From Evan Wright's American Desperado
funny, and true. Narrator is John Roberts aka Rigoberto, the Genovese cocaine cowboy.
"We never expected Ed Sullivan to show up. I don’t know how the fuck he ended up coming. Nobody tried stopping him from drinking the punch. When this motherfucker drank it, Andy and I became kind of curious to see what would happen. Did you ever see Ed Sullivan on TV? You know, he was a rigid motherfucker and that’s the way he was in real life, just like he was on the show. He walked with like a stick stuck up his ass. About twenty minutes after he drank it, this motherfucker was freaking out. He was grabbing shit out of the air that wasn’t there, and then he was holding the walls with his hands. We a whore girl over to him to talk to him and find out what he’s feeling. I just wanted to know out of my own curiosity. At first, he was paranoid, asking her “Who are you?” Then, he put his hand on her tit. Just reached out and started wisting it like a doorknob. Everybody's watching. Lucky, the girl's a whore. She don’t give a fuck. She comes back to us, and Andy and I tell her to take him in a back room. We figured maybe we can bribe this guy. I was always a schemer, and I’m thinking Ed Sullivan in the back room with a girl, totally fucked up, has got to be worth serious money. The Ed Sullivan Show is the biggest show on TV. She takes him into the back room back. We try to find a film or video camera desperately, but who has a camera in a discotheque, you know? We didn’t have cameras, there was no security cameras back then at that time. You know, like now you go into discos, everywhere’s a camera – there was none of that back then. They’re in the back room, and she’s trying to get him undressed and he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I mean, he’s trying to get her dress off. And we’re watching this whole thing through the door. He's so wacked out he doesn't even see us there. I'm kicking myself, yelling at people to get a camera. I think he's going to fuck her, and we need to prove this shit. A few minutes into him groping her, he freaked out. He pushed her away, ran into the corner. He he started grabbing himself and screaming, ‘Don’t anybody come near me!" Then Andy and me get worried, maybe this guy is going to lose his mind in our club. We sent somebody out for Ed Sullivan's driver. We told the driver, "We don’t know what happened to this guy. You've got to get him out of the club. We don’t want to have a problem here."
The driver and another guy get him out. Three days later, the driver showed up alone. “What the hell happened to Mr. Sullivan. He made me stop the car six or seven times. He's never attempted to pick up a girl in his life like that.” "I don’t know, man. Nobody else acted like that at our club. Maybe he was attracted to the girl. I got no fucking idea." Then the driver tells me that Mr. Sullivan has been locked up in his apartment for three days. This worries me. What if we destroyed Ed Sullivan's brain? Worse, what if he has grounds for a lawsuit? A couple days later I call the driver. Still no Ed Sullivan. But the driver has seen a doctor go into his apartment and visit him. I get the doctor's name. I know Ed Sullivan's doctor won't talk to me. So I call my uncle, see if he knows a way in to the doctor. Two hours later, my uncle calls back. He has a a guy I should take with me to meet the doctor. I don't know who the guy is, other than he has someone on the doctor. We go into the office and the doctor is quite uneasy. At the time I'm wearing velvet pants, yellow and green platform boots that come up to my knees, and I always carried a gun in my waistband. The guy with me is 6’3” and his face is all pockmarked and scarred up. Maybe he's somebody the doctor malpracticed on. Whatever the case, the doctor talks. The doctors tells me Ed Sullivan spent twenty hours barricaded in his apartment. When he finally let the doctor in, he found nothing in his blood, but Sullivan insisted to the doctor he had been drugged. "My God, is he alright now? I asked. The doctor told us that Sullivan was thinking of calling for some kind of investigation of the club. "Did you run any tests to make sure his cock is alright?" The doctor looked at me, puzzled."He had a girl back there," I explained. "Ed Sullivan got her alone in a back room, and she was screaming her guts out, ‘Stop! Stop! Stop!' We had to practically pull him off of her He was attacking her. So you better talk to Mr. Sullivan about that and tell him." "Does the girl want anything from Mr. Sullivan?" The doctor asked. "This girl is no saint herself. I think she'd rather everybody forget about it."Two, three days later, the doctor called, “Well, Mr. Sullivan’s much better. Everything’s fine. He's forgotten the whole thing.”
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