Recently, I was asked by some friends (who are about my age) to teach them a little about the New York City punk scene in the ‘70s. The following is the list of records (both LPs and 45s) and CDs II played for them that are part of my collection. There is more I could have played, and there may even be some that were extraneous, but I chose from my heart, and from what I own. Certainly, I could have played stuff all night, but I tried to keep it somewhat realistic. Note that with the exception of No 1 and No. 31, I have seen all these bands play live in that time period, usually more than once, so stories went with the airings. I have supplied videos for them here, as many of the originals as I could find, with some exceptions (which will be noted).
This was the second “class” I taught, the first being the influences (including the Shangri-Las, Velvet Underground, Iggy & the Stooges, and the New York Dolls, among many, which is why they are not listed here). I will make some notes here and there, to explain my reasoning.
My attempt was to show the diversity of the scene, before the codification of second wave of British punk came to the US and turned this rebellion into the third wave of hardcore. I am going to assume that most of the audience viewing this will understand, though I am happy to answer questions about relevance, etc., at rbf55@msn.com. Also feel free to leave comments at this blog about my choices, or alternatives, or additions. 1. Radio Dinner: Deteriorata I started off with “Deteriorata” to emphasize the malaise that was growing in youth culture and society in general after Altamont, when things started to go “wrong” in the paradigm belief systems.
2. Television: Little Johnny Jewel
3. Richard Hell and Voidoids: Blank Generation
4. Richard Hell and Voidoids: Love Comes in Spurts I played the Voidoids album version, put this will certainly do.
5. Heartbreakers: One Track Mind I tried to show that this and “Love Comes in Spurts” is musically the same song, just that Walter Lure re-wrote the lyrics after Richard Hell left the band (as Walter wrote the music).
6. Heartbreakers: Let Go
7. Heartbreakers: Chinese Rocks Not the album version I played, but a good representative live one.
8. Patti Smith: Piss Factory
9. Patti Smith: Gloria
10. Dictators: Next Big Thing
11. Dictators: Master Race Rock
12. Ramones: Blitzkrieg Bop The song and band that changed everything for me.
13. Ramones: Rockaway Beach Still my favorite Ramones song.
14. Ramones: I Wanna Be Sedated
15. Talking Heads: Love -> Building on Fire I still consider this the best TH song, when they were still a trio; an non-LP single.
16. Talking Heads: Psycho Killer
17. Wayne County: Max’s Kansas City Could not find the version I played, and the live one with the Fast is just too different to make my point.
18. Blondie: X Offender From Blondie’s best album, their first.
19. Blondie: Heart of Glass The start of New Wave (mixing punk with mainstream); I’m happy to say the group was not into it.
20. Fast: It’s Like Love
21. Fast: Kids Just Wanna Dance Couldn’t find the powerpop version I love, before they went metalish.
22. Marbles: Red Lights It’s a live version, but it’s accurate (and enjoyable) enough to add here:
23. Milk and Cookies: I’m Just a Kid Decent live version, but not the record I played them.
24. Tina Peel: Fifi Goes Pop
25. Cramps: Human Fly
26. Cramps: The Way I Walk
27. Cramps: Garbageman
28. Cherry Vanilla: The Punk While this live version is not what I played, it uses the same backtrack as the single, so it’s similar and passes along the message. (Oh, and remember that the Ramones and Johnny Thunders are all from Queens…)
29. Flame: Beg Me The video sucks (not condoned by the band), but it is the right song. Don’t bother looking at the screen, just turn up the volume.
30. Tuff Darts: Slash Could only find the studio album version, not the Live at CBGBs one I played (i.e., Robert Gordon).
31. Dead Boys: Sonic Reducer The first American hardcore band?
32. Dead Boys: What Love Is
33. Suicide: Cheree For some reason, this song touched the group most positively.
34. Suicide: Frankie Teardrop I know someone who played this loud around when it came out, and a neighbor called the cops because of all the screaming.
35. Theoretical Girls: US Millie It’s nice this video includes the lyric sheet (still have mine, too).
36. Sic F*cks: Rock or Die 37. Sic F*cks: Chop Up Your Mother Both are on the video. Always end with a joke, I say, and I certainly mean that complementary.
Introductory Text by Robert Barry Francos, 2010 Art and art text by Alan Abramowtiz, 1977-88. Art can be made larger by clicking on it.
The following artwork was featured as a regular full-page column in FFanzeen through most of its history. I highly suggest you detatch it and use your photo software to enlarge further to full get the full effect of both the art and the text. These are presented in no particular order. -- RBF, 2010
Blondie
Patti Smith
Rockpile (Nick Lowe and Dave Edmunds)
The Yardbirds
Roy Orbison
The Heartbreakers (Johnny Thunders, Walter Lure, Richard Hell, Jerry Nolan, Billy Rath)
Suzi Quatro
Sparks
Buddy Holly
Rock and roll philosophy: The Outsider and the Edge
The following article on musician icon Johnny Thunders was originally published in FFanzeen magazine, issue #5, in 1980. It was written by Bruce Paley.
I’ve probably seen Johnny Thunders on stage more than any other musician. Seeing him play could be a range from a consummate performer and personality, to the one of the most debilitated person on a platform. When he was on fire, the guitar never stopped from the time he started until he stepped off. Then there was a time at Irving Plaza with the Heartbreakers where he was so out of it, he didn’t know which direction to find the audience; he was able to either strum or finger the chords, but could not manage them both together, until a band member gave him what I assume is cocaine right there on stage, and that fired him up enough to just barely stumble through. And yet, with all his occasional misogynist and racist banter between songs, he was never harder than on himself when performing.
I came up with a joke about Thunders, which his many fans will understand: Q: Why cant’ Johnny read? A: “I’m too fucked up, man!”
Luckily, the fiery moments were much more often the those stumbling ones, and if one played with him, they had to keep up. Often he was starting the next song before the one before ended. What made Johnny Thunders a wonder? Was it that he was such a great guitarist? Singer? No, he was neither of those, but man, the guy was fun to watch; not in a sick “is he gonna survive the gig?” kind of way, but in a shining personality and made all the rest fit in so well.
I went to his tribute, held in 1992, with Nancy Foster. It was a sad moment (and yes, I bought the tee-shirt), but seeing the line-up perform – from Cheetah Chrome and Spacely, to all his cohorts like Johansen and the soon to be gone Jerry Nolan, Patti Paladin, and Lenny Kaye, along with all the others, made it a night to show just how important Johnny was to all of us. – RBF, 2010 The book on Johnny Thunders reads that he’s on a dead-end, self-destruct crash course, living on the edge, liable to fall over at any moment. “Too Fast to Live, Too Young to Die” reads a tattoo on his left arm, and “Let’s go’n see Johnny before he dies” was an oft heard remark in New York City rock’n’roll circles. It began during Johnny’s days as lead guitarist with the now-legendary New York Dolls, and they’re likely to go on saying it until he dies of old age in a Miami Beach rest home.
Truth is, though, that Thunders didn’t do much to shake the images of a rock’n’roll suicide. During the heyday of the on-again off-again Heartbreakers (the band he formed with Richard Hell, Walter Lure and fellow ex-Doll Jerry Nolan following the dissipation of the Dolls), there were numerous ODs and trips to the emergency ward, and the Heartbreakers were infamous as the rock’n’roll junkie band. Their celebration / lamentation of dope – both in and out of song – was notorious. “Tracks on my arms / Tracks on my face / Tracks on the walls / All over the place, “ sang Walter in “One Track Mind.” “Too much junk is killing me,” the boys cried out in the clever “Too Much Junkie Business,” with Walter vividly demonstrating how to “Tie it up / Bang it up / Shoot it up / Throw it up!” And of course there was “Chinese Rocks” (“Ya wanna take a walk / Ya wanna go cop…”). And Johnny himself took it all to the max, penning his own obituary (death by overdose, of course) in an obscure but excellent “solo” 45 entitled “Dead or Alive” (“It finally happened to me / Finally happened at l-l-l-last.”).
Yet for all the fuck-ups, there was something special there, that rare rock’n’roll magic that justified everything. On any given night at Max’s Kansas City, their home ground, the Heartbreakers treated their fans to a dose of the real thing – slam-bang exciting razor-sharp rock’n’roll, injected with elements of urgency, tension, static and desperation that made it all so extraordinary. Much of this was generated by the subtle love / hate interplay between Johnny and Walter, cemented by Billy Rath’s bass and the superb drumming of Jerry Nolan, who Thunders called the “essence” of rock’n’roll drumming.
And every so often, just as an extra treat, David Johansen would jump onstage and do “Personality Crisis,” and suddenly it was 1972 and the New York Dolls just one more time. What few people realize, however, was that in their time, the Heartbreakers were as good – and, arguably, even better – than the Dolls. Yet while volumes have been written about the Dolls, and hindsight has acknowledged them as the vanguard and inspiration for the whole punk / New Wave phenom, the Heartbreakers have gone unrecognized and unacknowledged. They never landed a major record deal (“Too Much Junkie Business” scared the majors in more ways than one), they never undertook an extensive American tour, and they barely got any real press to speak of.
They did, however, leave behind two exceptional LPs. The first, L.A.M.F. [Like a Mother-Fucker], was cut in England and released in the States in ’77 as an import on Track Records (which has since folded). As something of a portent, the album was overshadowed by the initial releases from the Sex Pistols, the Clash and others, and got lost in the shuffle as the whole punk thing exploded onto America’s consciousness. That, combined with an awful, fuzzy mix that nobody could get right, and just plain lousy luck, prevented an American release. L.A.M.F. came and went, virtually unnoticed. Despite the production flaws, the title says it all. It’s an incredible album, every song a three minute masterpiece of classic, hard-edge, don’t-give-a-fuck rock’n’roll, with churning, wailing guitars, anxious, angry vocals, and superb lyrics. And that desperation - “Born to Lose” (pronounced “born too loose”), “Chinese Rocks,” the mournful “It’s Not Enough,” the frantic “Pirate Love” and “Let Go,” etc. There’s not a mediocre track to be heard.
Thunders wrote or co-write nine of the twelve songs, the others being Lure / Nolan compositions – and therein lay the seeds for the group’s eventual dissolution. Walter Lure is a star in his own right, an excellent, underrated singer / songwriter / guitarist / performer, more than capable of fronting his own band, let alone sharing the spotlight with Johnny Thunders. Yet Thunders insisted on calling all the shots. “He wanted complete control,” Walter told me, “Johnny wanted to do everything his way – sing all the songs, write all the songs. He wouldn’t put up with anyone else; didn’t want anyone in his way.”
Billy Rath (who replaced Richard Hell on bass early on) concurred. “Johnny’s hard to work with,” he said. “He doesn’t want to listen to anyone.”
And poor Jerry Nolan! Through his bond with Johnny, he seemed caught in the middle, helplessly pounding away on his pink drums as the in-fighting, ego conflicts and confrontations often occurred onstage (which made for some strange shows…).
The Heartbreakers’ disintegration was long and drawn out, and they all readily admit that in the end it was just the money that kept them together. Eventually, every gig came to be billed as their last, and one never really knew if there’d be another. “It wasn’t a band those last few years,” Walter recalled, “We never rehearsed, we’d just go onstage and do these gigs ‘cause we knew we could get money out of it. Johnny was fucked-up all the time, and Jerry – in his own way, Jerry was worse than John.” And Walter and Billy, it might be added, weren’t exactly angels themselves.
Yet, there was that magic, some of which was captured on the second Heartbreakers LP, Live at Max’s, on Max’s Kansas City label. The LP is raw, arrogant, mean, and sloppy, but by the time it was released, it contained only two new songs; and despite a bit of press, it got no airplay, and went nowhere.
A second Live at Max’s LP, with new material, is already in the can, presumably awaiting release.
As the Heartbreakers continued to atrophy, Johnny finally packed up and offed to Detroit, where Gang War was assembled. Before that, however, came one more peak, So Alone (Real Records), an absolutely brilliant solo album. It’s Thunders’ finest and most “mature” effort to date. As the title might suggest, So Alone uncovered something of the soft white underbelly of Johnny Thunders, spotlighting a sensitivity only glimpsed in the past. “You Can’t Put Your Arms Around a Memory” is perhaps Johnny’s finest ballad. It’s an eerie, moving piece, delicate and disturbing, and subliminally seductive:
It doesn’t pay to try All the smart boys know why… Feel so restless I am Beat my head against a pole Try to knock some sense Down in my bones And even though they don’t show The scars are so old And when they go They let you know You can’t put your arms around a memory [3x] Don’t try Don’t try
Johnny’s singing (or whining, actually – never was his strong suit) is perfect here, soulful and tender. The guitars are remarkably rich and haunting, the lyrics sublime and entrancing. [See video below – RBF]
It’s a magnificent song, but only the centerpiece of a magnificent album (“Memory” was released as a singe, with a non-LP B-Side, “Hurtin’,” another gem [“Why do all the rags always pick on me?”]).
Another of the standouts of So Alone are its three covers – a sizzling version of the Chantays' 1963 guitar rev-up “Pipeline” that cuts the original to pieces; an unusual “Daddy Was a Rollin’ Stone,” with an outrageous vocal by Steve Marriott (Small Face, Humble Pie); and a riotous “Great Big Kiss” (“Hey Johnny, what color are her eyes” / “I dunno, she’s always wearnin’ shades” / “Is she tall?” / “Well, I gotta look up” / “Yeah, well I hear she’s pretty bad” / “Well, she’s good-bad, but she ain’t evil”), the last Shangri-Las hit that the Dolls used to do and the Heartbreakers would massacre.
There are two superior reprisals of Dolls songs, “Subway Train” and “Leave Me Alone” (called “Chatterbox” on the second Dolls LP and “Milk Me” on the Live at Max’s - don’t ask me why) finally one done right. “Ask Me No Questions” and “Untouchable” are dark and moody, while, most interesting, “London Boys” is a stunning, no holds barred response to the Sex Pistols’ “New York” (“You need an escort to take a piss / He holds your hand and he shakes your dick… / You talk about faggots little momma’s boy / You’re still at home you need a chaperone”). Ironically, the track was cut with ex-Pistols Steve Jones and Paul Cook on guitar and drums, respectively, and even more surprising is the little known fact that at one point, Johnny Thunders was selected as the “replacement” for Johnny Rotten in the Sex Pistols. As one intimate recounted: “Johnny, Steve, and Paul were getting ready to form a group, (which was) to be called Johnny Thunders and the Living Dead. They played one gig at the Speakeasy, and the way it turned out, they made something like 400 pounds for the night, and Johnny ended up taking all the money for himself, giving Steve and Paul 10 pounds apiece and saying, ‘Thanks a lot guys.’”
“He does shit like that all the time,” Walter Lure concurred, “He always wants all the money for himself. Yet he’s never gonna have a dime, no matter how much he makes. He lives from day to day; he’s like totally at the moment, and he spends money like water.”
Like L.A.M.F., So Alone was never released in America, and as both LPs are becoming scarce, they’re well worth the time it might take to seek them out. In fact, So Alone was the best album of 1979, and no one even noticed.
And then came Gang War, which features ex-MC5er Wayne Kramer, sharing the occasional spotlight with Thunders. Yet, although Johnny’s introduced a wealth of great new material, and Kramer seems content being the #2 man to the flashier (and more egotistical) Thunders, the group isn’t everything it might have been. Thunders gets more room to strut his stuff (and he’s as exciting and charismatic onstage as ever), but it’s at the expense of the personal interaction that spurred his past groups onto greatness. More than anything, Johnny Thunders seems to need a peer, a strong personality to play off of and with, which Wayne Kramer doesn’t provide (through no fault of his own – Kramer’s a bright man and a talented musician, but the chemistry just isn’t there). Walter Lure took that role in the Heartbreakers, while David Johansen did the same in the Dolls. Imagine Keith without Mick (no need to imagine if you saw the dreadful New Barbarians), or Peter Townsend without Roger Daltry, and you get the idea. And it seems to spill over offstage too. “The only thing John respects, “Lure said only half jokingly, “is someone who can beat the shit out of him.” But where Thunders seems to need a father figure, all he gets are lackeys. “He’s always surrounded by these clowns,” Lure continued, “who think they’re cool because they’re hanging out with Johnny Thunders, and John’s just using them for every penny they’ve got. At the same time, he abuses them. It’s like this masochistic relationship; he abuses them in public, he’d laugh in their faces, in front of everybody. And these things would only last a little while, until they ran out of money or whatever, and Johnny just splits.”
Yet his charm is undeniable (just look at those eyes!) and everyone I spoke to – from old mates to those recently trampled underfoot – spoke warmly and highly of him. There were gripes and complaints, and some spoke of the frustrations he’d caused, but there was no real hatred. * * * Johnny Thunders is a genius – not that he’s wont to discuss Einstein with you – but he’s an instinctual genius, much like the late, great Hank Williams. But Johnny’s more perplexing, more of a mystery. Where Hank let it all hang out for everyone to see, Johnny’s an iceberg, deliberately blurring the line between the end of the image and the beginning of the man. And don’t expect him to dispel that image. Like dope, it’s safe ground and easy to hide behind (“Why are you ‘Hurtin’?’” I asked him, “Tell me about it.” “Those songs aren’t about me,” he replies, sounding like Bob Dylan once did, “They’re about some other guy.”).
It’s easier, it seems, to play Johnny Thunders than to be Johnny Thunders. But don’t be fooled – while much of the Johnny Thunders legend is indeed based on fact (and he’s got a streak of self-destruction as big as a house), he’s aware of a lot more than he lets on, and is a lot more serious, intelligent and responsible than people generally give him credit for.
Consider the contradictions: legendary, tragic, burnt-out rock’n’roll junkie / seductive charmer, dedicated family man with a wife and three sons (though they’re recently separated) / tortured, sensitive soul / egoist, sadist, and hustler. Quadrophenia, indeed! * * * At the moment, Gang War seems an iffy proposition. If they stay together, and if they get a deal, then they can definitely make it. If not, well, not to worry. “Johnny always seems to find something to do,” said Walter, “He’s always gonna have someone supporting him.” And if Johnny Thunders chooses to burn out and kill himself at 28, then ain't nobody gonna stop him. But don’t bury him yet. What Johnny seems to want more than anything right now is a shot at another solo LP. The musicians are already lined up, and if his recent material is any indication, then there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be as good as So Alone. * * * For the Dolls, it truly was a case of “Too Much Too Soon.” The Heartbreakers just skittered too close to the edge (though they still come together for an occasional – and incredible – farewell gig, usually around rent time). Gang War seems a breather, a transitory stage. And who knows what could be next? It could very well be the best yet (don’t be surprised if a record deal is announced around the time you’re reading this).
So hang in there, Johnny – there’s a lot of us in your corner.
The following interview with musical impresario Lee Black Childers was originally published in FFanzeen magazine, issue #9, in 1983. It was conducted by Nancy Foster, credited under “NanSuzy Foster.”
Back in the ‘70s and ‘80s, Leee Black Childers was everywhere, but where I encountered him the most was Max’s Kansas City (introduced to me by Nancy). Before anything about the man, I must say that I so coveted his leather motorcycle jacket, which had an amazing painting of Eddie Cochran’s face on the back.
Childers has had an astonishing carreer behind the scenes to levels that have changed the scope of the music world. When he wasn’t running David Bowie’s MainMan empire, he was managing the Heartbreakers (with Johnny Thunders), or he was photographing living icons into household memories with shots that were published worldwide.
I liked Leee the first time I met him, and though he probably doesn’t remember me, well, I still want that jacket! – RBF, 2010
/www.leeeblackchilders.com/
FFanzeen: When was the first time you came to New York from down South? Leee Black Childers: Well, I kept leaving and going back. The first time was the Summer of Love, 1967. Me and this girl from England, who was down in Kentucky – the Israeli war happened and she got all crazy and decided the world was gonna end and we’d have never seen New York, so we got on a plane and come. I arrived with eight dollars in my pocket at Kennedy Airport, didn’t know a soul in New York; a solider picked us up and took us to the “Y” and paid for our rooms and everything for a few days. He could see that we were helpless. He housed us until we made friends with someone and we moved in with him.
[Wayne County, Max's Kansas City, 1976]
FF: When and how did you connect with people like Cherry Vanilla? Leee: Well, Cherry was back in the old underground theater days. There’s this brilliant director named Tony Engrassia who did Off-Off-Broadway shows like La Mama and New York Theater Ensemble, and the day the men landed on the moon, Jackie Curtis got married. Do you know who Jackie Curtis is?
FF: A transsexual; an Andy Warhol starlet. Leee: Sort of. Whatever. A drag queen. She got married on a rooftop that same evening. She was supposed to marry Eric Emmerson, but he didn’t turn up, so she married someone else.
FF: A publicity stunt? Leee: Yeah, you know, it was just a joke. And everyone was up there, so we got invited up to that, me and Wayne County. Wayne County was my roommate at the time, and at that thing up there we met Tony Engrassia and Holly Woodlawn, and all those people. So Tony invited Wayne down to start being in the plays, and I became stage manager. And that’s when Cherry Vanilla turned up for the one Wayne wrote, called World.
[Cherry Vanilla, Max's Kansas City, 1976] FF: What year was that? Leee: ’68 or ’69; I guess ’69. Yeah, it would be ’69, because then the most successful one (play) was Pork, which went to London in 1970, with Cherry in the title role. [Laughs]
FF: Could you tell me a little bit about your work with MainMan, and how you got associated with Tony DeFries, David Bowie – Leee: Right. That comes through Pork. I was stage managing and Cherry was in it, and Wayne County was in it, and Tony Zennetta played the Andy Warhol figure in it, and we took it to England. Cherry and I were pulling this scam at that time in England, saying that we wrote for Circus magazine. She was supposed to be the writer and I was supposed to be the photographer and, in fact, we didn’t write for them, of course, but who’s to know? We were loud Americans. They believed us, so we got into all the rock shows free.
FF: Love it! Leee: Right, so one day I was reading this thing, and in a little garage behind a shopping center in Haberstock Hill, was David Bowie. So I say, “Oh, I read about him somewhere. He wears dresses and things. Let’s go see him.” So Cherry, and Wayne and I went to see David and, of course, David was entranced ‘cause we were doing an Andy Warhol thing. So David came to see the opening when Pork opened up and he came to see the show, I don’t know, eight or ten times. When the show closed, we came back to New York and we all said we’d keep in touch; then we hadn’t heard from David in about a year. Then Tony DeFries called up Tony Zennetta and said that David was planning his first American tour. In that year, David had become a big success in England. And so Tony said he was planning his first American tour and he didn’t want the normal sort of crew that you get – you know, a bunch of hippies and everything; he wanted us, would we be the crew? I was working at 16 Magazine at the time, Tony Zennetta was working in a photo lab, Cherry Vanilla wasn’t working at all and was deeply in debt – so of course we all said yes – of course, we’ll be MainMan – and so we were. We had no experience, which make it work out, because we were able to ask for the impossible because we didn’t know you couldn’t get it. So we’d walk into the record company or into the club where we were going to perform and make all these impossible demands, and just because we didn’t know that you couldn’t ask for things like that, we’d end up getting it. When I was in St. Louis, we were at this strange little hotel and I was on the phone with Lisa Robinson, who was in Los Angeles, ‘cause we were going to Los Angeles next. She said, “Where are you staying?” – and I forget where it was, somewhere weird – and she said, “Oh, that place is awful, you can’t stay there,” and I said “I’ve never been to Los Angeles, where should I stay?” She said the Beverly Hills Hotel, so I said, okay, and I called up RCA and I said switch our reservations to the Beverly Hills Hotel. Forty people. In the Beverly Hills Hotel. The bill there alone was, like $60,000 or something.
[Holly Woodlawn, set of "Good Night America" with Geraldo Rivera, 1975]
FF: Bless their abuse. Leee: I didn’t know what the Beverly Hills Hotel was; RCA couldn’t say no to me, so they booked us in. I don’t know why they couldn’t. The roadies would go down to Hollywood and pick up tourists and say, “Come back to the Beverly Hills Hotel with us, you can have a complete Beverly Hills Hotel dinner for five dollars a head.” All these people would come back with them, they’d collect the five dollars, and the tourists would order anything they wanted.
FF: That’s incredible! Leee: So these tourists would get $250 meals for five dollars. The roadies, in turn, would make fifty dollars a night, plus tips. Now, if RCA reads this, they’ll know what happened.
FF: Around ’75 or so, I joined the Wayne County Fan Club, and I was in touch with this guy named Eve Emmerson, and he said that David Bowie thwarted Wayne’s musical career by saying Wayne was an actor, rather than a singer. Was there any truth to that? Did David Bowie sort of encourage Wayne to concentrate on acting? Leee: Yeah, a lot of people say that. Even looking back now over the years, it’s really hard to remember exactly what happened. Because those were really peculiar times. There was an incredible amount of money, which none of us had ever had before, all of it really stemming from David. Tony DeFries was such a charismatic character; everyone thought everything he said and did at the time was just perfect. We thought he was a genus. So he moved us out of this crummy apartment on the Upper West Side, where in the bathroom, when we went to the toilet, we had to open an umbrella because there was a constant leak. We moved from that into an Upper East Side duplex, with a balcony and the whole number; you know, got us video tape machines, gave us anything we wanted. We had charges at restaurants all over town; we had American Express cards and MasterCharge. And then, Tony DeFries announced to Wayne, “Now you won’t work.” ‘Cause Wayne had been playing a lot, you know. He said, “The idea is to sit. And wait. And not make you available.” In the course of that, he said, “So you wont’ be doing nothing, we’ll concentrate on some acting and we’ll make a movie and stuff like that.” It could have been David’s idea, ‘cause now we know that 90% of those brilliant ideas we thought Tony DeFries was having had really been coming from David, who was in England at that time. And so we sat. And nobody complained much. He wasn’t just doing it to Wayne, he was doing it to a girl-singer named Ava Terry, he was doing it to Dana Gillespie, he was doing it to Amanda Lear; everybody was getting huge salaries, living in style, and being told to do nothing.
FF: Where can I get a job like that? Leee: Now there are people who say that David did that particularly to all those people to keep them out of the limelight while he, you know, did his number. And he’ll be the first to tell you he used all of those people’s ideas. Periodically, he would either visit, or the people would be sent to England and live with him for a while. He’d pick their brains and he’d get ideas for songs and concepts and everything, I mean, Tony Engrassia wrote a play named Fame a year before David Bowie wrote a song named “Fame.” And Tony spent, like, two months with David, supposedly working on a script of a play about 1984, and in the course of it, of course, he told him all about Fame and his concept, you know, of the whole idea of the destructiveness of it. Out came the song. What can you do? David would say, “Yes, I got the idea (from someone else),” but David’s great genus is knowing which ideas are the good ones. So, we sat, and Wayne couldn’t do a thing, not even acting for that matter. Every once in a while a film crew would come around and point a camera at us, at whatever we were doing. I’d love to see that film now – I don’t know where it is – ‘cause they spent thousands on it. Finally he went crazy and demanded to be allowed to play. So then they did this one show, which was Wayne County at the Trucks, which cost a fortune to put on. Which wasn’t really Wayne. Wayne would put on garbage and would dance around in the back room of some slezoid dive. Suddenly they had this theater down on West Street, that Arts Center, and Tony Engrassia staged and directed it, and they had dancers and they had lights and costumes, and it cost fortunes, and it was an all-invited audience. Nobody could get in who just wanted to play. Champagne and all kinds of stuff that costs fortunes and only the wrong people saw it; a bunch of snobs and businessmen, and people like that. And then he was told to sit again, so then he stared going crazy. Flipping out, you know. And so that’s when Tony (DeFries) said, “I don’t think we can work together,” and that was the end of the relationship. And, of course, as soon as all of the money was cut off and Wayne was back on the Upper East Side, and had to fend for himself, then everything was fine and he wasn’t crazy anymore. Before, he was out all night, taking pills like crazy. He’d come storming into the house at six in the morning with a string of the most dreadful people hanging on him. I’d be throwing them out, you know, and Wayne would be shouting, “Theah mah friends, theah mah friends.” “No, they’re not, get them out; out you go.” And as soon as he was back working for himself, well then, everything went back to normal. He was fine; puttin’ on shows for $25, making $35, and being very happy, and it was great again. It was very peculiar times and we’ll never know how much of it was Tony DeFries megalomania, how much of it was David.
FF: Tony was probably the hatchet man. Leee: Right. [Laughs] Perhaps David meant well. Perhaps he really thought Wayne shouldn’t do anything. The other thing that’s nice is since that time – all those people got dropped at the same time, Amanda, Ava, and everybody – they’ve all gone on to great success.
FF: When and where was the first place you saw the Heartbreakers, and what was your first impression? Leee: Well, the same thing everyone said. Actually, it was Tony Zennetta who went to see them somewhere – CBGB’s or somewhere – and I hadn’t gone. Tony went crazy, and he was on the phone with me and he said, “You can’t believe how completely destroyed these people are. If they manage to live to another set you must go.” And, of course, that’s what everyone then said, and everyone still does. “Catch them before they die.” A thousand shows later, they’re out-living everybody; they’ll out-live us all. It was very macabre, but that’s what I went for at first, to see how physically destroyed – Johnny (Thunders) and Jerry (Nolan) were old friends of mine and I wanted to see what sort of shape they’d fallen into. But then, of course, I really liked the music. It really, immediately, got me. “Blank Generation,” I thought was brilliant. I remember once, at CBGB’s – Cherry Vanilla had this boyfriend named Michael Linder who was a radio talk show type person, and he did reviews and things. Very, very straight: Brooks Brothers suits and this naturally blond hair cut perfectly and all. Clean fingernails and the whole number. So she brought him down to CBGB’s. They were sitting sort of at the back, and the music was going on, but they couldn’t really see anything, and he liked the music. So then, I was so gun-ho on it at the time. I gave him the speech about this music is the future of rock’n’roll and it’s finally getting rid of guitar solos and all this Eric Clapton shit, and I went on and on an on, and I got him real excited, and he said, “Oh, do you think I could talk to one of the Heartbreakers?” And I said, “Sure, sure, I’ll go get one.” So the set was over and I got Richard Hell and brought him and set him down, and then Cherry and I both realized what we’d done. Here was this perfectly groomed person talking to Richard Hell. His (Hell) lips were all cracked and chapped and he had scabs on his face, and his hair was cut in all different directions and he was dirty and his clothes were falling off, and one eye was closed and he was sitting there. And, of course, Richard was adoring it; he was putting it on as much as he could, to see how horrified he could get this poor man. Michael Linder was sitting as far back in the booth as you can get. It was great. I didn’t start managing (the Heartbreakers) until Richard left, unfortunately, ‘cause I adore Richard. I guess it’s just as well, though, ‘cause I hear he’s suing Sire Records and everything, saying Sire destroyed his career. If any of us look back, if anybody could get anything in edgewise as far as destroying with, Richard was doing a very good job himself.
[Billy Rath, Irving Plaza, 1978]
FF: Could you give us a few words on the personalities of each of the Heartbreakers? Leee: Yeah. It’s funny to do it now, not working with them. Probably this is the best time to do it. Johnny (Thunders) is totally adorable. He could be a great con man if he weren’t so self-destructive, ‘cause he’s a very good con artist. But he’s too greedy, so he gets you madly in love with him – and this is anyone – everybody he meets just thinks he’s so sweet and wants to protect him. And to help him. And he is; he’s very good-hearted. But he’s greedy and so he’ll get a little bit. Someone that he could con out of $500,000, he cons him out of $500 instead, and rips him off and then ruin the relationship. He goes for the moment. He over-indulges everything, you know? When we first started recording [the album L.A.M.F. – RBF] for Track Records in England, I told these people – they were all well meaning, I guess, but they were used to the Who and everything, and you’d think they’d have known better – “When we get in the studio, it’s nothing but Coca-Colas and no drugs and not anything that’s destructive.” So they said, “Okay, Okay.” I said, “Please trust me, that’s the way it must be.” Of course, we got in the studio and Johnny said, “I don’t want any drugs or anything, I want to work, but c'mon, I gotta loosen up. How about some Scotch? Just Scotch.” And I was saying, “No, no, no,” right? The record company people, Chris Stanton, they though I was crazy. “We can’t turn him down for that,” so they went out and got him a bottle of Scotch, which he downed instantly, and then fell on the floor. First day of recording. All I could say was, “See, I told you.”
[Jerry Nolan, CBGB's, 1979]
FF: No moderation. Leee: No moderation, which, I guess, helps make him an artist. Walter (Lure) is possibly the most talented one, creatively, in the group. I don’t want to say the most talented, but creative. Because he always had new ideas, he was already ready to try new things, and he didn’t realize, and probably still doesn’t, that he had become a really big star in England. There were as many kids imitating him and cheering for him and freaking out over him as there were for Johnny. He always acted like it was Johnny and assumed it was Johnny. I don’t think he ever really realized that if he ever went back – Johnny has since been back to England a few times. Walter’s never gone back – he’d be a big draw; he was really a big star. The kids loved him ‘cause he’s a psycho.
[Walter Lure, CBGB's, 1980]
FF: That might be what the Heroes (Walter’s group) have to do because in New York, it’s Johnny, and Walter will always be in Johnny’s shadow according to, like, the club owners and stuff, and the Heroes really get a hard time. Leee: Really not so in England. In fact, Walter might be even more fashionable ‘cause England has gone very psycho right now. And Walter has the look and delivery to go with that. I think he’d really do well.
FF: Maybe if he gets a record deal they could send him over there. There’s this real anti-rock’n’roll backlash in New York right now. But I think the rockabilly here’ll knock that right out. That’s gonna be the pervasive thing. It seems like it’s the most healthy branch of the music right now. It’s alive. Leee: That’s why I got into it. That’s why I was first working with Levi (Dexter), and I realized I couldn’t work with both him and Johnny. I talked to Johnny about it, and I said, this is fun for me. I enjoy every (Levi) show, I enjoy touring, and much to Johnny’s credit, he completely understood. He said, yeah, he could see that that would be much more what I would enjoy than working with him, so we parted on the best-of-friends.
FF: Levi’s like a big breath of fresh air; he’s so anti- that junkie jadedness that pervades New York. Leee: After two years with the Heartbreakers, you can imagine what it was like to suddenly be with little sixteen and seventeen year-old kids who were saying, “Ohhh, can we really play? Can we really do a gig?? Two gigs in one night? What fun! [Laughs] With Johnny, I’d have to slap him and say you will do this show. “No, I’m not getting out of bed.” And we’d have a rough ‘n’ tumble and eventually he made every show but one in two years, which is fully to his credit, really. Because sometimes he was in no shape to, but he did. He always made it while I was working with him.
FF: What about Jerry (Nolan)? Leee: I can’t talk about Jerry.
FF: What was your most memorable thing about working with the Heartbreakers? Leee: Oh, well, besides them, generally, which was some experience, I guess that whole period in England when we did the Anarchy Tour [1977 – Ed.]. It came as such a surprise to us; none of us knew what was going on over there. From playing Max’s (Kansas City), it had become very routine here. Then three days later we had to run with our coats over our heads while photographers were trying to get our pictures, and keep our hotel room locked. There were people meeting us at the edge of town with pickets, turning us away, not even letting us in the town. It was such a weird experience. It didn’t know that much anti-rock’n’roll feeling – which is what it came down to – existed anymore, and there it was. It was really such a strange experience. That’s why I told everyone in New York to come to England. Cherry Vanilla sold everything in her apartment. She put a “for sale” sign on her door and sod everything – everything –to get all the money she could to come to England. She was there in a month. Wayne was there in a month. They came fast and cashed in.
FF: Where did the Heartbreakers get the best response? Leee: Well, I guess in London. Pretty well all over England. There was a lot of hysteria in Scotland. Scottish audiences are dangerous. Liverpool, they go crazy for ‘em. They built a very, very good following in Amsterdam. It’s much more hysteria there, and in France, then they ever got in New York because half the people in the audience in New York had slept with them. Some of the glamour isn’t there, where kids in Leeds had only ever seen their pictures and heard the rumors – and suddenly there they were on stage in front of them. It was fantastic to them.
FF: They still had that aesthetic distance. Leee: Yeah, right.
FF: Do you ever go see the Heartbreakers any more? Leee: Do the Heartbreakers play any more?
FF: Yeah. Tony (Coiro) from the Knots plays bass because Billy Rath went to Cape Cod and became a father. He moved in with his girlfriend, Marsha. He got hepatitis in, like, December (1980), and that sort of turned his head around. He said, “Enough of that.” Leee: He’ll probably be a lot happier. He was never really happy doing that (music).
FF: He’s supposed to be really happy getting up six in the morning and doing farm chores, and that kind of thing. Leee: He got very self-destructive, too, but it always seemed sort of imitated, like he thought, “Oh, well, I might as well be self-destructive, too, otherwise what am I gonna do? Read a book?” So he’s probably very happy and Marsha probably is, too. Good, I’m glad. Sure, I’d go see them (the Heartbreakers). It would be a great experience.
FF: Have you seen the Heroes yet? Leee: No, but I haven’t –
FF: Mucho upbeat. Walter’s my favorite dresser and comedian, too. What did you do between managing the Heartbreakers and managing Levi? Or was it straight to Levi? Leee: Straight from. I was in England, and the punks / Teddys war started, and I’d see pictures of Teddy Boys in the papers and they looked awfully glamorous to me – more glamorous than the punks. So I began going in disguise to Teddy Boy shows. It would always be dark so they never knew. Although my hair was quiffed, it had an electric blue streak through it. But they never knew. So I started going and eventually the show where I met Levi the lights went on and I was about to be killed, but I met him. He just got up – it was a Shakin’ Stevens show – and did a couple of songs and I thought he was great, so I asked him to come around to the office. He didn’t have a band and didn’t know anything about starting a band, so I started working with him while I was still working with the Heartbreakers. Then all the trouble with Jerry started. That was in July, when I met Levi, and by about September, Jerry Nolan was pulling his numbers and quitting the group and then going back when Johnny would cry, “Come back for a week.” Then he’d come back if we’d pay him $1,000 a show and things like that, and I was going crazy with all that anyway. So eventually then, Jerry left. And we did whole tours with other drummers – Terry Chimes (of the Clash) and people – and then it really began getting crazy until it was clear the Heartbreakers were gonna break up. So Johnny asked if I’d continue to work with him as a solo artist, so I said yes. But by then, Levi had begun playing, too [with the Rockats – Ed.]. In fact, the very first show Levi ever did, it was the worst show you ever saw in your life. [Laughs] Johnny Thunders did the greatest thing: it was at the Royal College of Art, and Dibbs (Preston) didn’t even come on stage, you only saw a guitar cord go off-stage to nowhere for him to play; and Smutty (Smiff) wasn’t plugged in because he couldn’t play the bass at all; Levi was off-tune on nearly every song. The rhythm guitarist we had at that time jumped off-stage in the middle of the show to dance with his girlfriend – he just laid his guitar down.
FF: Oh, wonderful. Leee: The drummer couldn’t drum. It was just awful! We were on supporting Steel Pulse, and it was a big show at the Royal College of Art, you know, and our agent had just bragged us into it. So everybody was just ready to die, and you could see Levi was just mortified. He was so terrified, he felt so horrible. So all of a sudden, Johnny got on stage – and Johnny could hardly stand up – grabbed a guitar, and he started playing, and he did this, like, Chuck Berry thing, a medley. And soon as he finished one song he’d go into the next one, and he forced Levi to sing along with him, and he forced the band to keep playing and it went for, like, twenty minutes solid. And the audience, of course, by then was going completely crazy, cheering and screaming. When they came off and were back in the dressing room, Levi said, “Oh, Johnny, thank you, thank you. You saved the show. I was horrified.” Johnny said, “I just did it to teach you one thing: it’s impossible to make a fool of yourself on stage.” It was great. We loved him for that. Levi still adores him.
FF: That is a wonderful story. Leee: Yeah, and it was so good of him. So by then, Levi was touring a lot. We did the whole tour with Wayne County – the Eddy and Sheena Tour – all over England and Scotland, and everywhere. A lot started to happen. It was then that Johnny and I mutually realized that I was better off working with Levi.
FF: Which person or persons have you enjoyed photographing the most? Leee: Oh, Lord! Probably the most fun I’ve had taking pictures were (of) a lot of people you probably wouldn’t know. A lot of the early drag queens and everything. They’re all dead now, or old. And also I really enjoyed a series I started and will someday finish photographing people as – I don’t want to say my favorite movie star as much as the movie star they would have been if they had been a movie star, instead of whatever they are. And that’s when I did that Wayne County session of Wayne as Thedda Bara, that picture that’s up at Max’s.
FF: Oh, yeah. When I was in the Wayne County Fan Club, they sent me that one for Christmas. Leee: Yeah? Great! And that picture of Cherry that’s up at Max’s is Cherry Vanilla as Clara Bow. And that was fun ‘cause we’d build whole sets and create characters, and it was really fun. Some day I’ll finish the series. Do Levi as Rudolph Valentino [Laughs].
FF: If you could photograph anyone you haven’t yet, who would it be? Leee: Who are still alive? There are a lot of people I feel very –
FF: They don’t’ have to be alive now. Leee: ‘Cause there are a lot of people I’m really sorry I missed. Great, classic people like Tallulah Bankhead, with brilliant faces. Even when she was old and ravaged – you know, she drank spirits of ammonia for eight years. She gave up booze during the war. She swore she would never drink another drop of booze as long as Hitler was in Europe, and so she drank spirits of ammonia instead.
FF: I would imagine that wouldn’t do very much for your skin. Leee: Right, so she was real ravaged by the time she finally died, but still amazing. I’d love to have done her. Of people that are around now, I wonder who would be really good. I can’t think. Old people still, I think. The real classics, like Estelle Winwood and James Cagney, and people like that. I’d be astounded just to be in their presence. And would like to photograph them. Other than that, probably my next favorite sort of people to photograph are completely unknown. You know, really young kids, because you can do anything with them because they’re excited at being photographed. People like Robert Redford or something; think of how many times he’s been photographed. What more can he do? But you get somebody like – another one of my favorites was a Debbie Harry session I did, you know, when she was just starting, and I don’t know if it was the very first time, but it was one of the first times she had ever been in a real studio with full lights and, you know, seamless paper backdrop, and the whole thing, so she just went bananas. She was wonderful to photograph ‘cause she was living her fantasy.
The following was put together for FFanzeen No. 7 in 1981, by Alan Abramowitz, with memories by Michelle Piza, who was Jerry Nolan’s girlfriend throughout the New York Dolls years. The graphics that were used in the original piece was chock full of rare photos (such as Michelle and Jerry in Halloween costumes) and flyers. There is a picture of Michelle in a famous Vanity Fair magazine piece (on the right) where the caption reads, “an unidentified friend.” That was Michelle, folks. Each of the paragraphs represents a different memory. Yes, some of what is said is now well known thanks to numerous band biographies, but when this was published, it was pretty new to those who were not insiders. Personally, I wish Michelle would just write a memoir on those years, but that’s me. Michelle is an acquaintance of mine, and I am thankful to say that, as she has one of the best laughs I know. For a while during the ‘80s, she was doing interviews for Alan’s cable access show, Videowave.
I had the good fortune to see the Dolls twice: one at the opening night of the club On the Rocks in November 1976 (post-Johnny and Jerry), and once a special show at Tower Records when they reformed in 2006. – RBF
Alan Abramowitz introduction: To this date, it is questionable who is the most influential band to today’s rock’n’roll / New Wave nee punk scene. Some say Iggy or Bowie or even the Beatles. Well, they were all influential to the New York Dolls, but what the Dolls have passed along has over-shadowed all that went before them. No, I’m not saying they are another Iggy or Bowie or even another Beatles; what I am saying is what they presented as their music was seven years ahead of their time, and what they represented just started to come into fashion in 1975.
They hit the tail end of the glitter era and tried in vain to latch on, hence their outrageous makeup on the cover of their first album, The New York Dolls. They joined the movement in its death-throngs and as it died, the Dolls slowly died with it. As a group. But as a force, the Dolls are more powerful now than when they were performing at Max’s, Club 82 or Mothers. What they represented was the fresh breath to the stale sound of 1971 rock’n’roll.
Much as been written over the years about the New York Dolls in almost every paper across the nation. To print it again may prove to be repetitious, but for those who weren’t around at that point of time, or have not read that information when it was around, it is a necessary, and yes, still vital story. An outlined history of the New York Dolls follows.
Michelle Piza: Guitarist Sylvain Sylvain always wanted to be in a band called “the Dolls.” This was a dream / idea he had confided to his good friend, drummer Billy Mercier. Returning from a European vacation, Syl found that Billy had formed a band with bassist Arthur Kane and guitarist Johnny Thunders, and called themselves The New York Dolls. Syl joined and later came David Johansen as lead singer. They practiced in old store fronts and by playing Lower East Side loft parties. Later on came gigs at the Hotel Diplomat and the Mercer Arts Center, these two being places where they could practice their live act and gain a following.
An immense cult following grew and spread by word-of-mouth, and with extra help of mini-ads they placed in the Village Voice. At least an ad a week appeared in 1972 and attracted a curious audience who were looking for more than what was available at the time, such as concerts by heavy metal bands as the Grateful Dead, etc. This was a time of much stagnation and wide-open room for transition.
Being eye-catching and very fashion conscious was part of the Dolls’ mystique. It was also a vulnerable target for idle criticism and misconceived ideas about their sexual preferences. This was emphasized to some degree by the natural audience they were attracting and more strongly by the first album cover photo showing them in extreme hair and make-up styles. The cover was just an extension of their own campy style taken one step further, but solely created by make-up artists and hair-dressers on the assignment of the album cover shot. The idea was conceived, shot, and sold in one single session – and later confused the masses. They were actually believed to be “fags in drag.”
1973 saw the passing of Billy Mercier by accidental death by choking. By this time, having toured England, the band had developed the artful sophistication of live performing. Press coverage had become widespread. Taking time out to recoup and gain forces, they replaced Billy with drummer Jerry Nolan. Jerry had been a great fan of the band and possessed the natural rock’n’roll feel to fit in and accent the band. Getting back on track, they were soon to be coined the “Most popular unrecorded rock band” by nearly every rock’n’roll tabloid. They were also commonly termed “punks.”
In the song “Pills,” with the phrase “Give me a shot,” David Johansen pantomimed the act of giving himself an injection, spontaneously followed by the audience. In another crowd pleaser, “Great Big Kiss,” the Dolls parodied the Shangri-Las. David asked the question, “Gee, what color are her eyes?” and Johnny answered coyly, “I dunno, she’s always wearing shades” …”Well, how duz she dance?” “Close; very, very close.” … Then together they would sing, “When I see her in the street / My heart takes a leap / It’s gonna skip a beat / I’m gonna walk right up to her / And give her a great big kiss / Mmmmmwwaaa” (later, Johnny would incorporate the same song into the Heartbreakers, exchanging the questions with Walter Lure). David would throw a tremendous kiss and gays looking for a real life characterization of Corporal Klinger from M.A.S.H., in beard and full drag, could be seen throwing back kisses to David. [Note: there is a typo in the last sentence in the original article with some words obviously missing – RBF, 2010]
The first album was a moderate success, doing well among devout Dolls fans, but failing to attract more than a novel interest. At this early time, it could not make the crossover by bringing rock’n’roll to Top-Forty and win the MOR audience. As a result, they lost key momentum and most needed creative energy. Disappointed with the outcome of the album’s production by Todd Rundgren, they picked Shadow Morton to handle the second album [Too Much, Too Soon], thinking that his ‘50s background would save them. Unfortunately, it didn’t, and they were dropped by their label, Phonogram.
They were filmed by Ralph Bakshi with the intent to animate them into a rock’n’roll movie, but [instead] he went on to do Fritz the Cat, Wizards and American Pop.
The ‘50s and early ‘60s had a lot to do with influencing the Dolls’ music and fashion. Everything from Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochran on up to the Shangri-Las were an inspiration. One of their main goals was to reflect the early rock’n’roll purity into the future, and somehow integrate all that came in-between for a modern individuality.
They were now packing the larger back room of the Mercer to capacity. Faithful fans were frenzied, knowing all the words to the songs, singing along with gestures mirrored back to the band with peak energy and enthusiasm. One art form nurturing another. The Dolls were campy, crazy, exciting and different, and the audience complimented their style. They were the ideal fantasy rock’n’roll band – dressed to kill and dying to play the night away. Their energy was at its peak at this point. David Bowie was known to have said the Dolls were his real life “Spiders from Mars.”
The Dolls, at the height of their stardom, attracted a cult of L.A. Lolitas (groupies) who frequented the Rodney Bingenheimer Club. The queen of the cult was sultry blonde Sable Starr, who, no more than 15 years old, set her sights on Johnny Thunders. Her fantasy was fulfilled when they landed in L.A., and she became Johnny’s girlfriend. This led to other problems, such as outrageous demands that she be flown to gigs on the spur of the moment anywhere in the world or he would not play, expensive airfare inconsequential. It was times like these Johnny was set straight by the famous left hook of drummer Jerry Nolan on mutual consent of the rest of the band.
On tour in a remote part of Europe, drug-induced strains at one point caused Johnny to imagine that there were “snipers out there.” A very creative man, and very demanding, his image on stage could well be jerky, but compared to the beautiful romp of a wild pony.
Each member actually had their unique style of dressing before ever becoming a band. For instance, Syl used to walk around Greenwich Village in make-up, sort of how he looked as a Doll; the clown-like pouty look, which was a fashion then. Johnny was always a flagrantly wild dresser and loved to use eyeliner and Keith Richard hairstyle. When they became a band, they shared the art of thrift shop hopping for a chic look at a reasonable price. They were also known to accessorize with charms, such as rabbit feet, dice, World War II memorabilia (i.e., swastikas), and ‘60s nostalgia. Leopard jersey stretch pants, plenty of spandex, pink, turquoise and red thick marshmallow belts, cowboy gear, motorcycle jackets, and wild color matches were also typical Dolls fashion.
The Grand Ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria was the setting for the Halloween Costume Ball, one of the Doll’s most memorable performances. The crowd was wild, being a cross between just wild and crazy-looking and total transvestite. Naked people in nothing but gold and silver skin paint, people in clear plastic or cellophane and anything you could fathom in feathers attended. It was the first and only rock performance of its kind to be held there. The management swore they would never hold another rock’n’roll event in the hotel.
At the Waldorf gig, the Dolls went on their customary three hours late, mostly because David took his time about getting into his white tie, top hat and tails. His light brown locks had to be perfectly coiffed before he could set foot on stage and the necessary socializing had to take place in the reserved suites the guys shared to dress and entertain their guests. They were introduced on stage by a little boy dressed in matching tails to David. The same little boy posed with them in the Gem Spa photo on the back of their first album cover. His name was Shoo Be Doo; he died soon after in a fire.
To see the Dolls live at one of their favorite places, like the Mercer Arts Center, Hotel Diplomat, or Max’s Kansas City, was much more than a trip to a club – it was an invitation to a party.
On their second European tour with Jerry Nolan, they acquired two dotting fans: Malcolm McLaren and cohort Vivian Westwood. These two were such wild dressers they hardly went unnoticed. They loved the Dolls and followed them to Paris. At a gig there, the crowd grew so wild and frenzied that fist fighting and vulgar spitting on them caused them to leave the stage before finishing the show. The roadies were left to fist-fight the audience.
Malcolm McLaren became the Dolls’ manager. By this time in 1976, Johnny Thunders and Jerry Nolan were tired of the Dolls. McLaren had given them a red leather / communist look. Again, the Dolls were misinterpreted, as they were when they were in drag. Arthur Kane, burnt out and an alcoholic, couldn’t play bass any longer. He was replaced by Peter Jordan, who was never considered a Doll. When Johnny and Jerry quit, Tony Machine filled in on drums. The band evolved into a David Johansen back-up, but he couldn’t hold it on his own without the multi-creative Johnny and Jerry behind him.
Great site: www.fromthearchives.com/nyd/chronology.html
