“Confessions of a Wayward Baby Boomer” by Kevin Conway offers a compelling glimpse into both the glitter and shadows of 1970s Hollywood through one man’s tumultuous journey. This memoir traces Conway’s path from a child model in 1950s Long Island to his encounter with the film industry that would alter the course of his life. The story begins with a haunting image that sets the tone for what’s to come: “Sirens in the night I could not hear. Steam from the mangled engine I could not feel. Unconscious so I could not see. Alone at the wheel of a 1973 Volkswagen bus.”
Conway begins with vivid recollections of his childhood, painting detailed portraits of post-war suburban life centered around Loft’s Lake in Baldwin, Long Island. His early experiences as a child model provide an ironic prelude to his later Hollywood aspirations. The author’s keen eye for character and dialogue shines in these early chapters, though debatably they occasionally meander before finding their focus.
The memoir builds momentum as Conway moves west after personal and professional setbacks in New York. His time at San Diego State studying film sets the stage for what becomes the narrative’s dramatic core, his brief but consequential employment at 20th Century Fox in 1977. Here, Conway’s account, supported by a documented legal deposition, describes a complex web of workplace dynamics involving an alcoholic supervisor and allegations of financial misconduct.
Conway’s writing becomes particularly gripping when detailing the psychological toll of this period. His description of growing paranoia, confusion, and eventual breakdown is presented with unflinching honesty. The aftermath – including the loss of contact with his daughter and a period of instability in San Francisco – is handled with similar candor. What distinguishes this memoir is Conway’s approach to truth. Rather than presenting himself as either hero or victim, he largely acknowledges his own faults while maintaining conviction about his experiences. His descriptions of studio operations feel realistic, filled with specific details about daily routines and workplace hierarchies that only an insider could provide.
The author’s background in film likely influenced his storytelling technique, with scenes constructed through sharp dialogue and telling details. His recreation of 1970s Hollywood avoids nostalgia in favor of granular observation. While the narrative’s resolution – finding stability in Lake Tahoe – might seem anticlimactic and rushed compared to the drama that precedes it, this ending feels somewhat appropriate for a memoir more interested in examining how we process life-altering events than in providing neat conclusions.
“Confessions” succeeds as both personal history and cultural document, offering insight into an era when Hollywood was transitioning from old-school studio systems to contemporary corporate structures. Conway’s story, while deeply individual, illuminates larger truths about power, perception, and resilience in the face of institutional indifference. The result is a memorable addition to the canon of Hollywood memoirs, distinguished by its author’s willingness to explore both external events and internal experiences with equal rigor. Conway’s voice – direct, observant, and ultimately hopeful – carries readers through dark moments toward hard-won wisdom.
