Hollywood: Rock Of Ages

by Chris Solberg

  Pappy: “Get out of the beam!”

  Vinnie: “What?” Cupkake: “Huh?”

  Pappy: “Get out of the beam I tell you! Get out of the beam!”

  Cupkake: “Say again?”

  Pappy: Get the hell out of the beam God Dammit!

  We did this every time we went in. Every time.

  The building had a decent size pool, which was the epicenter of many escapades and hijinks. On any given night, nudity was not only tolerated but it was usually the norm. Strippers were everywhere and I had a couple who would lavish attention on me anytime they saw me. Of course I knew that they were just trying to play me, but that was OK because I had plenty of chicks of my own. So why not let a half-naked stripper sit on you lap and purr in your ear? This usually irked my girls who had no chance of playing coy with me while I had these kittens on my lap, so they’d grab my ass and shove me into bed. Whatever works!I always thought that living in Hollywood would be something that was way beyond the suburbs of San Diego, and The El Cerrito did not let me down. Indeed, nobody ever really raised an eyebrow at the nightly shenanigans which would have warranted a police call in other buildings. The place had it’s own distinctive sound at night. The Mites would return home at dusk like a herd of beasts migrating from the Serengeti. The Mites spent every spare moment obsessively practicing scales on their electric guitars, so one by one, the noodling began. This would resonate down the open halls of the building, and increase gradually as night fell. Somewhere else, you’d hear a lead singer with not so perfect pitch yelling out vocal exercises, while his roommate had Bugs Bunny cartoons cranked at maximum volume. KNAC was on every radio while the constant hum of traffic filled the summer night punctuated by the occasional Harley roaring down Franklin. Every hour or so the police chopper would roar over at tree top level until you heard the rotorslap of it pitching over to do it’s orbit around some anonymous crime happening off in the distance.

  VISITORS - Vinnie Vegas

  Once we moved to LA, people were chomping at the bit to come stay with us and every weekend. We usually had a crew of people spending the night at our apartment. I had a couple of girls who I had been seeing in San Diego, and they would make appearances. It was a bit of a chore to keep them separated. Barbara was my girlfriend in San Diego, but once she caught wind of my plan to move up to LA, she called it off and we broke up. Of course, as anyone knows, that doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s truly over, but that was just a matter of time. I had hooked up with Leslie in San Diego right before our move, so she made it up on weekends as well. Seeing as how Barbara was being difficult about the whole affair, I usually preferred to be with Leslie.

  One night when Leslie was up visiting me, we were up late sitting on my bed talking. She had on a very short one-piece cocktail style dress that shimmered metallic blue. She had kicked off her heels and was sitting in front of me cross-legged in her bare feet with a glass of champagne in her hand. She had a really cute voice and just listening to her speak could put me in a trance. As she talked, I noticed that her toenails were painted matching blue, and I held her foot in my hand as I admired her handiwork. Her skin was smooth and velvety and I loved the way it felt, so I began to rub it softly. Her voice began to trail off, and her eyes seemed to lower a bit. I began to massage her foot slowly as I listened to her voice and it began to soothe me with an almost hypnotic effect. I listened as her speech slowed and her voice dropped to a throaty purr. I guess it was the champagne, but I was really swept away by the touch of her skin. As I continued, she reached out and put her hand on my knee, but I hardly noticed. I really began to get lost in the moment, and as I did, I began to rub her other foot. She seemed to like that, and pushed it forward to make it easier for me. At that point, I caught a glimpse of her panties and discovered that they were black and white zebra print. I guess I was staring because she stopped talking, cupped my chin in her hand and raised my face to her eyes. She squinted at me and gave me a wicked little smile. I came clean and admitted that I found her lingerie very intriguing, so the next morning she gave them to me as a souvenir. I hung them up on our chandelier so Cupkake could see them, and a tradition was born. And there would be more to come.

  There seemed to be a unwritten code in Hollywood that if you had visitors from out of town, it was your duty to send them back to where ever they came from with outlandish tales of the party scene in Hollywood. Those who managed to complete the pilgrimage needed fodder to take back with them and thus, the dream was kept alive. This seemed to be universal among the bands because even at other parties, you’d see guys giving visitors extra shots of liquor in order to get them to puke. This worked every time because nobody wanted to come out to Hollywood and be labeled a wuss! Later in Ultra Pop and Spiders & Snakes, Cupkake hosted various people coming in from cities he that toured in, but for the time being, we kept it to close friends. However, that code was still in effect! We would have friends up from San Diego all the time and our place soon became a legendary place to visit, much like Disneyland or the zoo.

  Hollywood used to be close enough to visit, but with little money for a hotel, most people would have to drive back. So here was the perfect opportunity to party in Hollywood, and stay the night with no worries. And of course, drunk girls spending the night always equaled a good time. Most of the girls who came up were friends of Cupkake’s from San Diego, and he usually treated them like sisters. He had set his sights on what LA had to offer right from the get-go. For people like me or anyone else who was around, having 3 or 4 girls spending the night was a good thing. Having fresh girls at our pad on the weekends was priceless in getting to be friends with the other bands in the apartment complex. You have to understand, at that time, there was no holding back.. First off, these girls were right out of high school and rearin’ for fun. All my life I had been told by sex-ed teachers how girls get hornier as they get older, not reaching their peak until they are 40. I know now that was a bunch of bull, and I still don’t know what the purpose of that lie was. These girls were young, frisky and away from mom, and we were in Hollywood! Whoo-Hoo!

  There was also the fact that Hollywood had an intoxicating effect on us back in those days, and people let loose and whooped it up. Imagine spring break in Cancun every weekend and you’ll get an idea of what it was like. Most of all, as weird as it sounds, it was an innocent time back then. This was just before the spectre of AIDS was raised, and drive-by shootings or school murders had not yet hit the headlines. It was the end of the innocence in many ways and I’m so glad I got to experience a time so care-free. When Barbara moved out on me in San Diego, it actually helped Cupkake and I solidify relationships with the girls who would soon become regulars at our new pad. Cupkake had to go to summer school at Clairemont High in San Diego, and had met up with a pack of rocker chicks who knew him from his band Street Angel. Most of them had a thing for Cupkake, but a few like Leslie had set their sights on me. These girls would prove to be the vanguard of chicks that we would have up on the weekends.

  Barbara was the epitome of Southern Californian metal girl with a smokin’ body, medium boobs and a blond mass of David Lee Roth hair. She had a tomboy face and liked to wear short skirts or spandex pants and had the sexual appetite of a tiger. Barb was also very territorial and didn’t like any girls she didn’t know. She had a way of shooting them dirty looks that would intimidate the heartiest of them. When we moved to LA, Barbara came up regularly at first, but you’d have to be an idiot not to know what was going on. So by the end of that summer, she kind of faded away to a new life.

  Now I’ve only had 6 or 7 serious relationships in my life where I actually considered them my “girlfriend”. And I don’t know why, but all of them got married immediately after we broke up. Weird, huh? If anyone can fill me in on that one I’d like to hear from you. Barb was no different, and soon ended up married so I never saw her again. So be it, as the word spread in San Diego about our party pad, more and more girls somehow worked their way into our club. Girls
back then liked to wear short skirts, garter stockings and lacy underwear, so every weekend was a personal lingerie show at the end of the night. Since we had a one-bedroom, the code was that whoever had a girl got to stay in the one bedroom. It was up to the other guy to be a goalkeeper of sorts in keeping lifeguards from ruining the fun. What are lifeguards you say? Funny you should ask!

  The lifeguards & The Wingmen - Vinnie Vegas

  I can’t count how many times I remember somebody getting some girl into the bedroom only to have her friend banging on the door trying to put a stop to the fun. This is called the lifeguard syndrome. I’ve tried to figure out why women would behave like that, but never came up with a clear answer. The scenario usually consisted of a hot girl who wanted to have fun, and the other who tried to make sure she didn’t have any. I’m willing to bet this still goes on today.

  (Picture a girl beating on the bedroom door)

  bam-bam-bam

  What’s going on in there?

  bam-bam-bam

  Tracy, what are you doing?

  bam-bam-bam

  Are you ready to go yet?

  bam-bam-bam

  Any of this sound familiar? The lifeguard is a formidable foe which can only be dealt with in like fashion. Enter the wingman.

  The concept of the wingman is all too familiar with guys today more than ever. I doubt that it started in Hollywood, but I might’ve been the one to first start using that term. I was an aviation geek when I was a kid, and turned into a girl chaser 10 years later, so the two worlds collided to become a hunt for chicks using military lingo. To act as a wingman meant you needed to “do the hustle” as Liz-Bone would say. Some may call it “taking one for the team”. Anyway you say it, it all came down to one thing. It seems like both guys and girls travel around in big packs these days, but back then, the girls usually hooked up in twos. To approach a pair of girls alone always ended up in disaster while a pack of guys trying to breach that fortress was just as fruitless as it was embarrassing. Like any hunter you needed to get one-on-one with your prey. In comes the wingman. It’s the wingman’s responsibility to distract and engage the lifeguard so she can’t interfere with your buddy. Any guy knows that you gotta break up those two if you intend to get either one of them in bed. Now if both girls are hot, being the wingman is not a bad position to be in. However, in many cases, the other girl was homely, or worse yet fat. This is where “doing the hustle” comes into play. If she was fat, you needed to flirt, pay attention and in the worst case scenario, even do her so the lead can have pleasant uninterrupted sex. Believe me, as a wingman you had to be a better flyer than your lead because these lifeguards will juke and jive trying to get around you to stop the action. And of course, by adhering to the honor system, your lead was now indebted to you, to serve a your wingman in the future if needed. And it was always needed.

  The summer at The El Cerrito Apartments consisted of live concerts during the day and naked pool parties at night. I remember jumping naked off the second story balcony 25 times for my birthday one night. Truthfully, with all that going on, there was really no reason to go anywhere else; but of course we did. After all, this was Hollywood baby, and there was a place that was lots more fun and held more great times and debauchery than our party palace. The Sunset Strip!

  The SUNSET Strip - Vinnie Vegas

  The strip...the center of it all. Like moths to a flame, throngs of people would descend upon the strip every Friday and Saturday night. It was absolutely the place to be and it was crammed with guys and girls decked out in their best rock regalia. The strip consisted of the three main clubs in LA, plus The Rainbow Bar & Grill all on the same block. With all that action going on in one block, you can imagine what it looked like on any given weekend. It looked like a Disneyland where there were no kids, and all the people looked like they were straight out of a rock video. The motif was very colorful back in those days, so from far away it must’ve looked like a confetti party. Every night 5 bands would be playing at either The Whisky, The Roxy or Gazzarris. That meant 15 bands played every night and it was stiff competition to see who had the best night. Usually one show stood out above the rest on any given night, and that was always at the Whisky.

  The Strip was dominated by three huge clubs basically on the same block. Gazzari’s looked like a huge rock version of the old Jack-In-The-Box restaurants when they actually used to look like a box. The building was a giant black cube that rose up three stories above Sunset with no windows. The outside was painted with ugly paintings of the guys from Poison as well as a giant KNAC logo. The inside looked a lot like a gaudy version of the French Quarter at Disneyland down the I-5. The stage was huge and very high, so it was definitely the place to play if you wanted to feel like a rock star. Most of the clubs in Hollywood had dank backstage dressing rooms that looked more like cheap closets than a green room, but Gazzari’s had a fairly posh area with nice sinks and fixtures. That dressing room was usually packed with girls because the owner was Bill Gazzari, a guy in his 90’s who dressed up like a 30’s Chicago gangster and surrounded himself with all sorts of under aged rockettes. 14 year old girls in mini skirts and tons of eyeliner teemed around him and his club, so it really was the place to be if you wanted to live the rock star life.

  Next door was The Roxy, which branded itself as the upscale club on the strip. If national acts played the strip, it was always at The Roxy. The Roxy had a roaring twenties Art-Deco feel with frosted glass, brass rails and potted plants. The stage was the biggest in Hollywood which let you do your best Guns N Roses “run across the stage” routine. The place had a VIP balcony which usually held Gene Simmons of KISS, but a lot of times he’d actually sit at a back table inside the club. This stoked his ego because he would be approached by both hot chicks and guys in bands wanting to slip him a demo tape. And when I say demo tape, I mean tape, because cassette tapes were the state of the art in 1988! The stage at The Roxy was stuck diagonally in the corner with two big floor speakers on either side. This of course meant you could climb up on them for the ultimate posing opportunity, then lean down to high five or in my case, actually kiss a girl. Yes The Roxy was where it was at, but you really had to have a connection to play there. The guys from Asphalt Ballet used to be on that list, so I was able to hang in there with them a lot.

  The Whisky reminded me of a down home swamp bar in the south, not that I’d ever been there! No frills, but lots of history and a cool ambiance and it was the favorite place for most of the rockers to hang out. The Whisky was the club that usually booked four like minded bands on the same night so that you’d stay the whole night to see them all. What a concept! Yes that was a sarcastic comment, but they were the only ones smart enough to do it! The Whisky featured an upstairs area that overlooked the stage in case you needed to get clear of the crowd. It had it’s own bar as well, so people made many a trek up those stairs for various reasons. It was also the best way to be seen in case you were looking to find somebody. The Whisky was simple, but had an energy to it from all the famous bands that had played there before. Not quite hallowed grounds, but unique just the same, in a Rock N Roll way.

  At The Whisky, the first band would go on at 8:00 pm and the last one at midnight. Both of these time slots were dogs and only desperate bands would agree to do them. Even if you sold all your tickets, nobody would get there by 8:00 and by midnight everybody had followed the headliner to the afterparty. Both bands would usually play to an empty house. But if there was a national act headlining, then the 8:00 slot was good because since the Whisky was open seating, all the headliner’s fans would get there early to grab a spot at the front of the stage. My future band, Hooligan Stew, played this slot opening for Asphalt Ballet and it turned out to be one of our better shows. You gotta remember, in California during the summer, it’s still light outside at 8:00!

  At that gig, I had a terrible feeling walking into that place at 7:30 expecting to see 3 or 4 people in there. To my surprise, the entire front of the stage was swa
rmed by about 70 people, most of them chicks. I had my first rockstar moment that night when a girl in the front row actually wrote her number on a piece of paper and handed it up to me during our last song. That was Karizma, an 18 year blond with a pretty face, healthy set of boobs, heavy metal hair and tons of eyeliner. She looked like a heavy-metal Elvira with blond hair. For some reason, that girl really liked me and became very prevalent around Vinnie Vegas after that. Of course, Karizma made me look all that much better, her being the perfect rocker chick to have on my arm. Karizma always had on the highest heels, the shortest skirts, perfect nails and liked to dress in purple velvet, black lace or red leather. She was my Queen to Vinnie Vegas, the king of Hollywood. (ok that was in my mind anyway... everybody knows that Axl Rose was the king of Hollywood!)