Good Will and Grace

Dedicated to extending a hand to others, character actor Leslie Jordan warns A&U’s Dann Dulin about the deadly dangers of merging sex and Crystal meth

My primary purpose today is to stay clean and sober. I had such a horrible problem with crystal meth. It was my little secret,” confesses Leslie Jordan one dreary wintry day at his cabin hideaway in the hills of funky Silver Lake in Los Angeles. He’s been off “Tina” for eight years, but he’s gravely concerned about the current epidemic levels of addiction in the gay population. “If anything was gained from the AIDS crisis, it was that the gay community found a spiritual center. But whatever gains we’ve made, these drugs are hacking away at them.”

Leslie likes talking about his sobriety and recovery because he believes that it can motivate others. After spending the afternoon with him, I sense that the driving force behind this man is humanitarianism. He’s down-to-earth and he doesn’t mince words. His honesty is refreshing, though it’s hard to believe that this former Tennessean (from Chattanooga, to be specific) is a self-proclaimed homebody. I mean, you can see him onstage touring the country in his critically acclaimed one-man show, Like a Dog on Linoleum, or on the tube in Will & Grace, Boston Legal, Reba, or the ABC Family Channel in the holiday movie, Chasing Christmas. Jordan can also be seen on the big screen in Del Shores’ (Queer As Folk executive producer and cowriter) Sordid Lives. (This movie is not to be missed. It ran for nearly two years at a Palm Springs movie theater. LOGO recently bought the rights and this year it will become a TV series; Leslie will recreate his role as Brother Boy.) Leslie is active beyond the footlights, as well. You might have caught him attending AIDS Walk Atlanta, speaking at an AIDS Project Los Angeles buddy training session, or participating in benefits for AIDS Foundation of Chicago, The Trevor Project, Ventura County Rainbow Alliance, or Mountain AIDS Foundation.

In the mid-eighties, Jordan and a friend founded Project Nightlight, an organization that assisted AIDS patients in hospice care to make the final transition in their lives. Dan Butler [A&U, November 1995], who played Bulldog on Frasier, was also a volunteer. “I remember holding eighteen men in my arms when they drew their last breath on earth—and it was so profound,” recalls Leslie in a low murmur. He’s seated in a French Country wingback chair and his face is illuminated by two scented candles burning on the glass coffee table next to him. “I wasn’t sober at the time, you know. I would use that excuse that someone died to go on a horrendous terror.” He pauses and suddenly realizes that he was doing crystal before it was even fashionable. He laughs. “I can watch reruns of myself in the eighties and I can tell exactly when I was three days off the drug or anticipating it. It’s a heinous drug and I’m real, real involved in all kinds of task forces around the country. 

“What’s happening today is so similar to what was happening in the early eighties. You would walk down the street in those days and you would see somebody very gaunt, drawn, and white. And you’d think, ‘Oh, God, AIDS has him.’ Now you see the same thing [but they’re high], and the only difference is they think they’re fabulous!” howls Leslie in his overly dramatic manner. “I would love to be able to say, ‘Oh, we did a little bump and then went dancing.’ No, it was past recreational for me. I remember one time I didn’t do it for eighteen days and I was so proud of myself.” He looks over on the plumpy sofa where Samson, his chubby lab retriever, is sleeping contentedly and comments, “He’s my big, black lover!” We laugh, and Leslie continues. “First person I met when I walked into recovery was Mackenzie Phillips and we went through the program together. That was October 20, 1997. She was so important to me early in sobriety.”

Some crystal meth task forces teach addicts harm prevention, whose advocates promote safe sex, in part, by distributing condoms and information. Jordan has problems with their methodology. “There are those of us who have been through recovery that know it doesn’t matter. When you’re high you’re gonna act out, period. If there’s a condom there, great; if not, it doesn’t matter. You have to go right to the source—get off the stuff.” He supports the billboards he’s seen around town which advertise: Sex + Crystal = Death. “I would say that eight out of every ten men who are HIV-positive got infected by acting out when they were under the influence.” A recent UCSF study reports that meth use by HIV-negative people quadruples the risk of unprotected insertive sex with someone who is negative or whose serostatus is unknown. “It’s proven that crystal rearranges your synapses. You begin to not think clearly, and it makes you paranoid and messes up your blood sugar.” 

Jordan’s “final hurrah” came when he had been off crystal for three years. He received a deep tissue massage and became high. The feeling scared him, so he phoned his spiritual advisor who told him that it was just emotions being released. “I told him, No, no, I’m high! I’m high!,” he screams, as shades of his characters, Beverley Leslie and Bernard Ferrion, surface. “I think crystal embeds itself in your bone marrow, in your muscle tissue, and somehow it gets released. I remember after that the obsession was [gone]….” He stops in mid-sentence then adds, “But you still toy with it. It’s so weird.” Just then the French clock hanging on the wall chimes out some chords. It’s half past the hour. Leslie pays it no mind and goes on. “These kids come in [to recovery] and say, ‘Well, without crystal the sex will not be the same.’ No, it will not! But who wants that frenzied hunt? And you are insatiable! It’s partner after partner after partner—crystal and sex, crystal and sex.” He shakes his head. “There’s really more to life than boys, bars, sex, and brunch,” he chuckles, flailing his arms around.

What is the source of Jordan’s altruistic commitment? “I buried an entire phone directory,” he states matter-of-factly. “My best friend, Ace Davis, died in 1982.” Leslie stands up and strides to his bedroom to fetch a letter that Ace wrote to him near the end of his life. Leslie hands me the letter to read. Near the end of the letter, Ace writes: “I’m thankful to God for letting me experience this wonderful, beautiful process of letting go. There’s been great beauty there. Y’all remember to love, hug, cuddle with each other and know that’s where it’s at. I’ll miss ya. I miss ya now. I’m glad you came on this journey with me. I love you. I love you. I love you.” 

As I read, Leslie is emotional. Quick to recover, he remembers acting out. “Here I was still in my disease sitting with somebody who is dying this horrific death and then hitting the bookstores [having sex]. The whole part of recovery is that you have to give away what you have so freely been given. In other words, if I walk into recovery and people help me stay clean and sober, then, in return, I help others,” explains Leslie compassionately. “I realized that concept before I got sober. I just felt better about myself when I did for others. And these last eight years, my journey into sobriety has been into queerdom. I feel that I was saved for a reason, so I give back.” At four-foot-eleven, Leslie Jordan may be small in stature, but he’s got one hell of a huge heart.

Jordan’s Journal

(snippets from the cutting room floor)

On Will & Grace

I wish I had some dirt. The secret to that show is that they have a mutual support system there, and they all have theater training. Nothing matters except each of them making the others laugh. I watch them. When Sean does his line, he watches to see if Eric, Debra, or Megan laugh.  And the same with each of them.

On Boston Legal

I love Betty White.  James Spader exhausts me. I love him dearly but he is very intense and likes to do a lot of takes.  I learned a long time ago from Lee Majors when I had my very first acting job on The Fall Guy. I was fresh out of acting school.  In one scene, I asked, “Mr. Majors, how do you think we should approach this?”  He said, “Just do it.”  I said, “But I had an idea…”  He stops me and says, “Son, son. I don’t go for the envelope. I go for the parking lot.”  In other words, just do it.  But James Spader goes for the envelope. Bill Shatner is fun!  What a career resurgence, and he’s having the time of his life.

On Ally McBeal

During my last year of drinking and using, I went to jail five times for several indiscretions, though my main offense was drunk driving.  And you said you had heard that one of those times I was put in a holding cell with Robert Downey (Jr.)?  Yes I was. For several hours. He was on his way in and I was waiting to get out.  Four years later when I was on Ally McBeal, he remembered me...sort of. 

Leslie gives a one word reaction to these people who have touched his life

Delta Burke: friend

Bob Newhart: quiet

Betty White: funny

Beth Grant: handful

Candice Bergen: elegant

Dean Cain: Oh, sexy!

Sandra Oh: smart

Ellen DeGeneres: distant

Megan Mullally: acclaimed

Reba: maternal

George Lopez: my hero

James Spader: infuriating

William Shatner: happy-go-lucky

Bonnie Bedelia: talented

Leslie Jordan names one word to describe himself: happy (he whispers, beaming)

Keep up with lively Leslie at www.brotherboy.com.

Dann Dulin interviewed actress CCH Pounder for the January issue.

February 2005