her unhappy four-year marriage to him. Mom claims he “showed no interest whatsoever in home or family life.” As she says, “It was impossible to have a normal life with him.” In the divorce, which is an ugly affair, the judge awards Mom the Pacific Palisades home where I grow up, plus $25,000 in $500 monthly payments and a percentage of his oil stock holdings.
During and after my mom’s divorce, my friendships mean everything to me. My friends are my refuge, my solace from the tumult in my life. Most are regular kids in the neighborhood, including my first girl crush: Laurie Hayden, the daughter of well-known actress Eva Marie Saint and producer-director Jeffrey Hayden (who later directs me in a couple of Falcon Crest episodes). The couple also have a son, Darrell.
Laurie and I become friends due to the blossoming friendship between Emmy and the Haydens’ black nanny, Bea. Emmy takes me to play with Laurie at the Hayden house while she and Bea gossip in the kitchen. Laurie, who is my age, seven, has the brightest red hair and the sweetest smile. I quickly develop a crush on her. We play in the pool out back, and I find her irresistible.
One day Bea brings Laurie with her to our place to play in the backyard tree house Dad helped me build. Laurie is a little scared as we climb up to the tree house. It is Laurie’s first time, and so I help her up and then climb up after her. We sit next to each other and we play with my Hot Wheels and G.I. Joes. Suddenly I look at her. I feel this strong impulse to do something.
“What?” Laurie says.
Impulsively, I ask, “Can I kiss you?”
“Maybe,” Laurie says coyly.
“When?”
“Not now.”
“Well,” I persist, “when?”
“I don’t know.”
Climbing down from the tree house, I wait for Laurie at the bottom, extend my hand to help her, and still hope to kiss her. I follow her around the backyard like a love-struck puppy. We meet at the swing set. She gets on a swing. I get on a swing. Now we are both swinging. Laurie stops after a while and gets off. She runs over and lies down on the grass under the huge maple tree. I run over and lie down next her. It is late in the afternoon. We have this epic view of the sky above. The sun is golden. Leaves sway on the branches as a cool ocean breeze ripples through them. Our heads are close together. Laurie suddenly looks over at me and says, “I guess it’s okay for you to kiss me now.”
I kiss Laurie on the lips. The kiss happens so fast and lasts only seconds. Immediately I feel tingly all over and think I am in love. I have no idea what love is, of course. I just know that kissing her feels right. The feeling is short-lived. We never kiss again but remain the best of friends after that.
In 1965, Dad and Esther finally move to a place of their own. They buy a tear-down at 11011 Anzio Road in Bel Air, damaged during the famous Bel Air fire of 1964. They purchase it for cash, and Bill Pereira, an architect friend of Dad’s, then redesigns and rebuilds it. The finished property includes an Olympic-size pool out back, since both Dad and Esther (naturally) love to swim. Yet anytime I visit the house I feel like a guest. I never for a moment feel like part of the family. Esther, Dad, and her children from her previous marriage are “family” and I am just their houseguest.
Afternoons after Dad picks me up from school, he and Esther usually swim. It is all new to me, as I never remember them swimming at Lola’s place. And I certainly don’t remember the way they swim: completely nude. The first time I experience it, Dad says to me, “Go into the house and don’t peek.”
“Oh, okay,” I respond.
As a seven-year-old kid, I know this is weird. On one level I understand, yet, on another, I know this is not something every kid should experience. Not until I grow up to become a parent do I realize how weird it really is.
I do as Dad tells me. I run back inside the house, grab a snack in the kitchen, and watch a little television while they swim naked in the pool. Curiosity finally gets the best of me. Like any kid, I do exactly the opposite of what I was told. I peek to see if they really are naked. After all, Dad said, “Don’t peek,” not “If you peek, you’re in trouble.”
I walk over to the living room window facing the pool, pull the curtain off to the side, and peer out. I cannot believe my eyes. Sure as shit, Dad and Esther are swimming in the buff. They are swimming laps as if they are training for an Olympic event, only naked. I find it too fascinating to stop looking. Next thing I know, Esther steps out of the pool au naturel. I cannot take my eyes off her. With her luscious, languorous locks of hair and curvaceous, robust figure, she is like a goddess standing there as she towels herself dry. Soon she disappears into their bedroom through a sliding-glass door off the patio, and my flirtation with the goddess is over as quickly as it started.
Next, Dad gets out. He is very much the man I imagine him to be, with a trim and athletic physique that complements his manly package. For a second, he looks my way. I shudder at the thought of him catching me. Fortunately, he doesn’t see me. He picks up the other towel off the chaise lounge, dries off, and joins Esther in the bedroom for a very long time, like a half hour. I go back into the living room to watch television. It’s getting close to dinnertime, and I’m getting hungry. In the meantime, I walk into the study adjacent to their bedroom and start my homework. The bedroom doors are still closed.
Suddenly, Dad appears right behind me. I turn and look. He is standing there naked with a huge erection. Never in my life have I seen anything like it. I am this seven-year-old kid, a guest in my father’s home. Still learning the ways of the world. Still trying to figure things out. And now my father is standing there as if nothing is wrong, his corn dog sticking in my face as I try not to stare.
“Hey, amigo,” he says, “you must be getting hungry.”
I avert my eyes away from Dad’s big salami. “Yeah, a little,” I mumble. I’ve watched National Geographic specials and stared at enough pictures in magazines to know what penises look like. Dad’s, however, is beyond my comprehension.
I add, “I was wondering when you guys were going to come out.”
Dad carries on like we are having a normal conversation, as if nothing is out of the ordinary as his flagpole still stands at attention. “We took a swim, amigo,” he says matter-of-factly. “Esther is taking a shower and then she is going to start dinner.”
I can only think of one thing: “Wow, is that the way I am going to be? I hope so!”
The fact Dad is so well endowed makes me realize later why women loved him and put up with his shenanigans. As the years went on, I never mentioned the incident of the erection or its effect on me. I do ask once, much later, “Did you ever play around on Esther?”
And Dad says, “I never fooled around on Esther.”
“Nothing ever stopped you before with other people.”
“Well, with Esther, it’s different,” he admits. “She loves having sex and we do it a lot.”
I laugh. “Oh, thanks, Dad.”
“More importantly,” he adds, “she treats me so well I could never live with myself if I did anything to hurt her.”
It is a very mature thing for my father to say. Especially for the biggest corn dog in the studio system who, along with Douglas Fairbanks, had more tail than two of Gene Simmons of KISS fame. Simmons brags about how
