by Ruby Comer

Steve Darmis/Santa Barbara

Ahhh...America’s Riviera, Santa Barbara, on California’s Central Coast. What a breath of fresh air—literally! This is summer holiday season and it’s time to take a few days off from Filmland. Today I signed up for Santa Barbara’s Pacific Pride Foundation’s AIDS Walk on the first of October. Earlier, I participated in their outreach program, Positively Speaking, and addressed a local high school about prevention. The PPF is the largest provider of HIV/AIDS services between Los Angeles and San Francisco.

Now, a bit weary, I am airing out my knish, au naturel, in my elegant, spacious room at The Eagle Inn (family-run for twenty-five years; son Paul, the manager, is very cute!). The Spanish-Colonial structure is just steps away from the ocean. I am soaking my feet in eucalyptus mineral salts and I’m soaking my spirit in a succulent glass of Pinot Noir (the grapes are grown locally; haven’t you seen Sideways yet?!). The phone rings and it’s my old friend, model Steve Darmis, who’s in town shooting a spread. We agree to meet the next day in neighboring Montecito at Casa del Herrero/House of the Blacksmith (designed by George Washington Smith in the 1920s for George Fox Steedman and his family).

At the tender age of forty-eight, Steve entered into the modeling biz. By trade he is a camera operator and works on TV’s Big Brother series, but that work is seasonal. To pick up a few extra bucks, he decided to pursue printwork. Watch out Antonio Sabato, Jr.! (Steve’s testing the waters on a singing career, too.) Steve lost his partner of thirteen years, Larry Leiva, an artist and Vietnam vet, to AIDS over a decade ago; he was forty-two at the time. After Larry’s death, Steve wholly immersed himself in activism, working with such organizations as PAWS (Pets Are Wonderful Support) and the Quilt. He’s even marched in Gay Pride Parades to raise awareness about this disease.

The next day, the delightful Casa del Herrero docent, Joan Watson, gives us a tour of the Spanish-style home’s eleven acres. Construction took sixteen arduous years to complete. Steve and I kick back in one of the artfully sculpted Moorish gardens.

Ruby Comer: What a luscious landscape, Steve! It’s so peaceful and charming here.

Steve Darmis: Such an incredible place, Ruby. [He eyes the elaborate Mediterranean tilework, and we relax into our conversation.]

Steve, what are your feelings about the AIDS epidemic?

It’s scary, and it’s not curable.

Ain’t that the truth?! How many friends of yours have died from this disease?

Besides Larry, probably about a half-dozen friends. [Steve looks around the exedra where we sit and he spies a butterfly near one of the fountains.] What is this thing about not using condoms in the Catholic religion? I read a blurb in the newspaper today. They need to change their bold outdated beliefs and roll with the times. I mean, it’s common sense.

It makes no sense, Steve. I hope this new Pope will update Catholicism’s primitive philosophy. Like many people losing loved ones, you nursed Larry to the end. You went through AIDS hell with him.

It was hell, not unlike what many others went through, but I definitely wanted to take care of Larry. I loved this man! Larry lasted about a year after he was diagnosed. Our cupboards looked like huge medicine chests. And I know he lived longer because we tried alternative ways, such as using herbal and nutritional supplements.

Tell me about Larry’s demise.

Toward the end he was on a respirator—[Steve becomes visibly emotional. I put my arms around him.] I’m over it but I haven’t talked about it in a while. [He pauses, looks over the eugenia hedges out at the grand view.] The doctors said he wasn’t gonna get better, so I had them disconnect his life support and he died about a day later. That was the hardest thing I ever had to do. But Larry gave me the word to do so. Even though I was told that he was in and out of consciousness, Larry squeezed my finger giving me the heads up to do so. What cinched the deal was when his sister, Lorraine, asked him, “Larry, do you know who this is?” He squeezed her finger. She said, “Is this Brenda [Larry’s other sister]?’” And he didn’t squeeze her finger. That made it easier for me to make the decision. I then knew he was definitely responsive. He just didn’t want to live on all that crap.

Ending our visit at Casa del Herrero, we hop into Mother Lincoln (my 1969 auto), and drive down the road to another residence, Lotusland, home to former opera singer Madame Ganna Walska (born Hanna Puacz in Poland in 1887). This enchanted villa rests on a thirty-seven-acre hillside that is loaded with exotic gardens (there are plants that date back to dinosaur days). We amble along the paths, come upon the cactus garden, and Steve points to a brilliant blue geode crystal cluster. Leave it to him to find the beauty! 

[Minutes later we stand by the Horticultural Clock, which is made entirely of flowers, and surrounded by animal topiary.] What a wonderland this is! Say, how did you respond to Larry’s death?

I saw two reputable psychics. Those two, more than anyone else, gave me great comfort. They made me believe that his spirit was still alive. We never die, Ruby. This life is just a stop along the way; we’re here to learn lessons. And if you do, then you don’t have to come back. So be nice to people [he says grumpily, then chuckles].

Oh, I so agree. That puts it into perspective! And, c’mon, there is no hell. I love life but I’ve always said, There can be no place like hell that could begin to match what we humans have to go through here on earth. Hey Steve, how has AIDS and Larry’s death impacted you?

It’s affected me in so many ways. I hate this disease so much. [We sit a spell in the landscaped Theatre Garden, complete with grassy mound seats and a shrubbery proscenium populated with Disneyesque stone dwarf statues.] I have a fear that I will contract HIV, so even though I’m horny, I don’t have sex that much anymore. The fear overtakes me. I’ve been to HIV-negative support groups, but they haven’t really helped. Seeing how AIDS destroyed Larry has really terrified me.

Anything else you want to say?

I need to mention how great APLA (AIDS Project Los Angeles) was during Larry’s illness in assisting with legal issues, providing transportation, and connecting us both with a phone buddy. I couldn’t have handled all this without their help. [We meander through the intensely colorful rose garden, and Steve looks at me profoundly—] I know AIDS is somewhat manageable now [for some] but who wants to add another problem to their life?!

Contact Steve at Dormouseman@aol.com. Visit PPF on-line at www.PacificPrideFoundation.org. Many thanks to Jodi Segal, Maria Fossati, Diane Galt, Deanna Hatch, and Shannon Turner Brooks for their support.

Ruby Comer is an independent journalist from the Midwest who is happy to call Hollywood her home away from home. Reach her by e-mail at MsRubyComer@aol.com.

September 2005