In 1981, I met Paul America in Chicago. I didn't know who he was at first. He said his name was Paul and he was passing through town to visit a friend; said he lived on a commune in Indiana. Thirty years later, my memory may lag on the details, but not on the intensity of the meeting.
Paul America was someone you just didn't forget. Strikingly handsome, he had a certain grace that was, to be honest, intoxicating. I assumed he was a model or an actor, but clearly he was not the dumb blond type. He had a country boy style infused with a big city wit that was disarming, yet totally charming. You'd swear he could melt the ice cubes in your glass with just a long, thoughtful stare.
He knew he was attractive, but was dismissive, almost embarrassed about the matter. I recall complimenting him once and he just said: "Thank you!" I knew not to do that again.
I recall chatting with him for hours about many things, but he held back most anything of a personal nature. Finally, toward the end of a rather long evening, he said to me: "Have you ever heard of Paul America?"
"Oh, yes," I said, not making the connection. "He's one of those Warhol people, right?"
"Well," he said softly... "That used to be me."
In the mid 1960's Andy Warhol decided to create his own studio system, creating "Superstars" as they were called, like those of the Golden Age of Hollywood. Today Edie Sedgwick is most often remembered as the icon on the decade, however she was not the first star in the galaxy to come.
No, the early stars launched at the Factory during Warhol's first forays into film were such performers as Viva, Ultra Violet, Ondine, Candy Darling, Brigid Berlin, Hollywood Lawn-- Some real women, some transexuals, some tranvestites. Warhol reintroduced the "drag queen" to a mainstream audience unlike anyone else.
But the first male Superstar was unquestionably Paul America.
Other male performers would later be rolled out (like Joe Dallesandro) but it was Paul America who was used to break Factory ground. And as is often the case, he was not the trail blazer who gained the glory.
Legend has it that it was Paul's occupancy at the Hotel America which sparked his renaming (just like in the old studio system). Originally born Paul Johnson, America would quickly become the first gay Superstar with such Warhol classics as "My Hustler" (1965) and in assorted sequels which, for the most part, never saw the light of day.
He appeared in a silent art film called "Harold Stevenson" with Edie Sedgwick and others... all lounging about on a couch, but his use was always somehow diminished. He appeared in the documenary short "Superartist" (1967). However more and more of Paul America ended up on the cutting room floor. He was not the flashy drag queen (a novelty of the time); he was a pretty good actor in a bad situation.
Never intending to be a one hit wonder, Paul appeared in the now classic "Ciao! Manhattan" (1972). Rumors persist that he and Edie Sedgwick were crazy in love and I believe it to be true. Like many of today's young people, Paul didn't label himself straight or gay, though certainly his male fan base kept "My Hustler" running in art houses for many a year. He was beautiful to both the eye and to the camera. One can certainly see a young Edie being smitten by the attentions of this very masculine, yet fragile figure. It is said he intervened at a number of her early overdoses--
With Hollywood having nothing to do with him and his Factory pedigree not opening any doors, Paul did a stint in the army and later pestered the ever-stingy Warhol for more work. But it was not be.
His one hit "My Hustler" typecast him in a real life role that he did not accept. Paul America was not a hustler, though he certainly could have been if he had wanted... and he did not turn to porn. He was a promising young actor. He could have been the next smoldering James Dean... the next tightly wound Sal Mineo.
By our modern measure, Paul America was the precursor to Heath Ledger-- adored by men and women alike... then gone. Just a few short months after I met him, Paul was struck by a car and killed while walking home from his dentist's office in Ormond Beach, Florida. He was 38 years old. At the time however, his death was scarcely noted by the press. And the legacy of Paul America, cult icon, passed into oblivion.
Sadly for years few even knew he was dead. (I myself had tried to search him out, to no avail.) Like Elvis, there were Paul America sightings from time to time. Rumors of another film; a TV show. In fact, he'd been dead for years. It was only with the advent of the internet and a continually updated Wiki page (which for years implied he was still alive) that it became clear Paul had left long ago. But by then most people had forgotten about this lost star, perhaps the most talented of Warhol's Factory system.
Today Paul America is a footnote to Warhol's vast legacy-- rather a vintage victim to fame, to time and to fate. For Paul, his beauty didn't fade... it was cut short by a cruel twist of circumstances, not unlike the demise of Warhol himself in 1987.
Paul had his flaws... the rampant drug use and arrests, but he actually fared well in a decade of overdoses and suicides, especially being birthed in the Factory stable. He was actually one of the few to survive that experience.
I remember once prompting him to write about those times, but he brushed off the thought. "They only want Warhol..." he said. He was right about that.
But today when I close my eyes and dream back to those lazy afternoons, I can still see that matinee idol face and feel his gentle spirit-- He seemed happiest when someone simply cared about him.
Sound familiar?
AliasDanny@Rocketmail.com
www.WhenDannyMetSally.com
Copyright WDMS 2012
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