CHAPTER 28

LITE A FLAME

We went through some crazy times at Briarcliff, like the Rodney King riots in 1992 during which, from our deck, we could see hundreds of fires burning across the city. For three days we cowered below window height with no electricity, while helicopters buzzed overhead and gunfire could be heard whizzing by. Then there was the big Northridge earthquake of 1994, coincidently the night our baby was conceived. Our huge, old house rocked and rolled like a ship in a storm. We lost our three-story chimney, but little did we know what we’d gained.

In the ’90s, I continued to devote as much of my time as possible to my two favorite causes, supporting gay rights and raising awareness about HIV and AIDS and working on animal-rights issues. I served as grand marshal for the twentieth annual Gay Pride parade in West Hollywood and, among other LGBTQ events that year, did a fundraiser for AIDS prevention at a local Eastside gay bar, where my friend Lynne Stewart and I got a little tipsy and ended up stripping down to our skivvies to raise money—proving once again (as Elvira would say) that I really will do anything for fifty bucks!

Around this time, I was approached by PETA. The organization’s charismatic young campaign director, Dan Mathews, had seen Mistress of the Dark the week it debuted and thought I was a perfect match for PETA’s theatrical approach. Dan flew to LA from DC faster than a chicken fleeing Colonel Sanders!

Coincidently, our paths had crossed before. In 1982, when I’d hosted a costume contest at Grauman’s Chinese Theater for the movie premiere of The Thing, I’d chosen seventeen-year-old Mathews out of hundreds of contestants as the winner. The handsome, six-foot-five kid was dressed as Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest. He’d brought along a friend, dressed as Linda Blair’s character in The Exorcist, and beat her with a wire hanger as she pretended to masturbate with a cross onstage in front of God and everyone. Talk about a dynamic duo!

Dan explained that as a vegan his first step had been to stop eating fish when he was in high school. “Was that around the same time you realized you were gay?” I asked. That cemented our friendship. Dan proceeded to show me horrifying photos and video of the brutal reality of the fur trade and that was it—my eyes were opened.

In 1985, I changed the license plate on our Mercedes station wagon to read BAN FUR. Along with Dan, now a senior VP at PETA, I also led a massive protest at a fur convention in Las Vegas, heralding the breakthrough of the antifur movement. With the help of Belinda Carlisle and Jane Wiedlin of the Go-Go’s and Rue McClanahan of The Golden Girls fame, we held a news conference in the old Landmark Hotel where I’d worked as an extra in the James Bond film Diamonds Are Forever decades before. The demonstration was such a success that to this day, there’s never been another fur convention held in Las Vegas.

Later, I joined Dan in another attention-grabbing campaign called “Fur Is a Drag,” which was a parody of fur-fashion shows but with drag models sporting mink coats covered in red paint and accessorized with steel traps. We did shows in New York and LA with comedy queens like Lady Bunny and Jackie Beat, and in London with drag legend Leigh Bowery performing while Chrissie Hynde sang and Boy George and the Pet Shop Boys watched from the wings.

When my perfume, Evil, came out that year, it was the first cosmetic product to bear PETA’s Cruelty-Free symbol. I was proud and humbled to later receive PETA’s humanitarian award for my participation in numerous campaigns, including the antifur ad campaign, “What Disgraces a Legend Most.” With his iconic “I’d Rather Go Naked Than Wear Fur” campaign that followed, I became a staunch admirer of Dan’s fierce, creative, “take-no-prisoners” approach to making people aware of animal-rights issues.

In 2019 California actually banned fur, most designers have dropped fur from their lines, and Macy’s has closed all of its hundreds of fur salons across the US. Even Queen Elizabeth now refuses to wear the stuff!

I’m extremely proud to have played a pioneering role in curtailing the horrible cruelty involved in killing animals solely for their fur—a luxury item that nobody needs, not even the Queen of England or the Queen of Halloween.

One of my favorite animal rights events was a star-studded vegan Thanksgiving dinner Mark and I hosted at Briarcliff, sponsored by Dan and PETA founder Ingrid Newkirk. The guests included two of my favorite female singers, Melissa Etheridge and k. d. lang, along with radio personality Casey Kasem and actors Katey Sagal and River Phoenix. A live turkey was the guest of honor.

I was so excited to be hosting this special sit-down dinner that I spent days preparing for it. I’d cooked a huge pumpkin stuffed with wild rice, nuts, raisins, and various veggies and a yummy fresh corn and green-chili casserole, among other things. All the guests were seated at the dining room table when River cruised in late, looking extremely disheveled. Although there was only one more seat at the table, he’d brought along four of his young siblings—Rain, Summer, Liberty, and Leaf (who later changed his name to Joaquin)—which caused a mad last-minute scramble to find extra food and seating, throwing me into a bit of a tizzy. When I set my casserole on the table in front of River, he bent over it to take a whiff and his grimy, old stocking cap fell from his stringy hair right into the center of it. I was already pissed about the uninvited extra guests but tried my best not to let this send me over the edge. River snatched his creamed corn–covered cap out of the casserole as I put on my best fake smile and whisked it back to the kitchen, where I spent the next few minutes picking greasy hairs and rainbow-colored yarn fibers out of it. On their way out the door, however, River, along with his brother and sisters, came over to me and gave me the biggest, warmest group hug ever. They thanked me so sweetly and sincerely that all was immediately forgiven.

In 1990, I was offered a guest spot on the popular TV show Circus of the Stars. My part entailed riding and training an elephant and my initial reaction was, “Wow—fun! I love elephants!” But when I learned that elephants in circuses are trained through beating and electric prods, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I’d participated. I turned down the job and (reluctantly) the $10,000 payment that came with it. My refusal to do the show made the cover of USA Today and brought a lot of attention to it. It would take another twenty-five years, but PETA eventually closed down the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus altogether based mainly on the outrage over how elephants are mistreated. If you want to go to the circus, there’s always Cirque de Soleil, where you can be sure that all the entertainers are willing participants.