In the mid-60s it was a quiet place during the daytime, had a male counter attendant which was a bit strange in Hollywood of those days-most places had ample motherly ladies named mable or madge who word big starched hankies with name tags made of cardboard and macaroni letters spelling out their names-all sprayed gold.
Pergola's came to life when the magical hour of 10pm came around sometimes later on weekends-then the booths and stools filled with the night people of the neighborhood...
Since no liquor was served any one of any age could squeeze in and did.
I was 14 or 15 so I used to go with my friend Roy-we would borrow my Mothers 55 Ford and drive out to Hollywood hoping that the car would stay operational both directions since I always claimed to be somewhere else-not Hollywood.
The lure of Tinsel town was like a Carnival-seedy, forbidden, a little dingy and tarnished always one lightbulb in the sign burned out.
At Pergola's the people normally in clubs and bars were available even to a minor: Hustlers, pimps, wheeler dealers, hookers, old time movie wonders....everyone...on display for the cost of a coke or a cup of coffee.
I loved it there-one night I bumped into the principal of my High School-he left quickly when recognized.
It's like the old song-"If he squeals on me I'll squeal on him"...all secrets were safe at Pergola's.
I was fascinated by a person whose name I think was MEL-she (for our purposes) had mauve hair in a day when mauve was hardly known as a colour-her friend was Bambii (short for Bambino) Roy had somehow struck up a conversation with them.
I don't know why I was fascinated but it was that carny thing-they both had that tough, made up veneer - a little scraped and dingy but fascinating.
We decided at midnight (I was supposed to be home by 10pm) to go "downtown" to L A and see what was "happening"...we ended up at a doughnut joint near Pershing Square that was surrounded by the has been hustlers (male prostitutes) of the neighborhood and one stand out guy who turned out to be John Rechy who would later write a famous book about his life and hustling called CITY OF NIGHT-he was an interesting dude and had lots to say-he told me I was way too young to be wandering around "down here" alone (he meant less the neighborhood than the atmosphere-it was a down low kinda place).
We tried to get into a bar called the crown jewel but they carded so we headed back to Pergola's-they were just in the process of cleaning up a fight between two drag queens involving rat tail combs sharpened into weapons.
Besides Pergolas there was ALDO's farther up the boulevard which could be an amazingly picturesque place after midnight...the drag queens all came in after the drag balls in their finery and there was always a fight over some random dude.
Pharaohs Tomb was on Highland and they didn't care if you had ID or not since they were a private club-upstairs with lots of fake Cleopatra décor, go go boys and dark corners where the action happened.
In those days Arthur J's on Highland was much more tame and respectable than it would become 5 or so years in the future.
Everything was accessed in a twilight haze-never a bright bulb and always a back way out-the cops were vicious in those days.
The story goes that during the Vietnam war there was such a shortage of males for police duty that they would offer service men 2 years off their tour of duty if they would serve on the L A P D for those 2 years-so fresh from eating raw meat in the jungles of Cambodia many of them hit Rampart Division in Los Angeles and Hollywood division-both areas known for drugs, gangs and gays-McArthur Park was a well known part of this jurisdiction-there was a well known bar on one side of the park called the Fallen Angel which I believe also plays a part in John Rechy's books.
But I was telling about Pergola's-it was a place for turtle neck sweaters with bell sleeves and tight pants you never carried a wallet just a couple bucks in a pocket too tight to be picked-hip huggers were the thing-I actually had a pair with a 3 inch fly-that's living dangerously.
I was talking to a guy who lived near Hollywood and Highland and he wanted me to walk home with him while he changed clothes and got a jacket-we were crossing a dark parking lot off Hollywood Blvd when he pushed me into a dark alley and told me to keep still and quiet-a couple cops had driven up with a drag queen in cuffs in their patrol car...they played around-cat and mouse style, all laughs and friendly with the guy-then they made him perform fellatio on both of them-then they shot him in the head and drove away.
We waited till we were sure they were gone and ran to a phone booth on Franklin near a market called in the murder but didn't mention cops then slipped away to Nicky's apartment where he changed his clothes, got a jacket and we headed back to Pergola's-by the time we had walked back Roy said we had to head home-and the only thing Nicky said was "Not a word."
Not the next day but the day after it was in the papers about a degenerate killed in a drug deal gone wrong and the body left in the parking lot with signs of sexual attack.
My Mother made sure I saw it and lectured me about that was why she didn't want me wandering around out THERE in the middle of the night-I wasn't sure which part was the part I needed to worry about since I was neither a drug users nor a drag queen-I guess I missed the point.
At Pergola's I met CRISWELL a TV psychic/parapsychologist who predicted the whole USA would go gay by 1999-he lived in a small apartment on Selma Ave.
He had become "famous" by appearing in some Ed Woods films and was frequently seen around Hollywood and anyone who would print his predictions-he was with his lady friend who was a grotesque creature with white pancake makeup, smeared mascara a red slash for a mouth and matted red hair that hung down the back to her waist-later I found out it was she who Bette Davis patterned her look upon for "Baby Jane"-she had been a silent film performer and she told many stories of sex, sin and scandal in the booth at Pergola's surrounded by so many more strange and unusual creatures.
There was also a lady of some age who dressed in a style right out of the late 20s who had been a theatre organist who told tales about Valentino and his love trysts played out in an empty theatre on Hollywood Boulevard with beautiful young actors to the strains of Scheherazade and other exotic tunes on the theatre's great Wurlitzer Organ-he paid her with the promise she would not look until the deed was done...
Like any passing fascination Pergola's became old hat to me and one weekend we stopped going to my Mother's joy and delight.
Years later when I lived at Franklin and Cahuenga I went looking once again for the magic of Pergola's but like so many parts of Old Hollywood it had vanished replaced by a florist shop-there were still nightly stiletto fights at Aldo's and the action had moved to Arthur J's but it wasn't the same.
Forbidden fruit is only produce when it's no longer a little dangerous and forbidden...
There would never be a time when the dim lights and spangles would shine so brightly for me and the fascinating people of the night would cluster so richly as the glory days of that little café on Hollywood and Bronson.
