Socialite Talks From Behind Barricades

Susie Hernandez sounds like Cinderella after the ball when you talk to her in her Mission Viejo home.

Gone is the lively, sweet-sounding voice that characterized her society scene persona.

Now her voice is dull, lifeless. “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” says the green-eyed socialite who has been charged with laundering the $8 million her husband, Danny, allegedly stole from PGP Industries, a precious-metals firm in Santa Fe Springs.

The couple’s two young children romp happily in the house, as Susie, her husband in jail, talks over the phone Sunday.

Was it pressure from the social set that caused the couple to buy a stable of luxury automobiles, magnificent baubles, custom frocks, exotic vacations?

“Oh, I’m sure that . . . “ she begins. She stops. “I’m still new to this (newspaper interviews); I never liked it and I don’t like it now.”

She has barricaded herself in the $900,000 home where she and her husband have tossed elegant parties for friends. “I just want to be with my family. But everybody from every newspaper has left a card at my door, saying, ‘Let me do your story,’ ‘Let me hear your side of the story,’--there’s nothing sacred or private or personal anymore.”

The social scene can be incredibly seductive.

A couple who give $1,000 to a charity are well on their way to becoming a social prince and princess. Suddenly, invitations to the A-parties arrive. Phone calls from members of the social A-list are made. You are hugged. Air-kissed. You feel important. Maybe for the first time in your life.

But a couple who donate $50,000, the way the Hernandezes did (to the Newport Harbor Art Museum), are an instant king and queen.

This kind of gift guarantees that hundreds of people will applaud your presence at a gala. Your picture is in the program. You are seated at the A-table--second row, center--with corporate CEOs, celebrities. The paparazzi can’t get enough of your face. Columnists note your words, your tasteful clothing. You’re a star.

Even for people who don’t make large donations, the social scene is a heady place. The admission price to a black-tie gala is your ticket to a new world.

You’re greeted at the event like you’re somebody. Pretty little place cards have your name spelled on them in calligraphy. Violinists serenade you as you sip champagne, nibble at crispy duck and talk about the weather at tables bedecked with imported orchids and flickering tapers.

White-gloved waiters hover nearby. It’s a million miles from frozen dinners in the family room. And it feels good.

Once you’ve gotten your social toes wet in a big way, it’s tough to stay out of the pond.

Your new friends invite you to dinner in their luxury homes. They ask you to the gala that they have underwritten, and, of course you go because they attended the gala you helped underwrite.

The pressure-cooker existence has begun. What to wear to the next gala, you ask yourself? The pricey gown you wore last time just won’t do. So you buy a new dress, telling yourself you’ll only attend two galas this year.

The pressure builds. It’s pay-back time from the friends who have invited you to their home in Aspen and the ones who took you for a spin on their yacht.

And that celebrity you just met, why, he has a charity he supports. If you want him to star at your next affair, maybe even a home party, you’d better rent a limo and show up at his L.A. gig.

In a few months, your reputation as a social swinger is as real as your name.

For now, Susie Hernandez’s major concern is for her family. “They are my priority, the most important thing to me,” she says.

Only two weeks ago, Susie’s picture was played across the society pages. At the Heart to Heart gala in Newport Beach, she was all smiles and happy talk.

But now, she says, “If you print any of what I have said, I will never speak to you again.”