Sexual assault and harassment are very real issues for me: Cindy Adams

The Harvey Weinstein headlines have triggered ugly memories in me.Dark patches that I thought deeply buried.

Those inside these experiences may now be gone.They do not involve Harvey.

But me — and my head that won’t let me rest — are left.Suddenly they creep forward.At night.

Late, in the stillness, the darkness, the quiet — when all are asleep, those happenings now seek attention.Possibly I’m stupid for bringing this up.But I can’t help coming forward.

The incidents should stay deep down, long buried where they were.But they don’t.

I can’t sleep.So — to cleanse my brain — I must tell:Many of us — kids starting out — experienced a “Harvey” in our lives.

It, in some cases, was on the theatrical menu.A few of these males may still be around.

Old, ailing, forgotten, they no longer mean anything, but back then they did.Seemed life and death for a career.I had three experiences.

A photographer, a theatrical agent, an East Side doctor.I remember the photographer’s first name.

I remember the theatrical agent’s whole name.I only recall the doctor’s name began with the letter P or B.

All three were seniors at the time.Some Weinsteins of that era would meet busses chugging in from Iowa or another who-cares place and catch the young eager beautiful wannabe actresses.Anyone in early days really think Lana Turner could win an Oscar? A lifetime ago the big star Betty Grable told me what would be her most triumphant experience.

She said — and I reported it: “Best that could happen in my whole life and what I dream about — is taking a long five-day steamship sail across the Atlantic — to England — and having a different guy service me each night.”Nobody’s handing Weinstein any pass.I’m just saying that’s how it was.

In some cases that was it.The climate.

Your showbiz cap and gown.Graduation day.

How and why they tried with me, I can’t remember.I’ve long ago blocked it out.

I only remember IT happened.They tr...