THE PORN KING, Inside the seedy world of Steve Crow

The New Zealand Herald - Canvas Magazine. October 1st 2005, 2005

THE NAKED TRUTH Sex is just a business for porn king Steve Crow and he doesn’t care about critics. Alan Perrott joins him for a surprisingly boring day at the office-

IF NEW ZEALAND porn has a Ground Zero it would have to be Steve Crow’s desk so it’s no surprise to find he enjoys some stirring form his black leather captain Kirk chair. After all, science tells us that guys are base, virtually stimulated breasts, so who would deny him a few visits to his happy place during a hard day of plotting moral ruin? No argument here. Ferrari make damn saucy cars. Check out the clean lines on Jean Alesi’s F1, phwoar; the classic shot of Fangio’s 1956 race car, ooooo; and a montage of some new variant giving the gladeye to an old tank, mmmmm baby.

Of course, this being the headquarters of the country’s largest importer of “adult entertainment products” there are still plenty of exposed bodies on the walls, ladies such as siren, with their Westie-styled names and come hither Kath and Kim hornbag pouts.

The standouts lurk in the far corner, a few healthy handfuls belong to some enthusiastic locals which add a rather “readers’ wives” touch to the tender messages (“happy hard-ons Steve”) gracing the more, ahhh, professional efforts.

There’s a topless shot of a former Herald on Sunday gossip columnist taken in 2002, endorsed with a scribbled “God I’ve got great tits,” alongside a group shot lineup of pop culture queens: Charlotte Dawson, Nicky Watson and Jo Cotton who maintained a well-placed arm to keep her chest within PG requirements. Bless. They’ll soon be joined by another Watson pic taken at this year’s Erotica Expo –which Steve Crow also owns- and he’s still hoping Sunday Star Times’ gossipmeister Bridget Saunders will let him complete the box set.

Outsiders my bridle at such ribald wallflowers, but titillating photos and graphic gynaecological imagery seem to be the equivalent of the fire exit signs at the Mt Wellington office of Vixen Direct. They no longer register.

Steve Crow could even be the classic case of the fish who no longer sees the water he swims in. His craft basks in a long and well-documented connection with three of the nastiest “-ations” – exploitation, degradation, and humiliation – but he argues that exposing hypocritical, closeted attitudes toward sex is the industry’s best path to rehabilitation.

“I guess it’s a case of wishing people would get over themselves. What’s so perverse about human sexuality? What’s the big deal? It’s not as though penises and vaginas are particularly rare, there’s several billion of each in the world, so why are we so ashamed of looking at them…” Over the past decade he has established himself as the face of New Zealand porn and his reputation as a media savvy, straight shooter has enabled him take advantage of the shock, horror coverage of his unsavoury plan to feature a live birth in his skin flick, Ripe.

Crow is unashamedly up front and takes every opportunity to reinforce his standing as point man for all things X-rated. He really doesn’t give a toss if you don’t what he does as long as you know what he does - even court action against the New Zealand Stock Exchange for adopting the same name as his NZX porn mag was more about the publicity than any legal umbrage.

And it worked. Reporters sought his political views during the run-up to the election, the annual Erotica sextival attracts 25,000 plus, and he gets regular exposure in print and on television, including a hip guest spot as “producer” of fake porn film Anal Mania on Eating Media Lunch.

RIGHT Now, however, his most prized pet is freshly minted, glossy magazine, Uncensored, auspiciously launched on September 11.

It’s “Just the facts, for a change” mission statement replaces the raunch of NZX with a whiff of Winston Peters sloganeering. Uncensored targets those who favour tinfoil hats over crusty raincoats, and the only nakid breast to be admired anywhere in its 127 pages illustrates a story about mammography.

Crow became involved only after editor Jonathan Eison asked for some funding. He pumped $50,000 into producing the first edition, a diverse omnibus of conspiracies ranging from September 11, vaccinations and the colour of Mars, to New Zealand pre-history.

After four weeks, all 10,000 copies had been shipped out to their 1300 retail outlets and a second printing was being considered. Issue two will not be out for two months, but the early success has Crow rubbing his hands together over its potential to rattle some ivory cages. A $50,000 reward may soon be offered for damaging dirt on Destiny's Bishop Brian Tamaki.

"Now I can put a lot of people on notice that if they have any skeletons in their closet and we can find them, then I'm going to publish them." Cue dastardly cackle. Crow seems to relish the company of people with fringe interests. When we first met at Erotica he was chatting with a mate Kelvyn Alp, the equally bald leader of the Direct Democracy Party of New Zealand Armed Intervention Force. Today he's having lunch with, Graham Brimble, organiser of the annual Auckland Gun Show and proud owner of a collection that includes three vintage Vickers machineguns.

Jonathan Eisen has attracted his own notoriety based on a publishing record boasting such wild-eyed titles as People in power: How to make the government Listen to You, The GE Sellout, The Poisoning of New Zealand and, of course, Suppressed Inventions and Other Discoveries, which, among tales of water-driven cars, tried to convince desperate cancer sufferers to eschew conventional treatments.

As a quartet they make up a conspiratorial job lot of campaigners for individual rights, freedom of expression and taking it however you can to the Man.

Obscured among the nude bits in his office are an MBA from Melbourne University above an MSc in ecology and certificate in the principle and practices of radiochemistry from Auckland. He's also the wallet behind the NZ Veterans Trust, which raises cash to take old diggers on tours to the old killing fields an d you can't get much more traditional values than those of offering a hand to our old warriors.

Still, he has more than a hint of the Antichrist about him when he arrives at work on this lovely spring morning. To avoid confusing messages he arrives in an Erotica car wearing his black Erotica regalia. The flesh visible from the base of his front rower’s neck to the top of his gleaming bald neck is pink, with two red-rimmed slits for eyes in the middle. The only bling is a single gold earring.

He's banking up from a rather late night, a post-Erotica House strip club.

My plan is to watch first-hand how you go about spreading moral decay and degeneracy though a nation of innocents.

Once settled in his office and clutching his first coffee, Crow anticipates a messy day. Erotica finished nine days ago, but striving to do the Devil's work has left half his staff off sick, not that the boss seems too cut up about it.

"The show tends to do that every year, it just wears everyone out. I'm usually the only one who gets through; I guess I'm a workaholic; I've always worked long hours. I don't find it stressful, but the modern employee isn't used to those sorts of hours."'

"These sorts of hours" equate to about 100 hours a week during the run-up to Erotica and 14 hour stretches during the three-day sexathon.

"There's a lot of tension, it's a very intense period of time," Crow says. "A lot of pressure and a lot of people, but we only run on a small crew. There are 11 of us; we're not a big operation. But with so many away I'll be doing stuff I don't normally have to."

Even messy days are busy days: the company that began in the garage of Crow's former business and romantic partner Fiona Gibb is still working on expanding its slice of the country's estimated $30 million porn pie. The master plan is to transform Vixen into the largest player in the Australasian adult market.

The couple met before Crow's transformation into pornographer. After two cases of spinal bends helped end his careers as a deep-sea diver, he was learning more toward up market property development with a sideline interest in a mail-order company, Grafton Marketing, whose offerings included adult DVDs.

Gibb toot it on, gave it a sexy name, kept the sexy stuff and built it up before dropping it out, allowing Crow to push his shiny bonce into the spotlight.

"When I decided to font the business, come out if you like," crows Crow, "I knew it was going to be known; this is the porn industry, so ****ing what? Next question. By having no skeletons in the cupboard - I've let them all out - it gave me incredible freedom to say what I like and go up against everybody ... There's nothing you can do to change what people think about pornography, most people have a fixed view. But you do what you do and my attitude is that I'm not ashamed of it."

These could be the worlds of Crow's role model; self declared US "smut peddler" Larry Flynt of Hustler fame. He has nothing but admiration for the American's success as a businessman and stretcher of First Amendment boundaries.

"If there's anyone I aspire to - I'm not into hero worship, so nothing like that - but if there's anyone I would like to emulate, he's someone I see as worthy of admiration. Flynt's been through a hell of a lot for his beliefs and he's come out on top."

Crow has co-directed Vixen Direct with the company's in-house accountant Shirish Vagel since Gibb's departure, but she has left a gaudy legacy of sorts in their building's purple, silver and white color-scheme.

But even that lingering presence may soon be gone. The first item of business this morning is a meeting to discuss a relit plan which will see two floors added to the building, aluminum cladding, outdoor shade sail, and a spa pool - everyone knows you can't make a proper porn without a spa pool.

The big question is whether Crow goes ahead with the upgrade alone or sells the property to someone else who can do it for him.

After an inconclusive swapping of views, ideas and seven-figured numbers, they finish with an incongruous chat about some guy's relationship woes. The agent offers to provide a few good self-help books before heading downstairs to the warehouse for a little adult shopping. There are many forms of self-help.

Up to now Crow has been the proverbial open book, even conducting conversations on speakerphone. "How can I run a magazine called Uncensored and then try and censor things," he had explained. "I leave it to the media to report what they see and hear, as long as it's factual you won't get a backlash from me."

But there's some trouble brewing. Miss Popularity contestant and NZX cover girl Vicky-Lee has arrived for a battle of wills, and he'd prefer I wasn't around.

"I have to have a short meeting with her who won't be very pleasant," he apologizes. "So I'll have to ask for a little privacy. But you're welcome to walk around if you want."

I pass Vicky-Lee on the way out. She's a wee slip of a girl, but struts into Crow's office in full battledress: blonde hair aflame, makeup caked, top low-cut, breasts enormous. She's brewing a storm in a double-D cup.

However, when Vicky-Lee leaves and all seems fine, although Crow seems just the tiniest bit frazzled. From what could be gathered from a few loaded comments, they had each stepped back froma Mexican stand-ff involving mutual legal action. So, crisis avoided, it's into the porn.

A NEW

shipment of DVD's has arrived with some previously released movies, but their contents need to be checked before the paperwork can be sent to the censor's office. If they contain any new footage Vixen has to pay for them to be reclassified.

So all we get is a frozen shot of someone preparing to simper, "Ooo, it's so hot in here, let's get naked" as Crow takes the time details from the DVD display. Coitus adoidus.

The only time he registers nude bodies is while reviewing the photos to be spread-eagled through the next copy of NZX. His single comment? "Oo, that's graphic."

All that effort not to look builds up a hearty appetite; we'd already touched on religion and sex, so that left politics for lunchtime banter.

It's no secret Crow became a member of Libertarians in 2002 or that in February this year he tried to join Act.

"Well, I tried to join," he says over a low-cal meal of Waldorf and tuna salads. "I went to the lunches and breakfasts, but they didn't want me. No idea why, they never even banked my $150 donation. The cheque has never been presented, I guess they considered me too controversial."

He probably still voted for them: "It's more a matter of who I won't vote for."

And although he says he's too busy right now, he's toying with a possible crack at public office at some stage. After all, US porn queen and erotica guest Mary Carey raced Arnie for the California governorship and he loves slagging off big government, especially when remembering the 2 1/2 year audit he endured.

"Seventy-thousand it cost me and they found nothing because there's nothing to find. It was conducted by the Special Audit branch in Wellington, according to my accountants it's the department for dealing with gangs and organised crime."

The audit finally ended when he called time. "Then they send a letter of apology, turned around and said the audit was over... and all they found was that I hadn't deducted withholding tax from a couple of models."

Yeah, it was a pain, but he still relishes the notoriety. There is one particular Christian activist who has burned with righteous anger and outrageous accusations outside every Erotica. This year, rather than ignoring him again, Crow marched out with a phalanx of porn stars and flashed a mighty broadside of breasts.

"He went right off and started calling me a pedophile and that and that sort of thing. I went over to talk to him and we called the police, but even when they arrived he was still yelling and calling me a pedophile, so I told the police you can arrest him for that or me for assault because I'm gong to thump him. So they took him away."

No surprise then taht porn kings have little time for what Crow calls "rentafundemtalists".

But he does have time for gossip columnists. Bridget Saunders want a copy of Nicky Watson's topless Erotica pic, Crow wants to know the names of the businessman involved in an armed offenders call out that morning. The deal is secured with Friday-night dinner date involving Crow, Saunders and Ravlich. "I've got a good relationship with the gossip girls and at the end of the day that's fairly important because they could hang, draw and quarter me."

It's a momentary diversion before meeting a pair of demure architects who have been preparing plans for the building upgrade.

Their cost estimates greatly exceed Crow's and he's clearly unimpressed: "I've been involved in 29 different commercial developments, so I beg to differ." They want some money and he's clearly unwilling: "I'm not interested in your problems. I'll say it again, until I get ownership of the building I am not paying one cent toward anything." Throughout the encounter they remain ramrod straight, refusing to relax in case they accidentally glance at the nudity around them before shutting off, eye's downcast.

"A lot don't look," says Crow after they've gone. "They feel really uncomfortable." Now that's a cunning negotiating strategy.

THEN

It's time to unravel what went down in Pornotopia, the upstairs room at Erotica where imported porn stars posed with punters for nude photos and peddled their explicit movies.

For it's part, Vixen earned somewhere around $20,000 there in three days, but there's a diminutive Tera Patrick - sized spanner in the works. More to the point, the problem is the US porn star's testy manager / husband Evan Seinfeld, also front man for New York’s metallers Biohazard.

He's been calling every day since the show closed demanding money, but no one knows how much they are owed because he had been taking cash for sales without leaving any records. Tera is due to arrive back in Auckland the following weekend so they want to get it sorted quickly before the issue descends into metal mayhem.

crow, Trent and Shirish paw though ream after ream of till receipts. "If only our fans could see us now," mutters Crow. "My brain is fading."

By 6pm and after draining several calculators, it turns out the Yanks owe Vixen. The question becomes who is going to tell Seinfeld. Time to go, say's Trent.

A timely distraction arrives, Crow's girlfriend, policewoman Gaylene Rogers. His porn career means hasn’t been the easiest of on-off relationships. A police inquiry rummaged through their sock drawers in 2003. Crow mentions he's still considered persona non grata at Auckland Central.

Right now Rogers' only concern is the plate of half-eaten cakes on the table. Her man's on a diet and has managed to lose 12kg in three months.

It's now knocking on 7pm as Crow prepares to deal with the 14 new-release DVD's yet to be classified. This means breaking down each movie, play by sweaty play. Every single poke and prod has to be listed and timed on the second, and that's something he's not mad keen on doing right now. It's been a long day after a long night.

Horrah. Ray, a former employee, now a part-time contractor, shows up to show Crow a marketable DVD he'd created from one of Vixen Directs’ Down Under Exposed series that screened on Sky Television. He'll gladly shoulder the classification burden at his market rate of $10 a movie. Everyone can go home.

Then just as Ray makes to leave with seven steaming discs, Crow pulls him up. He was trying to make off without the gay porn.

"Come on, you've got to take the bad with the good, buddy. You've got to take the bad with the good."

It might be porn, but it's still a job of work.