Scotty Bowers (1923–2019)
Forfatter af Full Service: My Adventures in Hollywood and the Secret Sex Lives of the Stars
Værker af Scotty Bowers
Full Service: My Adventures in Hollywood and the Secret Sex Lives of the Stars (2012) 310 eksemplarer
Associated Works
Satte nøgleord på
Almen Viden
- Kanonisk navn
- Bowers, Scotty
- Juridisk navn
- Bowers, George Albert (birth)
- Fødselsdato
- 1923-07-01
- Dødsdag
- 2019-10-13
- Begravelsessted
- Los Angeles National Cemetery, Los Angeles, Los Angeles County, California, USA
- Køn
- male
- Nationalitet
- USA
- Fødested
- Ottawa, Illinois, USA
- Dødssted
- Los Angeles, California, USA
- Dødsårsag
- kidney failure
- Bopæl
- Los Angeles, California, USA
- Erhverv
- sex worker
entrepreneur
bartender
gas station attendant - Organisationer
- United States Marine Corps (WWII)
- Kort biografi
- Bowers authored the best-selling 2012 tell-all memoir “Full Service: My Adventures in Hollywood and the Secret Sex Lives of the Stars,” and was the subject of an acclaimed 2017 documentary "Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood." In 1946, he made his way to Los Angeles after serving in the Marine Corps during World War II and found work as an attendant at a Hollywood Boulevard gas station, where he met a very prominent actor, who invited him back to his house for a pool party. Bowers quickly turned to prostitution and started facilitating thousands of encounters for major film actors, who were mostly closeted due to the anti-gay policies of the studios at the time.
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Servicio completo af Scotty Bowers
La saludable imagen de América difundida por Hollywood en los años 40, 50 y 60 del pasado siglo es una de las más persistentes en la cultura popular -madres amantes, niños sonrientes-: un idilio conservador. Pero fuera del plató muchos de los actores y actrices que contribuyeron a crear esta imagen llevaban secretamente una vida muy desenfrenada, y un hombre en particular les ayudaba a hacerlo: Scotty Bowers. Scotty es una leyenda desconocida de Hollywood. En una época en que el sexo fuera del matrimonio era tabú, se forjó una reputación como alguien que te concierta una cita discreta con la persona de tus sueños. El propio Scotty se acostó con numerosas estrellas de Hollywood y puso en contacto a otras con sus amigos jóvenes, atractivos y sexualmente desinhibidos. En Servicio completo nos cuenta esta historia por primera vez.… (mere)
Memories of an octogenarian, nothing new.
This is not by any means a good book, but it is for the most part enjoyable and fascinating in a tabloid kind of a way. The accounts of Bowers' childhood at the start are frankly disturbing, but once you get past that there is undeniable fun to be had reading about the sexual antics of stars from Hollywood's golden age. It's repetitive in that each chapter is basically "another famous person I knew was X, you'll never guess what he liked to do" but it's told with an enthusiasm and fondness that makes it work and Bowers comes across as a likeable, if unconventional guy. That shit with Charles Laughton was fucked up though.… (mere)
Mr. Sex, Procurer to the Stars, Tells All, Explicitly
Scotty Bowers passed away in October 2019, but in 2012 he teamed up with documentary film producer and director Lionel Friedberg to recount his life in Hollywood as procurer of sexual partners for some of the biggest names in entertainment from just after the end of World War II straight through the Eighties and Nineties. The concentration here, though, focuses on the biggest names of film in the late Forties and Fifties.
During this time, Hollywood still operated under the studio system. Studios exercised control over the lives of their contracted performers and the times were decidedly conservative, especially when it came to sex. Extra marital affairs, general philandering, and in particular and especially homosexual sex, were verboten. Studios were very good at keeping the secret sex lives of their stars under wraps. Just witness the surprise in the Eighties when Rock Hudson revealed that he was dying of AIDS and was gay.
However, people within the community knew of the sexual shenanigans. And then there was Scotty Bowers, who, if you take his revealing memoir at face value, knew them all; not only knew them, but arranged for them on behalf of such stars and personalities as Walter Pidgeon, Cole Porter, George Cukor, Randolph Scott, Cary Grant, Kate Hepburn, Rita Hayworth, Errol Flynn, Vincent Price, Spencer Tracy, Vivien Leigh, Somerset Maugham, Noel Coward, Desi Arnaz, Mae West, Tyrone Power, Charles Laughton, Rock Hudson … well leave it at the list is very, very long. Scotty not only procured partners for these stars, he also participated in the sexual activities himself. And these were as varied as your imagination can conjure, from straight sex, to gay sex, to a variety of somewhat unusual and some highly unusual fetishes. Naming none here; if any of this interests you, though, pick up a copy of the book.
So, who was Scotty Bowers and how did he become the go-to guy in Hollywood, so much so that among many he was known as “Mr. Sex”? He was born George Bowers in 1923 in Ottawa, IL, a farming community near Chicago. He ended up in Los Angeles as a result of WWII, where he served as a Paramarine (disbanded during the war), seeing action during the Guadalcanal and Iwo Jima invasions. He witnessed considerable destruction and death around him during the war and learned of his own brother Donald’s death participating in the Iwo Jima fighting while engaged in the battle himself. Blessed with s strong constitution and a very strong sex drive, he decided that upon mustering out he would live life to the fullest. Also, he was no stranger to sex, having had an introduction at the hands of his uncle and later priests when his family moved to Chicago. Looking for a job and something of a jack at all trades, he landed a gig at the Richfield gas station at 5777 Hollywood Blvd. (now a fire station) and soon he found himself in the sex business. Unbeknownst to his employer, the gas station become a hub for hooking up, or even having sex on the premises, as there was a large house trailer in the back with two separate bedrooms. In a repressive culture with stars who wished to be themselves, at least in private, word spread and Scotty had his hands full, literally, day and night.
This may sound a bit familiar because the gas station features prominently in Ryan Murphy’s and Ian Brennan’s Hollywood, the miniseries, now streaming on Netflix. It’s portrayal doesn’t even scratch the surface of Scotty’s activities. For that, you’ll have to read the book. It’s a real eyebrow raising read, too, even if you think yourself pretty sexually liberal and knowledgeable. You’ll find things here you never dreamed up, guaranteed.
A memoir such as this, lacking as it does source citations, footnotes, even an index, and that relies on the memory of one man who was 88 at the time of the writing, well, it raises questions about veracity. Did this happen as Scotty claims and remembers? Did he know all of these famous people and did they confide their most personal secrets in him? Did he have as much and as varied a sex life as he represents? And did he make all of these arrangements asking for no payment, simply, as he says often, because he wanted to help people achieve happiness? Quite a few people in the know, including Gore Vidal and magazine writers and editors, think so. However, even if Scotty only did half of what he claims and heard about the other half, his life would still be a jaw dropper.
See of yourself, if tell-alls interest you. A word of caution, though: Scotty can be rather explicit, and some things really are cringeworthy. Intrigued? Have at it.… (mere)
Scotty Bowers passed away in October 2019, but in 2012 he teamed up with documentary film producer and director Lionel Friedberg to recount his life in Hollywood as procurer of sexual partners for some of the biggest names in entertainment from just after the end of World War II straight through the Eighties and Nineties. The concentration here, though, focuses on the biggest names of film in the late Forties and Fifties.
During this time, Hollywood still operated under the studio system. Studios exercised control over the lives of their contracted performers and the times were decidedly conservative, especially when it came to sex. Extra marital affairs, general philandering, and in particular and especially homosexual sex, were verboten. Studios were very good at keeping the secret sex lives of their stars under wraps. Just witness the surprise in the Eighties when Rock Hudson revealed that he was dying of AIDS and was gay.
However, people within the community knew of the sexual shenanigans. And then there was Scotty Bowers, who, if you take his revealing memoir at face value, knew them all; not only knew them, but arranged for them on behalf of such stars and personalities as Walter Pidgeon, Cole Porter, George Cukor, Randolph Scott, Cary Grant, Kate Hepburn, Rita Hayworth, Errol Flynn, Vincent Price, Spencer Tracy, Vivien Leigh, Somerset Maugham, Noel Coward, Desi Arnaz, Mae West, Tyrone Power, Charles Laughton, Rock Hudson … well leave it at the list is very, very long. Scotty not only procured partners for these stars, he also participated in the sexual activities himself. And these were as varied as your imagination can conjure, from straight sex, to gay sex, to a variety of somewhat unusual and some highly unusual fetishes. Naming none here; if any of this interests you, though, pick up a copy of the book.
So, who was Scotty Bowers and how did he become the go-to guy in Hollywood, so much so that among many he was known as “Mr. Sex”? He was born George Bowers in 1923 in Ottawa, IL, a farming community near Chicago. He ended up in Los Angeles as a result of WWII, where he served as a Paramarine (disbanded during the war), seeing action during the Guadalcanal and Iwo Jima invasions. He witnessed considerable destruction and death around him during the war and learned of his own brother Donald’s death participating in the Iwo Jima fighting while engaged in the battle himself. Blessed with s strong constitution and a very strong sex drive, he decided that upon mustering out he would live life to the fullest. Also, he was no stranger to sex, having had an introduction at the hands of his uncle and later priests when his family moved to Chicago. Looking for a job and something of a jack at all trades, he landed a gig at the Richfield gas station at 5777 Hollywood Blvd. (now a fire station) and soon he found himself in the sex business. Unbeknownst to his employer, the gas station become a hub for hooking up, or even having sex on the premises, as there was a large house trailer in the back with two separate bedrooms. In a repressive culture with stars who wished to be themselves, at least in private, word spread and Scotty had his hands full, literally, day and night.
This may sound a bit familiar because the gas station features prominently in Ryan Murphy’s and Ian Brennan’s Hollywood, the miniseries, now streaming on Netflix. It’s portrayal doesn’t even scratch the surface of Scotty’s activities. For that, you’ll have to read the book. It’s a real eyebrow raising read, too, even if you think yourself pretty sexually liberal and knowledgeable. You’ll find things here you never dreamed up, guaranteed.
A memoir such as this, lacking as it does source citations, footnotes, even an index, and that relies on the memory of one man who was 88 at the time of the writing, well, it raises questions about veracity. Did this happen as Scotty claims and remembers? Did he know all of these famous people and did they confide their most personal secrets in him? Did he have as much and as varied a sex life as he represents? And did he make all of these arrangements asking for no payment, simply, as he says often, because he wanted to help people achieve happiness? Quite a few people in the know, including Gore Vidal and magazine writers and editors, think so. However, even if Scotty only did half of what he claims and heard about the other half, his life would still be a jaw dropper.
See of yourself, if tell-alls interest you. A word of caution, though: Scotty can be rather explicit, and some things really are cringeworthy. Intrigued? Have at it.… (mere)
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