Rock and Roll High School: Growing Up in Hollywood During the Decade of Decadence

by Marisa Tellez

  something I’d start laughing. I really wasn’t doing it to egg her on. I just honestly thought the whole thing was so stupid that I

  couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Don’t laugh at me you bitch!” Dina yelled.

  That made me laugh even harder, which pissed her off even

  more. So she walked up to me and started yelling in my face,

  telling me I was a backstabber, a slut, blah blah.

  “Whatever you say Dina. You know everything don’t you?” I made a puppet gesture with my hand right in front of her

  face as she continued yelling at me.

  “Fuck you bitch!” she yelled.

  Dina gave me a hard shove. I was totally caught off guard,

  so I immediately shoved her right back, and Ronnie quickly

  jumped between us. He pulled me off to the side as Cassidy and

  Amie did the same with Dina. My heart was racing and my

  hands were shaking.

  “You okay?” Ronnie asked.

  “I’m fine, but I can’t stop shaking,” I said as I raised my

  trembling, stiff hands.

  “It’s just your adrenaline. It’ll stop in a little bit,” he said

  massaging my hands.

  DINA PALMER-GOMES: Mymemoryissobad.Ithinkwewere ata party ora bar,maybeinNorth Hollywood? Andwewereoutside onacurb and Ijustrememberbeing so drunkand being like,“Fuckyou Marisa!”AndmaybeIpushedyou? Idon’tevenremember.I thinkit wasChriswhowaslike,“Stopit!Stopit!”that’sallIremember.It’s veryvague.

  Although Cassidy and Amie took Dina off to the side, she was still screaming at me and telling them to let her go so she could kick my ass. Ronnie yelled at Cassidy and Amie to get Dina out of there, and to my surprise they did. As they walked away with Dina, Kennedy came running up to me from around the corner.

  “Oh my god, I heard there was a fight!” she said completely panicked.

  “Boy good news travels fast doesn’t it?” I said sarcastically.

  “So there was a fight? What happened honey?”

  Ronnie shadowboxed next to me and said, “Yeah, Rocky, tell her what happened.”

  “Oh shut up,” I told Ronnie.

  “Are you okay?” Kennedy asked.

  “I’m fine and there was no fight. Dina shoved me so I shoved her back, that’s all.”

  “Don’t lie, it was a full out boxing match,” Ronnie said as he took mock swings at me.

  “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” I said laughing and taking swings back at Ronnie.

  “Well I’m just glad you’re okay. I can’t believe she did that!” Kennedy said.

  “I can’t believe it either. Can we just go home and get away from these crazy people?” I said.

  13

  SOCIAL RESUSCITATION

  After a few weeks of seclusion from my mild scuffle with Dina, cabin fever was setting in yet again. It had been months since all the bullshit with Dresden went down, and I’d gone out less than a handful of times since then. I was eager to start going out on a regular basis, but the only local friend I had was Faye, and I knew she went to the same places in Hollywood that the girls did. I certainly didn’t want to take a chance running into them, now that I knew arm-to-arm combat was on the table. I needed to find a group of friends that didn’t include those bitches. Luckily, my social resuscitation came in the form of a Japanese girl named Ramie.

  Ramie was a friend of Kennedy’s who had moved to L.A. from Japan a few years earlier. She was skinny with big boobs and a perfectly coiffed black bob. She spoke in broken English with a soft pixie voice and had been living in a loft near Sunset and La Brea. Her parents still lived in Japan and would send her gobs of money every month under the assumption she was going to college.

  Shortly after Kennedy and I started hanging out at Ramie’s, her parents felt she wasn't being productive with her time in Los Angeles. Okay, it was more like they found out she had dropped out of college. Not wanting to completely pull the financial rug out from under her, they decided to slice her monthly allowance in half. Since she wasn’t able to afford her loft any longer, she ended up moving to a house in Burbank with her Boston friends John, Eric, and Greg. I had met Greg once before when he used to run The Church. I also knew that he and Brent Muscat were tied in with the Blackboard Jungle crowd because they had recently recorded an album for them.

  BRITT ( Blackboard Jungle): We were playing a club called God Save the Queen in downtown L.A. with either Junkyard or Black Cherry,and wehad recently givenBrentMuscata demotape.Hesaid hewouldcomeby theshow,butwedidn’tbelievehim.Butthatnight, there he was in the front row while we were playing, “Paint You a Picture”.Thatwasa pinnaclechangingnightfortheband. It wasn’t long after that we recorded the ‘I Like it A lot’album with him and GregWarkel.

  The weekend Ramie moved into the Burbank house, I decided to borrow my dads truck to help her out. As a thank you to Kennedy and I for helping her move, she offered to make us a homemade Japanese dinner later that evening. Once all of Ramie’s things were finally unloaded, I decided to run to the market to grab a few goodies for dinner. But when I tried to start my dad’s truck, the damn thing was dead as a doornail.

  I came back into the house to complain, and Eric said he’d call Dave, the guitarist of Blackboard Jungle. According to Eric, not only was he a great guitar player but also a skilled grease monkey, who would probably fix my car for the reasonable price of a Big Gulp and some Michelob. Sure enough, Dave showed up to the Burbank house a few hours later. He had his long red hair pulled back into a ponytail and was sipping on the last bits of a Big Gulp as he walked in.

  Dave and I walked out to my dad’s truck and he popped the hood. After some tweaking around the engine and scratching his head, he mumbled in automotive lingo exactly what was wrong with my car. What I did understand was that my out of pocket expenses totaled about $100. This included parts for the truck and the labor fee consisting of a 12-pack of Michelob.

  I hopped in his car, and we talked about our mutual love for Star Wars as he drove us to Pep Boys. I figured he had suggested Michelob because he felt bad about having me spend money on a more expensive beer. I even offered to buy him something different, but he wasn’t budging. He wanted what he wanted and that was Michelob.

  When we got back to the Burbank house, Dave went right to work and wiggled underneath my dad’s truck. I’m not sure why, but I felt the need to keep him company as he worked. So I sat on the curb, and we talked more about Star Wars and how cool it would be if we each owned our own light saber.

  An hour later, he crawled out from underneath the truck and lit up a cigarette with his oil-covered hands. He ran his arm over his head to get the small pieces of hair out of his face as he leaned into the engine and started tugging at random hoses. For some strange reason, he started mumbling the lyrics to “Achy Breaky Heart”. A few verses in, he sidestepped right into the driver’s seat of the truck where he was able to start up the engine.

  “You are a genius,” I said. He took a big drag off his cigarette and said, “Yeah, I know.”

  With the truck back in working order, we headed into the house, and I helped Kennedy set up the dining table for Ramie’s Japanese buffet. We set up dishes and lit a few candles while the boys sat on the couch and drank beer. Ramie mentioned some of the other guys in Blackboard Jungle were supposed to come over later, which had Kennedy squealing with excitement. She had a huge crush on the singer, Kenny Price, and every time someone walked in the front door, she’d perch up like a prairie dog in the hopes that it would be him.

  While I continued setting the table, Ramie asked me if I had ever tried Saki before. I told her I hadn’t. Eric and John immediately chimed in and suggested we do Saki bombs, which are basically dropping a shot of Saki into half a glass of Japanese beer, then chugging responsibly.

  As I listened to John and Eric talk, I noticed they had a weird accent. I knew they were from the east coast, but it certainly wasn’t a familiar New York a
ccent like Dresden or Bam’s that I was accustomed to.

  “Where exactly are you guys from?” I asked.

  “Boston. What about you?” Eric said.

  “So that’s where it comes from? I’m from L.A.”

  “Wheh what comes from?” Eric asked.

  “Would you like anothah beeh,” I said in a bad Boston accent.

  “Um, okay like whateverrr dude,” Eric said in valley talk.

  “Eww! I don't sound like that!” I whined.

  “Like omigod you totally do!”

  “Whatevaah, no I don't!”

  “Grody to the max you do!”

  “I don't have an accent. YOU have an accent!” I barked.

  “You like have an accent dudette. Like TOTALLY,” Eric said with his hand on his hip.

  We both stood eye to eye for a moment and started laughing.

  “Do I really sound that bad?” I asked.

  “No, but you do say 'like' way too much,” he said matter of factly.

  Over the next hour, the Saki bombs continued to flow as we stuffed ourselves with freshly made Japanese food. One by one, as food coma set in, everyone made their way to the living room and started sprawling out across the furniture like a bunch of beached seals. I was wiping down the dining room table when a random guy opened the front door and shuffled in. In my Saki induced haze, he didn't look even remotely familiar.

  “Marisa, this is Jamie Scrap,” Eric said.

  “Hey. Nice to meet you,” he said as he threw his jacket and bag on the couch.

  The house phone rang. Since I was the closest to it, I answered it.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Hi, who's this?” the male voice asked.

  “It's Marisa. Who's this?”

  “Oh hey Marisa, it's Kenny.”

  I threw a packet of sugar at Kennedy’s head to get her attention.

  “Oh HI KENNY, what's up?” I said making kissy faces at Kennedy.

  Kennedy’s eyes immediately lit up.

  “Not a whole lot. Is Jamie there?” he asked.

  “Yeah, he just walked in,” I said as I passed the phone over to Jamie.

  They spoke for a few moments, and then Jamie hung up the phone.

  “Is he coming over?” Kennedy asked with hope in her voice.

  Jamie wiped the long black hair from his eyes and said, “Nah. He's fighting with his girlfriend again, so he's staying home.”

  Glossy eyed, Kennedy slowly looked back over to Ramie and me.

  “Why doesn't Kenny like me?” Kennedy asked.

  Oh lord. Drunken tears are the worst, I thought.

  Kennedy’s emotions had a tendency to get heightened when mixed with alcohol. I knew it was only a matter of time before the floodgates opened, so I immediately dove into a conversation with Jamie. We had an interesting Beatles vs. Stones conversation. I wasn’t too familiar with the music of the Stones, other than songs I had heard on the radio. I admitted this to Jamie, and he looked at me like I had just spoken a language he didn’t understand. He told me he would make me a Rolling Stones fan, then got up and started digging around in his bag. Meanwhile, Kennedy’s tears were in full effect on the other side of the living room, and I heard her say she wasn’t feeling well, so Ramie took her to the bathroom.

  After rummaging through his bag, Jamie pulled out a CD and handed it to me. It was Rolling Stone’s, Let it Bleed. He told me if I was ever going to be a Stones fan that would be the album to suck me in. We talked more about our favorite bands, and Faster Pussycat came up in the conversation. He told me that Brent hung around the Burbank house from time to time.

  While the very thought of hanging around Brent Muscat had me frothing at the mouth, I really hoped it wouldn’t happen that night. I must’ve had about five or six Saki bombs over the course of the evening. I was on the verge of being a total lush and certainly in no condition to make a positive impression on Brent. I casually asked Jamie if he knew whether or not Brent was coming over that night, and he told me he was in Vegas for the weekend. Hallelujah!

  A little while later, a funny character named Joe Howard strolled in the door. He had these hysterical one-liners and we somehow got on the subject of the afterhours club, The Church.

  JOE HOWARD:Irememberthefirsttimethecopsca metoThe Church.They said,“Heywhat’s goingoninhere?” Andwe hadtoput up signs that said, “Brent Muscat’s Birthday Bash”. So Greg said every week we’re going to have a new birthday party. One week it was Greg’s birthday, the next it would be mine, then John’s. It was hilarious.Wecalledthe$20entrancefee“a donation”.Ifyouwanted boozeit was a$5“donation”.But everyoneknewwhatthedrillwas, if youdidn’t pay,youweren’t gettingshit.

  Wealwayshadsomeoneinthetowerwith apolicescannertoo. UsuallyitwasGreglookingout.Onetimehewaslike,“Dude yougotta get up here!” So I went up to the tower because he thought the cops wereontohim.Theyweresayingsomekindofcodelike,“the location, the location”andGregis like,“Dude they’re talkingabout us!” because they were saying, “Why are all these cars parked in middle of nowhere? These people have to be going somewhere.” He ran downstairs, grabbed about $15,000 in cash, ran back up to the tower andhandedit tome.He saidfor me tostayupthere incase we gotraided.So I’msitting up inthetowerwith fucking$15,000and herecomethe cops stormingthe place.It was fuckingscary.Iput the money down my pants, climbed down the tower, jumped over the wrought iron fence, and hid in a parked car for an hour. If the cops would’vefoundme,I would’vebeenfucked.

  GREG WAR KEL: I remember the night The Church got shut down.TheguysfromArmored Saintweregonnaplayasasurpriseat the endof the set.Ithinkit was Blackboardor Imagine WorldPeace, oneofthosebandswereclosing.Wehad abelltoweranda coupleof guyswalking ontheroofwithheadsets. Theywouldtelluswhatwas going onaround thestreetbecauseitwasinanindustrialarea.They called me and said there were ten cop cars sitting at the end of the street, so obviously we knew they were getting ready to raid the place.

  I told the bartenders to quit serving, tell everyone the drinks were free and to help themselves. I did it to cause a confusion while meandmyguysgotoutofthere,andofcourseitworked.Oncethey said,“freedrinks!”the bar got mobbed.It was like ants comingout of an anthill. We took all the money from the bar and the door. I was just about to walk out the front door when I saw the cops coming throughthe gate,soIwent out the bathroomwindow.

  Copsweretryin g to grab people,soIjumpedintosome girl’scar. I hadnoideawhoshewas, Ijusttoldher,“Gogo!Drive!” We tookoff, and she ended up dropping me off at my place where I met up with the rest of the guys.

  The next afternoon, I think it was Beaubien that went back there tocleanup.Aguywearingnormallookingclotheswalkedinand asked himifheowned theplace.Beaubien knewit was anundercover agent,so hesaid hewasn’ttheownerandjustgotpaidtocleanthe place every Sunday. The agent asked him who paid him. He said he didn’t know and that someone just leaves $100 under a rock every Sunday afternoon when hecomestoclean. TheChurch hada goodrun though,it went for about four or five months.

  As spring kicked in, Kennedy and I settled into our new social circle at the Burbank house. She would quietly swoon whenever Kenny popped by, and I made sure to always look my best in the event I would run into Brent.

  JOE HOWARD:IrememberMu scat was at the house one night.I hadjuststartedtogettoknowhim,butIthoughthewasadick.The beer was running out at the party, and he pissed into one of the bottlesand putitinthefrig.Idon’tknowwhyhewould do that,butI grabbed itand almostdrankit.Iwasgonnafucking murderhim.Itold himIwasgoingtokillhim,andheendedupleavingtheparty.

  KENNYPRICE( BlackboardJungle):I rememberonenightatthe Burbank housewhen Istayedupallnightdrinkingandpartyingwith BrittandJamie.Wewereon thecouch in thelivingroombeing loud, and Eric came out of his bedroom and was like, “Shut the fuck up!” because he had to get up for work early at 5am. And we were like, “Fuckyou!” and keptdrinking tillabout3 inthemorning.Wefinally passed outand thenat5:30inthemorning,Ericgotup.Heturnedon all the lights and started screaming at us in his Boston accent, “EVERYBODYGETTHE FU
CKUP!IT’STIME FORME TOGOTOWORK! GET UPBITCHES!”WhataMasshole.

  GREG WARKEL: Eric would do that almost every morning. He andBeaubien didconstructionbackthen,sotheyalways hadtoget up really early for work. I’d come home around 2am or so with a few people, and sometimes they’d get up and drink with us. But then they’d be pissed because they’d have to get up so early for work. I don’tknowhowtheygotanysleep becausethiswashappening about 5 or6 nightsaweek.If Eric hadbeenupdrinkingwithus,he’dcome intomyroomwhenhewasgettingreadyfor work,turnonmylight andyell,“Wake up!It’s time for me togotowork!”He’dslamdoors, turnonmusic,andbangcabinets.

  DAVEZINK( BlackboardJungle):I rememberhangingoutatthe Burbank houseonenightwhen Greg’sRottweiler,Thaddeus,strolledin. Therewerea bunch ofushangingoutinthelivingroomhavingdrinks, andwenoticedthedogwasactingweird.Hehackedafew times,and I thinkitwasEricthatsaid,“I thinkthedogis gonnaupchuck.”

  Allofasudden ,this dogcut loose from his rear endwithwhat lookedlikeafirehoseofblack coffeethatsprayedagainstthefront door and window. It was the most disgusting sight I’ve ever seen in mylife.Heshatforaneternity.Gregwasinthebackroom,andwe startedyellingfor himtocome out.Bythattime,Thaddeusmusthave cut loose withtwogallonsofshitacrossthewall.Needlessto say,the party was over shortly after that happened. I lived there for a prolonged period of time after that, and every time I walked up to that door I would think, “Was there poo here? Should I not touch there?”

  The best thing about hanging out in the Blackboard circle was I didn’t have to worry about running into Cassidy, Amie, and Dina. The girls weren’t friends with anyone in the Blackboard crowd. They never went to any of their shows or hung out at the places we went to, not even in Hollywood. It was a welcome relief to finally go out and not have to worry about getting into another boxing match.

  We used to spend a lot of time at a dive bar down the street from the Burbank house that was run by a crazy, old man named Cecil. He was drunk 100% of the time and charged little to no money for the copious amount of alcohol we'd consume. Naturally, it became one of our favorite bars to go to.