To me, it feels like teenage heartthrob Leif Garrett does not get enough credit as an artist and performer. He deserved so much more!
Throughout his career, the former teen idol experienced extreme highs and lows, but the highs he sought through drug addiction, which he used as a crutch, resulted in him sinking his career…
Before you see him today, at 62, it might be good to hold your breath…
What a babe he was….. Leif Garrett started as a child actor, and in the 1970s, he set the hearts of young women to fluttering when he became a musician.
My mom told me that when she went to the grocery store with her parents, she could see Leif’s face on all of the teen magazine covers at the checkout lanes.
The American singer-actor, born in Hollywood, California, was 5 years old when he first appeared in the movie Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice in 1969, which became the sixth highest-grossing film of the year.
Following that role, the sleepy-eyed, flaxen-haired heartthrob featured in the film Walking Tall, along with its two sequels. In 1983 he joined a number of fellow teen heartthrobs, including Matt Dillon, C. Thomas Howell, Patrick Swayze and Tom Cruise, in Francis Ford Coppola’s The Outsiders.
Some might also recognize him from his performances in TV series, like Family, The Odd Couple (1974), Wonder Woman (1978) and CHiPs (1979).
In 1977, he released his first album Leif Garret, and fans went wild when he performed covers of popular songs like The Wanderer (Dion), Surfin’ USA (The Beach Boys) and Paul Anka’s Put Your Head on My Shoulder.
Garrett was on top of the world. The blond, shaggy-haired singer toured worldwide, and his fans (mostly young girls) went crazy as soon as they saw him.
”I was on a public appearance tour in Sydney, Australia, and they had to fly me in by helicopter and then I jumped into an armored car and drove into the theater by back door. I’ve tried using a lim there before, but the fans almost tipped it over. I guess it’s an adrenalin push for them. They just freak out. It’s very weird,” Garrett told New York Daily News in 1979.
But even though his music was close to topping the charts, he struggled with management that made him feel like a “fraud.” The crossover to adulthood was also a challenge for Garrett.
“I think I was a good performer from the get-go but I wish they had offered me singing lessons before ever making a record and doing the typical punching in a sentence here or there or words or whatever,” Garret said in an interview.
“There’s a particular track (I Was Looking for Someone to Love) that doesn’t even sound like me at all. I would even possibly say I wasn’t even on that track. And to me, that IS fraud. That’s like a Milli Vanilli situation, the difference being, of course, mine was blended many times with myself and somebody else.”
Garrett’s career started to go downhill in 1979 when, drunk and drugged, he crashed a car and sent it tumbling down a hillside in North Hollywood, leaving his then-close friend Ronald Winkler a paraplegic.
But that wasn’t enough for Garret, whose life continued its negative spiral.
In 1980, a time he describes in his book as “the apex of pinup fame,” Garret revelled in sex, drugs and rock and roll with the legendary frontman of Queen, Freddie Mercury, who was at the time recording the hugely successful album The Game, which featured the hits “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” and “Another One Bites the Dust.” Garrett said he became friends with the band, who showed him a real rock star life with girls and drugs.
In an interview with Fox for the release of his memoir, Idol Truth, Garrett said:“I don’t think I was a very mature 16-year-old. I became mature very quickly because I was always surrounded by adults who were drinking and doing coke. I was a child, but being treated as an adult… And all of this was coming out of my pocket.”
He continued: “You know, I probably have the greatest fan base that I could ever imagine for myself. They have stuck with me through thick and thin. And as you know, I’ve gotten myself in plenty of bad situations. There was a lot of bad decision-making. But at the same time, I didn’t have the parental guidance that I should have at that time.”
Garret’s tally of charges is extensive. He dropped out of rehab and had numerous run-ins with the police, including whilst trying to buy drugs from undercover cops and trying to hide heroin in his shoe.
Despite making very effort at clawing his way back to the top, Garrett ultimately returned to his old habits. Because of his laughable experiences with the law, Garrett was selected to provide commentary on the comedy show World’s Dumbest, which chronicles the “most amazingly stupid” criminals.
The show also used other celebrities known for personal misadventures, like Todd Bridges, Tonya Harding, Gary Busey and Danny Bonaduce.
Then Garrett landed a starring role on VH1’s Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, a show he did not want to appear on. Garrett accused the show of having him relapse for drama, a claim emphatically denied by VH1.
In an interview the LA Times, Garrett said: “They asked to get some footage of me using, and I said, ‘I haven’t been using. They said, ‘We really have to get footage of you using.’ Anyway, I was easily talked into showing them.”
When a counselor with the production called him out, suggesting he was still using, Garrett walked off the show saying: “This is insanity and quite honestly I don’t appreciate it.”
Fortunately, Leif Garrett is sober today.
”I had a 90-day sentence in county jail. I was in court-ordered rehab before that, and then my mom visited and told me she had stage IV lung cancer. I said, ‘I’m leaving to take care of her—nobody lives with her.’ So dealing with that, I started using again. So it was like, ‘Cuff him, bring him in,’ and I did the 90 days, and that was it,” he says.
According to the former teen idol, he’s still very grateful for all his fans.
”I’ve kept every photo or letter that a young lady sent, telling me about being on their walls and kissing me good night before they went to bed,” Garrett told Closer. “It’s very surreal and a bit embarrassing, but how flattering! I can’t thank [my fans] enough, because I’m still able to do something I enjoy and get paid for it.”
We’re rallying behind Leif’s recovery and hope he can enjoy his life now!
We’d love you to share your thoughts on the former teen idol and his attempts at getting sober.
Neighbor Kept Knocking Over My Trash Bins – After 3 HOA Fines, I Taught Him a Lesson in Politeness
When Elise’s trash bins became the target of her bitter neighbor’s antics, she was ready for a fight. But instead of confrontation, she served up banana bread and kindness. What began as a quiet war turned into an unexpected friendship, proving that sometimes, the best revenge is compassion.
When my husband, James, passed away two years ago, I thought I’d weathered the worst storm of my life. Raising three boys, Jason (14), Luke (12), and little Noah (9), on my own wasn’t easy. But we’d eventually found our rhythm.
The house buzzed with the sound of schoolwork being explained, sibling banter, and an endless rotation of chores. We kept the garden alive, argued over who had dish duty, and made a life together that was equal parts chaotic and beautiful.
Things were finally steady. Manageable.
Until the neighbor decided to wage war on my trash bins.
At first, I thought it was the wind or a stray dog. Every trash day, I’d wake up to see the bins overturned, their contents scattered across the street like confetti.
“Bloody hell,” I muttered the next time I saw it. “Not again.”
I’d have no choice but to grab a pair of gloves, a broom, new trash bags, and start cleaning up before the Home Owners Association could swoop in with another fine.
Three fines in two months. The HOA weren’t playing fair. In fact, they’d made it very clear that they weren’t taking my excuses anymore.
But one Tuesday morning, coffee steaming in my hand, I caught him red-handed. From my living room window, I watched as my neighbor, Edwin, a 65-year-old man who lived alone, strolled across the street.
He didn’t even hesitate. With one swift motion, he tipped over my bins and shuffled back to his house like nothing had happened.
My blood boiled.
I was halfway to grabbing my shoes when Noah bounded down the stairs, asking for help with his math homework.
“Mom, please! It’s just two questions. Remember we were talking about it when you were doing dinner last night and we said we’d come back to it but we didn’t,” he rambled.
“Of course, come on,” I said. “I’ll get you some orange juice, and then we can work on that quickly.”
Homework first, trash war later.
The following week, I stood guard.
This time, I was ready.
And sure enough, there he was at 7:04 a.m., knocking the bins down with a strange sort of satisfaction before retreating inside.
That was it. Enough was enough.
I stormed across the street, adrenaline pumping. His porch was stark, no welcome mat, no potted plants, just peeling paint and drawn blinds. I raised my fist to knock, but something stopped me.
The quiet. The stillness of it all.
I hesitated, hand frozen mid-air. What was I even going to say?
“Stop knocking over my bins, you old lunatic?”
Would that even fix anything?
I went home, fuming but thoughtful. What kind of person gets up at the crack of dawn just to mess with their neighbor?
Someone angry. Someone lonely. Someone in pain, maybe?
“You’re just going to let him get away with it?” Jason asked that night, arms crossed and clearly ready to fight for me. “He’s walking all over us, Mom.”
“I’m not letting him get away with anything, love,” I replied, tapping the side of the mixing bowl as I stirred. “I’m showing him that there’s a better way.”
“And when baked goods don’t work, Mom?” Jason asked, eyeing the banana bread batter in the bowl.
“Then, my little love, I’ll set you on him. Do we have a deal?”
My son grinned and then nodded.
But it was during dinner prep, while I was putting together a lasagna, that I thought… instead of fighting fire with fire, what if I fought with something… unexpected?
The next week, I didn’t stand guard.
Instead, I baked.
Banana bread first, specifically James’ favorite recipe. The smell brought back memories I hadn’t let myself linger on in a long time. I wrapped the loaf in foil, tied it with a piece of twine, and left it on Edwin’s porch.
No note, no explanation. Just bread.
For a few days, the banana bread sat untouched on his porch. The bins stayed upright, but I still wasn’t sure what was going through his head.
The next morning, the foil-wrapped loaf was gone. A good sign, maybe.
Emboldened, I doubled down.
A casserole followed the banana bread. Then a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
Days turned into weeks, and not once did I see him open the door or acknowledge the food. But he didn’t tip the bins again, either.
“Mom, you’re going soft,” Jason said one evening, eyeing the plate of cookies I was about to deliver.
“No, I’m not,” I replied, slipping on my sneakers. “I’m being strategic.”
The cookies did the trick. That Saturday, as I placed them on the porch, the door creaked open.
“What do you want?” he asked.
I turned to find him peering out, his face lined with age and what looked like years of solitude. He didn’t look angry. Just… tired.
“I made too many cookies,” I said, holding up the plate like a peace offering.
He stared at me for a long moment, then sighed.
“Fine. Come in.”
The inside of his house was dim but surprisingly tidy. Bookshelves lined every wall, stacked high with novels, photo albums, and other trinkets. He motioned for me to sit on the worn sofa, and after a moment of awkward silence, he spoke.
“My wife passed four years ago,” he began, his voice halting. “Cancer. After that, my kids… well, they moved on with their lives. Haven’t seen much of them since.”
I nodded, letting him take his time.
“I’d see you with your boys,” he continued. “Laughing, helping each other. It… hurt. Made me angry, even though it wasn’t your fault. Tipping the bins was stupid, I know. I just didn’t know what to do with it all.”
“You don’t just walk over to your neighbors and tell them you’re miserable,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s not how I was raised. You bottle it up and deal with it.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and I felt my frustration melt away. This wasn’t about trash bins. It was about grief. About loneliness.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his head bowed.
“I forgive you,” I replied, meaning every word.
“I don’t even know your name,” he said.
“Elise,” I said. “And I know you’re Edwin. My husband mentioned you once or twice.”
Then, I invited him to join my Saturday book club at the library. He looked at me like I’d suggested he jump off a bridge.
“Book club? With strangers!”
“They’re not strangers,” I said. “Not really. They’re neighbors. Friends you haven’t met yet.”
It took some convincing, but the following Saturday, Edwin shuffled into the library, hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn’t say much that first meeting, but he listened.
By the third, he was recommending novels and trading jokes with the other members.
The real turning point came when one of the ladies, Victoria, a spry widow in her seventies, invited him to her weekly bridge game. He accepted.
From then on, he wasn’t just my cranky neighbor. He was Edwin, the guy who brought homemade scones to book club and always had a dry one-liner up his sleeve.
The bins stayed upright. The HOA fines stopped.
And Edwin? He wasn’t alone anymore.
One evening, as I watched him laughing with Victoria and the other bridge players on her porch, Jason came up beside me.
“Guess you weren’t soft after all,” he said, grinning.
“No,” I said, smiling as I ruffled his hair. “Sometimes, the best revenge is just a little kindness.”
And in that moment, I realized something: We weren’t just helping Edwin heal. He was helping us, too.
The first time Edwin came over for dinner, he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He showed up holding a bottle of sparkling cider like it was a rare treasure. His shirt was freshly ironed, but he still tugged at the collar as if it might strangle him at any moment.
“You didn’t have to bring anything,” I said warmly.
He shrugged, his lips twitching into something that resembled a smile.
“Didn’t want to come empty-handed, Elise,” he said. “It’s polite.”
The boys were setting the table, Noah carefully placing forks, Luke arranging the glasses, and Jason lighting a candle in the center. They glanced at Edwin curiously, a little wary.
Dinner was simple but comforting: roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and honey-glazed carrots, with a loaf of crusty bread and gravy on the side. It wasn’t fancy, but it was one of James’ favorite meals. It was something that always brought warmth to the table, no matter how chaotic the day had been.
“Smells good in here,” Edwin said as he sat down, his eyes darting around like he was trying to take in every detail of the room.
“Mom’s chicken is famous in our family,” Noah piped up proudly, scooping a mountain of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “She makes it the best.”
“High praise,” Edwin said, glancing at me.
We all settled in, and for a while, the only sound was the clink of forks and knives against plates. But soon, the boys started peppering Edwin with questions.
“Do you like chicken or steak better?” Luke asked.
“Chicken,” Edwin replied after a moment of thought. “But only if it’s cooked as well as this.”
Noah giggled.
“What’s your favorite book? Mom says you like to read a lot.”
“That’s a tough one,” Edwin said, rubbing his chin. “Maybe To Kill a Mockingbird. Or Moby Dick.”
Jason, always the skeptic, raised an eyebrow.
“You actually finished Moby Dick?”
That made Edwin laugh, a deep, hearty sound that seemed to surprise even him.
“I won’t lie. It took me a year.”
By dessert, apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, Edwin had relaxed completely. The boys were swapping stories about school, and he was chuckling along, even teasing Jason about his upcoming math test.
As I cleared the plates, I glanced over to see Edwin helping Noah cut his pie into bite-sized pieces, patiently showing him the best way to balance the ice cream on the fork. It was such a tender moment, and my heart squeezed a little.
When dinner was over and the boys ran off to finish homework, Edwin lingered in the kitchen, drying dishes as I washed them.
“You have a good family,” he said softly.
“Thank you,” I replied, handing him a plate to dry. “And you’re welcome here anytime. You know that, right?”
He nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.
“I do now.”
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