Bowie: A Biography - JFK247

said ‘David would like to have a word with you.’ Then
he said to her, ‘How do you do, I’m David Bowie. I’d
like to discuss life or the universal whatever, my
dear.’ He gave me a wink, a bit of a thank-you wave.
A David Niven–style wave. Went to the bathroom,
obviously, to have an intimate discussion. I always
thought he was so clever pushing that androgynous
thing. They went into the bathroom and soon heard,
‘Oh no.’ Two drag queens were there, hoping that
David Bowie was gay. When they saw their hero
going in a bathroom with a woman, they went
ballistic. I heard him lock the door and the drag
queens took their high heels off, smashing the door,
screaming, ‘Whatever she’s doing, we can do better.
Let us in, throw the bitch out. We can do a better job
on you than she can no matter what’s going on in
there.’”
Bowie was more or less a teetotaler on the tour.
There was far too much to do, and the rigors of
being onstage and turning in a stellar performance
every night required him to be a dead sober
workaholic. Sex, of course, was another story: it was
good exercise and, in Los Angeles in 1972, the
equivalent of a politician glad-handing a potential
voter. “Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am,” indeed.
While he would later dismiss it as the most vile
locale on the planet, the love between Bowie and
Los Angeles was in full flush.
“L.A. was tailor-made for Ziggy Stardust,” Leee
Black Childers agrees. “L.A. is like David. The city
changes its personality to suit whoever is in town. So