Bookpleasures.com is delighted to welcome Richard A. Lefkowitz, author of the memoir Welcome to Fabulous Angeles—a vivid, heartfelt journey through 1960s and ’70s Los Angeles, exploring music, rebellion, friendship, and coming of age during one of the most dynamic eras in American culture.

Richard is an attorney specializing in civil litigation of real property cases. His writing has appeared in law reviews, newspapers, and literary and trade journals. 

He has taught journalism, led professional seminars, mentored students, and served as a judicial authority for Southern California superior courts.

A lifelong seeker of knowledge, fulfillment, and good plain fun, Richard took a nontraditional academic path—graduating high school in 1974, earning his English degree in 1985, completing law school in 1992, and finally receiving an MFA in creative writing from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University in 2017.

He lives in the Los Angeles area with his wife of 33 years, two children, and their beloved now-grown puppy.

 His passions include running, hiking, playing guitar, composing songs, and celebrating all things LA—from the Dodgers and Lakers to the city’s lasting cultural imprint.

Good day Richard and thanks for taking part in our interview.

Norm: Looking back on your own teenage years, why did you feel compelled to tell this story now? Was there a particular moment that made you realize it was time to revisit and share your youth?

Richard: I’ve always wanted to tell this story, but it didn’t come together until I’d gained enough personal growth, perspective, and clarity to connect the dots. 

I didn’t wake up one day and decide to write; it’s been on my mind for decades. But it took life experience, maturity, and old-fashioned hard work for the stars to finally align.

Norm: Moxie is such a vivid character. What kept you connected to Moxie, even when others, like your mother, saw him as trouble? What did his presence unlock in you that might not have emerged otherwise?

Richard: Maybe I stayed connected to Moxie because my mother saw him as trouble. From the day we met, we shared grandiose goals: to find fun, live life to its fullest, and not waste our youth on being young. 

We created our own world with our own language and our own definition of space-time. I soaked up courage and confidence from my larger-than-life buddy, who unlike me was forced to fend for himself at a young age. 

Norm: Your story highlights both rebellion and connection as keys to growing up. How did your friendships, especially with Moxie and Aimee, shape your sense of identity during those years?

Richard: My best-friend bond with Moxie altered my self-perception. 

Instead of buying into the propaganda I heard at home daily—my mother knew best, I was a spoiled brat—I broke free, or so I believed. Aimee inflated my self-esteem, but that backfired when she proved to be as immature as me.

Norm: Aimee is portrayed with tenderness and vulnerability—how did that young love impact you long-term? And what did revisiting it through writing teach you about emotional memory?

Richard: Like any love, it cut both ways. It instilled warmth, comfort, and security but also led me into uncertainty. Years later, when I stopped to reflect and contemplate, I learned that memory isn’t merely mental; it lives in the cells of our bodies. 

Sinking into those stifled sensations, as a somatic exercise, became a valuable asset for recalling scenes. But it felt like a blood-letting—like I stabbed myself in the chest with a pen and spilled my guts all over the page.

Norm: The scenes with your mother show real tension between generations. Have your views on her concerns changed now that you’re a parent yourself?

Richard: The way we raised our kids compared to what I went through in my nuclear family might as well have been in two alien civilizations in two different galaxies. 

Parenthood helped me realize the depth of the dysfunction in my parents’ house. I know different generations treat parenting differently. But my wife and I didn’t shame our kids or fill them with guilt and hostility. 

Parenthood served as a major validation for me. It was also the greatest joy, honor, and blessing.

Norm: The memoir bursts with music—Stevie Wonder, Joni Mitchell, B. B. King. How did a teenager like you find access to such legendary moments? Were they planned or just wild luck?

Richard: We felt like we made our own luck. We placed ourselves in fortuitous circumstances and seized any slight opportunity. We learned to follow the flow, trust our instincts, and watch and listen carefully. 

You can’t be afraid to jiggle locked doors just because the sign says “No Admittance.” In fact, that’s the door asking to be opened. Our credo was “Act like you own the place,” which I used, in part, as a chapter title.

Norm: Was there a single show, song, or musical experience that made you feel like your life had changed?

Richard: The Rolling Stones’ five-night stand at the Fabulous Forum, July 9 through 13, 1975. It tells you something that after fifty years, off the top of my head, I remember the exact dates. 

During those shows, we reveled in a sense of freedom and ecstasy that we came to claim as birthrights. It set us on a supernatural trajectory to insist on being happy—no matter the price.

Norm: Music clearly shaped your worldview—did it help you process your adolescence, or was it more of an escape?

Richard: Music acted as a life preserver, safety net, therapy session, rocket ship, and higher power. It provided escape and confirmation and gave us the idea that maybe we weren’t such bad kids after all. 

Most importantly, being part of a like-minded community helped us slake a burning spiritual thirst. Even to this day, when I write or play music, I lose track of time, place, and space. It’s truly a gift from above, then, now, and always.

Norm: You write with a vivid, sensory style—phrases like “decades dissipated like smoke above a fire pit” stick with readers. How did you develop that voice? 

Richard: From my early years, I’ve possessed a need to share thoughts on a page. For whatever reason, my flower didn’t bud until well past spring. 

It took me a lifetime to learn how to crystallize the truth and craft this particular story. My path was circuitous, and it took arduous labor combined with an inherent artistic sensibility. 

Norm: What was the most difficult scene or period to write about? Did any particular moment require you to step away and reflect more deeply before putting it into words?

Richard: Everything! As you know, Norm, this is a highly personal story. I didn’t try to sugar-coat any of the scenes. 

My mission statement was to tell the truth, the whole truth—and you know the rest. As I said earlier, I forced myself to inhabit the cells in my body, which unlocked painful and pleasurable memories. 

I time-traveled into the kitchen with my mom, sat on top of the bed next to Aimee, laughed and cried until I could summon those ghosts for cross-examination. I figured if I didn’t feel the depth of those emotions, the reader wouldn’t either. I saw it as taking one for the team.

Norm; There’s a deep nostalgia in the book, but also honesty about mistakes and regrets. Was it important to you to strike that balance between celebration and reflection?

Richard: My job as a journalist was to present both sides objectively. My only agenda was to tell the truth in an entertaining way. I had to be compassionate, or I could’ve presented my family and friends in an unfair light. 

We’re all humans, full of multitudes of complexities, and the fact that it’s my story didn’t absolve me from the sacred quest for accuracy.

 I intend for this work to last far longer than me, and I wasn’t going to compromise the work with my hurt feelings or egotistical need to hide my dumb mistakes. 

For others to learn from this special time and place, they need to know exactly what that period was like, without it being tainted by my own vanity. 

Norm; What do you hope readers—especially those who didn’t grow up in LA or in the ’60s/’70s—take away from your journey? And what would you say to the teenage version of yourself if you could?

Richard: I see myself as a pop culture historian, using the art of language to assist in the evolution of humankind. It’s my heartfelt attempt to move the century forward a few inches. 

I’m also an anthropologist and an archeologist, preserving artifacts for future generations. What they choose to do with those items—if anything—is up to them. I will say this, though: Welcome to Fabulous Angeles is my love letter to our much-maligned metropolis. 

It’s actually a blast living under the lambent light of endless summer in our angelic land of milk and honey, where seekers gather to pursue their dreams. 

If I could, I’d pass that sentiment to the younger me. I’d say, “Trust your gut, follow your heart, and always stay true to your highest calling.” \

Norm: Where can our readers find out more about you and Welcome to Fabulous Angeles?

Richard: They can visit  my WEBSITE and follow me on Facebook and Instagram. Thanks.

Thanks once again and good luck with all of your endeavors

Follow Here To Read Norm's Review of Welcome to Fabulous Angeles