the glitter and rush of Tinseltown. Tom Mix and Harry Houdini once lived there among the quail and scrub pine and coyotes. Later, in the Sixties, the canyon attracted writers and artists, rock stars and gurus. Number 8763 Wonderland Avenue had some history of its own: Paul Revere and the Raiders once lived there.
By the Eighties, former California governor Jerry Brown was living on Wonderland Avenue, and Steven Spielberg was building on a lot not far away. The house at 8763 had passed from a raucous group of women—neighbors recall naked women being tossed from the first-floor balcony—to the members of the Wonderland Gang. Things at the house were always hopping, someone was always showing up with a scam. Miller, DeVerell and Launius needed drugs every day. They were always looking for an opportunity. Jewelry stores, convenience stores, private homes—they would try anything, as long as it meant money or drugs.?…”
Devolution at a crime scene, and the interpretive frame: control of the narrative begins with what is NOT being said.
“….says Jeana, John was strung out and paranoid. “That was the first night he punched the shit out of me,” she says, and thereafter, the beatings were regular. “One time he beat me so I’d sleep with these two black guys from his answering service. I think he couldn’t pay the bill. Then he beat me ’cause I slept with them.”
By early 1980, Holmes and Jeana had moved out of the complex for good. They stayed in motels sometimes, but mostly they lived in Sharon’s Chevy Malibu. Or at least Jeana did. “I was famous for waiting in the car,” she says. “We’d drive somewhere to do a drug deal. He’d get out. I’d wait. Sometimes it would be two days. I’d have a six-pack of Pepsi and a coffee can to pee in. And my dog, Thor. He was a little Chihuahua. John and Sharon gave him to me.”
So it went, until they were busted in January of 1981. At that point, Holmes had Jeana, now twenty, turning tricks. She was living in an apartment in the Valley with a porn actress and high-priced hooker named Michelle. In the early hours of January 14th, Jeana and Michelle were visiting an apartment in Marina Del Ray. While John was waiting for them in the parking lot, he stole a computer out of a car. Thus far, Holmes had been pretty lucky. His connection as an informant for the L.A. police had kept him clear of being busted. But now Holmes was committing felonies almost every day. His luck had run out. The cops got them in the parking lot.
The next day, Eddie Nash bailed them out. Jeana didn’t want to go back to Michelle’s. John insisted. She refused. He punched her in the stomach, dragged her through the door. “Get some sleep,” he told her. “You gotta work tonight.”
John went to take a bath. Jeana heard the water shut off, heard John get into the tub. She wasn’t going back to this. Enough was enough.
“Honey!” called John from the bathtub. “Get me a cup of coffee, will you?”
She was halfway out the door when she heard his voice. She froze for a moment, then took a step back inside. She took a deep breath. Then she was gone.
Jeana ran, with Thor in her arms, to a Denny’s restaurant. A little old man lent her a quarter. She called her mother in Oregon, asked for a bus ticket. Mom said okay, but it couldn’t happen until tomorrow. Jeana sat down and cried. The man bought her a bowl of chili, then sneaked her into his nursing home. Jeana slept the night on the floor by his bed. The other residents thought it was the scandal of the age. In the morning, many of them brought her toast from the cafeteria.
Jeana said goodbye, then called the Glendale bus station. She told the ticket agent that John Holmes, the porn star, was looking for her and wanted to kill her. Please, she said, don’t tell him anything. The agent agreed to help. Then he asked how she was getting to the station. He and his son came and picked her up.
As Jeana expected, Holmes showed up at the bus station. The ticket agent played dumb. Holmes followed the wrong bus all the way to San Francisco….
….Follow the link above! Connect the dots.
Norma Jean Almodovar is a sex worker, and a former police officer in the Hollywood division. She wrote “From Cop to Callgirl”. Before that, she was one of the ‘irst responders’at the Wonderland murders.
And, NJ tells me that her phone and internet connection is constantly interupted, and that her ISP routinely sends ‘workmen’ out who never solve the problem.
From NJ’s police prostitution and politics:
My ‘work’ area wasn’t limited to Hollywood Blvd. Many times I was sent on calls to private homes in the middle of the night, and I never knew who was going to open the door or what I would encounter. There were times when those late night calls included dead bodies and stolen cars, houses on fire and people being shot, stabbed or bludgeoned to death. In fact, one night I was sent on a call to porn star John Holmes’ house on Wonderland Drive. It was July 1, 1981, the night that four of his guests were brutally murdered. It became known as the ‘Laurel Canyon Murders’ or the ‘Wonderland Drive Murders.’ Fortunately I arrived after it all happened and I wasn’t really in any danger, or so I told myself.
My ‘bosses’ had many other employees doing different types of jobs for them, and most of those employees were males. I knew they were involved in some shady and down right seriously criminal activities. Whether or not the bosses at the top knew what serious crimes these guys were committing, I don’t know. I found it difficult to believe that they did not. I knew that I felt very uncomfortable working with them, but what could I do? I needed this ‘job’!
Some of my ‘colleagues’ were running a burglary ring, a murder for hire ring, stealing drugs from drug dealers and selling them to people in the movie industry. The drug dealers who got ripped off knew better than to complain. These guys were ruthless and had serious connections. They could kill people and totally get away with it, make it look like an accident and no one would question it.