The “paraphernalia” used in today’s adventure. Bamboo grows along the studio fence on Van Buren Street. A 10 foot high chain link fence is a less than formidable separation. It stands between my friend’s apartment building, carport, and these iconic stages.
The herbal product imported from Thailand that is easy to come by at Public School. You don’t have to go to Thailand, Primo is the word best describing this very tasty and exotic import. Tastes like flavorful dark, rich coffee when smoked in a Bong. Bold, relaxing, and extremely intoxicating…
We start this story on the Main Lot of Laird Studios. We still call it Desilu, since that’s the name it was for most my childhood. In picture 3, top row, you can see my friend’s apartment building-bottom right of frame…yellowish building.
It is on Van Buren, the property line separates the main lot from his apartment complex. This was a popular destination amongst “stoners” since top quality ‘smoke and hallucinogenics” can be obtained. Like a neighborhood “7-11” minus the Slurpees. Run by long haired teenage entrepreneurs named David and Steve. They join me and best Pal “Pat Rich” on all that takes place in today’s story.
Before we head to the backlot where Stalag 13 is located, we go up into the ancient dressing rooms. These rooms overlook Van Buren Street. Bruce Lee lived in a Duplex right below this- no longer existing stage. Amazon Studios casualties include many legendary stages. That’s not -progress.
My hero- not Batman anymore-Catwoman
Here is the rooftop of the soundstage in we are exploring today in a Batman episode. Dressing rooms built on the exterior of these stages. This is the only lot I have seen with stages that have dressing rooms attached to the top. They are accessed by long stairways. Don Kirshner films his legendary rock and roll video concerts here. Often our neighborhood pals would be used as fillers for audience. I saw Elvin Bishop do a taping of “Fooled around and fell in Love” his hit song.
Under that rooftop-this storage area is discovered ...
This beaten up TV is eerily similar in every way. It looks just like the set I’d sneak on the MGM Backlot to watch Twilight Zone. I also used it to watch Combat episodes. A TV you can run with usually ends up looking like this.
This was backlot entertainment…Sadly this cassette player fell to its death on the MGM backlot in the church steeple in Combat Village. A song was playing by Led Zeppelin-Kashmir. It’s a long fall. The music was heard during the fall, before impact crashing down on cobblestones, 4 stories below. Needless to say- all my portable electronic stuff had really fun lives. Tonight’s recordings feature this recently released comedy album that everyone in school listens to…
We arrive at The 40 Acre backlot for uninhibited “fun and Games.” Just four teenage Stoner Boys. We have a bamboo bong, Ty Stick, matchbooks from a local bar “Sarna’s,” and a Panasonic tape deck. I record songs and albums on cassette tapes for studio parties.
Where comedy and rock music combine- in the Guard Tower at Stalag 13. “Take another hit, of fresh air and California Sunshine” Quick Silver Messenger Service gets this guard tower party started! This is how our brains functioned this day…
These photos were taken by me in the grassy hill right above the tree stump, overlooking the camp in 1974. The rigid pipe is for the sprinkler system. We would turn it on and lay in hammocks we put up on top of the hill overlooking the Stalag. Sadly, I was going in to specifically photo expose this Stalag when before my eyes, it was being removed.
They weren’t tearing down the lot. A show titled The Fortune was about to build a village. The show starred Warren Beatty and Jack Nicholson. They only left the utility shed pictured with a snow painted roof. Foreground in last picture are some rope cots and other props stashed behind this house below us. The camp stood until 1974. That’s when I liberated the stump with help from Pat. When entered for the first time late 1972, the camp was perfectly in tact. A native plant you see in the top 3 photos actually is like sandpaper. Finesse is required at this point. When you cut through it, it can scar you up. What doesn’t around here?
From the Front Lot to the Backlot-we double dip this afternoon and evening…Summer 1973
We start our journey “Dazed and Confused”
Pat and I peddle our bikes to an Apartment Complex built behind Desilu Studios. It is best known to kids for what can “be had” from tenants inside units. Two friends live here-Steve and David. Long hair, very popular hippie types, Public School friends.
David shows us his Bong Business. From Bamboo shoots that separate the Desilu Main lot and his parking complex-Pat and I are impressed by his craftsmanship. Airtight with wax inside for sealing and water-proofing this smoking device. They are known to be the best Bongs in Culver City. I’m equally as interested at the main lot behind this free growing bamboo. The conversation shifts from Bongs to trespassing.
Pat and I are told that these brothers often trespass starting from this high fence blocked by bamboo. They then go up into the ancient dressing rooms built along the backside of these soundstages. They point upwards to stages looking down on us where we stand on delineated-painted parking stalls on blacktop. Since Laird became owner, backlot security, more specifically the “Guard Dogs” no longer exist on the backlot. It’s become a “Teenage-Wasteland” that more often than not is completely uninhabited by adults.
These brothers offer us a tour of the front lot dressing rooms. They assure us it’s almost completely safe. They also share some exploits from their life along this fenced property. These two brothers have more history trespassing this front lot than anyone else I know. We shy away from front lot trespassing. The consequences are severe, like a visit to jail. Also, hiding places are few and far between. But-not wanting to be…”Chickens,” Pat and I accept their invitation with one lone stipulation “we carry no contraband.”
This is advanced trespassing when you sneak around soundstages. No distractions needed-bring your “A game”
We climb the fence using bamboo like Koala Bears. We squeeze in between and step on the chutes, like a ladder built by nature. An easy refreshing climb from a bamboo jungle to a concrete, secured jungle. All paraphernalia is left at their house because lots of things can go wrong here. We hug the interior fence line and reach a stairway. The stairway ascends upward to a long walkway. The walkway is in front of all these rooms I have been looking at for many years. I have never attempted to occupy these rooms.
This is so exciting not knowing what’s inside and the adrenaline is more powerful than any drug at this moment. I choose a random room and turn the ornate glass handle to enter…open sesame.
Inside, we are greeted by a musty smelling vacancy that suffered extreme water damage. A smelly couch with room enough to change costumes and mirrors for make-up to be put on the actors. Tiny bathrooms finish the room off. The last stars to be up here had to be long ago. Wood stuff is rotted and the smell gets to ya. The floor has tiles with black and white patterns. We now see before our very eyes something we have been wondering about. We try other door handles that do not even have locks. We enter several other dressing rooms. These rooms all have their own stories-if they speak.
We go back down one of two stairways up top here. We mosey into what was a soundstage. Now it is a stock unit storage area. Props and walls, every studio has storage like this. There is activity on the lot and we are forced to hide as we hear voices. We are tucked away in an obsolete corner surrounded by set walls kept for storage. A hole in broken drywall allows us to peek inside a mysterious room, but not big enough to fit through. What we see is film cans, tiny thin ones with Lucy stamped on them. We don’t see any door attached to this room. Access is maybe from the front where we would most likely be seen. Well, we got our fill and answered several questions on what we have been looking at for several years. We backtrack back to the fence we entered to now exit to head down Van Buren to the backlot.
March on Starship Troopers…
Now we are soldiered up. We are carrying a bong and a Panasonic tape deck for some backlot partying. We choose Stalag 13 as our destination of choice. I was just here a week ago and I still have a “hickey” on my neck, from Maureen. It’s fading like those joke shop tattoos we buy on Main Street. But, this is real-done by a real hot girl.
As we enter, we pass down Western Street. So far, we are the only folks on this backlot. We slowly walk up Western Street and I push play on my cassette deck. “Cisco Kid” by the band War begins to set the mood. It’s as if this song is written for this street. We pass a saloon as the lyrics “Poncho drinks the Wine” is versed. I’m already high and we haven’t partaken in our session yet.
We arrive at Stalag 13, around the corner from Western Street. In minutes, we are in a guard tower. I was just making out in the guard tower last week with Maureen. Today, its all boys as we situate one boy for each of the four interior walls of this guard tower. Our feet connect center stage like spokes on a wheel. We break out the contraband. Before I turn back on the music and comedy, I casually flip the hair off my neck. This exposes hickey for all to see. Boys will be boys
We talk and spark up, we start with “hot girls” as a topic. Susan Dey of the Partridge Family seems to be a topic that gets beat around the most. Peggy Lipton of the Mod Squad is also often discussed. We all agree Linc has a pretty cool Afro. You don’t see “AFROS” on TV, but you do on city streets.
We too are a Mod Squad…
Just the mentioning of all our female actress’s practically ignites our red covered booklets of Sarna’s matches. My pop brings these home almost daily, from a bar right across from the studio.
The bubbling sound of a “Bong at work” intersects with deep conversation. This conversation is sophisticated, as only 13-year-old stoners can deliver. We cover everything from Pro Football and the undefeated Miami Dolphins to the World Champion Oakland Athletics. We also cover Vietnam, a place none of us want to end up. “Our Thai Stick comes from that region. Soldiers smoke this,” I point out as I suck on my bamboo peace pipe. “It’s called the Golden Triangle” as I burn my finger talking too long. Last week- I was sucking on Maureen’s neck up here. Today, she’s been replaced by a piece of bamboo and a stick of Thai.
Must be explained: The object of taking a bong hit is to consume the entire hit. This includes the herb loaded in the chamber. When this successfully takes place, the bubbling sound turns into a hissing sound. This is usually simultaneously followed by coughing. Then a large smoke plume often appears, and possibly death...just kidding.
As my lungs clear up in this Stalag 13 guard tower, I tell Dave and Steve a bong story. The story involves Pat and took place in my backyard. “I have several cartridges of blank ammo I got from MGM- left over from Combat. Pat was coming over to my house. I wanted to greet him with a bamboo bong hit. We never use cheap plastic reproductions. As he walks through my back gate, I greet him with my peace pipe. “I got one ready for ya,” I hand him a lighter and bong and step back. He does not know below the herb-in the chamber is gunpowder from Combat. So I’m not exactly sure what will happen next.
“Ignition” at the spark of the match. A massive flame engulfs his face. It was a blinding flash that disappeared as fast as it ignited. Pat has a goat styled beard growth that was smoldering, after the flame flashed out. He couldn’t see briefly. That didn’t stop him from trying to punch me out. Blindly, his swings miss their target as he smolders. I never laughed so hard. Pat at this moment, as when this happened, sees no humor in this story. Once again, he kicks me with those stupid boots he always wears.
He may need counseling, this event really seems to bother him.
We are sitting cross legged on the floor, our heads still remain below the frameless, glassless windows overlooking the Stalag. We can’t be seen, the tops of our heads are below wood framing. But I’m sure at times can be heard- a long ways away. The more we pass the bong the higher each of us gets. Faces change shapes as the effects of being stoned are happening before our eyes. “Take another hit-of fresh air”
We all do Sergeant Schultz impressions …”I see nothing but colors” is my anecdote as each stoner does his own Sgt Schultz. The beauty here is we go home and watch the reruns on T.V, at home- it’s like this series is still going on. In our lives it is. David does a solo verse of a song titled Sweet Leaf by Black Sabbath.
David says he ran into Tom Laughlin, better known in these parts as “Billy Jack”
He continues, ‘We were skateboarding down Ince Blvd. He passed by us on a motorbike and waved.’ “Interesting,” I exclaim! “Every set on this backlot has Billy Jack written inside it, you know.” I elaborate on his story. “Someone has an obsession for “One Tin Soldier” around here.” I continue “I’m glad Billy isn’t security around here, then again, he’d work with us. “
Cheech and Chong take stage in this guard tower. Sister Mary Elephant opens the comedic part of this deep mind journey. Pat and I find anything to do with nuns extra funny since we both served a long sentence at St. Augustine’s. We were both kicked out before 8 th grade. We were told, as were our parents, we have been seen trespassing out of MGM. We were spotted by a station wagon full of nuns, of all things.
The final straw was attaching a strange boy to a rope attached to the school flagpole. We buckled his belt to the rope reserved for flags. They then hoisted him upwards. The school had lots to explaining to the parents and we were told to get our education elsewhere. That leads us to where we’re at now…elsewhere it is!
After spilling the Bong water, a necessary component in Bonging, “we- cotton-mouthed long hair freaky people,” call it a day. We have been laughing non-stop for what seems like days, as for now, we’re just really thirsty…
Written and lived by…Donnie Norden. R.I.P. Patrick Rich you are missed.
Phantom of the Backlots 