How to Make a Record Producer Disappear

Invited to: “The Last Bash at Rick Rubin’s Houdini Mansion” in Laurel Canyon to benefit the homeless organization School on Wheels.

And for my next trick: “Just showing my respects for the Wheels thing, that’s all,” says Coolio, grinning and hand-signing his way through the many hallways, stairs and patios of the estate. But good intentions notwithstanding, virtue will have to be its own reward for any kind souls ponying up the “suggested donation” at this affair. “I think it’s really cool to walk through and see all the interesting and intricate rooms they have,” says Lisa Arturo of “American Pie 2.” The bottom line, however, is that the mansion’s rep as a haunted house is dubious at best. As shock-rocker Rob Zombie observes, “Houdini spent his whole life trying to disprove things like that, so I’m sure it isn’t.” In fact, local legend claims more than one Laurel Canyon Boulevard address as onetime Houdini freeholds, and none have been conclusively linked to the late magician, who died in 1928. So while actress Caitlin Keats (“Murder in Small Town X”) says the spot “feels odd,” she doesn’t mean supernaturally. “Not haunted. Just empty. Like it’s a home that I might look at to possibly rent and maybe buy.” Ooh, that’s creepy.

Where’s Rick?: It appears to be the case of the Great Disappearing Record Producer, though party flacks insist that unseen host Rick Rubin is present and merely hiding out (a shy record producer, that’s a new one). Could the bearded Def Jam co-founder and studio wizard of recordings by Johnny Cash, Run-DMC and the Beastie Boys be pulling a Garbo? “I think he went on an ice run,” jokes Andy Dick, who’s been issued his own room in the labyrinthian space. As an honorary co-host, a distinction he shares with “Beverly Hills 90210” alum Ian Ziering (remember him?), Dick explains that “when my name is on the flier, it keeps the crowd down. No one shows up.” But with the Ketel One running dry before midnight and only doughnuts and bags of Rold Gold pretzels to munch on, MTV’s actor/comedian takes too much credit. Unavoidable, however, are the ubiquitous droves of rock ‘n’ roll freeloaders and LAPD’s thin blue line, though the latter seems to be ignoring the dubious odor wafting through the grounds (another Krispy Kreme, Officer?). What few VIPs do arrive don’t stay long. “Like, 10 minutes,” estimates “Rat Race’s” Amy Smart, quickly returning to the valet. Guess that’s why they call her Smart.

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Celeb quotient: All the “confirmed” celebrity no-shows would have made for one mighty def jam.

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Wow factor: Houdini may have slept here, but likely didn’t.

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Grazing level: Couldn’t they have at least put the pretzels in a bowl?