Almost six months later, Jason is still in jail. In the beginning, he was confident that his lawyers, Sachs and Bergrin, after all that money and all those free drinks, would bail him out. That did not happen. With none of his regulars, the trust-fund babies and famous artists Itzler considered his friends, rushing to his aid, Jason wound up in front of Judge Budd Goodman at the One Hundred Centre Street courthouse, penniless and lawyerless, tearfully asking to defend himself, a request that was denied. "Ask me if I feel like a sap," Jason says.
Down deep, he always knew that when all was said and done, after everyone had had their fun, he'd be the one to pay for it.With the Bush administration coming down heavy on sexual trafficking-the religious right's top human-rights issue-Robert Morgenthau's office is not of a mind to offer deals to loudmouthed brothel owners, not this election year. As a "predicate" felon from his ill-considered Ecstasy importation, Itzler's facing a four-and-a-half-to-nine-year sentence. Even if he beats that, there is the matter of his busted parole in New Jersey. Sitting in Rikers, playing poker for commissary food, once again Jason has a lot of time on his hands.
One of the things to think about is what happened to all the money that was made at NY Confidential. A common theory, one Itzler advanced in a recent Post story, is that Clark Krimer, who may or may not be cooperating with the D.A., took it all.
"He stole four hundred thousand dollars," Jason says. "He should be in jail. If anyone laundered money, it's him." Asked if it was possible that he, Jason, had managed to spend a good portion of the missing money, Itzler scoffs, saying,"Who could spend all that?"
When it comes down to it, however, Jason says he doesn't want to think about Krimer or the fact that Waldroup remains in jail even if he only answered the phones."I'm staying optimistic," Jason says, free of bitterness. "It is like I told the girls, if you smile a fake smile, keep smiling it because a fake smile can become a real smile."
"The problem with NY Confidential was it didn't go far enough," Jason says now. "If you really want to put together the elite people, the best-looking women and the coolest guys, you can't stop with a couple of hours. It has to be a lifetime commitment." Jason has consulted his prison rabbi, who presided over the recent Passover ceremony during which Itzler got to sit with recently arrested madam Julie Moya (ofJulie's) during the asking of the Four Questions.The rabbi told Jason that as a Jewish pimp who sold women to Jewish men, he was liable for the crime of kedesha. The rabbi did not, however, think this transgression necessarily prevented Jason from becoming a shadchan, or a traditional matchmaker.
"I'm thinking about the future, the next generations," Jason says from his un-air-conditioned prison dorm."I think I have a chance to do something good before I die.Who knows, the answer to the question 'Who is John Galt?' could be 'Jason.' "
As for Natalia, she is "keeping a low profile." Last week, she went to see Jason again. Thankfully he didn't talk too much about getting married inside the prison. Mostly they talked about the strange times they'd been through and how, even if it turned out the way it did, somehow it was worth it.
"I was a young actress who came to New York like a lot of young actresses, and I wound up with the role of a lifetime. I was the Perfect 10. I totally was. It wasn't the rabbit hole I expected to tumble down, but Jason and I…we werehappy… for a time, really happy."
Since she received hardly any of her booking money and is pretty broke these days, people ask Natalia if she's planning on coming back to "work." The other night, a well-known provider, who said she used to hate Natalia when she was getting those 10/10s, offered to "pimp her out."
"That would be a feather in my cap," said the escort. "To be the one who brought back the famous Natalia."
"No, thanks," said Natalia, which is what she tells her old clients who call from time to time. "I say I'm retired, in repose.They say, 'Come on, let me buy you a drink. I'll be good.' I tell them, 'Look, we had fun and I love you. But that is over.' Mostly, they understand. Some are willing to stay friends, some can't wait to get off the phone.They've got other numbers in their book."
That doesn't mean a girl has to stay home at night. New York, after all, is a big place, full of opportunity. In a way, things have gone back to the way they were before she met Jason. "Wiser, but not necessarily sadder," Natalia says.Tonight she's going downtown. It is always good to look good, so Natalia goes through what was a familiar ritual back in the days when she was the Perfect 10-getting her nails done at the Koreans' on Twenty-ninth Street, combing out her wavy hair. For old times' sake, she's got on what she used to call her "money dress," a short satin pink number with gray jersey inserts, with the shoes to match. About ten, she's ready. She goes out into the street, lifts her arm, gets into a cab, and disappears into the night.
Mark Jacobson is the author of several books including the novels Gojiro and Everyone and No One. His nonfiction books include 12,000 Miles in the Nick of Time: A Semi-Dysfunctional Family Circumnavigates the Globe, and the recent Teenage Hipster in the Modern World. He has been a contributing editor at Esquire, Rolling Stone, Natural History, the Village Voice, and works for New York magazine. He was born and lives in New York City.
The article that wound up getting called "The $2,000-an-Hour Woman" (my original title was "Rocket Fuel for Winners," after the rubric pimpmeister Jason Itzler had engraved on his metal business cards) wasn't easy to find. But once it got going it didn't let up. Partially this was due to the ever-fecund life story of Mr. Itzler, much of which actually appears to be true. Jason is one of those perfect journalistic subjects: a guy with a lot to say who can't wait to say it. In me he had a proper foil because, to reference Sydney Greenstreet in The Maltese Falcon, I like listening to a man who likes to talk. As long as that talk stays interesting. Itzler did, even if he did-and continues to-call me at least five or six times a day from his current residence at Rikers Island. That's the real torture for the Sammy Glicks of the world, getting locked up with a bunch of people who simply don't care what he has to say.
The piece's other leading figure, Natalia McLennan, would also wind up in Rikers sometime after the appearance of the story. This was too bad, since as the 1996 tap-dance champion of Canada and former Shakespearean actress (several productions as Juliet in Romeo and Juliet, also as Flute in A Midsummer Night's Dream) she is definitely not the Rikers type. Luckily, though, she was sprung after a month or so, although not before making the papers back in her Montreal hometown. Natalia, who does indeed have the proverbial heart of gold, did not hold me responsible for this unfortunate period of incarceration since, as she put it, "It wasn't exactly like I didn't expect something to happen after they put me on the cover of New York magazine without my clothes on." All told, I would say I met a better, more amusing, not to mention honest, class of people associated with New York Confidential than on my more usual beats, like state and national politics.
Skip Hollandsworth : The Last Ride of Cowboy Bob
from Texas Monthly
Peggy Jo Tallas was, by all accounts, the classic good-hearted Texas woman. For much of her adult life, she lived with her ailing mother in a small apartment in the Dallas suburbs. Every morning, after waking up and making her bed, always taking the time to smooth out all the wrinkles in the sheets with her hands, she'd walk into her mother's bedroom. She'd wrap a robe around her mother's shoulders, lead her to the kitchen, fix her cereal, and lay out her pills. For a few minutes, the two of them would sit at the table, making small talk. Peggy Jo, who didn't like to eat until later in the day, would often smoke a cigarette and drink Pepsi out of a coffee cup.Then, after her mother was finished eating, Peggy Jo would gently guide her back to her bedroom, prop a pillow behind her head, set a glass of tap water and her romance novel on the side table, and walk back into her own room to get dressed.