For one night 25 years and 35 pounds ago, I was millionaire financier Ted Ammon.
It was July 3, 1999, and I was a 22-year-old cub reporter for the East Hampton Star. While drying off after a quick surf session at Bridgehampton’s Mecox Beach, I overheard two men talking about needing to get home to “get ready for Puffy’s barbecue.”
At that time, long before his recent sex trafficking indictment, presently-jailed hip-hop mogul Sean “Diddy” Combs responded to “Puff Daddy.” His star-studded parties were a thing of legend.
Smelling of the beach, I sprinted to my 1991 Volkswagen Jetta and headed toward Diddy’s 4,500-square-foot waterfront mansion in East Hampton. My sole intention was to stand outside and jot down the names of arriving guests for a possible story.
Never would I have imagined I’d end up partying well into the night with hip-hop legends like Jay-Z, and Hamptons scenesters like designer Betsey Johnson.
Wearing a wrinkled shirt I found balled up on my back seat, I stood with the dozens of fans, paparazzi, and lookie-loos assembled along Hedges Banks Drive.
“You wanna get in?” asked an attractive blonde who walked up to me.
“You know it,” I replied.
“Great. Listen,” she started. “So, you’re name is Ted Ammon and I am your guest, cool?”
I nodded.
Moments before approaching me, the young woman had spotted “Ted Ammon +1″ on Puffy’s guest list while standing near one of the security guards.
“It was on the second page,” I recall her telling me proudly.
Creepily, Ammon would be found murdered inside his Hamptons estate just about two years later, on Oct. 22, 2001. He’d been bludgeoned to death in his bed by his estranged wife’s electrician boyfriend. The society-murder case made headlines for years.
After we cleared security, the unknown woman made a beeline for the backyard bar, bypassing the Mr. Softie truck parked in the driveway. I didn’t make the same mistake.
The R&B music was deafening, pumped out by 20 speakers spread across the backyard. In the DJ booth was A Tribe Called Quest‘s Q-Tip. The air smelled like Willie Nelson’s tour bus. Naked and topless women filled the swimming pool, and models handed out champagne..
The line for food was agonizingly slow, but worth it: I’ve yet to find a better-tasting hot dog.
All of the servers were white, dressed in golf shirts bearing a “PD” insignia. Jugglers and magicians walked around, and scantily-glad women gyrated atop wooden platforms.
Diddy was ever-present, dressed in white with gold chains draped around his neck and a bottle of bubbly in hand. He posed for photos with rapper Busta Rhymes, mogul Russell Simmons, Ivanka Trump, comedian Bill Bellamy, actor Tyson Beckford, and “Baywatch” stars Carmen Electra and Elisa Bridges.
Only the famous guests were allowed inside Puffy’s home, a manse he sold in 2020 for $4.7 million.
Never once was I questioned that evening, and so as the night unfolded, I got bolder. I flirted with Carmen Electra. I got a contact high from hanging out with Jay-Z and Busta Rhymes. Betsey Johnson squeezed my cheeks like an annoying aunt.
I even thanked Diddy for throwing “one hell of a party,” and shook the man’s hand. His two-word response? “Okay, yeah.”
I saw no lubricant, no sex toys, and no “pink cocaine.” I did see a few people passed out, including the girl who helped me get inside. I don’t know if Ted Ammon ever showed up for the shindig, but I like to think he did.
