Jerry Stahl: The Interview
A Real Edition Exclusive.
by Jason Smith
Sitting outside of Fred’s 62 Diner in East Hollywood, I watch Jerry Stahl drive up — black Cadillac, black pants, black T-shirt, Johnny Cash had Johnny Cash shot dope while screenwriting for ALF and Moonlighting in the early 80s- when I’m struck with the realization that I’m about to do an interview and I have no idea what I’m doing.
I first read Stahl’s memoir, Permanent Midnight, back in 2007 while strung out on Fentanyl and Xanax, and I remember thinking: “Fuck. If this guy can get it, maybe there’s hope for me.” Fast forward eight years, and here I am, on a promotional tour for my own memoir, and we’re about to sit down to chat. It seems a bit surreal. I’d reached out to Jerry to ask him if he’d be interested in doing an interview, assuming he’d politely decline and I’d be able to say that I gave it a shot.
He accepted. So here I was, with absolutely no clue as to how to conduct an interview.
We walk the length of the diner, wrap around the back, and find a seat next to a lady, mid-80s-ish, eating runny eggs on wheat toast, all alone. It made me wonder what she did in her younger years that lead to her eating breakfast by herself on a Wednesday morning.
“Hey man,” I said, “I really appreciate you taking the time. I know you’re busy.”
“No, man, come on. It’s the least I can do. I know what it’s like, starting out. Shit, I should probably be out pimping my book too.”
The book he’s referring to is OG Dad, a collection of essays originally published online at therumpus.net, short stories that came about when the recovering drug-addict/Hep-C survivor/writer found out he was going to be a father for the second time. The first time, as detailed in Permanent Midnight, things didn’t go so well. OG Dad is the story of his second go-round.
Sitting down, Stahl describes his experience with Hubert Selby, author of Last Exit to Brooklyn and Requiem for a Dream, who shared his own experiences with Stahl while he was starting out. I get the impression that Stahl’s meeting me today is a sort of “pay it forward” act, which I’m totally cool with.
“So, I’m going to be totally up- front with you — I have no clue what the fuck I’m doing,” I confessed. “I’ve never done an interview before.”
Cool, calm, collected, he chuckles, which makes me feel a little better.
“Let’s just chat, man. Ask me whatever you want.”
