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The odor of camel shit has vanished, according to David Rothschild, who now lives in the apartment. Touring his digs, Rothschild identifies the spot in the bedroom where the dung must have been, then moves to a cluttered sun room which housed paintings in "The Guest." Rothchild identifies the hallway where Bertie drags a record player across the floor. "I was like, 'Wait, he's scratching up my hardwood!'"

But, adds Rothschild, "I have not done any hallucinogenics here. I've never seen a Chinaman with his tongue coming out with encrusted jewels here."

History's first celebrity-sex video, Berry Park in Wentzville, Missouri.

Berry Park has been Chuck Berry's country compound since he bought the land in 1957, at the height of his fame. Today, the original rock & roller, born and bred in St. Louis, still owns the property -- though it's in a state of disrepair these days, more country farm than celebrity estate.

Chuck Berry filmed some home movies here that somehow made their way into underground trading circles, resulting in perhaps the first unauthorized celebrity-sex video. 1989 was a bad year for Berry. He was busted for videotaping customers in the bathroom of his Wentzville club. His home was raided. Pot was found, and so was, apparently, a home movie.

In the video, Berry aims his camera at a naked woman in a bathtub while he zooms in on her private parts. Berry sets the camera down and soon we see him in front of the camera, naked. She starts fiddling with his ding-a-ling and proceeds to place it in her mouth. Then, he steps back, grabs his penis and starts urinating on her. She's caressing his thigh. He tells her to open her mouth. He pees into it.

Berry leans over her, as if to kiss her, but hesitates. "I can't kiss you," he confesses, "You smell like piss."

Phyllis Diller's home in Webster Groves, 30 Mason Avenue.

Webster Groves, a tree-strewn suburb southwest of downtown, is the home of Webster University. Just north of the campus lies the former home of groundbreaking comedienne Phyllis Diller. She lived in the house in the early and mid-'60s, when her career was at full-tilt. She now lives outside of Los Angeles. By phone recently, we spent a little time catching up.

Thanks for taking time, Miss Diller.

Let's get this over with. I'm not that well.

Your home in Webster Groves. Apparently you painted it pink?

No. I'd love to let you know the truth. If anyone reads my book [the just-published memoir, Like a Lampshade in a Whorehouse], they'll know I had great difficulties with my first husband. He was out of his mind. He painted it pink. But of course I would be the one who everyone would think would have a pink house. I was so embarrassed. If it were up to me, it would have been gray with green shutters.

Can you describe the house?

Yes, it's colonial. Lovely house, eleven rooms, nice big rooms. He built the pool, and he did a good job on that. Anything he could do without leaving the house. He had agoraphobia. He was a very sick man.

This would be Fang?

No. Fang was part of the act. Sherwood Diller was reality.

A couple stories are floating around from your time here. One of them had to do with some nuns who lived behind you who were offended at some nude sunbathing.

Oh, forget it. Jesus Christ. Number one, there was no kind of protection around the pool. You could see it from the street. There's no way that anyone in their right mind would take their clothes off in that pool. I never heard of any nuns around there, even. Somebody's floating stories. Give me the other story. I can't wait.

Apparently you performed at Webster High School; your material got a little bit blue, and there was a big outcry. Something about a Playtex bra and "My cup runneth over"?

Oh my God. If they objected to that -- no. Here's the joke: "My living bra died of starvation." I didn't use the word "Playtex." That's not a funny word. They've got two jokes running together there -- everything's all mixed up. At the end of my act, after doing all of these chest jokes, which were all perfectly clean, I said, "If just once I could throw up my arms and say, My cup runneth over!" Now if that's a dirty joke, I'm Greta Garbo.

Did you perform in Gaslight Square in St. Louis?

Three times at the Crystal Palace, and it was one of the most fun things I ever did in my life. Sold out every night, plus, at one of my appearances my opening act was the guy who wrote Hair. He was a jazz harpist. I remember vividly I was playing one of my three gigs there when Kennedy was shot.

How did you end up in Webster Groves?

It's all in the book. My children had been taken care of by an aunt and grandmother in St. Louis for five years while I was trying to get enough money to buy that house. I bought the house because it didn't make any sense to move the children away from their only relatives. It was a good place for me because all I was doing was traveling, and it was a central point. I could get back to see them oftener than if they'd been anywhere else.

Thanks so much for your time. I really appreciate it.

Well, I'm not in good shape. I was in the hospital yesterday. I'm still in rotten shape.

Pneumonia, right? And you recently had hip replacement surgery?

No, no. Pneumonia's enough. I was spitting up blood. So now, stupid me, I planned another thing that I have to do, so I have to go do it. It's nice talking to you. And I'll tell you the truth: What a joy to be able to quash all three rumors. Please help me with that.

I will.

The day I go swimming in the nude. That'll be the day.

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