Leonard Kirtman: The XXX Money-Maker – Part 1, The Early Years

Leonard Kirtman may well be the most prolific adult filmmaker from the golden age of adult film.

Between the late 1960s and the mid 1980s, he made scores of shot-on-film movies – and even today, the extent of his lengthy filmography is not fully known due to the large number of aliases he used.

So why does such a prolific figure from the early days of the XXX industry also remain one of the most enigmatic, maligned, and mysterious?

Perhaps it is because he didn’t make a lot of great films. (He didn’t even make a lot of good films.)

Or perhaps it is because of his reputation for being notoriously cheap on his productions. (He reportedly short-changed everyone involved while eking out every dollar from his production budgets.)

Or perhaps it is because of the many salacious stories that circulated about his productions. (This was definitely before the era of #MeToo and on-set intimacy coordinators.)

Or perhaps it is because he doesn’t do any interviews. (He never really did.)

But whatever the reason for his low profile, Leonard Kirtman is one of the most interesting and pioneering characters in adult film history. He worked with all of the biggest names in the industry, and his unique filmmaking process would be adopted and repeated for decades to come.

The Rialto Report tracked Leonard down, and found him to be gentle, soft-spoken, kind, patient, and generous with his time in remembering events going back 60 years.

This is Leonard Kirtman’s story.

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Prologue: Leonard Kirtman – Beginnings

You hail from Brooklyn, is that right?

Yes, I was born there in 1939. My father worked in a restaurant as a short order cook. He had very little education. My mother came from Russia and wasn’t educated at all.

What area of Brooklyn did you live in?

Brownsville. It was a predominantly Jewish area, or at least it was until the late 1950s. It was known as the ‘Jerusalem of America’. Then African-Americans moved in from other neighborhoods and they built high-rise housing to deal with the influx – which caused racism, unemployment, and social issues. But when I was young, Brownsville was a pretty safe and peaceful area.

And I understand that movies played an important role for you from an early age?

I always loved movies. Starting when I was 8 or 9, I would spend all my time in the local theater.

What theater would you go to?

The Tiffany Theater. It was next to the train station, and was a small local movie house located on corner of Chester Street and Livonia Avenue in Brownsville. It had been there forever, starting out as a silent movie house known as the Chester Theatre. Then it became the Tiffany until it closed in the late 1950s.

What would you see there?

It cost me 12 cents to see three features and twelve cartoons at the weekend. A couple of serials too. I was there all day: I’d go in the morning and come out in the early evening.

Did it make you want to be in the movies?

Oh no. I was just a poor schmuck from Brooklyn. It never occurred to me that anyone from my background could make a movie, or even work in the film business.

So what were your career aspirations?

I had no idea because I had no role models to aspire to.

But you always seemed to be entrepreneurial.

I guess you could say that. I was always looking to make money.

My first business was when I was 13 – and that was selling fireworks. When I was in junior high school, I found out that it was legal to buy them in Connecticut but not in New York. So I got my father to drive me up there, and I bought all the fireworks I could afford. We loaded the truck, brought them back, and sold them in Brooklyn.

Didn’t you drive a cab as a way of making extra money too?

I started driving a taxi cab when I was old enough, and invested the earnings in real estate.

What did that entail?

I was always looking for cheap real estate. I still am (laughs). I started by buying 100 acres of land in Dannemora, a town in Clinton County in upstate New York. It was near the prison there, and I thought they’d eventually expand and need my land. It didn’t happen, sadly.

What was you next money-making scheme?

Well, I went to college, and I started manufacturing fish tanks in my spare time.

What was the idea there?

I loved aquariums, and always wanted to have a pet shop. Aquariums cost a lot of money, so I figured I should make fish tanks. I found a company that made them, but within two months, they went out of business. That meant their assets came up for auction. I met someone who knew the auctioneer and we paid him to sell the items directly to us. My father fronted me the money – I didn’t need very much.

How did that work out?

Pretty good. I sold aquariums for a couple of years, and I taught myself how to make my own tanks. The problem was that the fish tanks were often quite fragile, so I found a company that made tempered glass using a special heating process. I bought that tempered glass at 10 cents per sheet, and made tanks using that. I advertised them as ‘unbreakable fish tanks’.

How would you sell the tanks?

I would advertise, and people came to pick up them up from my little factory. It was a good way to make some money.

Meanwhile you were going to college.

Yes. I was the first generation of my family who went to college: I went to Brooklyn College.

What did you study?

I kept changing my major. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I couldn’t think of any jobs that appealed to me. I was a pretty good student but nothing exceptional. I was always thinking about schemes to make money.

I tried English, then Psychology, then I tried a Theater Arts major. That one got me excited, so I got it into my head that I wanted to make movies.

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Phase 1: Softcore Films

Did Brooklyn College cater to your interest in film?

No – it didn’t even have a film program. So I quit, and went to the library and took out all the books about movie-making. I read them all until I felt I knew enough. Then I bought a little Bolex camera, and started making 8mm home-made movies.

How were you supporting yourself?

I was still driving a taxi. My parents had no faith in me: I dropped out of college without a career or experience, so they weren’t willing to support this film career idea of mine.

What sort of short films were you making?

Anything that interested me. I was just practicing using my camera.

I was a little artistic so I did also some animation. I became aware of Jules Pfeiffer, who created his own comic strips. He won the Pulitzer Prize for his cartoons when he worked for The Village Voice. I was impressed with him so I made an appointment and went over to meet him. He liked what I showed him but he wasn’t hiring.

How did you turn your interest in film into making money?

I tried to get work, but it was impossible: no one would hire me because I didn’t have any experience… and I couldn’t get experience because no one would give me a job (laughs). So I put an advert in the New York Times, advertising myself. This was in 1965/6.

What was your pitch?

The ad read ‘Filmmaker for hire.’ Simple as that!

I was contacted by a Swedish guy who had a contract with the United Nations filming interviews with politicians. He offered me a job doing the sound. He was a sound engineer, but he got most of his work as a cameraman. He had an impressive studio. So he hired me to accompany him and do the sound.

How did the job work out?

It was a great education. I learned so much. Then one day, I broke my leg slipping on the snow, and lost the job.

How you deal with the loss of income?

I went back to driving a taxi cab!

It was the era of big advertising agencies on Madison Avenue – and they were busy shooting commercials, so I figured that if I could get a job with one of them, it would help me get some proper connections in the film business. I started dating a schoolteacher and she helped me put together a resume. We sent it out, and I got hired by a company called Sullivan, Crowell and Bale. They did filming work for Phillip Morris.

What job did you get with them?

I was running their audio/screening room. It was great. I got my own office and had a little power: all the company’s producers had to go through me to book the film rooms.

At this point, I decided to make a movie. I could only afford to make a short as I didn’t have any spare money. In fact, I didn’t even have enough money for a short, so I went back to the New York Times, also Backstage, and I put ads in there looking for financing.

Did you get any takers?

I had a few responses. And one guy offered me his lab to develop film.

Then John Avildsen called, and asked me if I needed a director. I told him I didn’t have any money yet. He said he’d only done commercials and industrials, but that he’d won an award – and now he wanted to make a feature. I asked to see his award-winning short. He brought it over to the screening room where I worked – and it was great.

So I pretended that the ad agency was behind my film and I invited the interested investors into my office where I showed them John’s film. Then I introduced them to John. Everyone loved him, and they were more than happy to provide the finance for a feature film, so we had the money.

I did all the meetings for the film in my offices at the ad agency so everyone thought I was legit.

John Avildsen

Did your company ever suspect what you were doing?

Oh, they eventually found out and I was fired, but by then I was finishing the film. I used the Swedish man’s sound studio to mix it.

By that stage, I was all in with the film career idea. I had no Plan B. I had to make it work.

So you made your first feature with John Avildsen?

Yes, that was Turn On To Love (1969). I gave John his start, and John directed it. He went on make ‘Rocky’ (1976) and other big pictures, so I wish I’d continued to use him!

At that point in time, did you see evidence that Avildsen would become a major film director?

I could see that he had drive and ambition, and also a definite vision of how he wanted to do things. But I didn’t think he’d go on to achieve the success that he did.

What do you remember about working with him?

I clashed with him a fair amount. That was because we were both making a film for the first time, so I guess it was understandable. I remember John shooting a scene of a naked, writhing couple – only covered by a thin sheet. I panicked and said, “John, you have to stop. This is too much! We’ll go to jail!”

What was the plot of the film?

It was about a restless housewife who gets into mischief when she goes to Greenwich Village, and discovers drugs, hippies, and so on.

How well was ‘Turn On To Love’ received?

It did very well: it was reviewed in the New York Times – next to the review of a Hitchcock film, ‘Topaz’ (1969).

Who distributed it?

Alexander Beck. He was the President of many film distribution companies during the 1960s and ’70s – Screencom, A. B. Enterprises, Alexander Beck Films. He excelled mainly in the sale of foreign exhibition rights. He was like a film broker. We made a good profit on it, so we were on our way.

You were credited as ‘L. T. Kurtmann’.

Yes. I didn’t know how the film would be received as it was a little… risqué, and I was still shy! That didn’t last long (laughs).

Given the success with John on ‘Turn On To Love’, did you decide to continue to work together?

Absolutely. The film was a good experience, it made some money, so we decided to make another – this time about the drug scene. I told John how I wanted to make it, but he disagreed and he made lots of different suggestions. I told him it was my money, my movie, so I had the final decision.

How did that get resolved?

It didn’t! We had a parting of ways. Then John made ‘Joe’ (1970) which made a lot of money, and was nominated for an Academy Award, so that was the end of our relationship!

John Avildsen, winning the Academy Award for ‘Rocky’ (1976)

What was your next film?

Orgy Girls ’69 (1968). Alexander Beck distributed that as well.

You were leaning into making sex films with this next film.

To be honest, I wasn’t interested in just making sex films at that point, but it was the best way of learning how to make a movie, simply because sex films made money. They were an easy sell.

This time Robert Canton took over as director.

Bob was like John, in that he hadn’t directed anything before either. He just wanted the experience of making a film, so I gave him the chance. He was working as a TV editor at the time, and he answered one of my ads. He was a pretty good filmmaker – not as talented as John, but he was fine. He went on to have a long career, mainly as a sound editor, I think.

Where did you find the actors for these early films?

Ads, of course! And I did casting calls.

Allen Garfield was in ‘Orgy Girls ‘69’. He went on to be in some big movies, like ‘Nashville’ (1975).

How did you fund this film?

I met with Joe Brenner, who was a distribution guy in the business, and I tried to get financing from him – but that didn’t work. Then I tried another guy, Jerry Gross, but that didn’t work either. Basically, I hadn’t made my own films, so they just laughed at me when I asked anyone for money.

But I met Chuck Smith (Charles Lamont) through Jerry Gross. Chuck was a good guy and a good cameraman, and we went on to work together a lot over the next years.

Why didn’t you direct ‘Orgy Girls ‘69’ yourself?

At the beginning, I had no idea how to do it. Plus it was too much work. I was producing, hiring everyone, finding the locations, making sure everything was done to a tight schedule. Later on, I became more comfortable and familiar, and so I directed too.

Another name for you: Myron Odegaard – he worked on ‘Orgy Girls ‘69’ as the cinematographer.

Yes, Mo worked a lot for me. He started out as a dancer and actor from Minnesota, and I met him because he was a friend of Avildsen. They’d met on a film called ‘Greenwich Village Story’. I believe that Avildsen had acted in the stage play version, and then he was the assistant director for the film.

Moe was a good electrician and grip. He already had good experience before he came to work for me, and he made so many of these early films with me. He did a lot of work for Joe Sarno too. He went onto a good career as a gaffer in mainstream movies.

Previously unpublished Kirt Films production still (courtesy of Leonard Kirtman collection)

What were the lessons you learned from these early films?

I always look for a challenge, so I set myself a target of making them as profitably as possible.

How did you do that?

For a start, I decided I should direct them myself. I got a camera – an Arriflex which was the professional camera at that time , and a zoom lens, and I experimented. For example, I put the camera on top of a van, and drove around shooting in places like Times Square. That was fun, and I learned a lot.

So I formed Kirt Films in 1967.

What were your next films?

I shot my first two black and white films back-to-back – which were Donna and Lisa (1969) and AC/DC (1969). I wrote and directed them, I did everything. I wanted to get people to help, but I didn’t know many people so I advertised in the newspapers again.

You shot them back-to-back?

No, I figured the way to make real money was to make movies at the same time. ‘Turn On To Love’ had taken seven days, and so did the second one. I knew I could make films in half that time – and I wanted to see if I could make more than one at a time.

And it worked well.

Both ‘Donna and Lisa’ and ‘AC/DC’ were credited to ‘Larry Winters’.

I can’t remember why I decided to do that. They were both mine.

And this time, both films were distributed by Distribpix.

Yes. I don’t remember how I met Artie (Morowitz) and Howie (Farber), but that was the start of a ten-year working relationship with them.

What was your arrangement with Distribpix?

Simple: I made the films and I financed them, and Distribpix distributed them.

What do you remember about Artie and Howie?

They were young Jewish guys like me, and they were fun – but serious too. They had this little office on 42nd St where they sat next to each other, always goofing around, and playing tricks on each other.

Arthur had wanted to be an attorney originally, but somehow ended up distributing adult films.

Did they help you with the financing?

I tried to get early funding from them: they said no, but they offered to handle my films.

Once or twice, I got a little advance from them, but mostly I was putting my own money on the line.

Were they fair with you?

They were fair compared to most other people. We had plenty of differences, but most of the time they were fair. They drove a hard bargain. They were stingy. So stingy.

When I interviewed Arthur, he said that he was the biggest advantage that you had going for you, and that you were lucky to have him.

(laughs) It was more like the other way around. Put it this way, I could’ve done it myself as there were other distributors out there, but he couldn’t have been successful without me. He depended on me because I made all the films that he distributed! It was a cash cow situation. I made a lot of films, and they made him money.

Let’s just say, we were good for each other (laughs).

Knowing that you had Distribpix who guaranteed to distribute your films must have been useful though.

Oh sure. I knew I wouldn’t lose my own money – providing I kept my costs under control. I was using my own money, so I knew where every dime went. It was a well-oiled process.

And the key was to make multiple films at the same time.

Tell me more about how you did that.

I would shoot three films at the same time. Sometimes more. I would use the same crew and the same cast for each group of films. No one even realized that we were making more than one film at the same time – except for me.

When you say that you shot three films at the same time…

Literally! I had people filming in one room, and in the next room, we were shooting another film. It didn’t matter because the films didn’t have natural sound. They were softcore, and most had voice-overs.

How did you keep tabs on the different films that you were making simultaneously?

My system was all on index cards. I would start with a plot synopsis for each, then I would have different color cards for each movie: one was the red movie, one was the green movie, one was the white movie, and I had a different card for each scene. On each card it listed the people and the action that had to take place. So I knew I just had to come away with having shot something for each card, then I could assemble them all together later.

And you would shoot them all over a three-day period?

Over a single weekend. Sometimes I’d take an additional day.

Another reason for shooing over a weekend was that that we’d save on equipment costs. I hired the equipment on Friday, pay a single day rate, and take it back on Monday.

What locations would you use?

I lived in a brownstone house on the Upper West Side at 71st and Broadway, so I’d shoot the films there.

It was a floor-through with backyard, and it had a basement where I did the editing. I shot most of my early films in that house.

If I wanted exteriors, I’d go into Central Park to film a set-up – and then I’d use my backyard for the sex scene and make it look as if it was the still in the park.

Previously unpublished Kirt Films production still (courtesy of Leonard Kirtman collection) – in the backyard at Leonard’s house

Did you have a regular crew working for you?

Some people were regulars; some had no experience at all.

Presumably using inexperienced crew enabled you to save more money?

It was better than that: I taught people how to do everything on a film set. At first, I let them come and work for free, but it started becoming so popular, that I started to charge people to work for me! It was a good deal for them as many went on to make their own movies.

How much would you charge?

A hundred bucks or so. It was better than any film school because they got to use the equipment and they were making an actual movie immediately. Instead of paying thousands of dollars to go to film school, it was easy and inexpensive.

So you actually made money… by hiring crew members?

Yes. If there was someone who was really experienced or critical to make the films, I paid them a day rate. But they still didn’t realize they were making several films at the same time, they just shot what I told them to.

Did that arrangement continue for long?

I had to stop charging people when I got in trouble with the film union who said I wasn’t licensed (laughs).

Previously unpublished Kirt Films production still (courtesy of Leonard Kirtman collection)

From the late 1960s and early 1970s, you were phenomenally prolific, and seemed to be making multiple films every week. Let’s consider some of the titles. In 1969/68, some of the films you made included: Orgy Girls ’69, Spread Eagles, The Wee Gee Broad, Computer Game, Try and Make Me, Hot Kiss, Doggie Bag, A Bride for Brenda, The Bed Spread, Back Seat Cabbie, Joys of Georgette, Turn on to Love, Pleasure Cruise, Around the World in 80 Ways, The Teenie Swappers, Headfull of Love, AC/DC, Sex Circus, Donna and Lisa, Marriage Dropouts, Going Down for the 3rd Time.

In 1970/71, some of the titles were: Lip Service, Love Thy Neighbor, Four Play, You Can’t Spell ‘Sex’ Without … X, Secretaries Spread, School of Hard Knocks, The Pro Shop, Girl’s Prison, Exchange Student, Turned-on Girl, Wall Street Walker, My Swedish Cousins, 6-9 the Daily Double, Catch 69, Bar Maid, Construction Gang, Hot Line, Sweet Taste of Joy, Dixie, Vice Versa!, Use the Back Door, Open Air Bedroom, Pay the Baby Sitter, Moving Violation.

I doubt there was any filmmaker in the world who was making more films at that time…

(laughs) You’re probably right. I wasn’t an artist: I was a businessman – and I figured out how to make money.

Where did you get all the ideas for all the films from?

I just came up with them myself. Ideas just came to me. It was never difficult to think of a different scenario.

And these were all distributed by Distribpix?

Yes, I’d call up Arthur and tell him “We’re gonna make six movies this weekend.” Arthur wouldn’t believe it, so he’d say, “You’re full of shit. What are the titles?”

I said, “I don’t know yet.”

So we’d sit down and brainstorm and laugh. Once he said to me, “I want you to make ‘Doggie Bag’”

I said, “What’s ‘Doggie Bag’?”

He said, “I don’t know… but it sounds dirty” So I made Doggie Bag (1969)!

Did Arthur or Howie ever contribute anything creatively to these films?

No. The films were made to a formula that I came up with.

Once they introduced me to an investment banker who was intrigued by what I was doing. I tried to get him to finance movies, but he was reluctant. Instead he let me shoot a film in his brownstone – so we called the film Wall Street Walker (1969) (laughs)

For the first three or four years, everything was strictly softcore.

It was, but sometimes the males couldn’t help themselves. I remember once an actress came running over to me crying, saying, “Leonard, he came all over me!”

I said, “Ok, but what do you want me to do now?!”

As the films were becoming more explicit, did you ever get busted?

Oh sure. Getting busted by the cops was the most challenging aspect. It happened a few times. It was inconvenient, but it was something that you had to get used to.

The first time was when I did a film called Going Down for the 3rd Time (1969) and the FBI visited me. They said, “We heard you made a film called ‘Going Down for the 3rd Time’ – is that correct?” I said, “Yes.”

So they took me down to the precinct and demanded to see it. Afterwards they admitted that they only wanted to see it because the title sounded suspicious to them.

Sometimes you directed the films; sometimes you gave it others. You used Tommy Goetz a fair amount.

Yes, he made a few films for me. I think Around the World in 80 Ways (1969) and Sex Circus (1969) were his.

He worked for free just to get the experience, so it was a no-brainer for me. I think he was a school teacher in White Plains, but later he became a full-time art director for TV shows, like ‘Taxi’ and ‘Newhart’. Another guy who started with me.

When you worked with a director, what was the division of duties?

I still came up with the concept, the script, the actors, the crew, and locations. And I told them what to do (laughs).

How reliable were the credits on your films?

Some of them are accurate; a lot of names were made up. And people shared jobs more than on other films. So if someone is listed being the director, I wouldn’t necessarily read too much into it.

Did you start to hire other full-time staff into your holding company, Kirt Films?

From time to time. One of the first was Bob Mansfield who was at ABC television. He was my number two, and directed a few movies for me. I think he called himself ‘Bob Mansy’ (laughs) in the credits.

Then there was Francine Rizzo, who was my production coordinator for a short time.

And you were still advertising for your performers.

Yes, but after a while, I got to know the same faces so I had a network of talent that I could call upon. If there was someone new, I’d meet them first to see if they had any talent.

Some actors did it for money, but many did it to get laid, so you never knew what you were going to get.

Which actors from the early films do you remember?

Laura Cannon was in so many movies that I made. She was perhaps the most frequently-used actor in Kirt Films. Then there was Rita Bennett. Uta Erickson was in ‘Donna and Lisa’. Harry Reems and Jamie Gillis both started with me as well. Cindy West was around a lot too.

Laura Cannon

Previously unpublished Kirt Films production still (courtesy of Leonard Kirtman collection) – Harry Reems and Jamie Gillis

Previously unpublished Kirt Films production still (courtesy of Leonard Kirtman collection) – with (l-r, unidentified male, Cindy West, Jamie Gillis, Barbara Benner)

One of your biggest costs must have film stock: what were you shooting on?

Yes, it was. I used to buy short ends, basically the short pieces of film that the major film studios discarded. That cost 25% of the price of regular film.

I would shoot in 35mm but edit in 16mm – that would be my workprint. I would then match the 16mm to the 35mm by going through a gear mechanism matching each frame to the 35mm. 16mm was just ¼ of the volume of the 35mm so it was much cheaper.

Later 16mm became a format in itself.

Which lab did you work with?

I worked with MovieLab to get the prints.

Previously unpublished Kirt Films production stills (courtesy of Leonard Kirtman collection)

You changed location for a brief time starting in 1970, and went over to Los Angeles to make movies there.

I liked California. I bought a condo in Marina de Rey and thought it would be fun to shoot a few films there. It was much easier to make movies in California. Some of them were sex films, and some were not. Distribpix were happy to pick them up distribute the sex ones, so that part was easy.

How did the sex films come about?

I met a director who made films with large-breasted women. I forget his name. They did well, so I hired some of the same actresses – like Uschi Digard.

That would be for films like Raquel’s Motel (1970) and Dirty Pool (1970)?

I made quite a few titles with her. I vaguely remember those names, but there were more as well.

And you say you made a few non-sex films?

Yes, I wanted to try something different. I made a couple of documentaries: Pornography in Hollywood (1972) and Out of the Closet (1972).

How did ‘Pornography in Hollywood’ come about?

It was an interesting period and an interesting business, so I filmed segments with some of the people I met when I was out there. It was relatively easy. I think Uschi was in that one as well.

Then I made ‘Out of the Closet’ which was a compilation of two films about gays – one shot on each coast by a different director. I remember hiring Vincent Sklena and John Murphy. But I had Francine Rizzo put that together for me. I was more hands-off compared to ‘Pornography in Hollywood.’

Both were good films.

Was ‘Out of the Closet’ ever released?

No. Artie and Howie didn’t want it, and I couldn’t find a buyer. It may have been ahead of its time with its gay theme, I don’t know. But I scrapped it, and don’t know what happened to it.

Another non-sex film you made while in Los Angeles was Curse of the Headless Horseman (1972).

Yes, I wanted to do something different, something that might make money in a different market. So I made a horror film. And it was a very different experience!

In what way?

It needed more of a plot and special effects than I was used to! It was a challenge, and I learned a lot.

Both ‘Pornography in Hollywood’ and ‘Curse of the Headless Horseman’ were credited to ‘John Kirkland.’

That was me. I was whoever you wanted me to be (laughs).

Back in New York, you also made non-sex films like Carnival of Blood (1970) and Death by Invitation (1971).

They were both horror films: ‘Carnival of Blood’ was shot in Coney Island, and ‘Death by Invitation’ on Staten Island. I came up with the concepts and both took five days to make.

I made ‘Carnival of Blood’ in the fall of 1970. Burt Young was in that – it was his first movie: there’s another person who ended up in ‘Rocky’! My mother is in that film too – she’s the one you see when you come out of the horror house and the woman’s head is chopped off: my mother is in the audience screaming.

How did the horror movies do for you?

They didn’t do great. It was disappointing. They appeared as a double bill, and made a little profit over the years.

Did you ever seek alternative sources of funding for your operations?

In 1971, I did try and raise funds so that I could become a bigger player. I wanted to move into a different phase, bigger budgets. The backer/underwriter was a rabbi, but it was under-subscribed and we didn’t get what I wanted.

You made a companion documentary to ‘Pornography in Hollywood’, which was Pornography in New York (1972).

Yes, I made that with Beau Buchanan. That was his first film. Originally, he wanted to make documentary about me – but I told him about the ‘Hollywood’ film and persuaded him to make it about the sex film business in New York instead. I didn’t want the publicity (laughs). Chuck Smith shot it, I think, and it was Victor Milt’s first work for me. He edited it for me to show me what he could do.

Didn’t you catch some legal heat for the film?

Yes! We filmed an interview with the D.A. of Nassau Country about how much he hated sex and smut. I edited the interview into the film between the sex scenes. About a year later, he came into my office and told me I needed to remove any references to the interview with him. He said he had a squeaky-clean reputation and didn’t want anything to affect that.

I said, “No problem.” In truth, the film had already been out for a while and earned good money so I didn’t really care.

The epilogue to the story is that a while later, the same guy was indicted for embezzlement.

So much for his squeaky clean reputation.

Exactly. There was so much hypocrisy around.

I notice that you often appeared in newspaper articles announcing a new film –  but that film never ended up getting made.

The point of the articles was to build a name, a brand. Then I had something I could point to if I wanted to raise money, or hire someone, or secure a location.

After experimenting with horror films and documentaries, you decided to go back to sex films.

Yes. I figured I should do what I knew best (laughs).

Previously unpublished Kirt Films production stills (courtesy of Leonard Kirtman collection)

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