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THE BITTER TEARS OF COUNT YORGA

While I was working on the aforementioned “Fly” project the producers were given the green light from MGM/UA to put together a seven-disc boxed-set of Vincent Price horror films, two of which – DR PHIBES RISES AGAIN and MADHOUSE – co-starred a relatively unknown character actor named Robert Quarry.

Quarry enjoyed a substantial career boost during the 1970’s thanks to the unexpected success of a low budget skin flick that changed its spots mid-production (legend has it Quarry himself convinced producer Michael Macready to film it as a straight horror film) from a soft-core THE LOVES OF COUNT YORGA to the more mainstream title COUNT YORGA VAMPIRE, a marketing ploy courtesy of American International Pictures, the studio that would in time try to groom Quarry into a horror star to take over from Vincent Price should he choose to leave the studio.

COUNT YORGA VAMPIRE was a sleeper hit that summer, setting Robert Quarry, (a working actor for over twenty years) on a rollercoaster ride to near-stardom as the heir apparent to Dr. Phibes himself. While I was still in town recording my remarks for this mini-documentary they were preparing to go out with the Price boxed-set, a call was made to secure Robert Quarry for an interview and perhaps even an audio commentary regarding his work with Price. Apparently when Quarry answered his phone and listened to what the offer was he turned it down flat by reminding the young man who called on behalf of the studio “I am an old man now, leave me alone.”

When I asked the producer if Bob was coming in to work they told me what he had said and then asked if I knew him, but more to the point, did I know what the relationship was really like between Price and Quarry. Did I know Robert Quarry? Well…YES … in fact he was at one time in my life like a member of the family – the eccentric but lovable “Uncle Bob,” and definitely not the kind of Uncle on whose knee you sat either.

I have in past essays discussed a number of nightclubs and cabarets in Hollywood that figure rather prominently in my interaction with certain celebrities. I think that now is the time to introduce an infamous fixture on the Sunset Strip that was known as NUMBERS, which used to be located at the entrance to Laurel Canyon from Sunset, directly across from what is now the Virgin Mega store.

This well appointed restaurant bar was often described by the locals as a nightclub where mature gentleman could find male companionship for the evening and beyond for a price. The young men employed there as bartenders or waiters all wore white muscle shirts that bore a number from one to fifteen. The “host” of this establishment was even given his own star billing on the sign, alerting patrons to park in the back parking lot and descend the stairs to a chrome and leather hideaway complete with a full bar and restaurant: “Welcome to NUMBERS with your host Ernest.” Ernest was a short stocky slightly European fellow in his late forties who looked a bit like the comic Bill Dana without the laugh track.

For an agent this could be, on the right occasion, the perfect place to chat up working actors, the ones with high visibility in television, and in that way hopefully acquire some clients who might actually make you some money for change (at this point I represented way too many unknowns for my own good). Also many producers and a variety of Hollywood types would show up at this watering hole like clockwork for years.

It was around 1980 that I would first encounter the man behind “Count Yorga” as well as such familiar TV personalities as Richard Deacon, Charles Nelson Reilly and, when he was in town, Paul Lynde. NUMBERS was a riot on weekends, especially during the summer when its eccentric show biz clientele attracted a zany cross section of people both gay and straight. All were welcomed, however the better looking you were the wilder it got as one could never forget that NUMBERS was all about taking care of business, as long as you ran it by “your host Ernest.”

The first occasion I really got to chat with Robert Quarry was at Richard Deacon’s birthday which was celebrated at NUMBERS on one long ago Friday night. Richard was a great guy and everyone that got to know him was the better for it. He was a generous, big-hearted man with a knockout sense of humor. He used to joke about how so few of his co-workers ever knew he was gay. “I always played such straight-laced men in suits.” I of course remembered him as a kid from the old ‘Leave It To Beaver’ show where he was “Lumpy’s dad”. It was the night of Richard’s party that I first noticed Count Yorga in the flesh, sitting at the far end of the bar nursing a martini. I first checked with Richard to see if that fellow was who I thought it was. Richard laughed and said ”Oh yeah, that’s Bob alright, the ghoul from the graveyard. Go on over, he’ll get a real kick out of this.”

My first conversation with Bob Quarry was rather short. He was at first flattered that I knew so much about his films, but explained that he was really there to celebrate Deacon’s birthday, and suggested that I call him and we would get together for a drink and a chat when so much was not going on. His parting line to me was a zinger: “Listen kid, I would buy you a drink but at this point in the evening it might dip into my “trick” money, so lets have a rain check.”

I made a point of keeping his number after such an arch introduction, so later in the week I invited him over to my house to meet some of my friends. I decided to make it a real “horror film soiree” so I invited Curtis Harrington and Reggie Nalder to join us, and then invited Martine Beswicke as well, since I knew she could hold her own against the bomber squad of arch fiends I had booked for the evening.

Robert enjoyed being social so when he arrived at my front door he was ready to party, dressed in Levi’s and a work shirt, not exactly the attire I expected from Count Yorga Vampire, but definitely proper West Hollywood attire, a cool dude to be sure. He seemed to have a really good time, however the next day when we talked on the phone he was rather acidic about the whole evening and singled out poor Reggie to rag on, saying to me “I tried to have a conversation with this corpse and by the time I left I at least expected to see a pee stain materialize on his pants to show he was still alive.” It seems Reggie was so put off by Bob’s humor that he just sat there in silence, pretending not to understand much of what was being said.

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