One of the strangest chapters of my
life involves an encounter with a hugely famous music producer who worked with the Beatles, Ike and Tina Turner and many other pop groups. Phil Spector was widely known for creating the "wall of sound"
that characterized much of 60's pop music.
I was 14 years old,
walking around an art show in Monterey when when this guy came up to
me and introduced himself, saying he liked my look and wanted to
audition me to appear in a film! I was flattered with the offer and soon we met for an interview. And so began a
series of meetings with him that seemed as though I was headed into a
career as a film actor. I would later characterize the relationship
as little more than rather mild case of sexual abuse––an older man's inappropriate attraction to a young one––but at the
time, it was pretty exciting. I didn't know until years later that he
was actually a very famous guy. He rented a
series of fancy houses close to Carmel, where I spent
summers with my family. He'd come pick me up in a snazzy sports car and take me to
his house, which was full of gold records on the walls and we would
discuss vague details of the script of a film. I recall meeting him several times over
a couple years, most of which were fairly innocuous incidents where
he'd cook me a great meal or take me into town to buy me fancy
clothes. He even came to visit the family a couple times, so none of us suspected much.
The most memorable encounter was when
he drove me once to a house in the woods near Big Sur. We'd just
arrived and were about to make lunch when he saw someone outside and
told me to hide! I stood behind the couch while he crept about
trying to keep away from a woman who was climbing around outside
looking in the windows and calling to him. She finally saw Phil and
called out to him to open the door. Caught, he let her in and he introduced
me to a woman, Candice, whose last name I forgot. We sat in the living room and she took a
real interest in me, asking me for instance about the sermon my dad had preached
that morning in a local church. It wasn't til I got home later that
afternoon that I told my family the story and described her work that my Mom recognized who I
was referring to:
the great actress, Candice Bergen!
Phil even came to Montana once
to visit me, but he lost interest as I kept demanding more explanations, finding little evidence of a film; just a creepy old guy with a
peculiar interest in a youngster. It was about 25 years later that Phil, who'd
become strange and reclusive as he got older, say his friends, was pegged in a huge national
scandal which resulted in his conviction for the 2003 murder of actress Lana
Clarkson.
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