A Porn King Gets Screwed -- Part I.

Below is a Razor Magzazine article about yours truly. Josh Alan Friedman, who wrote the article, used to be the editor at Screw Magazine and has graciously allowed me to republish the article on my blog. I will break it up into three installments, which will save my digits from the pain of having to bang out another blog for a few days. Thanks Josh. Enjoy.



A Porn King Gets Screwed -- Part I
An interview with Al Goldstein
by Josh Alan Friedman
(Originally Published in Razor Magazine, August, 2005)

(April 22, 2005) Several months ago, I received a series of inquiries from The New York Times. They were preparing Al Goldstein's "advance obituary," getting it ready to run at a moment's notice. Goldstein sightings became sport and depending on who you believed, New Yorkers reported him slogging along the streets like a Dickensian beggar, dishevlled, ruined or near death. Friends, myself included, could not find him.

When I was a Screw editor during the early '80s, Goldstein bestowed unlimited freedom to write and assign whatever I wanted. That included assigning features like A Tour of Manhattan’s Finest Female (Public) Toilets, an interview with Hitler’s still-living Third Reich architect, Albert Speer, or covering a contest at Plato’s Retreat in which owner Larry Levinson bet the mob he could come 15 times in 24 hours (he did, with the help of a dozen starlets). I was given carte blanche at every sex establishment in New York—the ability to walk into extravagant whorehouses or lowly burlesque shows as Screw’s representative and be received like a prince. Goldstein published Screw each week for 34 years, paving a wide path for the entire porn industry. Screw was the Consumer Reports of sex and the sword of the sexual revolution. Goldstein spent countless millions on Screw's legal defense. It was all in a day's work to prove that mindless pornography has redeeming social value and might even be good for the mind. But Goldstein’s obsessive-compulsive neuroses were his worst enemy, and they overrode any medication on the market. He squandered his riches on four residences, nine cars, a yacht, four ex-wives and a hundred credit cards. In an astounding rags-to-riches-to-rags turnabout, he ended up a year ago homeless on the streets of New York.

Hefner, Guccione, Flynt and Goldstein were once the frontline Detroit of sex in America. In an era when the demimonde of men’s magazines has succumbed to sex online, the once mighty Gooch -- whose fortune was once estimated at $200 million -- went bankrupt and lost Penthouse. Hef has to promote round the clock to keep Playboy’s circulation hovering near a million. Playboy once sold over five million a month in the ‘60s and ‘70s. Hustler barely squeaks out sales of 200,000 per month, when once it turned a million copies. Screw itself, sold only in New York, peaked at 140,000 newsstand copies per week. At the moment Goldstein lost his newspaper two years ago, it had fallen to 600 copies.

Thanks to the largesse of remaining friends, many of whose careers he made, Golstein has survived. After three recent arrests and hitting bottom, Al Goldstein is preparing for his comeback. After all, life itself is nothing but an endless series of comebacks. Back on his diabetic feet, with a gorgeous young fifth wife by his side, Goldstein, 69, currently resides in a small apartment outside Manhattan. I met up with him there, where the interview was momentarily interrupted by a couple of Black dudes who recognized Al on his front porch. Amid high fives, they asked if he could break them into porn. Goldstein himself is breaking back into the porn biz.

Razor: How far did you fall?

Goldstein: For a year and a half I wanted to kill myself. I felt Al Goldstein's gone, washed up. Like one of T.S. Eliot's The Hollow People. Just two months ago I wrote a suicide note. Mostly because my son betrayed me. Jordan did not invite me to his Harvard graduation. He stole a million dollars worth of watches. The idea of a son stealing from his father. . . I've read so much stuff about fathers and sons. Benjamin Franklin did not speak to his son for 20 years because his son supported the English. Alexander the Great killed his father. I loved my kid. I read to him every night, I was the most loving father, I took him to dude ranches, magic camp, gave him $500 a week and a car. Each year I bought him a $10,000 gift, and the last year we were together I gave him a million travel miles from American Express. And then for him to cut me off, and not give me my watches back. He works for Wachtel & Lipton on Madison & 52nd. Anybody who reads this, call him up and tell him to return the watches.

Razor: He was your pride and joy.

Goldstein: I tried to be the father my father wasn't. He finished first at Georgetown among 780 students, then won a scholarship to NYU Law School. Because I went to Pace University it was my dream that my son go to Harvard. So I came up with $350,000. When he became a Harvard lawyer, he didn't even invite me to graduation. He's suddenly ashamed of me. Of all the shit in my life, from Screw going under, multiple arrests--all of which I'm proud of--my son turning on me is the greatest wound of my life. I wanted to die.

Razor: What kept you from following through?

Goldstein: If I killed myself it would silence me and I couldn't attack him on Howard Stern. My ex-son is a scumbag, a sociopath. Plus, I'm starting to write my autobiography. I want to dedicate it to my son. I'm amazed Judith Regan [Howard Stern and Jenna Jameson's publisher] hasn't come to me. Jenna Jameson has a bestseller. So why hasn't Judith Regan offered me an autobiography? I created the porn industry. How many people got their dick sucked by Linda Lovelace, Seka, had 22 arrests, a history dealing with the Mafia. John Gotti had a contract on me and [Gambino Family porn king] Robert DiBernardo squelched it. The Washington Post ran a story on me recently and said it was the most popular piece they've run in years. Regan won't return my call. Am I hated that much? I must be.

Razor: Who else abandoned you when you were homeless?

Goldstein: Ninety-eight percent of the world abandoned me. The worst of the scumbags was Dennis Hoff, of the Nevada Bunny Ranch whorehouse. He bought a $70,000 Da Vinci watch from me for $5,000 because he knew I was desperate. He had watch-envy, he always had his eye on it. Here he knows I've lost everything, I'm practically selling blood in Times Square. I said, Gimme a job, gimme $50,000 a year, lemme be the maitre d' at a whorehouse. He turned his back. Larry Flynt was not loyal, would not offer me a job. I said, Hire me as your chauffeur. I'm having lunch with him next week, let's see if he'll make up for it.

Razor: Who stood by you?

END PART I. Tune next week to see who stood by Al, what he's doing to turn things around and why he's possibly the best marketing investment a (adult) company could buy right now.