Who was Jeff Spicoli…Really?
I was Jeff Spicoli, NOT Sean Penn!
But I’m not the only one (with apologies to John Lennon). Others also contributed to the personality and character traits that became Jeff Spicoli as the world came to know him in Cameron Crowe’s 1981 book and 1982 movie.
If you read my August 2nd, 2020 essay here on Medium entitled “Confessions from the Real ‘Fast Times at Ridgemont High’” you can probably discern hints of the bold claim I’ve made above. I assure every reader, I am who I say I am and I will attempt to provide concrete-ish examples below.
If you also happen to be one of the few people who read my first piece posted on Medium (“Do Not Avert Your Eyes” from May 25th, 2020) you already know the years between high school and my Army enlistment were effectively “lost years” for me. Well, except for Professor Abraham Zygielbaum’s “Holocaust Studies” course during Fall semester at the University of Southern California in 1979. You also know, by inference, that there will never be much “love lost” between myself and movie-Spicoli, Sean Penn. After he was done yucking it up with Saddam Hussein, “retreating” long before Desert Storm actually began, in the midst of my last semester at Sam Houston State University I sat in my apartment for four days during the ground phase in abject terror as my friends went to war — including the Battle of 73 Easting, the second largest tank battle in the history of human conflict (after Kursk in World War II). I know EXACTLY how all my buddy’s parents felt over those four horrifying days. It matters not that it was the greatest, fastest victory in the long and sordid history of human warfare. They lived in dread of recognizing a name on a casualty list. They were terrified and so was I, even if from the safety of my apartment in Huntsville, Texas.
I am also the author of a slightly more polemic essay written after the events of January 6th, 2021 entitled “Pissed at All Y’All” (posted to Medium January 9th, 2020–13 days ago as I publish this). Yep, that’s me as well.
Was I a surfer? Not really, although when I was a little kid I managed to actually stand up and ride a wave or two, however briefly. I was actually better — but not much more experienced — at body-boarding.
Was I a “stoner?” Yep. Period. Full stop.
I was also a geek-nerd who wrote for the high school newspaper, nothing like Spicoli’s character in the book and movie. However, if you read closely, Spicoli’s not an idiot. He is capable of great self-reflection. This was far more evident in written form than on the big screen.
Now, let’s get to what (I hope) the reader really wants to know. What did I do in high school that made it into the book and movie? Before I do that it must be said that I was also Mark Ratner. Many elements of “The Rat’s” personality belong to one of my classmates but one event, between Mark Ratner and Stacy Hamilton, belongs ONLY to myself and the girl who Jennifer Jason Leigh was portraying in the scene I have outlined below. Without Cameron’s permission (I hope he won’t mind) I’m going to — more or less, with a few extra notes — cut & paste some text from the scene between “me” and the real-life Stacy Hamilton. But…and it’s a huge BUT(!)…I can vouch for NOTHING that happened to Stacy Hamilton’s character either before or after the following scene in the book (movie), which was very accurately portrayed but highly abbreviated on screen between Jason Leigh and “The Rat” (as portrayed by Brian Backer). In the book it begins on pp. 126. In my attempt to provide context I’ve freely utilized parentheses, brackets, bolding and italics but I’m not sure how Medium’s formatting will translate them, so look for this symbol “<=”:
(The Rat) pulled up in front of Stacy’s house. “I had a really nice time,” he said like a zombie.” Me too,” said Stacy. “Do you want to come inside?”
“Aren’t your parents asleep?”
“No, they’re away for the weekend. Brad and I are watching the house.” (<=absolutely 100% the truth but her brother was not called Brad)
It’s midnight and she wants me to come inside (<= both myself and “The Rat” thought).”Okay,” said The Rat sullenly. “Sure.” He followed her inside.” Where’s your brother?”
“I don’t know. Probably out.” She set down her purse. “Want something to drink?”
“No. That’s okay.”
“Well, I’m going to change real quick. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Naw. I don’t mind.”
She turned her back and pulled up her hair. “Will you unzip me?” This cant be what it seems (<= I thought at the time). He unzipped her, past the bra and down to the small of her back. It was the first time The Rat had ever done that. “Thanks.” Stacy walked down the hall to her room, easing out of her dress as she walked. She left the door to her room open. “You can come in if you want.” She wouldn’t be doing this if she hated me. He followed her into her room, his heart pounding in his throat. He turned the corner and stepped into the room. She stood there in her bedroom in a diaphanous white house dress. He pretended not to notice the difference.
“So . . . pretty nice house you got here.”
“Thanks. What do you want to do?”
Damone’s Rule Number Two: Always call the shots. <=I never thought this, it is literary license on Cameron’s part. I wouldn’t have been thinking that clearly and probably said something far more stupid at the time.
“I don’t know,” said The Rat.
“Do you want to see some pictures? I have all these pictures and stuff from Paul Revere. I kept a whole scrapbook!
{I’ve deleted the text that occurs here in the book because “Stacy” and I did not go to the same junior high school}
Her knee grazed his. She definitely expects something. For twenty minutes, Mark carried on two conversations. The one with Stacy about her scrapbook and the one in his head. There was a Scoreboard in his mind, and the odds seemed to be racking up in his favor. He debated all the signs. She had brought him inside, they were alone, she had changed. He had unzipped her. But what if he tried to kiss her and she screamed or something? He would feel like Jack the Ripper. No, he wouldn’t. Or maybe he would. What a wuss.
Then it occurred to The Rat. It wasn’t one of Damone’s big rules…<= {this didn’t happen, therefore deleted. Skipping ahead…}
“Not too many people like me in high school” (<= I may very well have said this, or something far more idiotic). Stacy looked at him oddly. “That’s too bad,” she said. More silence. He watched her pull her hair up and let it fall back down again. Another sign? After a while it all got to be too much for The Rat. “Well,” said Mark, “I’ve got to go.”
“Really?”
He got up off the bed and stood up. Beg me to stay (<= I thought)
“Do you really have to go?”
“It’s getting pretty late.”
Beg me to stay just a little. (<=yup)
“Well .. . if you’ve got to.” She stood up, too. “I’ll walk you to the door.” The Rat gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and ducked out of the front door. He walked down the steps of the Hamilton house. He wanted to turn around, to go back and tell her that he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to violate all the rules of The Attitude (<= a Damone character thing. Not me at all, therefore literary license on Cameron’s part) and tell her how much he liked her. And she, of course, she would tell him that she wanted him to stay, that she was glad he came back. And that this was just the beginning for them. And she would hug him and press up against him and . . .
Just as The Rat was heading back up the stairs, he saw Stacy’s bedroom light shut off. He stopped in his tracks. It hit him like an enormous gong (<=or a “ton of bricks” which is what I’m sure I thought at the time). It was as if the words were a Cecil B. De Mille production written in the nighttime sky, just for The Rat (<= a/k/a Scott Reardon): YOU BLEW IT, ASSHOLE!
There you have it readers, assuming you’ve stuck with things — the scene was even more abbreviated when it made it to the big screen. Now you know the story of how Scott Reardon/Mark Ratner/Jeff Spicoli ALMOST lost his virginity in high school. It’s all on the tapes, which I’m sure Cameron still has squirreled away…somewhere. He knows Stacy Hamilton’s real name. He also “knew” her, if not as well as I did. How do I know for sure that Cameron REALLY knew her? Because his casting decision for the Stacy Hamilton character (in many ways) was so very close to the mark! For that reason, to this very day, I still maintain a long distance crush on Jennifer Jason Leigh. Only Cameron Crowe and myself will ever know the “real” Stacy’s name. That can’t ever, and never will, change. After losing my my Mom and Dad, a little over four and six years ago respectively, one of the saddest things I’ve learned since is that this sweet, charming and (yes) innocent young lady — a girl, really, at least at that time — left this world at far too young an age. Oh yes, one last thing to correct the “record,” these events actually occurred on our second date.
But, you say, how the hell does any of that make you Jeff Spicoli? Keep in mind, as I’ve noted above, the “real” Spicoli was capable of great self-reflection. But it’s nonetheless a good question. Here’s where the subject of “the tapes” comes into the story. Remember the whole scene where Mr. Hand shows up to Spicoli’s house? Never mind the fact that I’ve always believed Mr. Hand also resembled Mr. Kay, a World War II Navy veteran and Shakesperean scholar vs. being inspired only(!) by our near-legendary history teacher Mr. Curtis. I’d like to believe Mr. Hand was really a mash-up of the two, much as Spicoli was obviously a mash-up of myself and a number of others. I’ll not “bore” you with a rehash of the scene between Spicoli and Mr. Hand, it is legendary in its own right. But I can assure everyone that this event actually happened to me. You see, my understanding is that Cameron Crowe only conducted extended/taped interviews with a relatively few people. Because I was on the newspaper staff from the very moment he walked on campus I suppose I was always going to be one of those people. I often talked with Cameron about what we can generically refer to here as “step family toxicity.” The very same toxicity which caused the pages containing my class photos in my Clairemont High School yearbook(s) to “mysteriously” disappear while I was away in the Army. Also likely why my 1st edition hard-cover copy of “Fast Times” went missing during the very same period of time. The book is no longer in print but if you are interested, apparently-legal copies are available for download at Etsy. That’s what I did.
The Spicoli/Mr. Hand scene is actually an “homage” to the night Cameron came to my house for our final interview, where I really opened to him about the entire “Stacy Hamilton” story. While I had more biological brothers than Spicoli (and fewer step brothers) this is how it actually happened: I was doing massive bong-loads while Cameron interviewed me (he, to his credit, never partook at any time during the entire year…nor can I say with any specificity if he ever has). At some point, my youngest brother Drew (1968–2006) came running up stairs and banged on the door to inform me that (step) Mom could smell all the weed. He wasn’t there to tell me “dinner was ready,” as you may remember from the book and movie.
Finally, as I’ve noted to a few of my friends online (especially on Facebook) I was the bylined author of the (“Arrow”) newspaper article in which the disciplining of Lt. Flowers is detailed after he pulls a gun on Spicoli in the (in)famous Clairemont High School dirt parking lot. Cameron borrowed freely from my article for the Lt. Flowers vignette that appears in the book. Things got REALLY mashed-up in the movie and this scene never made it on screen (perhaps not even into the script). I was not the Jeff Spicoli that had a gun pulled on him simply because he was trying to hide his bong but I was the Scott Reardon who had been confronted by a security guard at the University Town Centre mall, telling me in no uncertain terms, that he had more than probable cause to search my car. He did have probable cause but he did NOT search my car, therefore it wasn’t on my record when I enlisted in the Army. Also, and you may REALLY have trouble believing this one, I got into an actual fist fight with another guy during my Army basic training. It cost him his front teeth and me a large dime-sized scar on my right hand. So, perhaps, Sean Penn and I are not all that different. We both have tempers but that is a story for another day. Now “all y’all” know.
(Interim correction: as one or two old friends have pointed out, Sean Penn was very politically active prior to the 2003 invasion of Iraq. My personal memories of the lead-up to Desert Storm in 1991 are based on what I remember from the time. I plan to research any commentary Penn may, or may not, have made prior to that event. I will post a further update/correction after doing so. SFR-01/23/2021.)
