Ramones A La Mode

The threatened closing of CBGB's brings mixed feelings, sort of like the sudden disappearance of a hairy mole that has always been a feature of one's face. It's just always been there. And now, with the rumors of Hilly Kristal's club moving to Las Vegas, it's like that mole showing up on someone else's face.

From the first day it opened, we drank at Hilly's bar because it was cheap and he poured a free one for every three that we regulars tossed down. But business at his new dive on the Bowery (he'd moved over from a joint on Houston) wasn't going so well, so he said he was thinking of putting in some entertainment. Folk singers, poetry readings, things like that. He'd had a run of bad luck and we sincerely hoped his new joint succeeded despite its name. I had my band of drunk journos, Blind Orange Julius, so we offered to play. He said sure. We'd rehearsed once, maybe, and had never played anywhere.

We were on the first double bill with a bunch of guys calling themselves the Ramones. We thought that was a stupid name for a rock band. Anyway, the day of the gig, we went there early in the afternoon to "rehearse"-me, Joe Kane (lead guitarist and Screw editor), Nancy the bass player (my girlfriend's sister, who also played with Lester Bangs' band), and I forget the drummer's name-and after drinking sufficiently to get in the mood, we staggered up onstage, plugged our guitars into some equipment we found miraculously sitting there, and started playing and caterwauling. I was lead singer.

Some guy with long hair came up and told us to stop. We laughed and told him to fuck off, hippie asshole. He said it was his equipment and went around pulling plugs. There was a shoving match. Hilly came out and stood there shaking his head. We were drunk and, not wanting to piss off Hilly-he was a big carpenter with massive arms; still is-we went back to drinking.

Getting madder and madder as this other band was setting up, we decided to take our revenge. We went around the corner to a grocery store, bought a pie and some whipped cream in a can, got back and found the place filling up, mostly with the other band's crowd (not even our own girlfriends would come to hear us play). When the band got onstage and the tall skinny guy started to sing, he got a pie smack in the kisser. The place erupted and we went hauling ass out of the joint, laughing all the way up the Bowery.

That was the Ramones' first gig at CBGB's. It was almost the last for Blind Orange Julius. Hilly let us back in, as it turned out, and we changed our name to King Rude and played another double bill with a band calling itself Blondie. Another stupid name, but the chick singer wore a fur bikini onstage, and that was cool. I look forward to seeing her in the same outfit at the CBGB's reunion in Vegas.

-Rex Weiner