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  • John 10:37 am on October 10, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , ,   

    Eddie’s Kit Kat Club In 1982 

    Get out your bucket list! The Kit Kat is here.

    This is a true crime blog and much of the theme centers around John Holmes. Thus, we are all a bit thick skinned, no pun intended, when it comes to seeing skin. If you don’t want to see clothed strippers (early 80s strippers), then go no further. You’ve been warned.

    That said, the Kit Kat Club was a gentlemen’s club owned by Eddie Nash. I am not sure if Greg Diles worked here, but Samuel Lawton Diles, his little brother did. You see, Sam did some time stemming from an assault at the Kit Kat Club. He smacked a city councilman’s drunken brother in the head with a gun. He did some prison time for this assault.

    Of all Eddie’s clubs, the few that I could not find photos for are the Soul’d Out Club, catering to black folks, and the Kit Kat Club. I can now cross Kit Kat from the bucket list.

    Photo credits:  Gary Leonard from the classic newspaper “Los Angeles Herald-Examiner”. RIP Herald!

    • John 10:46 am on October 10, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      LA Times: 1986.

      Police also suspected Diles’ brother, Samuel Lawton Diles.

      Samuel Diles, now 34, had been a bouncer at one of Nash’s clubs, the Kit Kat in Hollywood.
      In 1983, he was arrested after police said he hit Michael Nolan, the brother of Assemblyman Patrick Nolan, in the head with a gun. Diles went to prison on an assault conviction.

      • criticextraordinaire 4:13 pm on October 11, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        John, have you ever found any info on Tracy McCourt, the guy who drove the Ford Granada to the hit on Eddie’s place? I saw some stuff where he did time for various petty crimes well thru adulthood, but wonder if anybody knows more about him. He seems to be the odd man out from the Wonderland Gang.

        • John 7:23 am on October 14, 2013 Permalink

          Well, I have posted the post-Wonderland crimes that he committed and a few other things. I almost had his daughter and ex wife for an interview but they never responded back the second time. Do a search on McCourt or Tracy McCourt via the Search button, you’ll find more on him on this blog. Thanks for the feedback too, it’s always appreciated.

        • Sheila 12:48 pm on December 18, 2013 Permalink

          I read where he left CA and went to college in Kentucky. He moved to Colorado Springs and in 2002 he did some time for selling drugs again. He was successful in a Phone business and he died in 2006 of Hep C. He is buried in Denver CO. I think you can find it on Wikipedia.

    • Bonnie Brae 11:15 am on October 10, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      very cool pictoral.

    • localarts 12:13 pm on October 10, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Like most successful business owners, Eddie diversified.

  • John 3:26 pm on October 7, 2013 Permalink | Reply
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    Tom Lange – Vietnam War Hero 

    Tom investigated the Wonderland case in 1981. We did not hear from him much until O.J. in 1994, when the Nicole Brown/Ronald Goldman murders hit the news. That’s Tom talking to the Juice on the phone during the low-speed chase.

    An excerpt from “Evidence Dismissed – The Inside Story of the Police Investigation of O.J. Simpson” by Dan E. Moldea:

    Neither Lange nor Vannatter had originally given much thought to becoming police officers. Born in Milwaukee on April 14, 1945 and raised in Coral Gables, Florida, Frederick Douglas Lange–who had been nicknamed “Tom” by his two older sisters–moved to Los Angeles County with his mother after the death by heart attack of her estranged husband, Lange’s father, in 1960. As a young teenager, Lange was a runaway in the San Fernando Valley and was detained twice by police for minor infractions. However, Lange straightened out, somewhat, while attending a strict Catholic school. A long-distance runner on his high school’s cross-country and track-and-field teams, Lange remained rebellious and had no interest in college after graduation. Unlike many children of the 1960s, Lange expressed his rebellion by joining the U.S. Marines and going to Vietnam in June 1965. After a distinguished tour of duty with intensive combat experience, Sergeant Lange left the Marines in October 1966, refusing to re-enlist even after being offered Officers Candidate School.

    After returning home from the war, Lange drifted for nearly a year, unable to land a decent job. He traveled around the country, visiting the families of war buddies who hadn’t come home. Eventually, he wound up back in Los Angeles, putting up tents for large events and getting paid ten-to-twenty bucks a day. Then, he went to work for Clairol beauty supplies, putting little boxes into big boxes. He slept on his mother’s sofa and spent most of his time hanging out with other vets.

    Finally, while pumping gas in North Hollywood for Standard Oil, Lange became acquainted with a LAPD cop who gassed up at his service station. The officer encouraged Lange to take the tests for the LAPD. Lange did and passed with high marks.

    He graduated from the LAPD Academy in January 1968. After a variety of assignments, he became an investigator at Central Juvenile and Central Detectives, earning his associate degree in Administration of Justice from Los Angeles Valley College in 1976. While working on the infamous Skid-Row Stabber Murders case, he became a member of the Robbery/Homicide Division in November 1978, working, at first, on loan from the Central Division. He eventually solved the murders after identifying a mere palm print left by the killer at one of the crime scenes. The following year, in October 1979–the same month as his marriage to his wife, Linda–Lange was permanently assigned to RHD, where he met Phil Vannatter.

    • criticextraordinaire 7:33 pm on October 7, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Makes you wonder if he ever crossed paths with Ron Launius when he was in ‘Nam.

      Back at the old Lions Gate board, a ‘Nam war buddy of Ronnie’s posted that for some reason he was sent out on a patrol (inconsistent with his role in logistics command, but maybe he wanted to see some action) and that he volunteered to take point. Something about he saw this purple beam of light coming from his head that let him see where Charlie was. Was probably a BS post but who knows. It would be consistent with his reputation for take-no-crap, fearless persona under pressure.

      • John 4:18 pm on October 8, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        What is that Nam board link? And feel free to copy and paste quotes and comments in the message section. It enhances the article etc and captures history. Thanks for visiting and collaborating, your input is highly valued, like everyone else.

        • criticextraordinaire 5:48 pm on October 8, 2013 Permalink

          That was the old “Lions Gate” board that existed for the Wonderland film. By the end of 2004, I believe, it was taken down by the film company as things were getting wild over there. Dawn was posting and I think Laurie was too. Most of the Lionsgate gang then moved over to the IMDb board when the Lionsgate board got 86’d. But most of those board regs, with handles like “BoogieKnight”, “WILDHEART”, “Americandiablo” and “kdimmick” are rarely seen over there. (WILDHEART, always in caps, went out and got a set of custom “WADD” license plates for her car). Sean “Duke” Amerson even posted there once or twice, and Julia St Vincent posted even several times.

          Jill Nelson and Jennifer Sugar, as I recall, got the Wonderland bug at that board and the rest is history, with their awesome biography of the King, I think the only one that can be said to be truly impartial and agenda-free.

          I didn’t know this site had a message section. :-O

    • Bobby 11:27 pm on October 7, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      It seems that identifying killer’s palm prints at crime scenes was his signature move! ;)

    • Jill C. Nelson 8:52 pm on October 8, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Thanks for the nice words, Critic. You and some of the others you mentioned from the IMDb board were inspiring, not to mention amazingly knowledgable. It was never dull over there, that’s for sure. :) It was a great group. To this day, I feel I happened at the right place at the right time. I’ve heard some crazy stories about the old Lion’s Gate board. Wow… time sure flies.

      • John 2:40 pm on October 9, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        I bet that Lion’s Gate discussion forum was really hopping back then, especially so close to the release of the movie. Can anyone find the archive for the old board. It’s a shame that all of those discussion threads and topics are lost to history. They must be found!! Maybe Way Back Time Machine or a site like that can help find the cached archives.

        I’m surprised that Eddie did not put out a book, or Sharon for that matter…or Ron’s underling Cherokee for that matter. These days, everyone, even the neighbors could have their own book deal re: Wonderland!

        • criticextraordinaire 6:35 pm on October 9, 2013 Permalink

          John, I think the death knell of that Lionsgate board was when this one dude was harassing another poster, using his work computer from some paper company to do it. If I recall correctly he got himself fired over it and shortly thereafter the board was gone.

          There was also a gal on that board who was an artist in Canada (what is it with Canadian women and John Holmes, they seem to be attracted to him) who had painted an awesome series of portraits of John as well as other pioneers in the porno industry. 8-)

    • John W 3:52 pm on October 10, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      If Tom Lange had the conscience and courtesy to visit his war buddies families after the war, then that just lends to his dedication and commitment to families in solving the murders of their loved ones. Long live Tom Lange!

    • localarts 4:22 pm on October 10, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      I wonder if Lange had any respect for Holmes as a man.

    • Ed Mills 11:10 am on February 9, 2015 Permalink | Reply

      Thanks for the background on detective Lange. Hoping to find his book soon and try and contact him for some personal remarks on the Wonderland murders.

  • John 2:38 pm on September 20, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: janis joplin, port arthur   

    Janis Joplin Won Art Contest In High School 

    Regardless of what’s been said by Janis about her high school days, Janis Joplin was quite active in several clubs. Janis was in the Art Club, the Slide Rule Club, the Future Teachers of America, Future Nurses of America and the Girls Recreation Association. She also got the “B” average award. That’s the one I wanted! I always got the “C” average award.

    Thomas Jefferson High School. 1960.

    Thomas Jefferson High School. 1960.

    Janis even won an art contest during her senior year in high school. I wonder which piece is hers? She did not pose for the Art Club group photo during her senior year.

    They spelled her name wrong, and they also spelled Foley's wrong!

    They spelled her name wrong, and they also spelled Foley’s wrong!

    Wikipedia had this to say about her need for attention, her outcast mentality and her love for black blues music:

    The Joplins felt that Janis always needed more attention than their other children, with her mother stating, “She was unhappy and unsatisfied without [receiving a lot of attention]. The normal rapport wasn’t adequate.” As a teenager, she befriended a group of outcasts, one of whom had albums by African-American blues artists Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey and Lead Belly, whom Joplin later credited with influencing her decision to become a singer. She began singing in the local choirand expanded her listening to blues singers such as Odetta, Billie Holiday and Big Mama Thornton.
    Primarily a painter while still in school, she first began singing blues and folk music with friends. While at Thomas Jefferson High School, she stated that she was mostly shunned. Joplin was quoted as saying, “I was a misfit. I read, I painted, I didn’t hate niggers.”
    I could not quite figure out what it was, but the school had some student activity called the “Slave Sale”.
    Sounds pretty stupid.

    Sounds pretty stupid.

    If you have not seen the video where Janis goes back to her 10 year high school reunion, then you’re missing out. Everyone was so nice, that I think she felt bad about the way she felt about them and well, whatever… people change. Janis always was in need of attention, even her mom said so. Janis was not able to truly shine and find her way until she got the hell out of Port Arthur.

    • scabiesoftherat 11:36 pm on September 24, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      a slave sale in high school was when people would put themselves up for auction for fundraisers. They would then be bid on and the slave would have to do what the master said,…within reason, of course. Like carry books, go get them thier lunch so they wouldn’t have to wait in line, make a jock dress in a cheerleader outfit. etc, etc…that sort of nonsense. It was still en vogue in the 80’s.
      Of course, if you try that nowadays, Eric Holder and the justice department would be knocking on your door and charging you with a hate crime

      • scabiesoftherat 11:44 pm on September 24, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        I saw a display on Janis at a museum once. It had all her handwritten letters to her family laid out to be read. From what I remember, she was quite close with her kin. Never really lamenting anything major and always asking about various members of the family and how they were doing, as if she was just a kid in college writing home. That always stuck with me for some reason. I mean, she just sounded like a nice Republican girl. Like Julie Nixon.

  • John 8:00 am on September 18, 2013 Permalink | Reply
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    The Doors – Live At Fillmore East (NYC) & More! 

    The Doors photos are from a Life magazine shoot and I believe most were never used.

    There’s a big Wonderland post going up this Friday, stay tuned.

  • John 9:40 am on September 17, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: crossroads of the world, , ray manzarek, sunset,   

    Ray Manzarek’s High School Days 

    Ray grew up in Chicago and attended St. Rita High School. He loved basketball and if his coach had allowed him to play power forward rather than guard, he could have gone in that direction and we might not be having this conversation. That’s according to Ray. I guess he was pretty good at hoops.

    First up, I wanted to share this observation. John Holmes showed up in the late 60s to “audition” for Bill Amerson at his office behind Crossroads of the World in L.A. Meanwhile, the Doors were recording their first couple of albums at Sunset Sound Studios. They are across the street from each other.

    Crossroads of the World (circled, middle left) and Sunset Sound Studios (lower right) where the Doors recorded their first couple of albums.

    Crossroads of the World (circled, middle left) and Sunset Sound Studios (lower right) where the Doors recorded their first couple of albums.

    Ray. 1955 Senior photo.

    Ray. 1955 Junior photo.

    Ray. 1954 Sophomore photo.

    Ray. 1954 Sophomore photo.


    Ray. 1953 Freshman photo.

    Ray. 1953 Freshman photo.

    • criticextraordinaire 7:15 pm on September 18, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      John Holmes was the man. Who knows, if he had crossed the street and checked in on Jim and the guys, he could have become the fifth Door.

      • localarts 7:42 pm on September 21, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Carrying the banner for john holmes in one hand and your dick in the other. Odyssey is right, you’re one sick mother fucker. Probably Laurie Holmes incognito.

        • criticextraordinaire 3:23 pm on September 22, 2013 Permalink

          Laurie Holmes Incognito? I didn’t know she got remarried. What does Mr. Incognito do, is he in the biz?

        • Tori 1:41 pm on September 26, 2013 Permalink

          In my wonderland movie the second disc it’s the WADD movie about John holmes and Laurie is in it putting in all her two cents. John didn’t love her he was so messed up that he didn’t remember marrying her! Laurie was such a bitch she didn’t even let john god children in the room on his death bed!!

    • dreamweaverjenn 9:04 am on September 19, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Somehow I doubt that, lol but who knows?

      • The Odyssey 10:39 pm on September 20, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Forget all that. Prince recorded 1999 and Purple Rain at Sunset Sound and wrote little red corvette in the parking lot.

        • criticextraordinaire 5:41 pm on September 21, 2013 Permalink

          All that stuff that Prince sang about doing… Johnny Wadd actually did.

      • Tori 1:12 pm on September 27, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        It’s in the WADD movie interviewed by Laurie herself :-)

    • Bonnie Brae 12:55 pm on September 24, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Hey – Isn’t that also where the Tropicana use to be as well as Dukes coffee shop??? The doors office is where Danny was answering the Doors fan mail.

    • Jill C. Nelson 3:13 pm on September 26, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      “In my wonderland movie the second disc it’s the WADD movie about John holmes and Laurie is in it putting in all her two cents. John didn’t love her he was so messed up that he didn’t remember marrying her! Laurie was such a bitch she didn’t even let john god children in the room on his death bed!!”

      Hi Tori, I realize I’m stickler about some of this stuff, but as I’ve posted on this forum before, John did love Laurie and her eight-year old son (John’s stepchild) very much and he proved it in the five years they had together. In the second edition of our book, for the first time Laurie allowed photos of John and her son together to be published. Laurie was approached to be interviewed in WADD just as Sharon and Dawn were interviewed and a whole slew of other people. She had the same right to share her memories as they did.

      After completing four plus years of research writing Holmes’s biography, we learned the truth about many aspects of John’s personal life that were not revealed in the WADD documentary or were left out. We had access to all of the material when we wrote the book — as with anything else, when you can see the whole picture, your perception can change.

      Sean Amerson, John’s godson, also read our book and afterwards, he wrote to us and thanked us. He said that after completing the book, for the first time in his life he understood why Laurie followed John’s request about not allowing anyone in to see him at the hospital when he was dying. it was hard for him to realize that. The only people who visited John during those last months were John’s mother, his half-brother David, Laurie, and Laurie’s son. After knowing Laurie Holmes for more than six years, we have become friends and I can’t help it, I have to stick up for her when I read something that I know isn’t true. Our objective was that our book would help to clarify a lot of misinformation not only about Holmes, but also about the people in his life, including Bill Amerson. Both Sean and Bill himself told us that Bill Amerson does not tell the truth about a lot of things. He and Holmes had a very strange and complex “friendship”.

      • Tori 1:14 pm on September 27, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Yes I’ve read your book. And porn king. There’s so many different aspects from everyone. I just thought who is Laurie to say he can’t see his god children, his wife yes? But they were long time friends

        • Tori 1:16 pm on September 27, 2013 Permalink

          And I’m not bashing Laurie. It’s just how WADD made her look . And the Amersons . Not so good.

    • Jill C. Nelson 3:29 pm on September 27, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      I understand what you mean. :) Yes, WADD did paint Laurie in a poor light in certain portions. With respect to John and the Amersons, Laurie was fulfilling John’s wishes at the time of his dying. There is a lot more to most stories than meets the eye, and usually, there are multiple sides. It depends on who is doing the telling.

      • Tori 1:18 am on September 28, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        I also understand that a lot of people lie to get themselves out there and to sell a story u know

  • John 10:51 am on September 16, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , ,   

    Photos From Jim Morrison’s Freshman Yearbook 

    In 1958, Jim Morrison attended Alameda High School in Alameda, just south of Oakland, CA. I have never read any books about Jim, so this may be old news to some. Either way, I hope you like the post.

    The freshman class only had group photos of their homeroom included in the yearbook. I guess that individual portraits were also taken, but they are not included in the yearbook.

    9th grade. 1958.

    9th grade. 1958. Mrs. Henry’s home room class.

    Jim was also on the Junior Varsity swim team. This photo is a lot clearer, easy to see him.

    1958 Alameda High School. JV Swim Team.

    1958 Alameda High School. JV Swim Team.

  • John 8:14 am on September 15, 2013 Permalink | Reply  

    1977 Concert Photos 

    Concerts have been downhill ever since…

    • localarts 9:41 am on September 16, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      The 70’s were probably one of the greatest periods of song writing.

      • John 10:00 am on September 16, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Yes! well, they had to make up for the porn and the fashion, and the gas guzzlers.

    • localarts 1:15 pm on September 16, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      LOL. Remember when catalytic converter became mandatory for vehicle emissions? Lot’s of folks were mad.

      • John 7:42 am on September 17, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        And they also did away with R12 freon about 20 years ago. That was the good stuff that would freeze everyone in the car on a 100 degree day!!

    • dreamweaverjenn 9:07 am on September 19, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      ALL my favorites the exception of a few, lol. I am a lifelong KISS fan!!! Love ’em!!!! I was probably the only 6 year old girl that LOVED them!!! I wanted the KISS lunchbox and I was seriously PISSED when my grandma bought me Holly friggin’ Hobby!

  • John 11:06 am on September 13, 2013 Permalink | Reply  

    Friday The 13th Photo Gallery 

    I stumbled across these over the past few weeks. Check the captions (Bonnie ;-)

    • localarts 11:44 am on September 13, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Nancy Wilson was always smoking hot!! Remember reading an article where the Van Halen Brothers tried to hook up with the Wilson sisters in 1979 and were turned down.

  • John 8:19 pm on September 12, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: allan macdonell, , , , ,   

    “In Too Deep” By Allan MacDonell (2003 L.A. Weekly News) 

    Back in 2006, I was winding down and it was late at night. “Wonderland” was airing on the International Film Channel. Now I had heard of the Wonderland murders, but I really did not know much. I quickly hit the magic handle on the recliner and stretched out. Life would never be the same.

    Shortly after that lazy episode, I discovered a sweet article by Allan MacDonell of the LA Weekly News. It is controversial. Dawn even relates her teenage mindset to that of Elizabeth Smart, the girl who was kidnapped that time. The message is what… girls are malleable? I don’t get it here. I don’t understand the comparison. There’s more to the story than that though…

    The article is an elongated movie review on steroids and includes numerous quotes. In Too Deep also preceded the official release date of the movie by one day (the anniversary of the film is a few weeks away!). I have linked to this article before but I am now posting it in order to preserve it on the blog. This gem speaks for itself and contains lots of quotes. Thus, it’s an important part of the Wonderland debate.

    IN TOO DEEP is a 5,000 word article. Enjoy!




    Allan MacDonell | L.A. Weekly News | Thursday, Oct. 2, 2003

    In the summer of 1981, porn legend John Holmes stepped into an abyss of drugs, mayhem, and murder. Meet the wife and the girlfriend he almost took with him.

    Almost everything publicly known about porn king John Curtis Holmes is apocryphal, anecdotal, secondhand or informed by conjecture. Except for the cock. Thirteen inches long, as thick around as a man’s wrist, hard on demand, coming on cue: the appendage of the pathological braggart’s most outlandish boast — and it turns out to be true. At once raw footage and special effect, the fabled tool appeared in hundreds of XXX epics, creating the first — and possibly last — superhero of the blue screen, polyester-bad private detectiveJohnny Wadd.

    Before Johnny Wadd, though, there was the gangly hillbilly kid from Ohio, born in 1944, product of an impoverished childhood, a puking drunk of a father, followed by a violent drunk of a stepfather. A stint in the Army, hitched up to nurse Sharon Gebenini, a budding career as a forklift operator. Holmes’ special quality, so to speak, was discovered, in the late 1960s, by a skin photographer in a Gardena poker club men’s room. By the time the ’70s had shifted into high, Holmes’ monster of a penis had become the most recognizable and marketable prop in the history of porn.

    Later, as the ’80s dragged in, the Holmes hydraulics became unreliable and the bookings dropped off. The cult fell away. The film Wonderland focuses on a fateful two weeks during that period, at the end of which the actor left a palm print above a blood-soaked deathbed at the Wonderland Avenue scene of the notorious “Four on the Floor” murders of July 1, 1981. Four people bludgeoned to death, another left for dead. The film, directed by James Cox and starring Val Kilmer as Holmes, approaches the slayings from multiple viewpoints and attempts to clarify exactly what happened during that orgy of lead pipes and skull fragments.

    The gruesome murders were retribution for a home-invasion robbery, two days earlier, of underworld kingpin Eddie Nash. On the morning of June 29, four strung-out ex-convicts had sneaked through an unlatched sliding door into Nash’s ranch-style house in the hills above Studio City. The door had been left unlatched for the robbers by Holmes, whom Nash had often spoken of as a “brother.” Nash and his 300-pound bodyguard, Gregory DeWitt Diles, were rousted out of bed at gunpoint. A pistol went off, and Diles suffered a grazing flesh wound. Nash, the story goes, fell to his knees at the sound of the shot and begged for time to pray. The robbers absconded with cocaine, heroin, Quaaludes, money, weapons and jewelry, a haul that was valued by the U.S. Department of Justice at something like a million dollars. They left Nash and Diles humiliated and stewing inside the house.

    Eddie Nash. Real name Adel Gharib Nasrallah, an immigrant of Lebanese — or is it Palestinian? — parentage. In 1960, Nash set up a hot-dog stand on Hollywood Boulevard. By the late 1970s, if you were young, happening and in L.A., you could hardly spend a night on the town without putting money into Eddie Nash’s pocket. One count has Nash holding 36 liquor licenses, mostly in the Hollywood area. Gays dancing at the Paradise Ballroom. Straights doing the hustle at the Seven Seas. Pogo-happy punk rockers at the Starwood. Interracial funk fans at Soul’d Out. Horny loners at the Kit Kat strip clubs. The cover charges and bar receipts all led to Eddie. If you were a doper, chances are Nash was making some change off you there as well.

    Nash had evolved into a notorious, well-rounded crime lord and entrepreneur. The Wonderland Gang, in comparison, consisted of clumsy dope pushers who relied on crude rip-and-run robberies of lesser dealers to maintain their habits and inventory. Their hideout was a much-frequented stucco party house on Wonderland Avenue, leased to Joy Audrey Miller, a 46-year-old heroin addict and ex-wife of a Beverly Hills lawyer. Her live-in boyfriend was Billy DeVerell, 42, also addicted to junk. Ronald Launius — who, like DeVerell, honed his charisma in a prison yard — was the 37-year-old alpha dog of the pack. Along with overnight guest Barbara Richardson, 22, they all died as a direct result of knowing John Holmes and fucking with Eddie Nash.

    Veteran LAPD detectives, just 12 years after Helter Skelter, claimed they had never seen so much blood at one crime scene.

    Much of the movie focuses on determining the exact nature of Holmes’ complicity in the Laurel Canyon butchery. He was indebted both to Nash and to the Wonderland pushers. He was also the sole connection between the two camps. Beyond dispute is that Holmes effected the entry of the Wonderland Gang into Nash’s house, and that he later provided access to the Wonderland house for Nash’s agents. He is assumed to have been inside the residence to witness the murders, and to have somehow gotten himself “wet” doing so.

    There are two points of contention: Was the idea for the Nash robbery that of the Wonderland Gang, or did Holmes first suggest it? While inside the murder site, did Holmes, presumably under duress, actually swing one of the lead pipes used to smash the victims into nearly unrecognizable pulp? In Wonderland, the murder is approached from one viewpoint after another, time after time, relentlessly, predictably, with each rendering more explicit. There is virtually no suspense, no dramatic tension.

    And no cock. Relying on aviator shades as his signature prop, Val Kilmer’s John Holmes could be anybody — any old hustler, any old pimp, any old wannabe rock star who can’t remember where he pawned his guitar last night.

    The real John Holmes claimed to have had sex with 14,000 women during his career as a professional wad. Sharon Holmes and Dawn Schiller are among the tiny minority who were drawn into Holmes’ orbit despite the cock. Dawn met Holmes when she was 15. He was her first love. Sharon, married to John at the time, took Dawn in after she’d become his mistress and allowed her to live in the couple’s home. The two women formed a kind of mother-daughter relationship that has endured to this day. On a recent Sunday afternoon, they sit at an outdoor table at a Beverly Hills hotel doing publicity for Wonderland. Dawn is credited as an associate producer on the film. Sharon is listed as an adviser.

    Sharon is slight and sinewy, a tough bird with a soft center and a smoker’s drawl. She wears a black cap to cover a skull that is fuzzy like a freshly hatched chick’s: She has just finished chemotherapy after a modified radical mastectomy for cancer.

    “I am just a cast-iron maiden,” she says with a throaty laugh. “I’m going to get through it, no matter what it is. I do not roll over and play dead for anybody.”

    Dawn, at 15, was a strikingly attractive woman-child, her huge green eyes brimming over with fragile anticipation. You look at her picture, and you want to protect her. You hope no one will latch on to her and crush her spirit. Today, in her early 40s, Dawn wears a wide, sly smile under those huge green eyes, still brimming with anticipation and intelligent wonder. She has the calm assurance of someone who has been through hell, fought her way out, and has no plans to go back. She is finishing a book on her experiences, The Road Through Wonderland.

    “I have a daughter,” Dawn says when asked about the perils of putting her ordeal into print. “Do I want my daughter to hear the story in my own words? Or do I want her to hear somebody else’s version, whether I like it or not?”

    Sharon Gebenini met her husband-to-be in December of 1964, while she was a graduate nurse working at County USC Hospital. Holmes was barely 20. Less than a year later, they were married. He found work driving a forklift at a meatpacking plant. The couple had lived a conventional married life in Glendale for about three years when Sharon came home early from work one afternoon and walked in on John in the bathroom. He had an erection, and he was measuring it. He’d already done a few 8mm film loops and photo shoots for magazines.

    “He told me that this was going to be his life’s work, that this was going to make him famous,” remembers Sharon. “I looked at him like, What planet do you come from?

    John would never drive a forklift again. Sharon allowed her husband to remain in the home, to eat meals with her, to mingle their dirty laundry — together, they were on-site managers of a courtyard apartment complex in Glendale. But Sharon would never touch John intimately again.

    Soon after being caught out at home, Holmes met Hawaiian porn director Bob Chinn. Chinn initially dismissed Holmes as some “scruffy-looking guy who had this big Afro-looking hair.” Then John dropped his pants. That evening, Chinn wrote a script outline on the back of an envelope, and a few days later, he had shot, edited and shipped Johnny Wadd. Despite (or perhaps because of ) Holmes’ Alfalfa physique and goofy hangdog face, the big-dicked undercover crime fighter captured the imagination of the porn-going public.

    The detective persona also appealed to John’s own imagination. In the early 1970s, when the production of pornographic materials was still a felony in Los Angeles, Holmes was busted on a porn set and held on charges of pimping and pandering.

    “He called me from Ventura, wanting to be bailed out,” says Sharon. “I didn’t have that kind of money.”

    A few hours later, Holmes was driven up to the house in the car of an LAPD vice squad officer named Tom Blake. While pursuing his crown as the King of Porn, Holmes would carry on a highly productive parallel career of informing on the porn industry for the LAPD vice squad.

    “John enjoyed playing Dick Tracy,” recounts Blake in the excellent 1999 documentaryWadd: The Life and Times of John C. Holmes. “He loved that role of investigating and passing information along. John was absolute dynamite.”

    Sharon became very familiar with Blake’s voice on the phone. “John was giving him regular information, particularly on anybody that had done him dirty.”

    Enter Dawn.

    It’s 1976, and 15-year-old Dawn Schiller’s parents are divorcing. Rather than stick it out with Mom in Florida, Dawn elects to head west with her 14-year-old sister and her father, a Vietnam-vet hippie with hair down past his shoulders. The family stops for a hitchhiker at the Grand Canyon, thinking he might have a joint to share. He tells them that he sometimes stays with a girl who lives in an apartment in Glendale. He guesses it would be cool with her if the whole bunch of them crash on her floor.

    When the family arrives at the Glendale courtyard apartment, the girlfriend calls the complex’s manager to ask permission. The manager’s husband comes over to screen the guests, and Dawn Schiller comes under the scrutiny of John Holmes.

    At this time, John is 32, at the height of his XXX prowess. He has all the work he can handle, he picks his co-stars, he is paid top dollar. He has woven a legend around himself, wrapped so tightly in exaggerations and half-truths that he himself cannot see through the web of overlapping reality and fantasy. He claims to have lost his virginity at age 8 to the Swiss maid of a rich aunt who raised him in Paris and Florida. He awards himself various advanced degrees from UCLA and boasts authorship of several books. The hundreds of extremely rich women who pay for his services, to hear him tell it, form a vast, worldwide network of privilege and power. Twelve such women, he says, all married and with the approval of their husbands, are mothers of children he has sired, each for a large fee.

    John gives Dawn and her younger sister odd jobs around the apartments, “showing me different ways to be creative in the garage and redoing furniture,” says Dawn, “that kind of stuff.”

    Dawn doesn’t know about Holmes’ movie career. “We related on a really childlike level,” she says. “I didn’t know what business he was in. He’d do silly, cute, charming things around me. He liked my innocence, the fact that I had nothing to do with the porn industry” — an industry which, he would later tell her, he despised. Dawn likes John for John, but even here the penis intrudes. “He was very shy about it,” says Dawn in the Beverly Hills sun. “He gradually showed me who he was, that aspect of him. He was scared that I was going to be scared of it.”

    John often took Dawn and her sister on outings around town. Occasionally they would pass a Pussycat Theater. “I would see his name on the marquee and get paralyzed,” says Dawn. “I wouldn’t want to look at him. One day, he pulled up to a Pussycat and said, ‘C’mon.’”

    The girls followed him out of the car, he signed an autograph at the box office, and they were in. Dawn, still 15, and her sister, still 14, sat on either side of their chaperon. “We’re slumped down in our seats, and I’m covering my face, and my sister’s covering her face. People are walking by, trying to get John’s autograph, whispering, ‘Oh, my God. He’s here!’ My sister and I are hugely embarrassed.”

    The movie starts. Dawn looks. John walks into the frame dressed in a monk’s habit. “He opened his mouth and said something, and I immediately cracked up. He got a little upset and jabbed me in the ribs, but I couldn’t stop laughing. Then he started laughing, and we had to leave.”

    Soon after the Pussycat excursion, John takes Dawn on an outing, leaving the sister behind. Although they have not yet had sex, John has become increasingly possessive and controlling. “If I didn’t come from school on time because I was hanging out with some friends, John would be really angry,” she says. “He wouldn’t say anything, but he’d snub you. You knew he was pissed.”

    They drive to Zuma Beach, where John sits on the rocks, watching Dawn swim. They both sit silently as the sun melts into the liquid horizon. The 32-year-old man takes the 15-year-old girl’s hand and leads her to the back of his van.

    Many, many years later, the girl, all grown up, still seems in awe of the experience. “At the time, he was very sincere,” Dawn says. “I was very much in love with this guy, swept off my feet at 15 years old. Look at Elizabeth Smart. She was 15. That’s a 15-year-old’s brain space.”

    When Dawn’s father abruptly left Los Angeles to return to Florida, the vulnerable girl became more dependent on Holmes. For a while, Dawn moved in with John’s half-brother, David, and his wife in an apartment they shared in the court. But tensions ran high under that arrangement. Eventually, Sharon Holmes brought the girl into the home she shared with her husband. Sharon knew, by this time, of the relationship between John and Dawn.

    “It baffles everybody,” says Sharon of her bond with Dawn. “I hate to see injured people or dogs, and I just adopted her. I couldn’t see her staying outside with just a shift on. She became a daughter to me. I needed to tell her she had a brain. She didn’t need to accept what was going on.”

    A big part of what was going on was John’s increasing infatuation with drugs. A teetotaler before embarking on his porn adventure, Holmes had turned to Scotch whisky at first, packing a quart of J&B in his trademark briefcase. Next came pot. Then cocaine — as the 1970s peaked, great piles of the white powder seemed to be everywhere you went, especially if where you went was a porn set.

    John started bringing drugs home. Just before Christmas 1979, Holmes introduced lines of cocaine. He was always in control of the supply, and he parceled it out very specifically to Dawn. “He wanted to be sure I didn’t have too much, but enough for me to be with him still. Nobody else wanted to be with him after a while.

    “He brought freebase in once and had this huge premonition of how horrible it could get. He ritualistically took me out to the street, where we broke the pipe and swore never to bring it in.”

    Despite their pledge, base pipes and a torch were soon added to the cargo in John’s briefcase. Holmes’ base exploits eventually eclipsed his legend for cocksmanship, as his penis became less and less functional, on and off the set. His co-workers joked that the only way to ensure his arrival in front of the cameras was to leave a trail of cocaine rocks.

    By 1980, Holmes had taken to stealing — from parked cars, from airport luggage belts, from the homes of his friends — to support his habit. He began serving as a delivery boy for the only people who still tolerated his presence, his drug dealers. (Holmes’ daily paycheck came in the form of marbles of rock cocaine valued at around $1,000.) He mooched gas money. His only possessions were the clothes he wore, his wife’s Chevy Malibu and Dawn.

    Dawn started to accompany John on drug runs. She’d stay in the car while he did his deals and based himself into stupefaction. She’d sit sometimes for two days out in front of a dealer’s house, her only companion a Chihuahua named Thor. She became familiar with the outside of Eddie Nash’s house and that of the home on Wonderland Avenue. John wouldn’t take Dawn inside either house. Not that she wanted to come inside.

    “John told me that people had a way of disappearing from Eddie’s, and that you were lucky if you found their bones in the desert,” she says. “That was John’s way of telling me he was afraid of Eddie.”

    To pass the time, she would sleep. There were always blankets in the car, in case she had to hide. Sometimes John would leave a little bit of drugs. “It’s not a proud year of my life,” says Dawn, “but it’s what happened.”

    On the crash from coke, desperate for cash and more dope, John began beating Dawn and forcing her to turn tricks. After she brought back the money, he’d tell her she was dirty, then subject her to scalding baths, scrubbing her until she was again clean enough for him.

    On December 25, 1980, despite her apprehensions, Dawn found herself inside Eddie Nash’s house. John’s Christmas present to Dawn and his present to Eddie, it turned out, were one and the same. When Dawn returned to Holmes after fucking Nash for money, he smacked her in the face hard enough to pop her tooth through her lip. Nash had given them less coke than Holmes had anticipated. Four days later, on Dawn’s 20th birthday, he sent her back to Eddie.

    In January, John went psycho on the drugs. He put Dawn in the trunk of his car and delivered her to a woman named Michelle, who ran a brothel out of an apartment complex in the Valley. That period is among Dawn’s worst memories: “The two of them watched over me. I was basically trapped in this house for a couple of weeks.”

    One day Michelle was out, and John was visiting. He ordered Dawn to draw him a bath and fetch him a cup of coffee. While getting the coffee, she noticed that a sliding door, normally locked so as to prevent her escape, was ajar. She left her dog behind and ran.

    A stranger at a Denny’s gave Dawn enough money to call her mother in Oregon. Mom sent her a bus ticket. “It became this big ordeal, because John’s calling every bus station in town, telling them I’m his daughter, a runaway.”

    Following Dawn’s escape, John started calling her mother’s house, day after day. For the first few months, Dawn wouldn’t take the phone. She had been unable to tell her family the depth of her degradation. John begged Dawn’s mother to tell her that he loved her. He sent pictures of himself and of Thor to Dawn’s sister. He sent the sister five dollars and asked her to send back a picture of Dawn.

    Finally, Dawn broke down and talked to John on the phone. He apologized. He cried. He put the dog on the line. He promised that there would be no more prostitution and no more hitting. Dawn’s resolve crumbled. John was sounding like the old John, the goofy, childlike, paternal and protective John she had fallen in love with five years before, the John she had missed and had been hoping would return.

    John told her about how he had one more deal, a big one. Once he turned that, it would give them enough money to leave L.A. behind, to start somewhere new, to be like they used to be in the beginning, a family. Dawn felt herself sliding back in:

    “He sounded like that original person again on the phone. He was tapping into that strong connection that we shared originally, that was powerful enough to carry me into the bad times, hoping through those times that the good times would come back.”

    Dawn agreed to return to L.A. John’s one last big deal was the impending robbery of money, drugs and jewels from Eddie Nash.

    She flew in to Burbank Airport, and John picked her up. He also lifted luggage that didn’t belong to him off the conveyor belt. He was obviously high. Dawn protested, but John grabbed her arm and walked her to the car. He took her to a cheap motel and broke out the pipe. They did some drugs and spent a few days together. The vibe was painfully familiar to Dawn: “He kisses me and says, ‘Okay, baby, I’m off. This is it. I’m going to get the big one.’ And he doesn’t come back.”

    This is where the movie Wonderland begins.

     In the pre-dawn hours after the murders, John arrives at the home of Sharon Holmes, covered in blood and claiming to have been in an automobile accident. He wants a bath. “John has a habit,” says Sharon, “where if he has something unpalatable to pass off, he gets into the bathtub.”

    She allows him to come in and runs the water. He is scraped, but this can’t account for the profusion of blood. His clothing is soaked with it. The bath water turns red. That ain’t yourblood, thinks Sharon.

    As John sinks down, soaking in blood, he eventually reveals that he has just seen people killed. He tells her a little about when, where and who. i

    “These were people you knew,” said Sharon. “These were friends.”

    “They were scum. They deserved everything they got.”

    • * *

    John returns to Dawn just after sunrise. He immediately chokes down a handful of Valiumand goes to sleep. Dawn recognizes the Wonderland house on the news. John is having nightmares, moaning about blood. On the TV, Dawn watches as corpses are pulled out of the house in body bags. When John wakes up, she confronts him. John blows her off. She asks about the bloody nightmares. He’s out of money, out of drugs.

    “We watched the news a lot,” remembers Dawn. “I knew it was bad. I stayed really quiet. I didn’t know if he was going to flare.”

    Before John can formulate a plan, the LAPD kicks the door in and hauls them away. Dawn denies recognizing photos of Eddie Nash’s house, the Wonderland house or Eddie Nash. Dawn is released with nowhere to go but to Sharon, whom she has not seen in more than two years.

    The police install John in a luxury suite at the Bonaventure Hotel in downtown L.A., and later at the Biltmore. The homicide cops on the case get nowhere with him. Tom Blake, John’s longtime handler from Vice, is brought in. John attempts to cut a deal, angling to be moved into a witness-protection program while giving up no real incriminating information on Nash. Dawn and Sharon are brought to the hotel as well, for their own safety. Dawn is scared. “We were told that Eddie’s was only one of the contracts out on John. There were all these mysterious other people John was about to rat on. People were afraid he was going to inform.”

    But Holmes was either unwilling or incapable of telling the truth. The police, frustrated by John’s lack of concrete information, cut him loose. John and Dawn hit the highway, running for their lives.

    This is where the movie ends.

     “I’d dyed his hair black,” says Dawn. “We’d spray-painted the car.” The fugitives headed east until they could drive no farther. They ended up at the Fountainhead Inn, a transient hotel on Collins Avenue in North Miami Beach. There was an X-rated motel across the street. Holmes took work at a construction site. One night he snapped and raised his hand to hit Dawn. She ran. She made it down to the pool in front of the snack shop. The hotel’s manager and a group of regulars were sitting at the snack shop eating dinner.

    Dawn: “They watched him catch up to me and throw me to the ground and pummel me, then drag me back upstairs.”

    That night, John put Dawn out to work on a prostitution track by the beach. In the morning, when Holmes had left for work, the residents of the hotel packed Dawn up and whisked her away. She took John’s handgun and the Chihuahua Thor, and moved in with the daughter of one of the hotel’s residents. John made phone contact soon after and begged for Dawn to return.

    “I wanted to say yes so bad,” she says. “He was throwing that ‘I just want to hold you and love you and be with you again, and I’m sorry.’ But I told him, ‘You promised me. You said that was the last time.’ I couldn’t forget that anymore. And I had a safe place. I had other people there. It wasn’t like I felt trapped to say yes anymore. A lot of times I had felt trapped to say yes when I really wanted to leave.”

    Dawn contacted her family to let them know she was safe. At the urging of her brother, she told the police where to find John. He was watching a Gilligan’s Island rerun when the detectives knocked. He asked if they wanted some coffee . . .

    Back in L.A., Holmes stood trial and, in late June of 1982, was acquitted in the Wonderland murders. A grand jury had been convened to investigate the killings, but Holmes refused to answer their questions. He was found in contempt and jailed for 111 days — until Eddie Nash had been found guilty on a separate drug charge and sentenced to prison. With Nash gone, Holmes told the grand jury enough to get away. The judge ordered his release.

    Nash served only a fraction of his sentence. Nearly 20 years later, in 2001, he pled guilty to a laundry list of racketeering counts, including the Wonderland murders, and was sentenced to just over three years, of which he served approximately one year.

    In 1982, Holmes came out of jail a free man, in a sense — off dope, for the first time in years. But the cock remained his only resource, and it took him back to porn. A former business partner, Bill Amerson, of whose two children Holmes was a godparent, set up a production company and brought Holmes in as an executive. For a while, he was relatively drug free, halfway reliable, but the old patterns soon resurfaced. Holmes, Amerson contends, embezzled something like a quarter-million dollars from him.

    (Sharon Holmes is not surprised: “The moral [of Wonderland] for me is your choices and what you do with them. You dig down deep and find something. And John didn’t have anything to dig down and find anymore. That’s why he went back to the porn business. That’s why he went back to stealing.”)

    After Florida, Dawn reunited with her father in Thailand, where he ran a hotel. She spent seven years in Southeast Asia, far beyond the reach of Holmes, where she earned high-school and college degrees. She came back to the United States in 1988. “I remember coming back in the late part of February, intent on finding John to tell him, ‘Look. I turned out better than you.’” Instead, she read in a newspaper that Holmes, age 44, lay dying of AIDS in Room 101A of the Veteran’s Administration Hospital on Sepulveda. “I felt bad he was sick,” she says. “I was going to go to the hospital. I was all ready to. But I didn’t have the nerve.”

    After a press screening of Wonderland, a CNN journalist crept out of the projection room saying, “I feel like I need a shower.” And indeed, watching the movie is like being dunked in someone’s dirty bath water — John Holmes’, say, on the night of the murders — over and over again, for an hour and a half. You walk out of the theater thinking, What was the point of all this? Did anyone learn anything? Was anyone changed for the better? Not Holmes, anyway. Despite his complicity in so much death, and even after testing positive for HIV, he continued working in the XXX industry, knowingly exposing at least three blue-screen actresses to the virus.

    When Dawn Schiller, sitting over coffee at a Beverly Hills hotel, tells of Holmes’ nasty depths, of the repeated pimping and beatings, she also manages to communicate something of the flawed, destructive humanity of the guy. “My memories are that I loved him,” she says. “I want to say that. I loved him. I don’t want to say that that wasn’t real, or that that wasn’t okay. I want to say that it was real, and that it was good. The times that I despised him and feared him are the last times that I remember with him, but they aren’t the only times. Right now, today, I remember the whole. He lost the battle. He saw it coming with the breaking of the pipe, all the way back then. He tried to stop the freight train.”

    Sharon nods. “It was like putting a piece of chewing gum on the tracks,” she says.

    • localarts 11:40 am on September 13, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      “Despite his complicity in so much death, and even after testing positive for HIV, he continued working in the XXX industry, knowingly exposing at least three blue-screen actresses to the virus.”

      And to think he still has adoring fans..

      • criticextraordinaire 5:21 pm on September 13, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Of course. Who are we to judge The King. Yeah he did a couple of bad things in his day, but I like many prefer to focus on his good works and inimitable stage presence.

        • localarts 8:57 pm on September 13, 2013 Permalink

          Wow! I can only hope none of the victims family members stumble across this stie and read that shit. I don’t know if you’re joking or not, because thats really,really,really fucked up.

        • criticextraordinaire 8:53 am on September 15, 2013 Permalink

          F-ed up? John was found innocent in the Wonderland Murders ; it was not even a close call. The prosecutor’s case was weak, with no evidence whatsoever, just the speculative testimony of David Lind, a convicted criminal who was nowhere near the murder scene and who was spending that night scoring drugs at a local hotel. Everybody in the investigation was so fixated on John that they forgot to find the real perps, who to this day walk as free men.

        • The Odyssey 10:43 pm on September 20, 2013 Permalink

          A couple of bad things? You’re sick. He was scum.

    • localarts 9:35 am on September 16, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      So was Greg Diles, and he was there too. The LAPD were fixated on Ed Nash. The prosecution of John Holmes was a result of Holmes refusal to cooperate. Why do you think the investigation drug on for the better part of 20 years? When Holmes died in 88, he took with him everything that will ever be known about the slayings. The time line, how he was able to gain entrance that night, his co conspirators, the sequence in which the victims were beaten to death.

      If the other killers are indeed walking the streets as free men today, they can thank John Holmes for that.
      As I have said before Sharon Holmes told James Cox in 2002 she believed her husband committed at least one of the murders himself. Why did she make that statement? Because she knew him better than anybody. Weather Holmes murdered anyone that night is really a mood point now.

      One has to wonder just how many more of his co workers would he have exposed to the HIV virus given the chance? More importantly, what kind of human being would do such at thing in the first place?

      • criticextraordinaire 7:20 pm on September 18, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        John kept his mouth shut in order to PROTECT his family. They were threatened if he said anything, so he wisely kept his mouth shut. “Snitches wear stiches” and that sort of thing. Besides, Sharon was not exactly the most credible of sources. That whole BS story about some dead intruder at her house that the LAPD cop conveniently made disappear for her. Yeah right. And a locker adorned in 24-carat gold leaf.

        If John were the cad that some people make him out to be, he woulda sang like a canary to get out of jail after he was found innocent.

    • Jill C. Nelson 6:51 am on September 19, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      “That whole BS story about some dead intruder at her house that the LAPD cop conveniently made disappear for her.”

      That is definitely one of the silliest stories I’d ever heard. Stranger still that, according to Dawn, Sharon swore her to secrecy about it and then the story appeared in TRTW. Bizarre all ’round.

      • John 10:32 am on September 24, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Yes, when I first started reading stuff about Wonderland that was one of the first things I came across. I thought that I needed to read more and maybe start a blog because that was very sensational. I doubted that a middle aged woman could kill a hit man career criminal any way.

        • Tori 1:27 am on September 28, 2013 Permalink

          So was that story false?!

    • Beth 9:54 am on September 24, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Awesome website! You should totally write a book, I am currently reading the Dawn Schiller book but was really surprised there aren’t many other books out there about this???? Hard to find some info on some stuff as well, like for instance, is Dawn’s father still alive??? I can’t find any info on him. Also zero info on Susan Lainius or really any of the others (aside from Holmes) about their childhoods, past, etc. I find the whole both fascinating and sad, to see how drugs totally destroyed these people, Joy’s story especially is sad, what happened there???? Can’t wait to see what u post next! (and seriously, write that book dude!!!) :)

    • Jill C. Nelson 6:38 am on September 28, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      “Yes, when I first started reading stuff about Wonderland that was one of the first things I came across. I thought that I needed to read more and maybe start a blog because that was very sensational. I doubted that a middle aged woman could kill a hit man career criminal any way.”

      That story raised a bright red flag. I think that’s one of the situations that arises when other parties speak on behalf of certain people in these kinds of personal accounts — knowing full well that a given story can’t be refuted or corraborated.

      You’re doing an amazing job, John. And I certainly believe that you have gathered enough information to do the entirety of the Wonderland story justice if you should ever decide to develop a book.

    • Jill C. Nelson 7:46 am on September 28, 2013 Permalink | Reply


  • John 11:46 am on September 12, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , ,   

    A Sad Video Documentary About L.A. 

    To the French, it’s a very sad, depressing and lonely place. “It’s a true urban laboratory”.

    This is Los Angeles in 1970.

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