Kiss News

Read an exclusive chapter from the KISS guitarist's upcoming autobiography 'Face The Music: A Life Exposed'

Paul Stanley is the last member of the original Kiss lineup to pen a memoir, but his upcoming book Face The Music: A Life Exposed is still an essential read for all fans of the pioneering hard rock band. For the first time ever, the Starchild reveals that he was born with one ear, causing horrendous emotional pain. He also gets into great detail about the wild early days of Kiss, his battles with all three original members of the band and how he carried the group all through the 1980s while longtime partner Gene Simmons was largely engaged with other projects. In this exclusive excerpt � which comes alongside the band's first-ever appearance on Rolling Stone's cover � Stanley gives his side of the tumultuous Kiss "Farewell Tour" in 2000.

Peter posted a sign every day counting down the number of days left on the Farewell Tour. He started painting a teardrop below his eye. I thought it made him look like Emmett Kelly's famous Weary Willie character, the tragic clown who toured with the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. And as for the rest of his makeup, it was as if he had forgotten how to do it. He started to look like a panda bear, with big rectangles around his eyes.

The tour was horrible. Constant drudgery and misery. We spent all of our energy trying to coax Peter and Ace out of their hotel rooms. Ace sucker-punched Tommy at one of the shows. Peter had his usual handbook detailing how hotel staff had to treat him and which windows had to be covered with tinfoil and all that. There was no reasoning with either of them. We never knew if we'd make it to a show on time, and once we got onstage we never knew whether we'd get through the show. I mean, if a guy has trouble putting on his makeup, how is he going to play? Not surprisingly, the shows could be pretty awful.

I was angry at Peter and Ace for being disrespectful toward everything we had accomplished and everything the fans were giving us. I bought into the idea that this really was it. The end of Kiss. There was no place to go. it was unbearable.Read an exclusive chapter from the Kiss guitarist's upcoming autobiography 'Face The Music: A Life Exposed'

Paul Stanley is the last member of the original Kiss lineup to pen a memoir, but his upcoming book Face The Music: A Life Exposed is still an essential read for all fans of the pioneering hard rock band. For the first time ever, the Starchild reveals that he was born with one ear, causing horrendous emotional pain. He also gets into great detail about the wild early days of Kiss, his battles with all three original members of the band and how he carried the group all through the 1980s while longtime partner Gene Simmons was largely engaged with other projects. In this exclusive excerpt � which comes alongside the band's first-ever appearance on Rolling Stone's cover � Stanley gives his side of the tumultuous Kiss "Farewell Tour" in 2000.

Peter posted a sign every day counting down the number of days left on the Farewell Tour. He started painting a teardrop below his eye. I thought it made him look like Emmett Kelly's famous Weary Willie character, the tragic clown who toured with the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. And as for the rest of his makeup, it was as if he had forgotten how to do it. He started to look like a panda bear, with big rectangles around his eyes.

The tour was horrible. Constant drudgery and misery. We spent all of our energy trying to coax Peter and Ace out of their hotel rooms. Ace sucker-punched Tommy at one of the shows. Peter had his usual handbook detailing how hotel staff had to treat him and which windows had to be covered with tinfoil and all that. There was no reasoning with either of them. We never knew if we'd make it to a show on time, and once we got onstage we never knew whether we'd get through the show. I mean, if a guy has trouble putting on his makeup, how is he going to play? Not surprisingly, the shows could be pretty awful.

I was angry at Peter and Ace for being disrespectful toward everything we had accomplished and everything the fans were giving us. I bought into the idea that this really was it. The end of Kiss. There was no place to go. it was unbearable.

We were stuck in a rut musically as well � basically playing the same 17 songs we'd taught them for the initial reunion. This was the third tour with the same set list. Peter and Ace just couldn't master any more. The needle was already into the red. I had to come up with nonsensical interview responses to questions about why we were playing the same songs. I couldn't just say, "because Peter and Ace can't learn any others."

One night during a show Doc McGhee tried to get my attention from the side of the stage, gesturing up at me and holding his nose.

Huh?

"You stink!" he yelled. I walked over to him during a break between songs. "What did you say?"

"You stink!" he repeated. "Fucking Peter is playing too slow," I told him. Doc ran around behind the drum riser and started making the same gesture at Peter. "Peter, you're playing too slow!" "Well, so are they!" Peter shouted back. "What are you talking about?" Doc screamed. "You're the fucking drummer!" Another night Peter had a new problem. He stopped playing in the middle of a song and just held his sticks up and looked at me like a deer in the headlights. I yelled, "Play!" and started tapping my foot so at least he would start hitting the drums again. That happened on more than one occasion.

A well-known musician � who had seen the band many times � approached me one night and said, "I can't come to any more shows. It's just too painful to listen to."

The worst feeling was reading reviews trashing the shows and thinking, "That's spot on." It was such a shame because the band could have been great and wasn't. The drama offstage and the hostility and resentment and backstabbing was taking a heavy musical toll. And then there were the drugs. When Ace had an off night and made a lot of mistakes, we would joke that his mixture was off.

It would have been great to go out in a blaze of musical glory; instead, we were dragging our asses. At one point we put aside a few days to brush up on songs and tighten things up. Ace didn't show for one of the rehearsals. He said he wasn't feeling well because he had Lyme disease � an illness brought on by the bite of a deer tick. Peter, brainiac that he is, said, "That's bullshit! He was never bitten by a deer!"

Am I living in an insane asylum?

On August 11, 2000, we had a show in Irvine, California, after a week off. Ace had spent the week in New York. We had a rule that if anyone was going to fly cross-country on a commercial flight to get to a gig, he had to get there a day in advance � just to be safe, in case there was a storm or a mechanical issue or whatever. We didn't want to have to cancel shows.

The day before the Irvine show, Tommy had arranged for a limo to pick Ace up and take him to his flight. He always had the limo show up hours early because it was the same chore to get Ace out of his house as it was to get him out of a hotel. Then all of us sat around waiting for updates on Ace's progress. Ace's pickup was schedule for noon East Coast time.

At 1:30 P.M. Tommy called the limo. "Mr. Frehley needs to get going."

"Um, sir, he hasn't come out of the house yet."

Another half an hour passed. Tommy and Doc tried to get Ace on the phone, calling his house. No answer. After calling his house five more times, they finally got him on the line.

"Ace, you have to get in the car � you're going to miss your flight."

"There's a problem . . . uh . . . and i'm sick . . ." Millions of excuses. They kept rescheduling Ace on later and later flights. The limo went back each time. it got to be 7 and then 8 P.M. "Passenger has not left his house, sir," reported the limo driver each time.

Tommy managed to get Ace on the phone again. "There's one more flight out tonight, last one."

"Okay," said Ace. "I promise."

But again at the appointed time, nothing happened. "Passenger still not out of house, sir."

Flight missed.

The next day was the show. Ace started the day on the other side of the country. By some minor miracle, however, he made it to the airport in the morning, was met by the on-site rep, and was escorted onto his plane.

Traffic from LAX airport to the venue was going to present a serious problem. So we arranged for a helicopter to sit at Terminal 4, where Ace was arriving, and shuttle him to the venue by air. That way he could probably make it in time for the concert.

Then we got a call. "Well, there's good news and bad news."

Okay.

"The good news is that Ace really is on the plane. The bad news is that the plane has a mechanical problem and is delayed." At that point Doc told Tommy to drop what he was doing and get to the venue. He was going to have to play the show.

We traveled with a Spaceman outfit custom-fitted to Tommy � as an insurance policy. A brand new outfit, boots and all, tailored to Tommy always came along in one of the wardrobe crates. We knew Tommy could do it, but he had never actually done it.

"You guys are like superheroes," said Doc. "So Tommy Thayer is playing Batman today? It's still Batman."

Tommy got made up and dressed. And meanwhile we were geting updates on Ace's location as the start time of the show approached. He's landed . . . passenger is in helicopter . . . 50 miles away. . .

Ace walked into the dressing room about 20 minutes before the show was scheduled to start. He looked at Tommy � fully dressed and made up, with his guitar on, ready to go � and just said, "Oh, hey Tommy, how you doin'?"

We delayed the show an hour, Ace got into his makeup, and we played the concert.

The fact that we traveled with a costume for Tommy didn't seem to faze Ace. He thought it was a ploy � something between a joke and an empty threat. But we were 100 percent ready to go on with Tommy. We didn't have him suit up to teach Ace a lesson; we did it because we had a concert to play. The same reckless behavior that had led to a decades-long downward spiral was threatening to sink the ship. Here was a life preserver.

Still, Ace continued to think and act like he was irreplaceable. He continued to show total disregard for everyone else, continued to act as if we were blessed to have him. He congratulated himself on making it to the show.

"This will not do," Doc said to me and Gene. "These guys are just terrible. I run a management company, not the Red Cross. They don't send me into destroyed countries to rebuild things. I don't save people. You have to make changes."

From the forthcoming book Face The Music: A Life Exposed by Paul Stanley. Copyright © 2014 by Paul Stanley. To be published on April 8,2014 byHarperOne, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

Edna Gundersen, USA TODAY

When Kiss roared onto the public stage in greasepaint and comic-book costumes, critics predicted the loud New York rock quartet would soon kiss the dust. Those detractors have been eating the band's dust for 40 years.

Since releasing its self-titled debut and Hotter Than Hell in 1974, Kiss has sold an estimated 100 million albums worldwide and built a formidable Kiss Army that continues to fill arenas and stadiums around the globe. Declared America's most popular band by a 1977 Gallup poll, Kiss refuses to relinquish the title, opening every concert with the declaration, "You wanted the best! You got the best! The hottest band in the world!"

Pundits remain hostile (music author Dave Marsh, a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame nominating committee member, recently posted on his blog that Kiss "added not the slightest musical value to rock" and does not deserve its upcoming induction). Kiss Army vets loyally defend and exalt their heroes, as does the band itself.

"I look across the stage and see the best funk band in rock 'n' roll," says bassist Gene Simmons, 64. "We put on a two-hour show that knocks your socks off. There is that sense of electric church. And there's no corner on Earth where we're not gods to people who name their kids after our songs and tattoo our faces on their bodies."
Edna Gundersen, USA TODAY

When Kiss roared onto the public stage in greasepaint and comic-book costumes, critics predicted the loud New York rock quartet would soon kiss the dust. Those detractors have been eating the band's dust for 40 years.

Since releasing its self-titled debut and Hotter Than Hell in 1974, Kiss has sold an estimated 100 million albums worldwide and built a formidable Kiss Army that continues to fill arenas and stadiums around the globe. Declared America's most popular band by a 1977 Gallup poll, Kiss refuses to relinquish the title, opening every concert with the declaration, "You wanted the best! You got the best! The hottest band in the world!"

Pundits remain hostile (music author Dave Marsh, a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame nominating committee member, recently posted on his blog that Kiss "added not the slightest musical value to rock" and does not deserve its upcoming induction). Kiss Army vets loyally defend and exalt their heroes, as does the band itself.

"I look across the stage and see the best funk band in rock 'n' roll," says bassist Gene Simmons, 64. "We put on a two-hour show that knocks your socks off. There is that sense of electric church. And there's no corner on Earth where we're not gods to people who name their kids after our songs and tattoo our faces on their bodies."

Guitarist Paul Stanley, 62, chimes in, "Rock bands make music. A phenomenon impacts society. We're the biggest secret society on Earth. Every show is a tribal gathering that goes beyond rock 'n' roll and any demographic. We're in Kiss, but we're also fans of Kiss. We started this to be the band we never saw."

For its 40th anniversary, the band has readied a big fat Kiss blowout. Today brings the reissue of 10 remastered Kiss albums on vinyl. Another 18 titles are due by mid-2014. Kiss 40, a 40-track, two-CD set with such classics as Rock and Roll All Nite, Love Gun and Detroit Rock City, arrives in May. The just-released vinyl mother lode, Kissteria � The Ultimate Road Case, holds 34 discs and loads of extras. A 42-city tour with Def Leppard starts June 23.

When Kiss launched, "I hoped for five years," says Stanley, seated opposite Simmons at an office conference table. "Nobody could foresee this. Would I be in my 60s jumping around in a pair of tights playing to 100,000 people? That's absurd. But here we are. We have stood the test of time."

When Simmons heard Kiss' debut single Nothin' to Lose on the radio, "It went from zero to 60," he says. "Unlike Paul, who is pragmatic and humble, I'm delusional. Because I have an inflated ego, I thought there's nowhere we can't go and nothing we can't do. And sure enough, Kiss has become bigger than a band. It's a culture and a way of life."

Simmons, the "Demon," and Stanley, the "Starchild," founded Kiss with Peter "Catman" Criss and Ace "Spaceman" Frehley, both gone by 1982. The pair returned for MTV Unplugged in 1995, and the reunion lasted through 1998's Psycho Circus and a world tour, then dissolved a few years later.

A vocal minority considers their replacements, guitarist Tommy Thayer and drummer Eric Singer, imposters.

"We couldn't have started without Ace and Peter, and we couldn't have continued without Tommy and Eric," Stanley says.

Citing the substance abuse and friction that derailed the original quartet, "this is the lineup that should have always been Kiss, without drugs, alcohol, dysfunction, dark clouds," says Simmons. "The 'all-for-one, one-for-all' thing about Kiss is stronger than ever."

Even Kiss naysayers can't deny the band's massive impact. Besides shaping a slew of hair bands, Kiss also inspired such grunge greats as Nirvana and Soundgarden and far-flung acts including Garth Brooks and Daft Punk.

Formerly derided, the band's trademark glam camp, big-top theatrics and mercenary zeal have been widely embraced by superstars ranging from Bruce Springsteen to Katy Perry.

The fire-breathing, blood-spewing, fog-shrouded metal demigods also gave rise to the concept of branding, essential now but taboo in rock's early era.

"Once we blazed the trail and others saw there was money to be made, they followed suit," Stanley says. "When we started, the connotation of a fan club was teeny-bopper, not credible. We're not marketing geniuses. The only thing we've done is listen well. If someone wants a Kiss pencil, Kiss blanket, Kiss skis, we give it to them. We're not brilliant, but our hearing is fairly acute."

The band has reaped a fortune peddling such collectibles as belt buckles, pinball machines and, for diehards, $6,000 caskets. Forbes places the combined net worth of Simmons and Stanley at $450 million. Since 2000, Kiss tours have sold more than 3 million tickets and grossed roughly $200 million, according to Billboard Boxscores.

"Very early in their career, Kiss emphasized brand-building and explosive live performances, and this has served them extremely well over the decades," says Ray Waddell, Billboard senior editor/touring. "Out of the gate, they were very serious about not taking themselves too seriously, so fans have embraced the over-the-top merchandising, the multiple 'farewell' tours, the overt capitalism. From the beginning, fans have been in on the joke. The makeup, and wide array of merch opportunities it spawned, was a masterstroke and played out in ways I'm sure even Kiss couldn't imagine.

"They always give fans their money's worth in explosions and blood, and they can tour successfully as long as they want to," he says. "That said, it has to be Gene and Paul out there to continue. Ultimately, arena rock, and the power of live music overall, is about fans breathing the same air as their heroes. The history needs to be in the room. Otherwise, it's just a rock 'n' roll circus."

Kiss without its twin towers? In Face the Music: A Life Exposed, his autobiography out April 8, Stanley insists Kiss can last indefinitely with a series of dedicated replacements.

"The band is more important than the individuals," he says. "We are a movement. We may have started it, but if the movement is sound, it can carry on without me or Gene. The fans are there for Kiss, the ideal. It has nothing to do with who's in the band."

Simmons concurs, though less enthusiastically. "There are no rules," he says. "Can Kiss continue without us? Sure."

Neither is eyeing retirement and both can envision a 50th anniversary carousal. They credit much of the band's durability to their own sturdy partnership.

"We share a strong work ethic," Stanley says. "It starts with that. Being bright doesn't hurt. We come from similar backgrounds: European Jews who left their homelands to avoid being gassed."

Their bond has been tested over the decades, most seriously in the 1980s, "when I sold my soul to Hollywood," Simmons says. "Self-aggrandizement? I'm often guilty of that. Do I think I'm better-looking than I am? Oh, yeah. It's tough for me to walk by a mirror without paying homage to me. Paul's the brother that I never had, but that doesn't mean we agree on everything. He has funny-looking shoes that even Liberace wouldn't wear."

When Stanley wed longtime girlfriend Erin Sutton in 2005, Simmons was barred from the ceremony.

"My wedding was important to me," Stanley says. "I had no qualms about calling Gene up and saying, 'You're not invited.' I couldn't have someone there who insults the tenets of marriage. I don't care how close we are, Gene had no place at my wedding."

Stanley and Erin live in Beverly Hills with their three children, ages 2, 5 and 7, and he has a son, Evan, 19, from an earlier marriage.

Minutes away are Simmons and actress/model Shannon Tweed, who wed in 2011 after 28 years together. The couple and kids Nick, 25, and Sophie, 21, starred in A&E's reality series Gene Simmons Family Jewels.

"I was very bad for decades," says Simmons, notorious for his licentious lifestyle. "I was immature all my life. When you come from nothing and all of a sudden you have the keys to the kingdom, it's like living inside a bakery. And I'm a glutton.

"Shannon is wiser than I am, a better person than I'll ever be. She said, 'It's time to make a choice.' I would compartmentalize the sexual escapades. I was arrogant."

Slipping out of his wisecracking persona, Simmons shares an emotional story about Tweed tricking him into visiting his father's grave, then pulls out his phone to display photos of his kids.

"They are bright and respectful," he beams, then cracks, "They tell me when my breath stinks and when I'm full of hot air."

Stanley marvels at how family values crept into the Kiss crypt.

"During the '80s, I saw Mike and the Mechanics checking into the Sunset Marquis Hotel with strollers and nannies, and I thought it was so uncool," he says. "There's nothing cooler nowadays than having my little kids run up and down the aisle of our private jet or seeing them on the side of the stage in their pajamas."

Kiss is a demanding mistress, and soon will yank the Demon and Starchild from their domestic havens.

"In hindsight, it might have been smarter to be in a band like U2 or the Rolling Stones," Simmons says. "You wear sneakers, a T-shirt, stand still and strum your guitar, thank you very much. There's a workout regimen before we go on tour. You wear eight-inch platform heels for hours, take two hours to put on makeup. On stage, you fly through the air, sometimes 50 feet high, spit fire and walk out drenched in sweat.

"We show up on time. There's no Axl Rose disease, no excuses. We want you to leave and say, 'There is a Santa Claus.' Kiss is real."

Edna Gundersen, USA TODAY

Artists inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame usually react with joy and grace.

Kiss feels dissed.

"Yes, it's going to be a great night, because we will pay respect to how the band started," says guitarist Paul Stanley. "But our issues with the Rock Hall have not subsided."

He and bassist Gene Simmons, the band's founders, will be inducted April 10 alongside original members Ace Frehley and Peter Criss. Four guitarists, including Tommy Thayer (on board since 2002), and two drummers, the late Eric Carr and current player Eric Singer (on his third stint since 1991), will not be anointed.

Simmons and Stanley wanted that fuller Kisstory acknowledged.

"When we broached the subject, they told us it was a non-starter," Stanley says. "That's arrogance coming from pencil-pushers. We're the people wearing the guitars. The arrogance went further when they tried to strong-arm us into having the original lineup play in makeup."

Also a non-starter. Simmons and Stanley refused.

"Not surprisingly, that ruffled their feathers because the Rock Hall seems to think the tail wags the dog," Stanley says. "This dog doesn't roll over for anybody."Edna Gundersen, USA TODAY

Artists inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame usually react with joy and grace.

Kiss feels dissed.

"Yes, it's going to be a great night, because we will pay respect to how the band started," says guitarist Paul Stanley. "But our issues with the Rock Hall have not subsided."

He and bassist Gene Simmons, the band's founders, will be inducted April 10 alongside original members Ace Frehley and Peter Criss. Four guitarists, including Tommy Thayer (on board since 2002), and two drummers, the late Eric Carr and current player Eric Singer (on his third stint since 1991), will not be anointed.

Simmons and Stanley wanted that fuller Kisstory acknowledged.

"When we broached the subject, they told us it was a non-starter," Stanley says. "That's arrogance coming from pencil-pushers. We're the people wearing the guitars. The arrogance went further when they tried to strong-arm us into having the original lineup play in makeup."

Also a non-starter. Simmons and Stanley refused.

"Not surprisingly, that ruffled their feathers because the Rock Hall seems to think the tail wags the dog," Stanley says. "This dog doesn't roll over for anybody."

He feels the long-split original foursome would not perform to Kiss' standards. Criss was fired in 1980, Frehley quit in 1982, and while both returned for a reunion tour and album in 1996, Frehley left and Criss was ejected a few years later. Bad blood precludes any cozy homecoming.

"We can only wear those uniforms with pride," Stanley says, "We're not going to risk tarnishing what we've built for 40 years just to satisfy someone's penchant for nostalgia."

The Rock Hall rejected a compromise.

"Ace and Peter were important in the formation of the band," Simmons says. "We said, 'Let's have everybody come out and play.' They said no."

He's mystified by the hall's refusal to induct Thayer and Singer, considering exceptions made for Metallica (latecomer Rob Trujillo), the Red Hot Chili Peppers (early members on marginal records) and the Grateful Dead (of 12 inducted, only five were founding players).

Rock Hall president/CEO Joel Peresman told Billboard the induction process "is not an exact science" and that Kiss had been selected specifically for its pivotal '70s phase.

That pick took 14 years. Kiss was first eligible in 1999, for the 2000 class, 25 years after its self-titled debut. Fans, including guitarist Tom Morello, have long championed the band's nomination.

"Kiss has always been anti-establishment, and that goes for the rock 'n' roll establishment," says Ray Waddell, Billboard senior editor/touring. "Gene in particular almost seemed to revel in being shunned by the Rock Hall, so his and the band's reaction to Kiss finally being voted in is no surprise at all. I believe their fans enjoyed Kiss' outsider status. It falls right along with the 'us against them' mentality that is so much a part of being a Kiss fan."

The Rock Hall "dodged this bullet for a long time," Stanley says. "We're the bitter pill they finally had to swallow. They bowed to public pressure as the years went on and it became absurd to ignore the big elephant in the room."

The band never lobbied for admission. "Our happiness and self-esteem don't depend on the Rock Hall or any entity," Simmons says. "The fans empower us. We've been in the hall of fame since we began. Our fans put us there."

So why attend the ceremony?

"It means a lot to the fans," Stanley says. "There's a validation they craved for the band. Our gratification comes from knowing the audience is thrilled that we're getting in."

I had a successful leather & clothing design studio in New York City called CONTESSA STUDIOS. It was 1973 when Gene Simmons walked in the door looking for someone to help create the costumes for a new rock band called KISS. The result was the
very first leather costumes for Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley, Ace Frehley, and Peter Criss.

Gene Simmons told me that they would be millionaires, but I never imagined that these 4 guys, (wearing my costumes,) would become the world's most famous rock band.

From 1973 until 1983, I made many of their costumes for stage, tours, photo-shoots, television appearances, and film, including the 1978 motion picture, KISS MEETS THE PHANTOM OF THE PARK.

My first set of costumes is seen on the cover of HOTTER THAN HELL, and the last work I did for KISS was during the LICK IT UP days (with VINNIE VINCENT and ERIC CARR.)

Shortly after, I traveled to India for a few years, and then relocated to Miami Beach, where I opened a very successful design studio called ZOO14. I kept in contact with the guys from KISS for a few years, but eventually lost touch.

In August of 2013, after much prodding from my friend Douglas Hudson, I reconnected with Ace Frehley at the Contamination Defcon Convention in St Louis. I spent some time with ACE, hung out and signed a few autographs, and was overwhelmed by the reaction from Ace and the hardcore KISS fans.I had a successful leather & clothing design studio in New York City called CONTESSA STUDIOS. It was 1973 when Gene Simmons walked in the door looking for someone to help create the costumes for a new rock band called KISS. The result was the
very first leather costumes for Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley, Ace Frehley, and Peter Criss.

Gene Simmons told me that they would be millionaires, but I never imagined that these 4 guys, (wearing my costumes,) would become the world's most famous rock band.

From 1973 until 1983, I made many of their costumes for stage, tours, photo-shoots, television appearances, and film, including the 1978 motion picture, KISS MEETS THE PHANTOM OF THE PARK.

My first set of costumes is seen on the cover of HOTTER THAN HELL, and the last work I did for KISS was during the LICK IT UP days, (with VINNIE VINCENT and ERIC CARR.)

Shortly after, I traveled to India for a few years, and then relocated to Miami Beach, where I opened a very successful design studio called ZOO14. I kept in contact with the guys from KISS for a few years, but eventually lost touch.

In August of 2013, after much prodding from my friend Douglas Hudson, I reconnected with Ace Frehley at the Contamination Defcon Convention in St Louis. I spent some time with ACE, hung out and signed a few autographs, and was overwhelmed by the reaction from Ace and the hardcore KISS fans.

Until then, I really never thought much about the impact I had on those early days of KISS...to me, it was just a job. To hear KISS fans tell me how they anticipated every new costume design was a complete surprise to me, and was quite humbling.

Bodyguard Chris Kiszka introduced me to Keith Leroux, who put me in touch with Paul Stanley. Doug and I were invited to attend the September 2013 KISS Acoustic Show and Concert at the Hard Rock in Hollywood, Florida, as Paul's guests. It was there that I reconnected with Paul and Gene, (and also met Eric Singer and Tommy Thayer.) Paul and Gene spotted me in the audience at the acoustic concert, and made a big deal of introducing me to all of the fans. I met the road crew, and spent time backstage with the wardrobe department, sharing stories from the early years.

Now, I had reconnected with 3 of the 4 original members of KISS, with only Peter Criss left to find. Again, Chris Kiska stepped in, and set up an emotional reunion with Peter in October 2013 at the Spooky Empire convention in Orlando.

The next night, thanks to Adri Becerra, I was an invited guest at the KISS KRUISE Pre-Party in Miami, where I met that sweetheart of a guy, Bruce Kulick.

In just 2 months, thanks to some incredible people, I was able to reconnect or meet 7 current or former KISS members. (I would love to reconnect with Vinnie Vincent, but it doesn't look like that will happen.)

Who knows where this will end up, but just like 1973, I am enjoying the ride.

Maria