The Alex Jorgensen Celebrity Cult When I was 8 years old I met Jimmy Walker in Las Vegas in a horse betting lounge with my Uncle Dick who had a Betty Grable tattoo on his left forearm and who scooped dead bodies from the Pacific ocean at Guadalcanal and Iwo Jima. My Uncle bought him a whiskey and we sat in black vinyl easy chairs and watched the horses run.
When I was 10 or so, the once Poet Laureate of Texas, James Hoggard wrote a book about my Dad's Nephew who was a rich grain elevator owner who faked his own death and escaped for 15 years to Montana where he ran a bar, until he got caught one day for speeding and somehow recognized. He became a hairdresser in the pen. I saw him a few years ago at Christmas and he weighed well over 300 pounds and was in a wheel chair but was somehow wearing a Santa Claus suit. The book is called _Elevator Man_. When I was 19 I sat talking to Cab Calloway in a white silk Tuxedo about the Cotton Club while he signed autographs in the Penthouse bar of a Dallas Hotel which isn't there any more. He was wearing a 20 dollar gold piece on a chain. His daughter sang that night. I was with an artist who was also in the mafia who was also a coke chef, and we did well over a G that night drinking single malt Scotch and feeling smirky, jazzy, rich and American. When I was in my mid 20's I taught English at the famous American School in Tangier. I had coffee or mint the' every morning at the famous Cafe' du Paris on Rue Mohammed V where I met Hamri, the Painter of Morocco. I visited his studio, travelling there free in the taxicab as Hamri had a card which allowed him to ride taxis free of charge paid for by the King as he was a national treasure. We picked up a an old Jewish man who was walking slowly along. Hamri said, "This is the oldest Jew in Tangier.." We gave him a ride for free as well. When we got to his studio we looked at all his photo albums. Pictures of many heads of Middle Eastern States at his art shows. I don't who, maybe the Palestinian guy. I can't remember. Some Kings and Princes. Then a picture of Burroughs in a djellaba which I'd never seen. He told me about the Americans who had taken his stories and published them and never paid him a cent. He took me to the Cafe' du Detroit which had once been Brion Gysin's restaurant 1001 Nights. He invited me to Jajouka several times. I heartily regret not being able to go. Especially as it requires a good deal of donkey travel. We lived in a high rise apartment overlooking the beach with stone mosaic floors. We kept a kilo of hash rolled up in black plastic on a space heater to keep it soft and every night it was my job to roll the joints of hash and tobacco for the next day's pleasure. We also had coke delivered every weekend by a dealer called Mohammed who claimed he had served Mick Jagger for many years in the same capacity. When I was in my late 20's I had Gus Van Sant over to my apartment and we drank gin and tonics. I wore a hand made djellaba my wife had made. He had come across one of my hand-made books the district sales manager of Doc Martin shoes had bought for her boyfriend who owned several bars in Portland. Later he used one of my short-stories for the screen-play of a character in his only novel Pink. I cooked pasta in his western hills mansion, met the director of Titanic and played with the computer that Good Will Hunting was edited on. I also rode in his Red Porsche 911. I once suggested making a film about Alfred Jarry using Johnny Depp. He didn't know who Alfred Jarry was. He borrowed my copy of Sir Frazer's Golden Bough and never gave it back. He offered to, but I gave it to him. I also gave him a Sri Lankan mask. The Alex Jorgensen Celebrity Cult
