Scott Baio's Hookup with His Cousin and the "Fantasy Island" Guy

Of all the gay rumors I heard about Scott Baio, the most outrageous was the alleged three-way he had with his cousin Jimmy Baio and older actor Ricardo Montalban.

I heard several different versions from several guys, but it all boils down to three basic plots:









Story 1:

It was 1977, and 17 year old Scott has just finished Blansky's Beauties, while 15 year old Jimmy had just finished with The Bad News Bears in Breaking Training.

Scott's father, a canny stage dad who knew his way around strategic casting couches, arranged an introduction to the dapper Mexican-born Ricardo Montalban, age 56, then filming the first episodes of the Saturday-night old-person's favorite Fantasy Island (1977-84).

Montalban had seen Jimmy in The Bad News Bears, and asked that he be included to "sweeten" the deal.

They met at a hotel in Hollywood.  My source went into detail about the sexual activity, but I won't repeat it here, since Scott and Jimmy were both underage.

Story #2

It was 1980, and Scott, age 20, was playing Fonzie's cousin Chachi on Happy Days, while Jimmy, age 18, was a bigger star, playing Billy Tate on Soap.  

59-year old Montalban, who was filming Fantasy Island at ABC's Burbank studio, was a fan of Soap, and sometimes came to watch rehearsals.  He and Jimmy, who was gay but closeted, soon began a romantic relationship.

When Scott heard about Montalban's proficiency in bed and enormous 10" penis, he begged Jimmy to let him watch.  Montalban agreed.

They met at Scott's house in Studio City.  After playing pool and drinking some wine coolers, they went into the bedroom, where Scott watched as Montalban and Jimmy kissed and fondled each other, then got undressed.

As Jimmy was going down on Montalban, he motioned for Scott to join them.  Scott eagerly got undressed.  His 6" was already aroused.

Montalban told them to kiss and rub their erections together, while he topped Scott.  But Scott couldn't take his penis, so Montalban changed his mind: he topped Jimmy while Scott was going down on him.

Then he ordered Scott to bring himself to orgasm while they watched.

The hookup was never repeated, and Jimmy and Montalban broke up a short time later.

Story #3:

It was 1984, and Scott, age 24, was starring in Charles in Charge, while Jimmy, age 22, was scrounging around for tv guest spots after the cancellation of Soap.

Jimmy often went to the cruising area in Griffith Park, and one day he saw the 63-year old Montalban there.  They had met several times, but neither knew the other was gay.

They went back to Montalban's house on Oriole Street in the Hollywood Hills and hooked up.

 Jimmy was an anal bottom, but this was during the AIDS crisis, so he confined himself to going down on Montalban's enormous penis, kissing, and interfemoral.

Montalban suggested BDSM activity in addition to vanilla sex.  Jimmy agreed, as long as his cousin Scott, who was well known as a BDSM bottom, came along.

They met at Montalban's house, which had a fully equipped BDSM dungeon.

Montalban forced them to strip and fondle each other.  Then he chained them together for light whipping and clothespins on their nipples and bellies.

Then Jimmy had to go down on Montalban while Scott remained fully aroused without touching himself.  If Scott lost his arousal, he would get spanked.

He got spanked.

Jimmy didn't like the BDSM scene, so it was never repeated.  He and Montalban broke up shortly thereafter.

Which Story is True?

Theoretically, all three: Scott has been the subject of many gay rumors, and Jimmy, who now lives in New York City and has never married, is probably gay.  Ricardo Montalban was a devout Catholic, married to his wife Georgina for over 60 years, with four children and no gay rumors that I can find.  But that doesn't mean he wasn't interested in occasional same-sex activity.

#1:  I find it very unlikely that the suave, sophisticated Montalban saw The Bad News Bears in Breaking Training.  And although I've heard about the casting-couch-pimping father before, Montalban seems an unlikely candidate: he had been in many minor movies and tv shows, but was not particularly famous, and was in no position to advance Scott's career.

#3: Scott has been the subject of BDSM rumors, and the details of Montalban's residence and penis size are accurate.  But Montalban was living with his wife and his youngest son Vic at the time.  It is unlikely that he had a BDSM dungeon in his basement.

#2: Sounds most realistic.  By 1980, Montalban knew Scott and Jimmy from their guest spot on a May 13, 1979 episode of Fantasy Island (Jimmy guest starred by himself on an October 31, 1981 episode).  A studio meeting makes more sense than a cruising area. If any of them is true (and they may all be pure fabrications), this one is.

See also: The Top 10 Rumors about Scott Baio; Scott Baio and the Hard Master.

My Hookup with Robert Redford

West Hollywood, February 1986

One Sunday after church, my ex boyfriend Alan, the Pentecostal Porn Star, appears at my table at the French Quarter. "Are you doing anything Tuesday night?"

"The usual -- gym, Chinese food, and Who's the Boss.  Why?"

"Well, put Tony Danza on hold.  We're going to Mann's Chinese for the premiere of The Hitcher.  A guy I met at the gym has a part in it, and he invited us."

"Um...thanks, but no thanks."

"Why?  What's wrong with The Hitcher?"

I listed the reasons.

1. We have only been broken up for a little over a month, and I'm not totally comfortable with your  "cruising together" thing.

2. I don't go to many movies, maybe five per year.  There are no theaters in West Hollywood, so you have to go into hetero-territory, put up with heterosexual couples, or worse, groups of hetero boys who sit with one seat between them so their bodies won't touch; plus heterosexist plotlines and endless homophobic jibes.

3. The Hitcher?  The previews look horrible.  Bloody, violent, sadistic movie about a young man who picks up a hitcher who frames him for murder.  I only go to comedies starring cute guys, or any movie where you see a guy's cock or butt.

"Would it sweeten the deal if I told you we will be sharing Robert Redford?"

"Um...what?  Robert Redford, the movie star?"

"Jon said that Redford is like his best friend, and wants to share, but only if I bring a friend of my own along.  I figured, with you being a big celebrity groupie, you'd jump at the chance."

True.   Tall redheads aren't really my thing -- I like my men short and dark-skinned -- but Redford is certainly famous, with lots of Oscars and Golden Globes and at least two gay-subtext movies (The Sting and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid).  

Sharing Redford would certainly make a better party story than lunch with Michael J. Fox or brushing against the knee of the King of Sweden.

But...'Wait...sharing on your first date?  That's a little weird, isn't it?  Maybe he's just dangling Robert Redford in front of your nose like a carrot, just to get into your pants."

"Maybe," Alan admits.

"And why does he even want this four way on a first date?"

"He actually just wanted me and Redford, but it's dangerous going home with two guys you don't know.  They could be bashers.  But two guys going home with two guys evens out the situation.  It's not a trick, it's a party!"

"Well...."  Even if the Redford thing is a hoax, movie premieres have premiere parties, with cruising gay and closeted celebrities.   And I'll be sharing with Alan -- even though we've broken up, I really miss sex with him. He's very energetic, very passionate, and super-hung.  "Sure.  Sounds like fun."

The Premiere

Jon is in his late 20s or early 30s, a little shorter than me, with dark curly hair, a square jaw, and a firm but not muscular physique.  I can't see a bulge.

Turns out that he's from Indiana, like my parents; he majored in theology at Butler University in Indianapolis, then moved to Los Angeles, where he's been on Black Sheep Squadron, Hart to Hart, Baretta, and a lot of other tv series I never saw.  He was on the series finale of MASH. 

"So that's what got Alan interested!" I exclaim.  "He'd go out with anybody who was on MASH, or who could sing the theme song, or who has seen an episode."

Jon doesn't get the joke.  "No, what attracted Alan was that we're both recovering fundamentalists.  I can quote chapter and verse of Galatians in the original Koine Greek."

"I'm more into French, myself," I say flirtatiously.  "So, what's Robert Redford into?"

"He's into everything but bottoming. But very closeted.  I don't think he's ever had a boyfriend.  He only goes with guys when I invite them over to share."

"So...where is he?" Alan asks.

"He couldn't make the premiere, but we'll meet up later."

The movie is awful -- it literally makes me sick, both from the gore and from the heterosexist myth that all men hate each other: every man the protagonist encounters is evil, belligerent, or bullying, while every woman is kind, sympathetic, and loving.  Jon's character is on-screen for about two seconds. 

 I pass the time by fondling Jon's knee and imagining going down on him while Alan goes down on Robert Redford.  Or going down on Robert Redford while Jon goes down on Alan.  Or....

The Restaurant

After the premiere, I thought we'd go to the after-party, to hobnob with the star, C. Thomas Howell, and maybe get his phone number -- he's gay, right?

Instead, Jon drives us to a restaurant -- and not even a nice restaurant.  Mel's Drive In on Sunset, a faux greasy spoon probably named after Mel's Diner on Alice.  Not at all the sort of place a big star would hang out.

Not at all the sort of place three gay men would hang out, either.  Wall-to-wall hetero couples!

"Where is Redford?" Jon asks.  "He said he would meet us here at 11:00."

We order hamburgers and french fries, chat in that closeted way that gay men do when they infiltrate the straight world, and keep looking at the door.

"That flighty queen!  I'll bet he forgot!"

It's midnight.  I have to be up at 6:00 am tomorrow.  And I have the distinct impression that Jon is putting us on about the Redford thing.

"Let's just give him a miss and go back to Alan's apartment," I suggest.  "We can share another time."

"Fine with me," Alan says.

"No, this is ridiculous!" Jon exclaims. "He does this all the time.  I set us up with a hot guy, and he bails at the last minute.  His ex-wife calls, or he sees someone he knows on the street, or who knows what.  I say we drive out to his house, bring the party to him!"

Malibu

Redford has a beach house out in Malibu, a good half-hour drive away.  Granted, it's a nice house, from what little we can see in the dark.

Jon buzzes.  No answer.

He buzzes again.  No answer.

"I know he's in there!"

On the third try,  we hear a sleepy voice..  "Yeah?"

"It's Jon.  I have Alan and Boomer with me."

"Oh, shit, was that tonight?  Hang on."  He buzzes us through the gate, and a moment later opens the front door.

Robert Redford, a little scraggly looking, in a bathrobe, hugs Jon and shakes our hands.  "Sorry, guys, I forgot all about dinner...and I'm really not up for entertaining right now.  I was in bed."

"Well, can we at least spend the night?" Jon asks.  "Maybe you'll be up for it in the morning."

"Sure, come on in."  Redford and his dogs lead us through the living room and down a corridor.  "You can have this room and the one across the hall.  You can split it up amongst yourselves.  If you need anything, tough, I'm going to bed."

We all pick the same room, of course.  Jon has a hairy chest and an average-sized penis.  I go down on him for a few minutes, as a courtesy, but spend most of my time going down on Alan, while he and Jon are kissing.  Then Jon goes down on me, but not long enough for me to finish.  Alan spurts, but Jon does not.   They fall asleep in each other's arms.

The Hookup

Wide awake, horny, I get up to try to find the bathroom.  One of Redford's dogs approaches.

"You know where the bathroom is?" I ask.

He turns and leads me back to the master bedroom.

Redford is lying on the bed, in his bathrobe, reading a magazine.

"Oh, sorry.  I thought he was leading me to the bathroom."

"It's back that way," he says, pointing toward his left.  "And after you're done, you might as well take care of this for me."

"Um..."

Suddenly I don't have to go to the bathroom anymore.  I climb onto the bed, undo Redford's bathrobe, and find an uncut, soft cock, about 4".  It gets bigger as I touch and fondle it.  By the time I go down on him, Redford is a thick 7."  As I bob up and down, it gets even longer, and harder.

He keeps up a nonstop dialogue.  "That's it...more tongue action. Yeah...yeah...I'm coming...."

I swallow his load, go into the bathroom to wash over -- and urinate -- then return to the bed for cuddling.

But Redford says "I'm a little tired -- don't you think you should be back in your own bed?"

I return to my own bed, where Alan and Jon are snoring, and squeeze in to Jon's side.

In the morning we get up early "to miss the traffic," and leave without waking Redford.

The Fabrication

Some of this story is pure fabrication -- I made it up.  Can you figure out which parts are real and which are not?

1. The Premiere
2. The Restaurant
3. Malibu
4. The Hookup

Answer after the break

Yuri and I Meet the Emo Boy of London

London, June 1, 2007

I arrive at Heathrow Airport at 5:00 am. Yuri picks me up and takes me to his tiny, incredibly expensive apartment near Soho Square, in the heart of London's gay neighborhood.

His boyfriend Michael is just getting back from the gym: a bodybuilder, naturally, in his 40s, ripped but going a little to fat in the belly, with an oval face, a severe haircut, and several tattoos.

He grunts and squeezes my hand too hard.

Over breakfast, I  evidence no knowledge of British football, and make the newbie mistake of complaining that the people in London are rude.  You never criticize the country you're visiting!


Michael glares at me.  "Gotta go to work, but we'll meet for dinner tonight, yeah?  Burger King?  Or do you prefer McDonald's?  Some other kind of burger?"

"Boomer likes Thai food!" Yuri exclaims, to defuse the situation.  "Patara on Greek Street, 6:00, ok?"

They kiss, and Michael leaves.

Yuri has taken the day off, so we go sightseeing: the British Museum, St. Paul's Cathedral, a walk along the Thames, shopping in Soho.



"Michael is a nice guy -- trust me," Yuri says.  "He just needs time to know you."

"I was hoping that we could get together in bed again.  Are you monogamous?"

"No, we share. But I didn't tell Michael about sharing with you.  He's jealous, I think, because we lived together for a long time.  You can ask tonight, maybe."

At dinner, Michael is still surly.  When we go back to the apartment and sit on the couch to watch tv, Michael sits between me and Yuri.  I grab his knee, but he pushes my hand away.  Then, overcome by jet lag, I doze off.  I vaguely remember someone stretching me out on the couch and putting a blanket over me.

June 2 (Saturday)
I get up at dawn and go into the bedroom to awaken Yuri and Michael with hugs, and hopefully get an invitation into their bed.

"Sorry we overslept, mate," Michael says, pushing me away.  "We'll be up soon -- just give us a minute for private time, right?"

I don't mind not "sharing" Michael -- I've been with lots of bodybuilders.  But I want to hold Yuri in my arms again.

We have breakfast and go to the gym together, where Michael and I can compete over who can bench-press the most.

Afterwards I try to score some points by suggesting that we go on a tour of Wembly Stadium, where Londoners gather to watch football, but Michael says "Sorry, I'm very busy today.  But you and Yuri go on.  Get your sunglasses and cameras, and take a tour of Buckingham Palace.  Maybe Prince William is taking a shower, yeah?"


He is joking, but since Prince William is 25 years old, it's obvious that he's into young guys.  Yuri is 31, but could pass for a teenager.

Yuri and two of his friends drive me out to Stonehenge, and later we rendez-vous with Michael at the Gay Hussar, near their apartment.  It isn't actually gay-specific; it serves Hungarian food.

"What do you want to do tonight?" Yuri asks.  "We can go cruising.  There are lots of nice gay bars in Soho."

"Sure, that would be great. Would you guys mind if I brought someone home?"

"Not at all," Michael says, "If you don't mind blankets on the floor."

I'll bet if I bring a twink home, Michael will suggest more than that.  

Yuri hands me a guide book.  All types of gay bars, just like in West Hollywood.  Leather -- drag -- older guys -- twinks -- and Indie!  Obviously British slang for Indian.  This must be a bar for South Asians and their admirers, like the bars for black and Asian men in West Hollywood.

"How about this Indie bar just off the Strand.  I love South Asian guys!"

"It doesn't..." Yuri begins.

"Now, Yuri, don't be rude, like Londoners.  If our guest wants to go to an Indie bar, he can go to an Indie bar."

So we go to the Retro Bar.

You guessed it -- Indie doesn't mean Indian.  It's a type of music: Independent, not signed on to a mainstream record label.  Often local groups with an eccentric sound.

How was I to know?  I haven't listened to popular music regularly since around 1985. I think Avril Lavigne is a French children's author, and Fergie is Sarah Ferguson, the Duchess of York.

Indie music is horrible, all screeching and incomprehensible lyrics.

And the patrons are very young, barely out of their teens.  Some are probably in their teens.  We are the only guys over 25 in sight.

I like twinks as much as the next guy, but I feel very out of place in their hangout.

Besides, they aren't clean-cut, muscular college jocks.  They are emo, Goth, and scene kids: thin, pale androgynous, with straight black hair, hoodies, shirts emblazoned with cartoon characters, mascara-ed eyes, multiple tattoes, and pierced everything.  Not my type at all! Certainly not worth bringing home in the hope of fondling Yuri.

We commandeer a pedestal-table and order expensive juice drinks.

"The guys here are cute, yeah?" Michael says with an evil grin.  "So many Desis (South Asians)!  But the music is horrible, all screeching and shaking.  Not a lot of David Cassidy!"

I'm not going to let him know how uncomfortable I am!  "No, Indie music is great.   I had no idea.  I really love - the Futureheads."

"A Daddy who likes the Futureheads?"  someone says.  "And an American!  That's random, isn't it?"

I turn.  It's an emo kid, short, slim but with some muscle, dark skin, and a fringe of beard on his mascara-ed face.

"I'm Nehal.  Care to dance?"

Apparently my superheroic attractiveness to twinks works in England as well as America.  And, as it turns out, Nehal is a South Asian emo kid.

We dance, flirt, kiss.

"I'd invite you home," Nehal says, "But I stay with my parents, and they're old school conservative and that."

 "I'm staying with my friends.  They said I could bring someone over, as long as you don't mind blankets on the floor."

He glances at the pedestal table, where Michael is watching Nehal hungrily, and Yuri is looking bored and gesturing at his watch.

"Three Daddies!  Hot!"

First time I ever heard the youthful-looking Yuri described as a "Daddy."

"Maybe I could convince them to move us into the bedroom tonight, yeah?  If you don't mind sharing the wealth."

Before the night is over, I see both Michael and Nehal naked.  But more importantly, I hold Yuri in my arms again.  It feels like going home.