Blackie Dammett - Lords of the Sunset Strip

An Autobiography

By

BLACKIE DAMMETT

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Blackie Dammett

No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted,or stored in any retrieval system in any form or by any means,graphic, electronic, digital, or mechanical, includingphotocopying, taping, and recording, without prior writtenpermission from the publisher.

Published by

The Spencer Company

PO Box 1862

Beverly Hills, CA 90213-1862

Daredevil prodigy, mischievous legend, covertphilanthropy, fervent family father and best friend. This book,like my life, is dedicated to my son Anthony. Along the journeywe'll find our way to the good surf.

I also salute the late journalist David Nicolettewho put me in the Grand Rapids Press and kept me there withstyle.

Blackie 'Spider' Dammett expresses gratitude to allthose who contributed to this party-crashing adventure. Too many toname, it's a Cecil B. De Mille cast. I acquiesce to the mostnotorious characters: Anthony Kiedis and the Red Hot Chili Peppers,Peggy, Johnny Reaser, Marty Lipp, my sister Judy, Tom Gravengood,Barb Folkersma, Thomas Creed Smith, Margie Dormier, both Katies,Deborah Lee, Fay Hart, Connie Foreman, Sonny and Cher, DavidWeaver, Alan Bashara, Anita Russell, Scott McClintock, AliceCooper, Shep Gordon, Ashley Pandel, Rogers & Cowan, JenniferMayo, Violet, Audrey Maxwell, Alison Ridgway, Brendan Mullen, JohnLennon, Keith Moon, Penny Lane, Shock, Candy, Tracii, Guns N'Roses, Dave Grohl, Mel Gibson, Drew Barrymore, James, Jandt, PaulErickson, Brett Anderson, Scott Miller, Brenda and Jim, fivewolves, Heidi Klum, Chanda, Alicia, my girl Stevie, and the ghostof Schuyler Ace St. John.

On the job: Chris Stein, Markus Cuff, Jackie Butler,Christopher Matthew Spencer, Craig Weeden, Janet Doomette Freeby,Erin Kaiser, Rebecca Billingham, Anthony O'Connor, AndjelkaStankovic, Rich Plenge, Sami Swan Thompson, Lisa Lizardi andMichigan media John Gonzalez, John Serba and John Sinkevics. On thewild West Coast, my agent John La Rocca kept me working atUniversal, MGM, Fox, Warners, Paramount, Sony/Columbia and Disney.He ferreted out the best casting directors and put my mug in thespotlight.

I have a sentimental appreciation for the late greatdirector Jack Starrett who gave me my first acting roles, and thefifty or more subsequent gigs directed or produced by the likes ofFrancis Ford Coppola, Richard Donnor, John Frankenheimer, RogerCorman, Anthony Quinn, Keenen Ivory Wayans, Howard Koch, PenelopeSpheeris and many more. Damaged and dazzled, I found myself tutoredby the genius of Lee Strasberg, Sam Peckinpah, Michael Gazzo,Harvey Lembeck, George Carlin, James Caan and the esteemed dean ofmusic critics, Robert Hilburn at The Los Angeles Times.Their kindness will always stay with me.

Thank you home towns Grand Rapids, Los Angeles andPortlandia.

Home for Christmas in 1996, my son surprisedme with startling news: the Miramax Brothers, Bob and HarveyWeinstein, wanted me to write a screenplay of my "Lord of theSunset Strip" antics back in the 1970s when I was raising Cain andmy 11-year-old son, Anthony Kiedis. After a few fits and starts anda bad hangover, I blew the project off. Twelve years later and myinterest finally piqued, HBO wanted the story. Now a nominated 2011Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Red Hot Chili Pepper, Anthony and hisbusiness associates set a tentative deal and hired John Sayles towrite the pilot for a weekly series in the spirit ofEntourage or The Sopranos. Anthony suggested I writemy long-delayed memoirs with an emphasis on that period to augmentthe show. I had experienced an explosive 70 years; impenetrable asa Brazilian rainforest, provocative as sin, and adventurous as the1940 film noir I was born into. I decided to tell the whole truth,so help me Aphrodite.

Anton Kiedis was a pugnacious Lithuanian whoset out across the Atlantic Ocean for America at the dawn of the20th century with his pregnant wife, Julia, and theirchildren: George, Anton Jr. and Irene. Victoria was born at sea ina crowded steamship that would deposit them all at Ellis Island inthe shadow of liberty. From New York, the family migrated to asmall Lithuanian enclave in West Michigan. And at last, in 1914,the youngest child and pick of the litter was born on the4th of July, a real All-American boy, my father, JohnAlden Kiedis.

In time, the family moved to the nearestmetropolis and a date with fate: Mollie Rose Vander Veen born in1920. She was a Duchess in the Dutch city of Grand Rapids; asymphony of French Canadian, English, Irish, Algonquian NativeAmerican and her Netherlandic origins that traced all the way backto 1066. In the 17th century, some of our more radicalVander Veens risked the whole kit and caboodle when they embarkedon a treacherous voyage to find their own new land of opportunity.After first settling in New Amsterdam, my direct descendentsmigrated to upstate New York and intermarried with Mohican Indians.We were inexorably bred with volatile blood.

A local Rudy Vallee, my dark dad cut a coolgroove of thirties jive, and his hepcat vocals had the girlsswooning in the old vaudeville theaters. Slender, fair and a fan,my future mother would ultimately capture the heart of thisgathering storm, my father. His wanderlust had a penchant for openroads, and the golden ring was California. Elder brothers Georgeand Tony had already moved west to Los Angeles, and, as it turnedout, that magnetic city of angels would ultimately tie fivegenerations together with a love of the city that spanned acentury. My vagabond father and his best friend, Pete St. John, hadbeen hopping freight trains across the country for years; theymotored west on Route 66 in a rakish convertible when the gals wenttoo. Eventually Mom and Dad moved to Southern California and inearly 1939, Mr. and Mrs. Kiedis conceived a child. The embryosoaked up a few sunny trimesters, but ultimately the parentsdecided to raise the tyke in our home town on the Grand River. In atypical Michigan blizzard on December 7, 1939, the much-anticipatedchild arrived and was proclaimed John Michael Kiedis. Soon after,the St. John's produced a natural partner for this new kid andnamed him Schuyler Ace St. JohnScott for short. The dynamicfriendship would shape not only our lives, but an imperfect andimperative messiah not yet born. From my grandfather to my grandsonis the journey.

Jeez. The first two years went by so fast.Before you knew it, I was walking around and saying stuff like"Mommy" and "Daddy" and listening to Fibber McGee and Mollyon the radio when I was supposed to be sleeping. Don't get mewrong, I slept plenty in that portable crib by the couch. At thebeginning of every episode, Fibber McGee would be scavenging aboutfor something in the overstuffed closet, and Molly would say,"Fibber, now don't go into..." and the whole mess would cometumbling down and the sound-effects guy would have a field day. Ialways thought that closet was the one by the front door at myhouse on Emerald Street NE. Info trickled into my consciousness.Somehow I had become Jackie and a cold-blooded villain who nearlyscratched Scott St. John's eyes out when I broke into his crib.After that our families sort of disassociated.

It was at my second birthday party thatPresident Franklin Delano Roosevelt declared my birthday "a daythat will live in infamy!" Thanks a lot, FDR. December 7, 1941, theJapanese bombed Hawaii and my party, so we declared war onGermany, Italy and Japan. Everybody went home early and geared upfor war. By now we had moved to Fulton Street NE, and I had a babysister, Judy. There were miniature patriotic flags displayed inalmost everybody's front window, indicating they had a soldier orsailor out there fighting in strange places like Anzio, New Guineaand El Alamein. None at our house though; Pops worked long hours atthe American Seating Company doing his part for the war effort.Grand Rapids was the "Furniture Capitol of the World" back then.Michigan had endless forests and rapid rivers to deliver thelumber. Factories on the west side of town crafted the finest offurniture for kings and queens and the White House and G.I. Joe'shouse. American Seating had been converted from manufacturingchurch pews and auditorium seats to army tank and fighter planecockpits. The giant complex was covered with camouflage nets tofool potential enemy bombers. Pop took me to the annual family openhouse, and I kept an eye out for those Jap bombers. He was a deadlyserious father now. The happy-go-lucky guy who used to hop freightswith hobos and croon to screaming bobby-soxers was trying to savethe world and a marriage.