Born with a Tail by Doug Brod

Author:Doug Brod [Brod, Doug]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hachette Books
Published: 2024-10-08T00:00:00+00:00

“If my father had a religion,” Frew says, “it was capitalism.” His dad, an executive at Georgia-Pacific and then Louisiana-Pacific, had a flexible view of morality. “If it was legal,” Frew recalls, “it was ethical.” And it was this perspective that put his father in a number of strange business situations and led to a few near brushes with the law. “In his divorce from my mother, he pulled a bunch of shady deals that were skirting around the law as best he could to his own advantage,” Frew says, “even to the detriment of the rest of his family.” But because what he was doing was legal, he didn’t consider it wrong. If life is all about survival of the fittest, then of course whatever it takes to become the fittest is, by definition, ethical. “That was sort of how LaVey saw it,” Frew says, “and to a great extent how my father saw it.”

At one point after the divorce, Frew’s dad wanted to see what his kid was getting up to, so when he came to town, they arranged to have dinner with LaVey. “He and my father hit it off famously,” Frew recalls. After returning to the house, they descended to the basement. It was the first time Frew would behold the humanoids of the Den of Iniquity.

“There was somebody playing a pinball machine,” he remembers. “There was somebody slumped in the corner next to him, masturbating. There was the sailor at the end of the bar. There was another figure that was trying to pick up a woman at the bar. If you put your glass in the right place, the bartender would pour you a drink. And there was a drum set and a keyboard.” LaVey sat down at his favorite instrument and began playing a medley of songs from the ’40s, which prompted Frew’s dad to jump behind the kit. “That was the first time in my life I’d ever known my father to play drums,” Frew says. The duo jammed for forty-five minutes while Diane and a dumbfounded Frew hung at the bar.

“It was later that I was putting together a little radio program and I wanted to interview LaVey,” Frew says. “He said, ‘You should just talk to your father. He’s the most Satanic individual I’ve ever met.’”

Frew recalls that one night at LaVey’s the older man delighted in showing him a print of The Creeping Terror, the Z-grade horror film from 1964 notable for featuring little dialogue (but lots of narration) and a monster resembling a giant Venus flytrap covered in ragged quilts. Only the movie that unspooled had been reedited, Frew supposes by LaVey himself, to include graphic moments from stag films. “In Anton’s version, whenever an actor made any remark that could possibly be construed as sexual innuendo, the scene immediately cut to a couple going at it with vigor. He found this hysterical. I found it amusing, but it got old quickly.”

The younger man was protective of his friendship with LaVey and would often test people who claimed they’d been invited into his home.

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