By Dana Miller

Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning? It’s hard for me to believe that Dr. Eugene Landy is dead and Brian Wilson is alive. Landy had been Brian’s big-toothed, bushy-haired, full-of-crap psychologist on and off since 1975. He was a short, stubby, unkempt, disagreeable sort of fellow -- far from a looker. He created, executed, and ultimately destroyed a very controversial form of nut abuse called 24-Hour Therapy. He died in Hawaii a few weeks ago. Landy and his team of totally hot surfer clones basically put Brian in his own private prison. He was never left alone -- not for one single minute. For years he was held captive by the hot Nordics at home, first in Beverly Hills, then in Malibu. Brian would stare at the wall like a mastiff with a drool cup while the hot guards took turns surfing. Brian was the musical mastermind behind the Beach Boys and one of the great poets and singers of the rock era. A true tortured soul, yet he was as sweet as could be. Legend has it that sometime in the late ‘60s Brian dropped some bad acid with a member of Three Dog Night. He would never be the same. Perhaps that explains the “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog” lyrics, but I digress. As a child, I used to work for the band in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s. That's back when it really was the Beach Boys. Now its just one original member, 65-year-old lead singer Mike Love singing “Be True to Your School” in Indian casinos coast-to-coast. Ugh. Brian was tipping the scales at over 300 pounds when Landy was brought in. Brian lived in his master bedroom closet, never brushed his teeth or washed his hair. Clearly there were issues. Extreme psychology was likely a good idea. Eugene Landy was just the wrong guy. He owned Brian -- controlled every aspect of his life. He wrote and produced music with Brian. He collected and controlled the royalties. He formed a company with Brian called Brains & Genius to, in theory, write songs and books and films at a time when Brian Wilson couldn't spell his name or tie his shoes. Landy decided when Brian would and would not tour. The entertainment business is filled with scoundrels, sharks, and swindlers. Some are beautiful, some our trolls. Some are smart, some are idiots. Preying on talent of any kind is not unique to Hollywood. 'Tis nothing for any of us in this biz to be proud of though. I think over time Dr. Landy believed he was a Beach Boy. I'm dead serious. One day we were biz lunching at Ivy at the Shore across from the Santa Monica Pier when he frenetically continued to ask the server for paper to scribble lyrics down that were coming to him from our discussion. It would have been comical, if it wasn’t so pathetic. He grabbed $35,000 a month up until 1986 when he was finally canned. (I feel in the spirit of full disclosure I must confess that I would bribe Brian with a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken if he would go on stage. The big bucket. Hey, I ain’t proud, but the show must go on!) The California Board of Medical Quality investigated Landy for causing Brian “severe emotional damage, psychological dependence and financial exploitation.” Quality doctor, huh? He lost his license. Brian is much better today and refers to that time as “the Landy years.” I saw Brian's daughter Carnie last week and we swapped Landy nightmare stories. How much time his daughters and first wife Marilyn lost to all forms and degrees of insanity (both with Brian and Landy) makes me so sad. My ode to the wannabe rock doc: Here lies Eugene Landy. Certainly he never was eye candy. The hack was more whacked than the stars he kept behind bars. Put that to music, Brian.

I ran into my old pal Steve Tisch the other day. Steve is a movie producer with a ton of credits including Risky Business. He won the Academy Award for Forrest Gump. Steve was once the volunteer chair of the board of AIDS Project Los Angeles and is one of its largest donors. Steve is also one of the funniest guys on earth. One day he and I were at CBS on Beverly pitching a show. His uncle owned CBS at the time. The miserable executive slug we were pouring our hearts out to was showing us no love. As we walked out, Steve turned to me and said, “I haven't worked that hard since I had to convince my wife that her best friend was full of shit and that wasn't me at the bar with the blonde.” Steve's production company Escape Artists is still at Sony in Culver City and his stunning wife Jamie and their three kids live in a beautiful home in Beverly Hills. He's also a superb dad to his two older kids who live up in Montecito. So ya think the guy is firmly entrenched in Southern California? Not so much. Steve has taken a new, additional job that requires some traveling. Steve is the new chairman and executive vice president of football's New York Giants! How cool is that? Should be cheap travel though. His family owns the Loews Hotel chain including the Regency in New York City. What a wonderful new chapter in an amazing life. I'm so damned fond of him.

Saw a buddy at the Trip Wilmot/Smirnoff’s send-off party for the final Will & Grace episode at the East/West Lounge who was able to successfully squeeze something out of my missives. Last issue I mentioned a new Japanese restaurant in WeHo I enjoyed, called Kiichi. Seems my pal took the article into the restaurant, showed them my written junk, and was inexplicably given free dessert. I'm uncertain if the proprietors thought he was the paper boy or the author, but whatever, I'm pleased with the results. If this fodder of mine occasionally becomes a coupon of sorts, then we have all finally found value in my words.

Not long ago I wrote of a friend with a plan. A dear, elegant gent named Fred Karger is on a mission with intense passion to save the Boom Boom Room in Laguna. It has been sold to a straight guy for millions and apparently the guy's concept is an upscale bed & breakfast with a swell restaurant. Fred is tenacious, if nothing else. He has just launched his new Web site with the help of Leif Strickland. The site is filled with action items including a petition. Check it out at savetheboom.com. Good luck Fred!

Adorable private chef David Lawrence has a new book out titled, Boy Eats World. It’s a cookbook, settle down. APLA is tossing a benefit at Mark’s Restaurant on La Cienega on Wednesday, June 14, from 6:30-9:p.m. starring David. Its 25 bucks with 100 percent of the loot going to APLA to support their critical programs and services. The first 100 folks will receive a free autographed copy. Here's the total deal: This is Pride time as well as the 25th anniversary of this blight, this bane, this horror we have dubbed AIDS. Stuff like this is easy for you and me to do and then we are a part of the solution. Its 25 bucks to cruise, munch and walk away with a cookbook. Do this. Do the Summer Party. Do something every single day. You will indeed be blessed. 

It’s Pride pondering time all over America. Albeit ours is on a flat bed truck. I sincerely wish you and yours love, smiles, health and happiness. I’ll bet you are smart, cute, committed, and funny. I lift my glass to you. May you live to be 100 with one extra year thrown in to repent. And may the last words you read, be mine. Happy Pride all!

See You Out & About

Contact me at Malibudana@aol.com