Counterculture – ANARCHY IN HIGH HEELS

STORIES LEFT OUT

January 12, 2022February 2, 2022Denise LarsonLeave a comment

The Rock Star Who Refused to Grow Up – 1976 & 1979

In 1976 Les Nickelettes decided to write, for the first time, a full-length play with original music. As female baby boomers in our twenties we noticed that males of our generation resisted maturity and continued to embrace the irresponsibility of youth, especially in the realm of rock ‘n’ roll. Super groups in the ‘70s like Aerosmith, Kiss, and Pink Floyd seemed to flagrantly resist male maturity. A satire of this phenomenon called to us. So, it may come as no surprise that we chose to parody the J. M. Barrie classic tale Peter Pan. We would later learn that individuals unable to take on responsibility or commit to relationships suffered from a “Peter Pan Syndrome”. We reimagined the main character as a pompous rock star who refuses to grow up. What fun to focus on a lighthearted takedown of this hyperbolic spectacle of childlike excess. And I got to play the part of Peter Pan. This is a summary of the script for Peter Pan: A New Rock Fairytale.

(The play opens with CROCK (the crocodile character) as an omnipotent narrator, and impresario of the rock palace Never Never Land, where rock and roll dreams come true. Setting the story in motion, CROCKopens the curtain to Trendy WENDY’S bedroom and disguises herself as a lamp under a lampshade. WENDYis asleep, but her prepubescent sister TAMMY is covertly reading. The title of the book is clearly visible: The Year of the Cock.)

TAMMY: No! He said again, and drove his heavy cock into her accessible inner portions, meeting the . . .

WENDY: (Awakens, looks at TAMMY, and then under her pillow) Tammy, you stole my book, and my most prized possession, Peter Pan’s magic sword. Give it back to me now, you bitch! (WENDY grabs the silver glittered phallic shaped sword from under TAMMY’S pillow.)

TAMMY: Oh, take your stupid sword, you jerk! Nobody understands me. I’m almost sixteen and . . . I still haven’t started my period.

WENDY: That’s okay, Tammy. You’re not as abnormal as you seem. In the garden of love your path is that of the late bloomers. (The girls fall asleep.)

(PETER PAN and TINKERBELL -a 250 lb. fairy in pink overalls and plastic wings- leap into the darkened bedroom.)

PETER: Tinkerbell, help me find my magic sword.

TINKERBELL: What’s your magic sword doing in a place like this? (WENDY and TAMMY wake up.)

WENDY: Peter, I knew you’d be back, man. I mean the moon is in Aquarius and Jupiter is in line with . . .

PETER: Hey Wendy, give me back my sword and I’ll take you to Never Never Land.

WENDY: Okay, Peter, but only if you let me be your girlfriend.

PETER: Yeah, but, no commitments.

TAMMY: Oh, boy. Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll!

PETER: (Holds out his hand) Tinkerbell, fairy dust, please.

TINKERBELL: No, Peter. As your manager, I have to remind you that you’re late for rehearsal.

PETER: (Stamps his feet in tantrum mode.) It’s my life! I’ll do what I want!

(Reluctantly TINKERBELL sprinkles pixie dust over everyone and they break into song as they prepare to fly off to Never Never Land):

The best minds are meetin’ with Fairy Dust

You’ll act like a cretin on Fairy Dust

Get tied up and beaten on Fairy Dust

Your brain will be eaten by Fairy Dust

Fairy Dust. Look at me – I’ve been drugged

Fairy Dust. Look at me – I can fly…

(They exit, leaping off the stage. CROCK, reappears, snaps her fingers, and shifts us to the next scene. V.D. the Pirate Queen and her lover/manager SYLVIE SNATCH are in a rehearsal studio scheming to dethrone PETER PAN.)

SYLVIE: We’ll make you a punk Pirate. I see you in hip boots, eye patch, and a parrot that pukes on stage.

V.D.: Wow! I’ll be so hot Peter will melt in the heat.

SYLVIE: You’ll be number one, and I have the perfect foil to Peter’s magic sword. (SYLVIE whips out a guitar in the shape of an explicit naked woman’s body. V.D. Squeals in delight and strums the guitar.)

SYLVIE: Stick with me, lady! I’ve got big plans. I’ve got big ulcers.

V.D.: This is a great prop, but I can’t be a big star until I get some groupies.

SYLVIE: I’ll get you groupies, or my name isn’t Sylvie Snatch.

(TIGER LILY enters. TIGER LILY is a Native American activist, who is inexplicably a devoted groupie toPETER PAN.)

V.D.: What’s up Tiger Lily?

TIGER LILY: I’m looking for Peter Pan.

SYLVIE: Peter Pan’s been two-timing you, Tiger Lily. He’s only using you. Why don’t you hook up with us?

TIGER LILY: I’ll never betray Peter, besides, your women.

SYLVIE: (to V.D.) Yeah! Grab her! (The PIRATES each grab one of TIGER LILY’S arms.)

PETER (leaps in): Drop that groupie!

V.D. (drops TIGER LILY’S arm): Is that a sock in your crotch, or are you just glad to see me?

TINKERBELL (leaps in): Peter, you’re flying a little low.

SYLVIE (to Peter as she drops TIGER LILY’S arm): V.D. is on the rise and nobody can stop

TINKERBELL: Pan will stamp out V.D.

WENDY (enters panting): Oh, Peter you flew too fast for me.

(PETER looks at WENDY, then TIGER LILY. He grabs WENDY by the elbow and steers her upstage left.)

PETER: Hey, sit this one out, honey buns. (He returns to TIGER LILY’S side.) Hey, Tige, can you do me a favor? Go to McDonald’s and get me two Big Macs, and some crispy fires?

TIGER LILY: Okay, Peter. But Big Macs are not organic. (She exits. PETER walks back to WENDY.)

PETER (puts his arm around WENDY): Wendy, I’ve reserved the Bridal Suite at Myrtle’s Shady Lane Auto Court.

TINKERBELL: Peter, I’ve got the band all set up, you need to rehearse.

WENDY: Oh, Peter, let’s go! (They exit. Blackout.)

(Lights up on a bed at the Auto Court. WENDY and PETER are in post coitus bliss.)

WENDY: Oh Peter, eight times in half an hour.

PETER (gets up and straightens his clothes): I’m getting hungry.

WENDY: Come back to bed, Peter.

PETER: I’m moving on, baby. (PETER grabs his sword and heads for the door. As he exits, he collides with TAMMY on her way in.) I’m never going to settle down.

TAMMY: What a jerk.

WENDY: No. He’s A Man Who Cares. (She sings):

If I am his, I’m what he is

And what he is, is my all

And that man knows he’s in luck

Cause I’m such a good . . . cook.

(During the song, V.D. and SYLVIE enter, disguised as chambermaids, and as the song ends, they kidnap WENDY and TAMMY. Blackout.)

(Lights up outside the Auto Court. As PETER walks away, TIGER LILY rushes in.)

TIGER LILY: Here’s you Big Mac and I’ve got news for you, Tinkerbell’s a traitor, she’s in cahoots with V.D. and Sylvie!

PETER: Nah. (he grabs the fast food bag and stuffs the burger in his mouth.) What kind of drugs have you been consuming, Tige?

TIGER LILY: Peter, I overheard them. The Crock is going to stage a “Battle of the Bands” at Never Never Land between you and the Pirates. And Tinkerbell’s not going to tell you about it.

PETER: Tink, betray Me?

TIGER LILY: And that’s not all, V.D. and Sylvie plan to kidnap your groupies, Wendy and Tammy. (Blackout.)

(Lights up inside the Auto Court. WENDY and TAMMY are tied up.)

WENDY: What do you sleazy people want with us?

V.D.: We want you to defect from Peter Pan and become our groupies.

WENDY: And what if we refuse?

SYLVIE: Well, little miss health conscious twat, we’ll force feed you junk food.

V.D. (laughing): And as for your little prepubescent sister, we’ll cut out the crotches in all her panties.

WENDY: Oh, my God! Help! Help!”

(PETER bursts in, brandishing his sword. V.D. fights back with the fringe on her Gucci Bag but surrenders when she breaks a fingernail. PETER unties WENDY and TAMMY.)

WENDY: Peter, you saved me!

(TAMMY decamps to the Pirates. TINKERBELL barges in, takes in the scene, and tries to tip-toe out.)

PETER: Tinkerbell, you betrayed me! (PETER brandishes his sword in her face.)

TINKERBELL: I gave you the best years of my life!

PETER: You exposed me to V.D.! Well, I don’t believe in fairies anymore. Let’s get out of here Wendy.” (Everybody exits except TINKERBELL.)

TINKERBELL: It was just one little incident. This is what I get for messing round with mortals! (She launches into her song):

Fairies sometimes cry, but fairies never die

We just fade away

Mortals don’t believe in us, dismiss us as unreal

Never take us serious, how do you think we feel?

Okay, I’ll just fade away (pause). Takes too long. There’s a quicker way. (She grabs a bottle of No Doz and Nyquil from the bedstand and gulps them down.) Good-bye cruel world. You won’t have Tinkerbell to kick around anymore.

PETER (enters): I forgot my sword. Tink, what have you done?

TINKERBELL: You don’t believe in me, I’m fading away.

PETER: No, Tinkerbell. I was just kidding. I believe in magic, I believe in Tink! (He repeats the phrase over and over until TINKERBELL is revived.)

TINKERBELL: Come on Peter, we have to get over to Never Never Land for the Battle of the Bands. (Blackout.)

(Lights up on Never Never Land. PETER PAN, with an even bigger stuffed sock in his crotch, sings his vapid hit; Don’t Grow Up Baby. V.D. counters with her kick-ass new wave mega hit: Kook City. It doesn’t matter. CROCK double-crosses everybody.)

V.D. (to CROCK): Who’s the winner?

CROCK: Sorry, but there is no winner, it was a tie. So, no pay day today.

SYLVIE: What about our percentage?

CROCK: The gate was low.

TINKERBELL: We want our money! (V.D., SYLVIE, and PETER & TINKERBELL close in on CROCK.)

CROCK: This is getting too real.

TAMMY (enters): Hey, everybody I just got my period!

TINKERBELL: Time for some magic. (She sprinkles fairy dust on all.)

TAMMY: Gosh, I feel so different. Why don’t we stop fighting and all join together in one big super group? (TINKERBELL waves her magic wand and they all sing in harmony.)

Music’s in the air

Magic’s everywhere

We all got music in us

Don’t hide it

We all got magic in us

Don’t fight it

CROCK: If this were real life, we would all fail

Instead of laughter, there would be disaster

But for the time being this is a fairytale

ALL: And we all live happily ever after. …

STORIES LEFT OUT

October 21, 2021Denise LarsonLeave a comment

Ms. Hysterical Contest – 1975

Les Nickelettes at the Mabuhay Gardens 1975

In the 1950s and 1960s the annual Miss America Pageant was huge. Young girls all over America tuned in to see who would become the fairest of them all. We were told this was the highest achievement any woman could hope for, the ultimate honor; to be declared the prettiest, the most talented, the sexiest woman in a swimsuit in all of America. I tuned in every year to raptly listen to Bert Parks sing;

There she is, Miss America

There she is, your ideal

And I dreamed that someday I could be up on that stage being crowned the most beautiful woman in America. “An American fairytale came true,” crowed Bert

The second-wave feminists of the late ‘60s blew the whistle on this deceptive dream and called it out as sexist and racist. In 1969, outside the pageant venue in Atlantic City, women libbers protested by throwing false eyelashes, bras, girdles, and curlers into a trashcan. They wanted to set it on fire but the police said they didn’t have a permit. Still, the myth persisted that these wild women burned their bras in protest. The establishment was aghast. How could these women criticize something as American as apple pie? This was the spark for my feminist awakening.

And it provided a rich parody for Les Nickelettes. In our debut at the Mabuhay Gardens in 1975 we introduced “The Semi-Annual, Bi-Weekly Ms. Hysterical Contest”.

Our version features host Bert Farts introducing the Ms. Hysterical contestants: Ms. Stake, Ms. Conception, Ms. Information, Ms. Behave, Ms. Begotten, Ms. Understood, and the outgoing Ms. Hysterical— Ms. Laid. I played Ms. Stake and performed a talent culled from a cartoon of Jules Feiffer: Dance to Spring.

Bert Farts (one of our troupe in male drag) presides over the talent portion of the contest. “Ms. Stake’s talent is interpretive dance,” announces Bert to the audience.

“My Dance to Life is a poetic interpretation of life itself, Bert,” says Ms. Stake breathlessly as she launches into her piece:

Life is a never-ending stream of consciousness.

…Up the mountains, down the valleys, up the mountains,

down the valleys, up the mountains, down the valleys,

until finally, ta da . . . death!”

She ends by falling dramatically prone and lifeless on the stage floor.

“Very poignant, Ms. Stake,” remarks Bert. “Next, is Ms. Conception, who will sing a song.”

“Thank you, Bert,” says Ms. Conception. “My song is called ‘The Birth Control Blues’”

I tried the pill they said it was the way,

Take a pill at breakfast and you can screw all day

But the pill made me fat, and gave me blood clots, too

So I got me a diaphragm, guess that’s the safest thing yet

But oh, it’s slimy, and easy to forget

‘Cuz when I see you, honey, you know I sure get wet

“Very slick, Ms. Conception,” comments Bert. “Next up, is Ms. Behave from No No Nevada.”

Ms. Behave plasters a smile on her face as she sings (to the tune of “Has Anybody Seen my Gal?):

I’m 5’ 2”

Eyes of brown

Horniest woman there is around

Does anybody need Ms. Behave?

Could she blow? Could she suck?

Could she, could she, could she fuck?

The music speeds up and Ms. Behave grabs a jumping rope and sticks a kazoo in her mouth and proceeds to jump rope while simultaneously playing the kazoo.

“Multi-talented to say the least,” observes Bert. “Now we have Ms. Understood who is proud to have no ambition.”

“This is dedicated to Ritchie Valens,” Ms. Understood tells the audience. “Too fast to live and too young to die!” (To the tune of “Java Jive”):

Give me cocaine and give me speed

And give me lots of that old evil weed

Uppers and downers they give me a thrill

Pop a, pop a, pop a, pop a pill.

“Very interesting Miss Understood,” says Bert. “Maybe we can meet in the alley behind the theater after the show? Now, let’s welcome Miss Information from Washington, D.C. Exactly what do you do?”

“I’m reluctant to scatter dirt after it’s all been neatly swept under the rug but I just had to leak those damning documents. I wrote this little song after Watergate. (To the tune of the Rolling Stones “It’s Only Rock and Roll (But I Like It)”:

If I should dig down deep in my file

Spill it all over the stage

Would it satisfy you, would it slide on by you

Would you think the girl’s insane, she’s insane

I know it’s only espionage but I like it.

I know it’s only sabotage but I like it, like it, yes I do …

“Sounds like a CIA plot, Ms. Information,” comments Bert.

“Thank you, Bert. And, by the way, I read your file, and I will not reveal that nasty incident in Morocco in 1955.”

“Okay, Miss know-it-all.” Bert says dismissively. “Get out of here!”

“And Finally, we have Ms. Begotten, as the wrangler cowgirl Farfa Knout: “This contest is fixed, it’s rigged,” puffs Ms. Begotten. “And I have as much chance of winning as a fart does in a windstorm in hell. Anyway, here is my song”:

I’m an old cow turd from a grand old turd

And I don’t give a damn

If I smell like spam

Bert puts his arm around Ms. Begotten. “Shit fire, you’re a real down home gal, Farfa.” “Now let’s bring out the reigning Ms. Hysterical, Ms. Laid, who will relinquish her crown tonight.”

“Don’t count on it, Bert,” replies Ms. Laid.

“Tell the audience” continues Bert, “How does it feels to be the most glamorous girl in America.”

“My greatest thrill was servicing America’s military men,” answers Ms. Laid as she launches into her song (tune of “Man o’ War”):

When he advances, can’t keep him back

So systematic is his attack

All my resistance bound to crack. . .

His bayonet makes me cry for aid

Oh, how he handles his hand grenade

He’s my man ‘o war

“You’re the real deal, Ms. Laid!” says Bert. “Now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for, the musical chair competition to choose the new Ms. Hysterical.”

We never plan in advance who will win, so the game is for real. The contestants push, shove, elbow each other in the face, pull chairs out from one another, and any other trick that will win them the coveted seat in the last chair. After the winner is announced Ms. Laid refuses to relinquish the crown, and runs offstage with Bert hot on her heels, “Give me that crown, you bitch!”

The left-behind contestants decide to reject the contest. When a battered Bert returns with the crown no one wants it. “But every girl in America wants to be Ms. Hysterical,” says a shaken Bert.

“No they don’t!” yell the contestants. Bert withers, then suddenly, straightens, and strips off his suit to reveal a silver lame swimsuit underneath, and shoves the crown on his head.

Les Nickelettes made fun of this “beauty meat market” in 1975, but none of us foresaw the dwindling influence and dramatic shifts that would occur within the pageant in the years and decades to come.

STORIES LEFT OUT

September 21, 2021Denise LarsonLeave a comment

Alice in Blunderland – 1974

Les Nickelettes onstage at The Intersection Theater in North Beach in 1974

San Francisco’s counterculture in the mid 1970s was all about doing whatever you wanted. A seize-the-moment motto prevailed that disregarded mainstream societal rules. With that mindset the members of this underground tribe set out to get as high as possible, and have the time of their lives. Booze was the easy legal way to go, but we also indulged in weed, acid, mushrooms, psilocybin, MDA, and the crème de la crème – cocaine

In 1974 Les Nickelettes were doing bi-monthly performances at the Intersection Theater in San Francisco’s North Beach. The rudimentary skits were intentionally under rehearsed, but had a compelling energy of anarchistic female humor.

Alice In Blunderland, Les Nickelettes parody of Lewis Carroll’s Alice In Wonderland, was our contribution to glorifying the drug culture of the time. Did I mention that we also indulged in some of these legal and illegal substances before going on stage?

Our story begins with Alice (alone on stage) taking multiple sniffs from a mysterious unlabeled tube. Her mother enters, and demands to know what she is doing. Alice goes ballistic with an adolescent “Tantrum Stomp” – I want my own way / I want my own way…

Alice’s mother yells, “Stop!” Alice looks at her blankly. The mother sings:

Alice, Alice, you’re such a freak

Your room hasn’t been cleaned for a week

Daddy and I have spent money on you

But you just sit in here and sniff glue

Your father and I had such high hope – but all you do is smoke dope

Cocaine, marijuana, and airplane glue will be the ruin of you.

“Fuck off mom!” Alice defiantly declares, and snorts cocaine off a gigantic mirror. The lights blink off and on, and Alice spirals down into the drug-fog fantasy of Blunderland.

A White Playboy Bunny pops in, “I’m late, I’m late!” and dashes out.

The Mad Hatter uninvites Alice to a dope peddling tea party. The Dormouse confides to the uninvited guest, “There’s no telling what’s in the tea, but it’s so affordable”.

“Have some,” Mad Hatter says, offering Alice a joint.

“Don’t mind if I do,” says Alice reaching for the weed.

The Mad Hatter snatches it away, “How rude!”

The White Playboy Bunny pops in: “Twinkle, twinkle little bat, how I wonder where you’re at. Time, time, time, time, I’m late.”

“You’re just talking a lot of nonsense.” Observes Alice.

“Is it?” says the White Playboy Bunny “Or are you just hallucinating?” The Bunny disappears and a Space Kitty appears lounging on a spaceship: “Space is all around you, but it’s also what’s inside you. Outer space is where you’re at.”

“Where did you come from?” asks Alice.

“From space, of course,” says Space Kitty.

“What sort of people live around here?

“Some live this way, and some live that way, and some others live another way,” grins Space Kitty. “They’re all mad, but you’re the real space kitty.”

“How did you know I was loaded?”

Space Kitty: “You must be, or you wouldn’t have gotten here. Uh oh, here comes the Queen.” (Kitty fades away. White Playboy Bunny toots a kazoo to announce the Queen.)

Queen of Hearts appears and yells, “Fore!”

The Queen of Hearts (who looks uncannily like Alice’s mother) uses a golf-club to chase Alice back through the mirror, shrieking, “Off with her drug-filled head!”

Safely back home, Alice vows never to get high again. But the White Playboy Bunny appears, offering her some pills to get small, and some pills to get large. Can Alice resist? It appears doubtful, “I think I’ll take a couple of each.”

The ensemble sings a finale, glorifying the ingestion of drugs: the nicest part of when you’re getting high / is when you’re floating through the sky…

Bob Starfire of the San Francisco Phoenix weighed-in on our bi-monthly revues at the Intersection:

There’s a new-style vaudeville arising now in San Francisco. …’cult happenings’ – this is, events which appeal to a limited, enthusiastic, and uncritical audience.

…One of the most enduring and popular of these groups has been Les Nickelettes, who have for some three years now been giving bizarre shows at strange times for weird people … most of whom enjoy them immensely.

STORIES LEFT OUT

July 22, 2021July 22, 2021Denise Larson1 Comment

Re: The People’s Nickelodeon

The price of admission to the People’s Nickelodeon was a nickel. It was 1971, and my day job was working as a cashier at The Mitchell Brothers O’Farrell Theater. So, when the midnight after-hours Nickelodeon began, I volunteered my services as a cashier. In lieu of a salary I got to be part of the “in-crowd” and partake in the fun of presenting classic movies, vintage cartoons, and cult shorts under the banner; “uppers and downers” to the young, hip underground film set. One thing the counterculture staff of the theater got a kick out of was punking the deep pocketed porno crowd. I smiled when unsuspecting O’Farrell Theater customers walked in and thought the porn movies were still playing. A guy in a business suit plunked down a twenty-dollar bill for a ticket. I said, “I can’t break a twenty.” He then pulled out a ten. I shook my head. Next, would be a fiver, and I would look him straight in the eye and say, “Mister, do you have a nickel?” With a bewildered look, the guy fished out the coin and plunked it on the counter. As soon as he turned the corner and stumbled into the dark theater, I burst out laughing.

It’s hard to describe the People’s Nickelodeon to folks who weren’t there. And it’s hard to convey the vibe of the early anarchistic Nickelettes. The best depiction at the time came from David Kleinberg in the San Francisco Examiner and Chronicle, who characterized the scene as; “The freaks answer to the Mickey Mouse Club.”

He reported his experience of interviewing the Nickelettes backstage:

“’We’re the kids that were rejected in high school’ a voice shouts as they stand around you like a group of girl scouts with cookies to sell.

‘We’re horny.’

‘We’re the ugly ducklings.’

‘People come to see us. We’re popular.’

‘I make sex movies.’

‘We’re All American girls.’

‘We drink milk and eat granola.’

‘The more out of step the better.’”

Our process was pure improv. We’d meet the day before the performance on Monday afternoon, find out the featured movie for that week, and decide on a theme. On Tuesday, we’d meet at 9:00 pm, get as high as a kite drinking, and smoking dope while putting on costumes and make-up. Then around 11:00 pm we would do a quasi-rehearsal, maybe coordinate a finale song and dance, and at midnight, we would do the show and let whatever happen, happen. The Nickelettes and the creators of the People’s Nickelodeon saw it as a 1970s vaudeville-type revue. But it was more like a free-for-all with permission to do anything we wanted. On the week that Gulliver’s Travels played on the big screen we dressed as cheerleaders and cheered for the little people and then the big people. The audience roared with approval so we took it further and led a cheer for Gulliver, then the Nickelodeon, and lastly, the Nickelettes. Our antics encouraged louder and louder shrieks of laughter and applause: a high point for counterculture cheerleading. And all for just a nickel.

In his article “Midnight at the O’Farrell” for the Los Angeles Free Press’s San Francisco Report, Clay Geerdes described the Nicks:

“…the Nickelettes have been performing a valuable form of theater. It is always cathartic to see those things which most of us express only in the darkness freely expressed in the light.”

Unbeknownst to us at the time, the winds of change blew open a new door for women’s lib. Read more about it in Anarchy in High Heels.

What do you want for a nickel?

November 20, 2018June 23, 2021Denise LarsonLeave a comment

Recently, there was news that the Mitchell Brothers O’Farrell Theater was up for sale. Memories of this being the unlikely birthplace of my feminist theater group Les Nickelettes surfaced. You may ask: feminism in a porno palace, really? Hey, this was San Francisco in 1972. A hip underground counterculture was thumbing its nose at past hang-ups, and at the same time saying, “anything goes.”

O'Farrell sign 1972 — A less garish facade of The O’Farrell Theatre in 1972

The O’Farrell Theater gained notoriety for opening the first hardcore porno film venue in the country, but Les Nickelettes didn’t emerge from that Mitchell Brothers’ enterprise. Instead, a different, after-hours counterculture event launched the group . In 1972 I was 24, and to pay the rent, I took a day job as a cashier at The O’Farrell Theater. One of the projectionists, Vince Stanich, came up with the idea for The People’s Nickelodeon. On Tuesdays and Wednesdays, at midnight, after the moneymaking endless porno loops had ended, the theater was thrown open to the stoned “freaks.” Everything cost a nickel: the popcorn, the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and admission to see a forties newsreel, a Betty Boop cartoon, and a kitschy classic movie. Reefer Madness was shown at The People’s Nickelodeon before it became a cult classic.

As the popularity of this after-hours event grew, me and my theater friends became the Nickelette cheerleaders for The People’s Nickelodeon. Give us an “N” – give us an “I” – give us a “C” . . . But the hodge-podge troupe quickly evolved into something more meaningful. Maybe it was the times. Maybe it was the underlying second-wave feminist movement, but we came together in a sisterhood of unique and bawdy female satire that surprised us all. The creation of the group may have been accidental but the collective unconscious synergy of this eclectic group of women came together in the right place at the right time, and it took on a life of its own.

The Nickelettes in 1972 in the lobby of The O’Farrell Theatre with the night manager and the famous “moose head.”

To give credit where credit is due, Vince Stanich came up with the idea of Nickelette cheerleaders for The People’s Nickelodeon. He proposed the idea as he and I hung out smoking weed in his “Clubhouse,” an O’Farrell Theater backroom behind the projection booth – his 12-hour shift work station. It was a heady time. After midnight on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, in a reimagined porno theater, a creative genie was let out of the bottle. There would be no going back, no desire to. It was the beginning of my thrilling thirteen-year adventure in Les Nickelettes. I had the time of my life.