THORNE PETERS is a recalcitrant, agnostic, iconoclast, ELVIS worshipper of Irish and Jewish descent, who has lived a bawdy lifestyle without excuses or regrets. He is the product of a hard scrabble youth spent in and out of trouble from the docks of East Boston, Massachusetts, to the piers of Los Angeles, California. The product of a home broken by a father's desertion and a mother's abuse, Thorne began fending for himself at an early age. He grew up being led to believe that his father had committed suicide and would not discover the truth until he was 37 years-old, when he found him on line by chance. His mother often left him alone for days at a time without food or utilities. He was torn between wanting his mommy to come home and dreading her inflictive presence. Thorne wrote his first poetry with blood in his mouth and bruises on his body from her maternal ministrations. To escape the harshness of his world, he sought to create beauty and immersed himself in composing verse, prose and lyrics. He lived in rat-infested, waterfront tenements and ran wild with the pack through the backalleys along the wharfs. At 7 he shined shoes in the pre-dawn hours after the clubs closed and before school started to make money, which he had to hide from his welfare case mother. At 9 he carried numbers slips for the local mob-run shops. It was at this tender age that he had the first of his many brushes with the law for malevolent mischief and violent assaults.

Fearing for his life and that of others, his Grandparents took him to live in their modest home in picturesque Marblehead, Massachusetts, the yachting capitol of the world, on Boston's affluent north shore. There he thrived on the love and stability his Grandparents provided and he looked forward to spending the rest of his life at his Grandfather's knee, listening to the tales of his adventurous 50 years at sea; from his beginnings as a 12 year-old cabin boy on converted luxury liners taking troops to World War I, through his retirement from the Navy during Vietnam and every Naval campaign in between. But his idyllic time spent gazing at the stars each night with his Grandfather and eating three lovingly prepared squares a day was short lived, as his mother sent for him to come to Los Angeles to live with her, where the Welfare was better.

As a teenager in Los Angeles during the 1970s, Thorne was on the loose. He became a part time student that habitually got failing grades. He refused to complete assignments that he felt were inane during his infrequent visits to the classroom and would spend his time uproariously upstaging his teachers and being sent to detention. His antics were the stuff of Junior High School legend. He was sent to a foster home, and juvenile hall for incidents arising from his hot temper and disdain for rules. It was more important for him to be ready to hit the disco, hangout on cruise night, go to the gatherings, attend the rock concerts, get down with all the girls and follow the evening as far as it went, so time spent in the classroom became unbearable and he skipped going to High School except for the social hour. As his home life became intollerable he hit the door and as a teen with no trade and no accredited education, and soon found himself living on the streets. To survive he shoplifted in stores or scoured the dumpsters behind restaurants, he curled up in abandon cars to get some sleep as he could.

But there were lush pluckings in Tinsel Town for an impoverished juvenile delinquent who had the right turn of phrase and a sophisticated demeanor and he used his beguiling charm to become a welcome gate crasher. Mature beyond his years with wit and style, he was the perfect guest at any party. He would make his way onto movie sets as an extra and managed to get paid and fed. He would be invited along with the in crowd heading to the elite watering holes of the rich and famous or up the fabled hillside to a opulent manors where he basked in the luxuriant, star-studded surroundings. "It was an interesting existence," Thorne remembers with reticence, "I'd be partying at some fabulous soiree, dining on four star cuisine buzzing on vintage bubbly and then I'd go sleep in a park bathroom at the bottom of the hill. It would've given a lesser man an identity crisis, but I seduced a lot of women to compensate."

While party-hopping in Southern California from the beach to the valleys, into the city and along the hillside, out to the islands off the coast, then down the coast to the peninsula, Thorne amassed a plethora of sexual conquests and makeout sessions with stars, starlets and would be stars and starlets of every size from minor to mega as well as bit players, walk-ons, commercial models, runway models, script girls, aspiring day playerettes and demimonde who would ditch their sugar daddies for trysts with stud muffins . . .

Naturally if there was a microphone available Thorne would be brought up to share his talents as a raconteur and he gravitated into a career as a deejay par excellence who was in-demand in Hollywood’s underground circles and exotic dance clubs. The Oddball Cabaret * April's Cabaret * The Sly Fox * The Gentlemen's Club * Ecstasy * The Sunset Strip * Crazy Girls * The Seventh Veil * Showgirls. Many of those clubs were listed in the words to Motley Crue's song "Girls- Girls- Girls. Movies like Beverly Hills Cop and Dragnet were filmed in these clubs as well as videos of every kind. Sports stars and celebrities from every genre stopped by for some excitement and controversy. Some celebs created scandal even though they never came in; like back when Kelsey Grammer was dating porn starlet and stripper Tiffany Storm. (3 weeks before Tiffany broke her expose` on Kelsey in STAR Magazine she posted an excerpt in the guestbook here.) Within their circle was the tragic death of beloved porn star Savannah and the heartbreaking suicide of Herve (Tattoo) Villachaize. Then there was the night River Phoenix died on the street in front of the Viper Room surrounded by the local courtesans.

"I'll tell you the best thing about life in the clubs," Thorne reflects, "A representative from every walk of life goes to the strip club so you can always get the hook up for anything at cost or as a gift or as a service . . . the naked foxes are a nice touch too." Thorne deejayed hedonistic parties in hillside mansions that were thrown and attended by household names who indulged in the Bohemian pleasures regardless of image or marital status. Thorne has never revealed who these people were, because the first rule of being a Kingpin is that you never break a pledge . . . but the events he witnessed would be a blockbuster Hollywood tell all name dropper book . . . From the wee small hours till dawn Thorne and XXX-rated Goddesses, Centerfolds, Video Vixens, prostitutes to the millionaires, actresses, the girl next door, the girl behind the counter, all their friends and several times the copette on the beat (in full uniform no less) engaged in coital acts of ritualistic depravity that have become the erotic paradigm for this millennium . . .

But then I moved to Memphis to write novels and no one has ever heard from me again, as life as I knew it has ended . . . I have found this to be true of the greatest of all expressive endeavors; you cannot write a book in your spare time, between parties . . . especially a fiction novel, because you are building characters who live vicariously through you, so you must allow yourself to be consumed even overwhelmed by their lives and choices to ensure that their story is epic. Being an author is a solitary pursuit that isolates you physically, because you're locked away all the time stroking the keys, and emotionally, because you are living and thinking your characters. Most difficult for me is that as a performer I am used to audience feedback and there is no applause when you write a great paragraph.

At each level of ascendancy there is a challenge waiting to stop you; your dedication will be put the test as a caveat appears before you, tempting you to show your desire to succeed by making a sacrifice. The most ironic aspect of this travail is that as the process drains you of life, it enriches your soul and you discover yourself anew with each phase. I say this for all to take heed; "Everyone should write a book in their lifetime!" And what's more is that everyone has it in them to write one book, be it good bad or indifferent. The key is to pledge yourself to the COMPLETION. Not only will you grow as a person, but society as a whole and mankind in its entirety would be enhanced greatly, because when you become an author you gain an an inflated sense of self that would never allow you to stoop to robbery or murder; we would all be too deeply immersed in our great endeavor to go to war. That's my only naive notion . . I have learned one axiom; This day will never come again, so whether I have found myself spending a once-in-a-lifetime day living in a dump or on the streets or in jail or if I'm facing crisis or grief, I always remember how rare each moment is and allow myself to bask in the euphoria of being alive.

The higher the fewer!





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