John Holmes - Porn King

“Why do you say those things about me?” Misty would ask, time and again. “Are you ashamed of me?”

“It’s for your safety, Baby Doll,” I’d tell her. “I love you, but it has to be this way.” That would be the end of it, until the next time. While she would go along with my excuses, feeble as they often were, she didn’t like to hear me speak of her in that way, even jokingly. Of course my efforts were often in vain. Bill seldom passed up the opportunity to tell people about Misty and me.

Despite some run-ins with Bill, Penguin Productions was moving along fine. The office and warehouse were running smoothly, thanks to Misty. She turned out to be very good at bookkeeping, sometimes too good. There were occasions when she discovered discrepancies in the ledgers that made no sense to her. Coming to me for help, I had only to say, “What you don’t know won’t hurt you, girl.” Her questioning ended there even though she once found me counting a floor full of money on our bathroom floor at home, money I had made doing a film—or so she thought. It was a lot of money. The entire bathroom floor blanketed with about ten inches of hundred dollar bills. I didn’t want her to know about it because Bill and I already had plans for it, and those plans didn’t include the company. So she wouldn’t suspect anything, I put the money in my brown valise and took her out to lunch, telling her I’d be going to the bank afterward to put the money in a safety deposit box.

The money was really intended for two men who were sitting in the booth behind Misty and me at the restaurant. When we left the restaurant, I “accidently” left my valise on the seat. We were half-way to the bank when Misty discovered that I had left the money behind. Slamming on the brakes I made a quick u-turn and raced back to the restaurant, but it was too late. The valise was gone.

I had led Misty to believe that the valise also held my set of keys to the office, warehouse, Bill’s house, our apartment and all the alarm keys too. We proceeded to Bill’s house in the hills of Sherman Oaks to give him the bad news. He was standing in the driveway when we arrived. In on the scheme, he played along.

“A man just called, John,” Bill told us. “He said he found your valise with your keys and our business card inside.”

“Thank God,” I said. “Did he say where he found it?”

“Somewhere along Ventura Boulevard,” he answered.

“He was riding his bike when he spotted it.”

Bill shrugged his shoulders. “No mention of any money.”

Of course there was no money in the valise. Misty always believed that some bus boy found it sitting on the seat where I had left it at the restaurant and probably quit his job soon after. As far as Misty was concerned, the money was no more. The plan had worked.

Our company was producing some pretty good flicks; the company was definitely in full swing. There was only one real concern on everyone’s mind: AIDS! The AIDS epidemic was staring to hit hard, and although no one in the business had been reported as actually having it yet, we were all starting to get worried. Bill and I, along with some other people including some screenwriters and still photographers, tried to organize an AIDS Testing Program within the business. Our goal was to form an organization that would require current HIV test results for every actor or actress we hired for a film. In 1985, everyone at our company, including myself, was tested for HIV. Our results were all the same—NEGATIVE! Funny, I tested under the name “Karl Marx.” Misty was “Betsy Ross,” and Bill was “Jack Daniels.”

In discussion and on paper, testing sounded like a great idea, but when it came down to it I was surprised that the other performers refused to take any test. They believed that such testing was an invasion of their right to privacy. HIV testing was also quite expensive. Even though our company offered to pay for their test, they still refused. HIV testing at the time wasn’t very good either and there were some grey areas as to the window period. The time between a person’s first exposure to the virus and when the virus would show up in a test was questionable. At the time, there was also talk about putting people with AIDS in the old Japanese Internment Camps to isolate them, much like lepers were at one time.

Misty was no longer making films, but I still was. Since we were unsuccessful at organizing HIV testing within the industry, I was still at risk, meaning Misty was at risk, too. I felt like every time we made love, we were taking a chance. I think it was on my mind more than hers. At times I found myself pulling away from her. I wasn’t as concerned for myself as I was for Misty.

There was so much stress in and around our lives, mostly brought on from the daily head games we had to endure at work and from Bill. In spite of all of this, I was determined to make our company work. All my life, I had made money for other people and other companies. Now it was time to capitalize on my own name and in my own company. I also looked at the opportunity of making some real dough, with the plan of breaking away from the business one day.

With the AIDS threat always in the back of my mind, I somehow found it easier to play around on occasion. As terrible as it sounds, I wasn’t as concerned with some playmate as I was for Misty. For some reason I had a bad feeling about it all and that turned out to be a good thing.

In the spring of 1986, I began to feel ill. I had a bad ear infection and I could hardly hear a sound. The doctor first insisted that this was because of the time I had spent in the army around heavy artillery. That made since at first but then I began to have other symptoms. I had a rash over most of my body. Even when I seemed to get it under control, every time I had sex the rash would come back—down there. To be on the safe side, I decided to take yet another HIV test. It took a week to get my results; only this time, the news was grim. I was HIV positive!

After finding out that I was sick, Misty took another test. Thank God she didn’t have the virus. While we were not having a lot of sex at this time, we had just had sex less than two-weeks prior. I can’t say how this was to be, only that I was happy she was negative. Months later she took another test and again, she was negative. We were both very relieved after the second test. Thank God I hadn’t infected the love of my life.

It’s been said that everyone has their own time and destiny and I could only believe that this was mine. “Why me?” I wondered. Why was it that the most famous and successful porn star ever would also be the first reported to have AIDS? There was a lot of other talent that were doing much nastier scenes than I had. None of this made any sense to me.

After I first received the devastating news, all I wanted to do was run away—from me, from Misty and from the entire world. I knew I would only be able to hide the news for a short time. My health was failing fast and all I could do was wait for the other shoe to drop. My doctor had told me that it was only a matter of time; if this were true then I wanted to do everything I could to ensure a quick death. I increased my cigarette intake and was now smoking up to eight packs of Marlboros per day. My drinking increased, as well. The Scotch really helped to clear the phlegm from my throat so that I could breathe better. Misty was always trying to get me to take vitamins, but I never took them. A wasted motion, I convinced myself. I didn’t want to prolong anything.

Nearly two months had passed and I was reminded that it was time for me to make my annual appearance at the VSDA (Video Software Dealers Association) convention in Las Vegas. I felt absolutely horrible and was sure I looked even worse. The banner above my head read “JOHN HOLMES, IN PERSON,” It should have read “JOHN HOLMES, THE WALKING CORPSE WITH A BEATING HEART!” I didn’t want to show up looking the way that I did but I couldn’t get out of it. Besides, I had to keep up appearances, such as they were. Our company was depending on me. I was so terribly self-conscious that I found myself repeatedly asking Misty if my makeup was alright. She would reassure my confidence and always with a smile. Only then could I face the world and act as if everything was “hunky-dory.” I had always loved doing these shows in the past. Now, just the thought of having to be around so many people terrorized me. Signing autographs for thousands of fans and taking pictures with them for the world to see could be somewhat demanding on a good day, but I did love my fans. I smiled and laughed and made it seem like great fun, but it really took its toll on me.