Tag Archives: forgotten lives

Kurt Marshall: One of the Beautiful Boys

On survivor’s guilt, and remembering the boy we lost


My friend David gets a bit tetchy when I write about death, especially when that death was caused by AIDS. David is a survivor of the eighties and knows all about it. He lost a lot of friends. He feels guilty because he escaped while some of them didn’t.

I’ve never quite grasped the scale of the devastation the 1980s brought, or how an entire generation could be so cruelly diminished.

AIDS did not discriminate against anyone.

“It was always the beautiful boys who got it. Still, it gave the rest of us a chance,” David says, with his customary dark humour.

Perhaps it goes some way towards explaining why he can sometimes come across as an arrogant son of a bitch.

One of those beautiful boys was James Allen Rideout Jr., from Waterville, Maine (1965–1988).

At eighteen, Rideout moved to California, where he attended college and worked as a computer programmer in San Francisco. To help pay his way through college, he adopted the name Kurt Marshall and began appearing in gay pornographic films. There were only four: Sizing Up, The Other Side of Aspen II, Splash Shots and Night Fall.

The website The Closet Professor describes him as “one of the most stunning and lusted after blondes to ever hit gay porn”.

He was fortunate, in a sense. Unzipped magazine noted that the films in which he appeared were noteworthy. But there was more to Marshall than his good looks, blond hair and buff body.

He was also an advocate for gay rights.

“I think to be gay is to be blessed. We have so much freedom, so many choices. This isn’t our moment to party or to think we’re going to stay young forever…maybe it’s our time to find someone to be safe with…to be happy with…”

How incredibly tragic those words seem now.

Marshall tested positive for HIV in 1986. That same year, he came out to his family and entered a drug rehabilitation programme. He later moved into the construction industry.

In October 1988, aged just twenty-two, he died at Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center. His official cause of death was kidney failure attributed to substance abuse and AIDS.

Twenty-two.

Sometimes a number is all it takes to bring home the sheer waste of a life.

There is a memorial to Marshall on the Find a Grave website. It is an extraordinary, if rather heartbreaking, tribute:

Dear friend, while the time discolors the vanity of our old pictures, you can instead be an immortal guardian angel for all us, just for the fact you are in eternal life of your young rest, because what I believe is that where you are now, the time will not pass and so it doesn’t consume your face anymore forever… and ever.

The words may be imperfect, but perhaps that makes them all the more affecting. Someone wanted to preserve the young man they remembered, untouched by time, his face no longer subject to the ravages of age.

His photographs remain. His movies remain. And somewhere, in the memories of those who knew him, there is still that beautiful boy.

David remembers what happened to so many of them. I can write about it, but I can never really know what it was like to be there, to watch friends disappear and to wonder why you were spared.

Perhaps that is why we should keep telling their stories.

Joey Stefano Is Dead. Madonna Isn’t

Porn, Madonna, drugs, death – and one red shirt


“At least once a week, I get asked, ‘Whatever happened to that Joey Stefano biopic you were going to do?’

“Every time, I sigh and reply, ‘Still trying to find the financing. Got a million bucks?’

“This for nearly eighteen years.”

Director Chad Darnell wrote those words in 2019.

Things haven’t changed.

It seems that nobody is particularly bothered about Joey Stefano anymore.

Spare me the blushes. It’s unlikely that I’ll be rushing out to find VHS tapes of his work anytime soon.

Joey Stefano — real name Nicholas Anthony Iacona Jr. — was a gay porn actor whose career took off in the 1990s under the guidance of Chi Chi LaRue, the American adult-film director and producer.

I love one particular description of Stefano:

“Stefano was the first bottom to hit big.”

It leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. And, yes, you’ve guessed correctly.

For a time, Joey — or “Nicky” to those who knew him — was on a high, appearing in more than fifty gay porn films.

High.

Quite literally.

He struggled with drug and alcohol abuse, and in 1994 he died from a drug overdose at a Hollywood motel. The combination was cocaine, morphine, heroin and ketamine.

“His ashen body spread across sweat-soaked sheets.”

There was also the intriguing story of the red shirt he was wearing when he died.

The shirt fascinated Chad Darnell, too. Writing in Queerty, he recalled:

“I was also obsessed with finding the infamous red shirt everyone spoke of in their interviews.”

Nearly eighteen years later, Darnell finally got his hands on it.

“Mike (Skee) called me and said he’d found something he had to show me. He had recently come across a box of Karen Dior’s clothing and each of the pieces had little notes pinned inside them. Dresses. Shirts. Jeans.

“He pulled out a red poplin shirt with a note that read: ‘Nicky died in this’.

“I still have no explanation as to why I felt the need to find this shirt for nearly eighteen years, but here it was. I felt like I had finally caught this ghost I had been chasing for nearly two decades.”

We can all be macabre sometimes.

But Joey Stefano had another claim to fame — and this one took him well beyond the world of gay porn.

Madonna chose Stefano to appear as a featured model in her bestselling and highly controversial coffee-table book, Sex, released in October 1992.

She had noticed him through his growing notoriety and his work as an erotic dancer at New York City’s Gaiety Theatre in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Following the book shoot, Stefano also made a cameo appearance in the music video for Madonna’s single Deeper and Deeper.

The collaboration fitted neatly into Madonna’s wider exploration of transgressive sexuality, underground art and marginalised queer subcultures during her Erotica era.

And then Stefano died.

His death didn’t exactly set the newspapers alight, but I stumbled across an old article in Britain’s Sunday Mirror.

It is fascinating — although perhaps more for its inaccuracies than its accuracy.

“A former boyfriend of Madonna took a chilling secret to the grave — he was HIV positive.”

The article described Stefano as Madonna’s former boyfriend and claimed that he was a 26-year-old bisexual who had been paid just £100 to pose naked with other men in what appeared to be an orgy.

It claimed that, on his deathbed, Stefano had told a friend that Madonna had turned her back on him because he was a junkie. It also claimed that he knew he was HIV positive but had never told Madonna.

According to the article, the two had met after Madonna saw Stefano dancing at a New York theatre. She stayed for two shows, tucked twenty-dollar bills into his G-string and told a friend he was “gorgeous”.

There is, however, a problem.

As far as I can establish, Stefano was never Madonna’s boyfriend. Nor was there, as far as I can establish, any official diagnosis of HIV.

That doesn’t necessarily mean the entire story was invented. It is entirely possible that Madonna distanced herself from Stefano as his drug problems became more severe.

Film editor Mickey Skee certainly believed Stefano had been abandoned by the people who once surrounded him.

“He was abandoned by the rich and famous who once swarmed around him,” Skee said. “And he bad-mouthed Madonna. She had promised to come and see him and help get him jobs. She never did.”

And that, perhaps, is the part of the story that interests me most.

Not the porn.

Not the red shirt.

Not even the Madonna connection.

It’s the strange little gap between the man Joey Stefano became and the people who had briefly found him fascinating.

He was famous enough to be photographed for Sex, famous enough to appear in a Madonna video, famous enough to inspire a biopic that someone spent eighteen years trying to finance.

And yet, when he died, the story almost disappeared.

So I would like to have a word with Madonna.

I have a few questions.