At Memorial in San Francisco, John Leslie Remembered

SAN FRANCISCO—It was a small gathering, a year after he died. It was near his birthday, too, January 25th. He would have been 67. We all loved him, who were there. Some of us were his colleagues, some were friends, and some others were just fans and connoisseurs who had only seen him on the screen before he unexpectedly died. And, of course, his widow was there, too, still grieving, still trying to get used to it all. She was back on her feet again from a broken leg that had knocked her down just a scant three weeks after his passing. The healing and the healing... There had been a huge outpouring in LA at the memorial that had been held there for the adult industry. It was a veneration really, a canonization, a shocked display of love by a group of people who do not give their love easily. It was held just a while after his sudden departure. It was a gasp and a sorrow. Another king was dead. In Marin, the second memorial had been for the community near his home. His golf buddies were there, his musician pals, the friends of his marriage, and the merchants of the businesses he had frequented. Near Pittsburgh, the third memorial was for his family. And it was his family. There were at least four or five people there that wore the same face John had carried through his life, though his version was by far the most enchanting. And this last memorial was in San Francisco. It was at the Center For Sex and Culture. He was taking his place in history. His role was secure. First as an actor and then a director, John Leslie was a Titan in his own generation of sexual heroes. And he brought the exquisite side dishes of musician and painter and cook and cameraman to the feast as well All is said and done now, and probably his most important role was that he was Kathleen's husband. Next year, John would have been 68, but he is still gone and we see now, a year later, that we're just getting used to that idea.