[00:16] Meg: Welcome to Desperately Seeking the 80s. I am Meg. This week we have something special. Back in September, Jessica and I received an email from Brian Dennis, who had listened to our episode number 45, Dupont's Revenge and WAP. And the episode was about Richard Dupont, who was a very eccentric con man who got even with Roy Cohn. Jessica and I giggled at some of his very creative ways of needling one of the most despised men in New York history. But Richard Dupont was still a bit of a mystery. I couldn't find a lot of information on him beyond his dealings with Cohn. And it turns out that our friend Brian, who wrote in, actually knew him. And he wrote, I'm now quoting from his email, I thoroughly loved your glee at dupont's revenge. He was brilliant learning. He took on the sleaziest person ever to live, confirmed everything I knew about him. He was far darker than just being a wacko. In 1974, I was a 15 year old gay kid whose night out lasted until the next day. That's when I first saw Richard. Hideously tan, oiled in a yellow Speedo. He convinced me going to live with him was the only way I would ever be happy. I did. What followed were the worst five days of my life. In a Lexington Avenue duplex, I was cap, sedated, tied to a bed and sold to numerous men. His birth name was Richard Sampson. Born 1933, he claimed to be a male model. I imagined Sears catalogs. Though I was a middle class kid, I knew what furniture he had in the duplex was expensive. I contacted the genealogist from the Dupont estate. There was a Richard the right age, but they know nothing about him. All that is to say, I believe he was from a branch of the family. I don't know if he's dead, but I assume he didn't escape aids. Thank you. Keep up the good work. Now, after we received this email, Brian and I started talking. He's a multimedia visual artist and created a photo essay about his experience with Dupont. It's called so Many Skins since and it blew me away. I asked him if he would be willing to record it for our podcast and he very kindly did. And that's what this episode is going to be. I'll also post the accompanying photos on our Instagram. The photos were taken in 2021. Brian was back in Atlantic City to compete in a bodybuilding competition. And you'll notice in the background, the PSA for the National Human Trafficking Hotline. So now we will hear from Brian reading from his photo essay. So Many skins.

[03:48] Brian: Foreign. So many skins since. Atlantic City, New Jersey. Here, on a crowded beach is where I met the man who kidnapped me in 1974. Decades later, I stand for a moment of reflection on this quiet morning. An advertisement grabbed my attention. It's a PSA for the National Human Trafficking Hotline. The bright message sparked a revelation. What would have once triggered anger and even shame revealed a deep gratitude. On this ordinary day, I marvel how much the world and I have changed. That boy who was almost killed has come so far. I have since lived a life of my own making. A life I'm proud to be enjoying and sharing with you. The moment inspired my series so Many Skins. Since I chose the exact anniversary, Memorial Day to return and restage the shoot, this series of self portraits celebrate survival and growth. I was barely 15 when I learned that Atlantic City was something of a gay resort. Excited to have a look, I hitchhiked there. At first glance, it was all grown men, just as every other cruising spot I had found. But through the crowd, I saw another boy. I was dumbfounded and relieved. I was no longer the only one. I paced back and forth, desperate to come up with a way to introduce myself. Suddenly, a strange looking man blocked my path. Looking towards the boy and without missing a beat, he said, his name's Billy. Do you want to meet him? By that night, I was in the man's Manhattan apartment. He kept me heavily sedated, offering me to other men to use. On the fourth night, I found myself awake but suffering the effects of an unknown drug. Paralyzed and unable to defend myself, they sadistically raped me throughout the night. I woke in the dark, dead silence of the early hours, fearing I'd be discovered. My heart pounded while I escaped. Dazed and disoriented, I was lost in the vastness of the city. I fumbled with false starts before my flight found direction. Terrified, I walked through a barren Times Square and beneath a maze of overpasses. Dwarfed by their towering pillars, I clung to my determination. From the darkness, I saw the final hurdle, the deep mouth of the Lincoln Tunnel. As the sun rose, I hitched a ride out of hell. Today I stand here, strong, gratefully aging, rooted in my truth 47 years after they thrilled at choking me, I freely inhale, I display what is real Sags and wrinkles earned from a life defying their indifference, Coming to understand what I survived. I had peeled off so many skins since.

[07:07] Meg: I want to thank Brian for being so open to sharing this. As I told him, it's one thing to tell someone's story, but so much more impactful to hear someone tell their own. In one of our exchanges, Brian said, this means so much to me. I hadn't read it for years. Funny how the universe times things. In therapy, I've been struggling to see the kid I was with any kindness or compassion. Rereading this, I connected with my respect for him. Just what we both needed.