Free The Other Hollywood by Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia

Traynor, whatever she was calling herself, away from me on the set. She was a pain in the ass. She would just get down between my legs and try to open my fly. And I’d say, “I gotta work.”
    I mean, everybody fucked while they were waiting to fuck. We’d fuck before—we’d fuck after—we’d fuck during. But I didn’t like Linda; there was just something about her…
    So did I do any scenes with Linda? No. I just did pretty girls.
     
    ERIC EDWARDS : I think it was Linda who called me and said “Hey, I got a new guy, Bob Wolfe, that’s doing stuff. Let’s do another scene.”
    Linda liked working with me. Or fucking me, I should say. She liked the idea of me being able to perform. I would get called by Linda, so I also did several scenes for Bob Wolfe, not just the famous one.
     
    CHUCK TRAYNOR : Bob Wolfe made a million loops. He was a nice, black-haired guy. I think Linda and I made probably between ten to fifteen loops at that time for him. It’s really hard to say because with someone like Bob Wolfe who shoots with two cameras you never know how many you’ve made.
     
    FRED LINCOLN : They would call us—I think it was Vinnie, Butchie Peraino’s bodyguard—and say, “Come at nine o’clock in the morning.”
    We’d show up, and they’d figure out who’s gonna work with who and who’s gonna do what. That’s the way we worked, cause, you know, we were stoned, ha, ha, ha! This was the hippie days: We’d smoke a joint, we’d do acid, and we’d fuck.
     
    CHUCK TRAYNOR : Bob Wolfe was, of course, doing the freakiest films. He had a place down on Fourteenth Street. Linda and I were sitting there, and he just asked her.
    He asked, “Lady, would you ball a dog?”
    And she said, “Sure.”
     
    LINDA LOVELACE : Bob Wolfe asked me, “We’ve been thinking of making a dog movie. Would that interest you?”
    I said no before I even considered the question. A dog movie? A dog movie? I knew they weren’t thinking about Rin Tin Tin or Lassie Come Home . They were undoubtedly considering a girl-meets-dog movie.
     
    CHUCK TRAYNOR : I was sitting there, and Bob Wolfe said, “Jesus, we could do three or four films, and I could pay you some extra money.” So I figured, what the hell?
     
    LINDA LOVELACE : “There’d be a lot of money in it,” Bob said. “A lot more than usual.”
    “I’m not interested,” I said. “I’m afraid of dogs.”
     
    ERIC EDWARDS : I’ve known Chuck Traynor for a long time, and I have never, ever seen anything other than a businessman in him. I’ve never seen any kind of malevolence in him. He was more involved in the business and getting his wife to do certain things. But I never, ever saw any kind of abuse.
     
    LINDA LOVELACE : The following morning, Chuck informed me that I would be making a movie with a dog. I didn’t say anything to Chuck. I knew the only time to tell him was when the other people were around. Witnesses.
    There would be a beating, I knew that much, but it would be easier on me if other people were nearby. For once, the prospect of a beating was not the worst alternative. Any beating, no matter how severe, would be better than being raped by a dog.
    Our destination that morning was a studio down in the East Village. A large room…the usual clutter…the double bed…the movie lights…the cameras…the director, Bob Wolfe—fat and greasy and black-haired.
     
    ERIC EDWARDS : I always felt that Linda was enjoying everything that she did in front of the camera. I never had a feeling that she was not enjoying herself.
    Even with the dog—and I was in that loop.
     
    LINDA LOVELACE : Chuck led me back into the main room. Wolfe and his assistant were sitting behind a small table. Chuck joined them on their side of the table.
    “Okay, Linda,” Wolfe said. “Why don’t you get undressed, and we’ll get on with this.”
    “No.”
    “I’d advise you to think that over pretty carefully,” Wolfe said.
    I looked at the three men. And then I noticed