Wonderland Avenue TALES OF GLAMOUR AND EXCESS (1989) – Danny Sugerman’s actual HOUSE ON WONDERLAND AVENUE
I live in Los Angeles, not far from Wonderland Avenue. I have driven up and down, trying to find the house, just going by what I read of it in the book, and I have to say the house that I wound up locating, is not one that ever even crossed my mind as a possibility. I also tried combing the internet for years trying to find this house. Not an easy task. I’m patting myself on the back.
When I first went to photograph the house, I was skeptical. It did not seem to match the description. It did not appear “pushed back” to me, but by Wonderland Avenue standards, I suppose it is. I could not locate a pool in the back yard and besides that the back yard did not seem “fair size” to me at all, as described in the book. (I peaked over the fence.) All the same, another book, Canyon of Dreams has confirmed the address. Danny Sugerman’s house on Wonderland Avenue, from his book Tales of Glamour and Excess (1989).
This is it. This is the house that Danny moved into at age 19. The house that Ray Manzarek financed and used as his music studio. The house that Iggy Pop annihilated, and overturned the refrigerator in, while Danny was on tour with Ray. The house that Danny held a party in for Ray’s solo album release, that got trashed, and where Mackenzie Phillips was curled up, and passed out in the fire place. The house where Danny, the doors manager (post Jim Morrison), was handling matters pertaining to The Doors. The house where Ray Manzerek’s Gold albums hung from the walls, and sadly, the house where Tiffany (Danny’s girlfriend, not her real name), pregnant and alone, overdosed and died.
I don’t see the pine trees as described in the book. But a lot can change in 30 plus years. This is the house. Soak it up, and you are welcome.
I am going to include a memorable paragraph from the book. It takes place during a party that Danny throws for Ray’s Solo Album release.
“Around midnight my father surprised me by showing up with Joe. Within sixty seconds of their arrival Tiffany came over to meet them and, by way of a greeting puked in the vicinity of Dad’s left loafer. And then here comes Iggy, stumbling in our direction, with his big blue eyes gurgling in their sockets, pupils pinned like piss holes in the snow. His balls were falling out of his faded blue jeans, which were ripped from ankle to groin, and he had to keep pushing them back. Despite an inclination to do otherwise, I introduced my father to my friend.
So there’s Iggy, holding his nuts back with his left hand, pumping my father’s outstretched hand with his other one and telling my dad, ‘You’ve got a fine son, Mr. Sugerman, a fine fine son.’ ”