Chapter 2

Before I left school, I left school. Not too interested in things scholastic taught at random, and to me, for no apparent reason at the time, and not thinking toward the future either, I embarked on a foray into the world of fashion modeling. Thanks to a God-mother in the fashion business I got signed with an agent, Fran O'Brien. This was in 1963 or so and I was about 13. This was another nudge into a world separate from the ordinary, so I liked it just fine. I did quite well too, and in no time I had graced the pages of Teen and Seventeen magazines, among other publications of the same ilk. I then moved on to the Nina Blanchard Agency which was then located at the corner of Hollywood Blvd. and Highland Ave. which is now the site of the new Kodak Theatre built to house the Academy Award presentations. Though models didn't demand the same salaries they do today, for the early sixties it was better than a paper route, or babysitting.

At about the same age, 13 or 14 I also dabbled in the movie or rather the television industry through yet another contact of my mothers'. The casting director, Walter Donnegar was a friend of hers and happened to be casting the TV series Peyton Place. I resembled the young Mia Farrow and for a spell was her stand-in/photo double. Going to school on the set on the Twentieth Century Fox lot, walking through the set for the Batman series everyday wasn't anything special after a while. I can recall Frank Sinatra showing up for the 17th birthday of his then-to-be future wife Mia. Nothing too special there either. When Mia left the series Walter told my parents I could be up for taking over the role. Something I stupidly refused flat out to even consider. Oh, the follies of youth!

L.A. Times series on modeling. Me, Lindsay Wagner, and Candy Wells.

Now music was a force to be reckoned with in the sixties. Needless to say, as it has been said, but it did a lot in the shaping of the fashion and art, and the total lifestyle of our generation, and of the generations to come. Along about this time in the scheme of things, the Beatles first hit these shores in February of 1964, and all hell broke loose. The albums were bought, the magazines were bought, [usually in triplicate so as to be able to stick both sides up on my wall and still have a copy to read.]

This kind of thing was in no way peculiar just to me. It was indeed a universal mania. By August 1964 with an appearance on the West Coast of the Beatles looming on the horizon, I just couldn't wait for the Los Angeles at the Hollywood Bowl performance and managed to convince my parents that it was imperative that I travel to Las Vegas for the performance at the Convention Center on the 23rd August 1964. My mother must have figured it would be a good chance to go to Vegas or something as my dad got me the ticket for the show (I believe it cost all of $3.98 or some such impossible price!) So, off we went by train from Union Station in downtown L.A. on the now vanished Desert Wind train service, one sultry August morning in that long ago land of black and white.