Array Seka - Inside Seka

After the movie was released, I had investors down my throat, a distributor that wouldn’t show me the books, and a partner in Barbara who I butted heads with every step of the way.

Life was wonderful.

Barbara had been a good friend to me. A few years back she helped make me aware of what “Dead Fred” was doing to me, and even found me the lawyers to go after him. But we just weren’t seeing eye-to-eye on anything related to the film. Ultimately, we ended up in court. It wasn’t as bad as my previous knockdown, drag out fight with Fred, because Barbara was a good friend of mine and I didn’t want to go the Fred route. And it wasn’t that she was dishonest — she wanted to do things a certain way but didn’t know the adult business. Barbara didn’t understand what was involved in the distribution of an adult film and how to deal with the industry. I knew these people. I knew how they worked. I knew their M.O. In her legal world, everything was black and white, but in the adult film world, where everything was “grey,” you were playing with their bats and balls. I had nurtured this project, but she wanted to change the rules in the middle of the game. It was an ongoing battle with her and it hurt me because we had always been so close. I was pissed off, as our friendship was crumbling.

To get the books, I had to settle with her out of court for $10,000. This was an awful lot of money to me at the time, and another hurdle for me to go over. But I just didn’t have the strength for another long, drawn out court battle. Even worse, it ended our relationship, and that hurt me a lot. I was very sad. It was like mourning a loss of a loved one. I pretty much lost faith in humanity.

At the same time, the investors kept calling and asking if there were any profits, and the only thing I could report to them was “No, there weren’t.” All the reports I received was that the movie hadn’t made money even though it won awards. When I would ask to see why it was showing a deficit rather than a profit, I wasn’t getting a response. When I asked my accounting people to take an overview of it, they basically looked at me and said these guys are bigger than you, they could hide anything they want, and I should decide whether I want to spin my wheels or leave it alone.

I left it alone.

With everything I’d been through in the business, I just felt defeated. This was a new sensation for me. I had found producers, wrote it, edited it, shot it, and gave it to people in the industry who I’d made a lot of money for. I worked with Caballero before and just expected more from them.

I ended up running amok. I didn’t give a flying fuck about a whole lot of anything or anyone. In spite of everything that had happened to me in my life, I always had faith in people, but this was the last straw. I decided everybody was horrible and I didn’t want to see all the ugliness. I wanted to be numb.

I went clubbing. Drinking. Drugging. I had partied before, but now I was drinking heavily and doing a lot of cocaine. Sometimes I’d stay up for four or five days straight partying. It got me really skinny.

It was the era. There was lots of coke, lots of partying, and lots of drinking. When we would get ready to go out for the evening, we’d do a big line of cocaine, half a Quaalude, and a vodka on the rocks. Sam Kinison called that a rocktail and I kept up the name in his honor and eventually his memory. But I always felt I could stop if I wanted to.

Since I’d made my comeback with Careful, the adult world thought I was back for good. But now everything was being shot on video and I was being offered significantly less money. If they weren’t going to pay me what I wanted, I couldn’t see the point in doing them for less.

I wasn’t on any schedule and had no routine whatsoever. Time meant nothing to me. Sometimes I’d just find myself at an airport with a carryon bag, looking at the board, seeing what was available, and pointing to the first destination that struck my fancy, saying, “I want to go there,” and I’d be gone two to three months. My secretary would do my mail order business and I’d be somewhere warm like the Dominican Republic, Costa Rica, or Mexico. Anywhere there was an ocean and sand.

When I ran out of money, I’d call Chicago and simply say, “Put more money in my checking account.”

On other occasions, I’d visit my family back East. My Uncle Tom liked to speculate on real estate and he and I bought a farm in Virginia together, which we held onto for a few years and then sold. I would hang out there and garden and visit with old friends and just not do a whole lot of anything. I never really told my family much about my lifestyle or career, and they didn’t ask. They knew about the adult films, but never really questioned me about any of it. They saw I paid my bills and as far as they knew, everything was fine. But anybody who parties like a rock star doesn’t reveal much about what they’re doing, and I didn’t either. I may have appeared to them to be happy, but I certainly wasn’t, or I wouldn’t have been doing the amount of drugs I was doing.

It turned into a three-year blur. I still had the mail order business, the Club Magazine shoots, and some stripping here and there, but all in all it was one big, outrageous party. I’m sure I did certain things I don’t even remember. Even in my drug haze, I did manage to meet some truly interesting and talented people. Brilliant musicians like Buddy Miles, and blues greats Sugar Blue and Big Time Sarah. Not only were they fabulous performers, but they also turned into true friends. I remember seeing The Rolling Stones when Sugar opened for them in Chicago at a huge outdoor concert. Sugar played the famous harmonica part on their big hit, “Miss You.” I was on the Stones’ bus with him. Sugar was very nervous because it was such a large audience and it was The Stones! But in spite of the stage fright, he was absolutely awesome. Very few men on this planet can play the harmonica like Sugar.

I just couldn’t handle a serious relationship. Instead, I had fuck buddies. Whoever was convenient at the moment. The flavor of the day. I’d get what I wanted and tell them to leave. I didn’t even want them to spend the night. I didn’t want to wake up next to anyone or talk to them. I didn’t want to feel anything since I didn’t believe in people anymore. I didn’t give a flying fuck about any of them. I don’t remember most of their names.

There was an adult actor named Jerry Butler who stated in many interviews that I went into rehab for a year. Not true. Nobody goes into rehab for a year. I’ve never even been in rehab. I’m the type of person who says, “When I’m done, I’m done.” Could I have used therapy and rehab? No doubt. What made me decide to stop, though, was my life was out of control, especially my business life, which was in trouble. I couldn’t understand why this was happening, but I simply hadn’t bothered to pay attention.

One day, I just put down my drink, put down my doobie, put down my straw, and blew the cocaine off the mirror. The air became clearer. It was time to get myself back together.

Movies were over, but I still occasionally did appearances. I went down to Tennessee for an autograph session at an adult book store and was picked up at the airport by two promoters. Prior to the appearance, they told me what was expected. I was just supposed to sign and pose for pictures with the fans. Sounded easy enough.

I asked them to take me to the store so we could set up. There was a six foot-long table with a curtain in the front and a backdrop. But they kept acting sort of strange. When I asked what the backdrop was for, they said “Oh, that’s where you get naked and take pictures with the guys.”