Proud pornographer Ron Sullivan, known professionally as Henri Pachard, was remembered today at a well-attended Buddhist ceremony in the Panorama City section of Los Angeles. Sullivan, who died September 27, succumbed at 69 to a three-year struggle with cancer.
Veteran performer Herschel Savage moderated the two-hour ceremony, held at the Soka Gokkai International Friendship Center. “Ron and (wife) Deloras embraced Buddhism about two years ago,” Savage said, shepherding the group of about 200 attendees through a hybrid ritual of chanting, incense burning, and bell ringing combined with a traditional – and often boisterous – wake.
I’d estimate that more than 90 percent of those who attended knew Sullivan from the adult industry, which he’d been a part of since the late 60s in New York. Sullivan directed, wrote, appeared in, or otherwise worked on thousands of adult movies (as well as, as director Jane Waters remembered, in-house documentaries for Colonial Williamsburg). The remaining ten percent appeared to be members of the SGI Center and the family of Deloras, who was Sullivan’s fifth wife.
“Ronnie was one of those people who would stand up and say, ‘I’m a pornographer,'” said director Freddie Lincoln, looking cool and trim in long white hair and jeans. But Lincoln was representative of most of the guests who, unless they were the children of people who knew Sullivan, all appeared to be older than 35.
Sullivan’s was the most recent funeral of men who were integral to this region’s fame as Porn Valley: directors Jim Holliday and Clive McLean and performer Jon Dough were all waked within the past five years.
Anyone who harbored fears that the decorum of the tranquil Buddhist ceremony would be shattered by the pornography crowd was quickly proved right.
“I was Ron’s penis,” said director Paul Thomas, who began as a performer in the 70s. “We started a line of cocaine that didn’t end for twenty years. And Ron, I’m still your penis.”
But the crowd didn’t appear scandalized. As a video montage played, a porn pantheon took the stage to pay tribute to Sullivan. Among them were Nina Hartley and Ernest Greene, Randy Spears, Sullivan’s son Jason (a much sought after porn cameraman in his own right), performers TT Boy and Valentino, and former performer and founder of Adult Industry Medical – the de facto Porn Valley STD testing clinic – Sharon Mitchell (“Then I was Ron’s vagina“).
In the audience were veteran directors Roy Karch, Cass Paley, Jace Rocker, Bud Lee, Rob Spallone, and David Aaron Clark; performers Lynn LeMay, Don Hollywood, and Cameron Cain and Aiden Starr (two exceptions to the Over 35 demographic I saw); agents Mark Spiegler and Derek Hay; and screenwriter/costumer Raven Touchstone, who remembers a time when one could make a living writing porn scripts (hint: it was long ago).
Sullivan was remembered – fondly – by many as a womanizer. Sharon Mitchell said that Sullivan was the first person she called in 1996 when she was attacked by a crazed fan and needed a ride home from the hospital. “And he didn’t hit on me,” Mitchell said. “He said that he wanted to but he could see I was too fragile.”
Another hospital story (as well as numerous video clips) revealed Sullivan’s loopy sense of humor.
“I was recovering from an operation and told him that my sides hurt to laugh,” Sullivan’s younger sister recalled. “We got in the cab and Ron told the driver to go slow and avoid all potholes ‘because all ten of her toes have been amputated.'”
Deloras took the racy anecdotes from Sullivan’s porn friends in stride, and received glowing tributes herself. “We were all so lucky to have Ron,” said Tammy Behan. “But Ron was so lucky to have you.”
Sullivan’s final years were painful. If the primary theme of the service was what a delightful person he was, the secondary theme was the ugliness of his cancer.
“It was like a fire inside him,” Deloras said. “But he doesn’t have that body any more.”
“I have to admit I’m relieved that he doesn’t have to go through this anymore,” Sullivan’s son Jason said.
For those of us who didn’t know Sullivan well, this was a “good funeral.” It left us wishing we’d known the departed better.
Director Ernest Greene was one of many who described Sullivan as a mentor.
Greene also said that Sullivan was a great source for the history of the adult business. Even though that history is brief and the business is comparatively small, there isn’t really much more than an oral history, whose few remaining interpreters have been reduced by one.
In my own (brief) experience, this has resulted in a reactionary culture of “Don’t you know who I am?” among some long-time adult industry personnel, fearing marginalization in an already marginalized business.
But Sullivan was not like that. He was just friendly and supportive.
And humble. David Aaron Clark put this better.
“(Sullivan) never said, ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ He was the guy who you’d be talking to for 45 minutes and then someone else would say, ‘Don’t you know who he is?'”
It was an uncharacteristically rainy day, so naturally it was a porn screenwriter who said “the heavens are crying.” But Deloras Sullivan, who took care of her husband from hale to hollow, was relieved and hopeful, even as she cried.
“He’s back,” she said.
Update: Toronto-based artist Denise LaFrance painted the 2004 likeness of Sullivan displayed at the top of this story and on the program for Sullivan’s memorial. It and several other paintings of adult industry notables appear in LaFrance’s upcoming coffee table book “The Golden Heart & Soul of XXX ~ A Celebration of People.”
Previously on Porn Valley Observed: Cancer benefit for Henri Pachard; Hair apparent: he Violation of Claudia; Is the feature dead?; The Pornograher at 60; Nina Hartley And Ernest Greene: O (the power of submission) The Places They Go; Take me to the FIP
See also: Henri Pachard on the Internet Adult Film Database
Gram,
Nice piece for a really nice guy. Ron never had a bad word to say about anyone. He was old school, He did what he did and enjoyed it. This industry is in serious need of quality people like him. He will be missed.
-M
Brilliant work, Gram. I only knew Henri by e-mail and by reputation, but I could tell he was a sweet man.