Excerpts From Blackie’s AutobiographyAmerican Zoetrope called La Rocca; they... See more’d found a different part for me in The Cotton Club. In two weeks I’d be back in New York and my scene would be with James Remar. I barely flinched; there was another juicy audition in Century City. The film is American Ninja and it shoots in the Philippines. The part is Alby the Cruel, a terrorist and one of the lead roles. It was a call back. I went to 1900 Avenue of the Stars and up to the 25th floor. It was a small office and I sat across a low coffee table from the Indian producer Ashok Amritraj, the writer director Emmett Alston (New Year’s Evil) and a few associates. The table was covered with hard work--scripts, sides, pens and papers, coffee cups, ashtrays full of cigarettes and the smell of lethargy. The corporate board was rubbing their weary eyes and looking at their watch for lunch.
The scene was a disappointed Alby confronted by terrible news in his secret underground jungle location. The script was opened on the table, but I planned more of an improv to wake up these non-believers. Prepared for a certain moment, I had an empty Bic lighter in my pocket. Angry and conflicted I grabbed a cigarette off the table and flicked my defective Bic. It wouldn’t light. The more I flicked the more frustrated I got. I went into a rage, crumbled the unlit cigarette into a million tobacco shreds and smashed my fist down on the coffee table that sent Styrofoam coffee cups flying into everybody’s lap. Their eye balls were Steppin Fetchit and real terror crossed their faces. I cleaned the deck with a swipe of what was left on the table; scripts, ashtrays, papers and a couple donuts sailed across the room. Miraculously the Bic lighter was the only thing left on the table. It spun around for a second and stopped dead. I pocketed it, stood up and walked out. By afternoon La Rocca had made a deal and I was set for Manila in May.
Anthony got his own career boost. The band was booked on a new syndicated late night gig that competed head to head with Johnny Carson and Dick Cavett. The show was FOX-TV... See more’s first late night program of any kind, a spin off of the Alan Thicke Show in Canada. The new kid on the slot was Thicke of the Night hosted by the Canadian personality with his McMahonequin sidekick Richard Belzer. Arsenio Hall was the announcer. They taped it at Metromedia KTTV Channel 11. There was no live audience, but musical guest family and friends like me sat on a tiny bleacher in front of the tiny stage. Thicke joked he got an ear ache at their rehearsal. Like the Rhythm Lounge it was unchartered territory. They blasted a rousing rendition of True Men Don’t Kill Coyotes from their new album, and America got its first look at the Red Hots. Half naked Flea was dressed in fluorescent duct tape; Anthony was a wild Indian with Jennifer’s costuming. When they finished, a shocked Alan Thicke scampered over and blurted out, “What does it mean?! What did they say!? Where are they from? Does their mother know where they are?!” Flea climbed on his back and Anthony roughed him up. They went to commercial; we converged on the stage and hoisted our conquering heroes. Years later Arsenio Hall would have his own FOX late night show and the Peppers were frequent guests.
I fell into the ample lap of another exotic beauty. I was at the intimate bar in Dan Tana... See more’s. The Italian restaurant was a celebrity favorite and another place Weaver and I liked to entertain friends. We enjoyed the superb cuisine and David’s favorite wine, Ruffino Riserva Ducale Gold. You couldn’t go in there without rubbing elbows with the stars. Today it is Clooney and Seinfeld and Di Caprio. Back then it was old school stars, and seeing George Burns at 87 (who lived to be 100) snuggled up to a dazzling 17 year old girlie with the biggest tits ever, whooping it up in a corner booth was captivating. I was so beguiled by her I went over by the ladies restroom to wait for her. The way they were going through the champagne I knew she’d eventually have to pee. And when she did I had my speech prepared because I knew I’d only have a few seconds. I was pilfering her from a legend. She thought I was daring and dangerous and gave me her name and number. The name was Candye Hogan and she lived on eastside Nordyke Street. The first time I went to her mom’s house and down into Candye’s basement bedroom I was shocked to see dozens of oversize Sylvester Stallone posters on her walls. That was a game killer and ushered in a more platonic relationship, but we dated casually for awhile. She carried a crush for me and continued to write me love letters. Soon she’d be known as Candye Kane. After our affair she became an adult model, stripper and adult film star. She held a dubious record for being on the cover of over a hundred adult magazine covers over the next two years. She had a parallel career in music that defined her more appropriately as the talent she really was. She sang punk, rockabilly, country, swing, jazz, and blues; was an accomplished song writer and has been on just about every talk show. She’s still touring and entertaining the troops.
I thought Dot was worth holding onto. Enough of this skirt chasing. She was pretty and fun and she was good with Tony. I asked my son what he thought about us getting married. He was delighted. He was anxious to have a full time mom. Dot was ecstatic. I figured she had tabbed me from the start as a prospective husband who would take care of her... See more and we’d live happily ever after. We sat down at the famous kitchen table and laid out a plan. We go to Las Vegas, get married and then submit ourselves to the The Newlywed Game. Most of the contestants were doofuses. There’s no way they’d refuse a darling dame like Dot and an up and coming actor. If we don’t like marriage we can always get an annulment after the show. Like Chuck Barris’s other show The Dating Game, there was an emphasis on sexual innuendo and they pushed the envelope with racy material, consistent with the recently loosened mores of the seventies. Dot had a pottie mouth and I knew she’d be explosive. I would play the cool, calm and collected foil. We’d be George Burns and Gracie Allen, Lucy and Desi, Dot and Dammett. One of the perks for Dot was getting my name. As an irreverent punk she loved the idea of becoming Dot Dammett.
© Blackie Dammett
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