Part 58 A Mexican Odyssey Vince Edwards and the Clisuras

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 I met actor Vince Edwards (television’s Doctor Ben Casey) at Las Animas in the early 1980s. I mention him here, where I do not mention others, because we became such very close friends over the years. Our first meeting, however, was a bit confrontational. Vince was a big, strong, guy, and had a huge stogie stuck in one side of his mouth. He growled, "So, I hear that you're the tough guy on the beach. My girl talks about you as if you are some kind of Superman!"
"Naw, mistaken identity Doctor Ben. I heard it the other way around. You're supposed to be the Top Gun. I've seen all your pics, and they always make you out as the mean honcho. Oh!, there was a guy here, now that you mention it, who called himself Superman, but he got killed in a parachute accident just about where you're now standing." Vince glanced over his shoulder nervously, "Huh?"
Then, realizing that I was pulling his leg, he grinned and said, "I guess we're both victims of too much hype. I just play the tough-guy parts, not live them. Let's change the subject. What do you do around here for excitement?" As innocently as I could manage, I said, "How about parasailing?" After that, we got along famously. Vince instantly fell in love with Sylvia and my monkey, Carolina, and threatened daily to steal them both. I kept a wary eye on the guy; he was a rascal. It’s hard for me to accept the fact that he is now dead. But then, who isn’t?
It was also in the early 1980s that I rented Casa Guillermo to San Francisco socialites Paul and Pat Clisura. He was in the computer software business, and she was a well-known fashion model. After that first stay at Las Animas, they fell in love with the place.The Clisuras returned and rented the beach house for three months. Soon they became such good friends that we never charged them for rental. Each visit they brought down gifts from the States, and then began to buy local furnishings for the house. It was a good arrangement for all concerned.
Paul, Pat, Sylvia and I spent some good years together at Las Animas. Paul and I got up each morning around seven, grabbed a bottle each of Corona beer, and did a ritual dance on the veranda to the tune of "White Shoes." White sneakers of course. And while Paul and I were "tuning up" in the house, Sylvia and Pat went to the beach to "model" for the tourists. This went on for some eight years, and by that time Casa Guillermo was as much their house as ours.
The Clisuras were at Las Animas during the combat period with my Indian neighbors, who were determined to get me off the beach by any means, fair or foul. They almost succeeded with a cute little gambit that only an Indian could have thought of.
Paul came to me one day with a large plastic bag which he had found hidden atop a closet in one of the bedrooms. He said, "Christ, Reed! I knew you were crazy, but do you realize what will happen to you if the authorities find some 10 kilos of marijuana stashed away in your house?" I sure as hell did, and so did my Indian neighbors. They had undoubtedly planted it there. I grabbed a shovel, ran up the hill, hacked my way deep into the jungle with a machete, and buried the bag. I never told anybody where, and I'm sure that it is still there, either very well cured, or blossoming into a magnificent acre or so of marijuana plants.
Beautiful, peaceful, uncomplicated Las Animas. It was going to hell. Paul and Pat later built a house of their own at Las Animas, right next to our place, and Pat became the official Beach Mother. She adopted all the children. Those little baby Indians are such lovable rascals.