In which I move to a
flophouse, where I get flooded and end up on top of the Electric Circus, the home of the Exploding Plastic Inevitable.
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Author's handwriting. |
Mahalo, the responses to the blog have been great, mostly through personal encounters or e-mail. Comments are welcomed. One critique has been that my NY stories seem to glorify the reality and that it appears that my life in NY unfolded in a manner that direction or plan. To be clear, my first year in New York was quite rough at times, mostly due to lack of money, which led to bleeding gums, and other effects of not enough food, especially fresh fruits and vegetables. Once I got the job at Canal Jean and then Trash & Vaudeville, things stabilized. There were also moments of intense loneliness and heartache. As we go along, I will publish some writing of this time, mostly done at night. the first text appears further down in this post. For better or worse, there has never been much of a plan in my life, more of an underlying drive, or pull, that I am often not conscious off. I have followed my bliss, but I have often ignored practical realities and sometimes I had to suffer the consequences, but I always aim to take full responsibility for my actions.
After I left the New York Niggers, which was the
end of the band,
The Pope demanded that I leave our shared 10
th St flat, so I
moved to a cheap hotel on 18
th St off Gramercy Park, a few blocks outside
the East Village proper. Isn’t that a bit of a ritzy neighborhood you might
ask? It certainly is now and even then it was pretty nice, but the hotel
wasn’t. Transvestites, rock’n rollers and other outcasts who didn’t have it
together enough to rent an apartment, occupied the hotel. Living there further helped my NY
education. In the summer everybody left their doors open or ajar, because of
the heat. The NY summer heat can be extremely stiffling, you can slice it with a
dull knife.
Besides giving me a living the job at
Trash & Vaudeville also provided for plenty of social contact, but with no band, I didn't have anything to focus on. Work and nightlife could not replace the energy and identity that being a member of a band provides.
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Trash & Vaudeville t-shirt. |
T&V is on 4 St Marks Place
right off 3
rd Ave, which turns into the Bowery a bit further down. The corner of 3rd Ave and St Marks Pl is like the western entry gate to the East Village. On the corner was the Valencia Hotel, a by the hour place hooker's place. On the other side of the store were the St Mark's baths. Here is a NY Times
article on the store and pretty funny
video. When you walked down the block you had
Ian’s
another clothing store, St Marks Bookstore, St Mark’s
Records, 23 St Mark’s
Place, the former home of the
Electric Circus and The Dom, where Andy Warhol and the VU created the Plastic Explosion
Inevitable and
Nico
had had her residency at The Dom downstairs. Jackson Browne was a huge fan of Nico during this time and wrote the lyrics to
this song. A few doors down was Tish & Snooky’s
Manic
Panic, the
Dojo’s Japanese restaurant across the street and the
Gem Spa on the
corner of 2
nd Ave, where the New York Dolls took their famous
photo and you could buy egg cream (possibly still).
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The Dolls in front of Gem Spa. |
The 2
nd Ave movie theatre was
around the corner and
still featured cheap Midnight specials. Oh, I forgot, there was also the old
pup in the middle of the block, but I had been 86ed there during the NYN days,
so
I won’t mention it.
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The author playing with rubber aliens at T&V, |
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and standing at the door. |
Trash & Vaudeville had all the newest punk stuff from
London downstairs and great vintage clothing upstairs, and very importantly the
first and only black jeans, no label and super skinny. Every skinny black jean
today has one leg in Trash, and every rock’n roller had to have one and so did
every band that came to town. I worked downstairs. The downstairs neon sign was
featured in the Saturday Night live opening sequence at the time. Not only
every band and rock star stopped by the store, so did all the bar tenders and door
people from the clubs, and of course all the fans. This put us in the center of
the scene, which got us into clubs and often, to free drinks. Every body who
worked at T&V was either in a band or otherwise an artist or scenester. You
had to be a character to get hired.
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with Angel Rodriguez. polaroid. |
For example Angel, who had lived through the 60's and 70's East village. Angel was the manager upstairs and had great spirit and stories to tell. Her boyfriend Allen drove a 54 Chevy hot rod with flames on the side, and later played bass player in one of my bands.
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Play |
One day, when I got back to the hotel my room was flooded.
During my first two years in NY I had collected flyers, scraps and photos and
done a series of pretty large collages, which were all floating under my bed
now. The management tried to blame
the flood on me, so I just grabbed my stuff and took refuge with another German
expat called Joerg, who, believe it or not occupied the entire top floor of 23 St Marks
place. Here I am now, living at 23 St Marks, imagine. An AA sort of organization managed the building and had meetings on the floors below us.
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Joerg & I walking down St Marks Place between 2nd and 1st Ave. |
Joerg was a few
years older than me, pretty wild, volatile, a painter who also played around on his
synthesizer. He had spend some time with Native Americans and painted them on
large pieces of found wood. He also did the murals at the Veselka coffee shop
on 2nd Ave and 9th St, which is still there today. There were many cheap Polish and Ukrainian coffee shops in the East Village, that provided cheap, heart food. Now I
lived and worked on the same block and to get a coffee on my way to work I had
to go to the corner. Once the winter hit it got pretty rough though since some
windows were broken, there was no heat and when Joerg and I both run our little
electric heaters the fuses would pop. We couldn't complain since our rental agreement there wasn't quite on the up and up and the rent was cheap.
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Dave, Dieter, Joerg at 23 St Marks. |
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Dieter, Joerg, Dave at 23 St Marks. Beloved Gibson Les Paul special. |
This is not a real band in the shots above, just a few misfits fooling around, and as you know I love the look of slides-to-paper-xerox-copies, which you could do in any copy-shop. Dave was a co-worker from Trash and another wild one. One day Ian Hunter and Mick Ronson bought some suits from us and we were hanging out with them. Before they left the store, Dave had spilled a beer on Mick's, just bought, 50's sharkskin suit. Stories from T&V warrant a whole book.
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Author in Dave's elevator, collage. |
Dave lived in a bigger apartment building on 2nd Ave and 10th across the street from St Marks Church, were Patti Smith started her rock'n roll career. I did a bit of writing also, mostly late at night, when things weren't all that pretty.
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One more time (before I die), Dieter Runge, 79/80? |
This apocalyptic reverie was going to be a song, but I never finished it or wrote any music for it.
Eventually, I did start a new band during this time and we called it
The Troubadours, inspired by my travels in the South of France. It consisted of a young German kid named Hinrich, who studied classical guitar
and shredded like Jeff Beck, a German drummer (sorry, no name), Joe Drake on
bass, and the author. Everybody wrote and sang and we played R&B
influenced rock’n roll, with Joerg occasionally chiming in on his synth when we played the VU’s
What Goes, a tribute to the hallowed grounds we were playing on top of. Unfortunately we only managed to play one gig right there in the
loft, which was well attended. The band had lots of potential, but the two
Germans soon went back home. Alas. Joe became my best friend in NY and we
played and even recorded a few years down the road. There are no pics of The Troubadors, but this shot of me strapping on Hinrich's Stratocaster.
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The author with Stratocaster at 23 St Marks. |
On August 8th 1980 though, I had my own riot and kicked an innocent refrigerator on Avenue A, right across the street from the park. When I woke up the next morning I had to go to Bellevue hospital.
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die Tageszeitung, 1980 |
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The German daily,
Die Tageszeitung (TAZ) did an interview with me for a two part series about German cultural emigres living in New York.
On December 8
th Joerg and I went to Irving Plaza
to see Captain Beefheart
play.
We ran a little late and when we got there the lobby was completely empty; we
just walked upstairs were we heard the news that John Lennon had been shot. In
shock we watched the Magic Band.
By the end of 1980, without a band and clear purpose, and almost 3 years of non-stop
night-clubbing life in NY had taken a heavy toll on me, physically as well as mentally.
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Dance |
On December 30th, I had a bottle of wine with my brown rice and stir-fried veggies for a
mid-day breakfast at Dojo’s restaurant. The next morning, the last day of 1980, I barely made it out of bed. I clearly remember thinking that I was not quite yet ready to die. I decided that a profound
change was in order.
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Occasionally, work and play is the same. At T&V |