It's the night before Gay Pride, and Lane and I are having about a dozen guys over, so they'll be able to get to the staging grounds easily tomorrow, or find a good place to stand to watch. As usual at West Hollywood parties, we swap celebrity dating stories: Tom Cruise, Rob Lowe, Mario Lopez, Dustin Hoffman.
Randall the Muscle Bear usually doesn't participate, although he knows a lot of actors, but tonight he may be trying to impress his date, Levi from Colorado, so he says "I'm going to tell you about the time Dick Sargent and I competed over a Disney adventure boy from the 1960s."
The room is abuzz as we discuss the Disney adventure boys, a stable of teen hunks who took their shirts off to demonstrate "wholesome American masculinity" during the late 1950s and early 1960s: Jeff East, Tim Considine, Roger Mobley, James MacArthur, Tommy Kirk.
"You'll have to hear the story, and guess.
Randall, who would become the Muscle Bear with the Pierced Penis, was then Randy, a 26-year old twink, fresh out of the Navy, back in his home town of Los Angeles after eight years in Hawaii, Guam, and Germany. He moved into a tiny apartment on Crescent Heights, in what would one day be West Hollywood, got a job in set design, and reunited with his old friends, including actor Dick Sargent (the future star of Bewitched).
Dick introduced him to 26-year old Tommy Kirk (Old Yeller, The Shaggy Dog, Swiss Family Robinson) who had been fired from Disney last year when the studio discovered that he was gay. He was trying to keep his career afloat with some beach movies and low-budget thrillers, like It's a Bikini World and Psycho A-Go-Go.
The three of them were talking, and Randall mentioned his crush on a Disney Adventure Boy from a few years ago -- he'd be in his 20s by now.
"He's a really nice guy," Tommy said. "He and Annette are the only two of the old Disney gang who will talk to me now. But he's straight. He's got a girlfriend."
"Maybe she's a beard," Dick suggested. A woman you date as a cover. "And, straight or not, nobody can resist my impish grin."
"Or my...um...baseball bat," Randy bragged. "I'll bet you I can convince him to drop his pants in just two hours."
"That's nothing! I'll have him throwing my legs in the air in 45 minutes."
"Is that a challenge?"
"Sounds like an episode of Truth or Consequences," Tommy said. "Tell you what -- I'll arrange the meetings -- that's the truth. But I get to go down on the loser, the dude who doesn't get the boy. Those are the consequences."
Dick and Tommy and their beards met the Adventure Boy and his girlfriend at a Hollywood hot spot. The music was loud and psychedelic; acid and pot were being passed around openly. There were dancers in cages. There were a number of celebrities grooving to the music, including George Segal and the Smothers Brothers.
At 36, Dick felt a bit old for such a groovy hangout, but he gamely danced the frug and the watusi with his girl. Then they sat at a red booth for drinks.
After awhile, the girls went off to "powder their noses," and Tommy found an excuse to make himself scarce. Dick slid across the booth and grabbed the Adventure Boy's shoulder.
"Hey, dude, you didn't hear it from me, but I think your chick digs chicks."
"Yeah, I know," he said. "Doesn't bother me a bit. She's the smartest, funniest girl I've ever met, regardless of who she sleeps with."
"But don't you want to...you know, get laid?"
The Adventure Boy smiled and patted his hand. "To tell you the truth, sex with girls isn't much of a kick. I never could figure out why everybody's so hepped up on it."
"Me, neither." Dick reached down and grabbed his knee. He didn't respond.
"There are so many more important things in life. Art, literature, music, philosophy."
Dick moved farther in, found the Adventure Boy's crotch, and squeezed. The Adventure Boy found his hand and moved it away.
"A sunrise on the beach is more satisfying than any number of blow jobs, I don't care if they're from a chick or a dude."
Dick backed off. Later he went back to Tommy's house for his "penalty."
Randy refused beards, offering Tommy and the Adventure Boy a "guy's night out." Beginning, at his insistence, with the L.A. County Museum of Art. He had never been there -- it only opened in 1961, and moved to its new building on Wilshire in 1965.
"This is where it's at," the Adventure Boy said. "Picasso, Rembrandt, Matisse will be here long after our beach-blanket dreck is forgotten. Mod comes and goes, but the artistic spirit lives on forever."
Randy touched his shoulder. "You're really very sensitive, aren't you? Nothing like your buffed airhead persona in the movies."
He shrugged. "It's a job. Besides, it gives me an opportunity to scope out the action. The Body Beautiful in Technicolor."
Afterwards they drove to the Santa Monica Pier to have dinner and then walk along the beach at sunset. Randy put his arm around the Adventure Boy's waist. Tommy chuckled.
"Hey, you dudes should drop by my pad," Randy said. "I got some righteous Sangria I picked up in Spain, and some maui wowie."
The Adventure Boy suggested that they go back to his house instead. He put on a record of Debussy, offered them a joint, and then sat with his legs wide, his head back, his eyes closed. His knee brushed against Randy's.
"Man, I could just lie here all night, letting the music flow through me. This has been a far-out day."
Tommy went out to the kitchen in search of wine. While he was gone, Randy knelt in front of the Adventure Boy and pressed down on his crotch.
"Art, music, pot, a walk on the beach, a couple of cool guys by your side. What more could you ask for?"
Randy unzipped him and pulled out his penis --very long, very thick around, pale in the dim light -- and fondled him.
He didn't get aroused.
Randy went down on him. It was like going down on a limp noodle. Completely soft.
After a few minutes, he tried his hand again. Nothing. He returned the Adventure Boy's penis to his pants and zipped him up.
A moment later, Tommy appeared with glasses and a bottle of wine. "You guys been keeping yourselves busy in my absence?"
"No," Randy said, annoyed.
After a glass of wine, they said goodnight, and Tommy drove Randy back to his house to collect his "penalty."
West Hollywood, June 1995
We glance at each other. Randall hasn't given us much to go on.
"Definitely Roger Mobley," Will the Bondage Boy says.
"Nope. It was Aron Kincaid."
The blond hunk in all of those beach movies of the early 1960s -- Beach Blanket Bingo, Muscle Beach, Bikini Beach Party? He was a lot hotter and more buffed than ostensible star Frankie Avalon, and a lot less interested in the ladies. I don't remember him being in a Disney adventure boy movie, but then, growing up Nazarene, I only saw a few of them.
This was before you could look up such things readily, and by the time I was near a library, I forgot all about it. Only recently did I look him up: Aron Kincaid was no Disney Adventure Boy. His only work for Disney was The Happiest Millionaire (1967). Randall was mistaken, or fibbing.
But at least both he and Dick Sargent dated a former Disney Adventure Boy: Tommy Kirk.
Was Aron Kincaid Gay?
It's possible that Aron was gay, but too tired or too high to get aroused, or too nervous with a third person there.
Or that he had no sexual desire at all; maybe he was asexual.
In the 1970s, he moved to San Francisco and started a new career as a model. He became friends with Armistead Maupin, author of Tales of the City, who named his chief villain Norman Neal Williams ( after his real name). Later he moved to New York City, where he embarked on a third career as a painter of landscapes and seascapes.
He lived alone through his life, and died in 2011.
See also: Dick Sargent, Cary Grant, and Groucho Marx, All in the Same Bed.