Punk Rock Blitzkrieg
Page 42
When I got to the third floor, I knew it might be a long morning so I asked a young woman in the hallway hacking away at a laptop computer where the men’s room was. She pointed farther down the hallway and I thanked her.
Entering the courtroom, the first thing I noticed was that Lana Clarkson’s side was packed with friends and relatives. The other side was just Rachelle and now me. Phil Spector preferred mono to stereo, and he had gotten it. As I settled in, I noticed one of the jurors—a white guy probably in his early thirties—had on a Ramones T-shirt. It was the first positive experience of my morning.
I listened as the district attorney presented evidence. It didn’t seem like much. They had a sport jacket with a little bit of blood on it. It seemed anyone firing a .38 from that range would have been absolutely drenched in blood. They had no motive. Instead, they presented accounts of the legendary producer waving and sometimes firing a warning shot in a recording studio many years earlier. It was famously eccentric behavior. And, as I knew only too well, famously exaggerated. What it had to do with putting a gun in the mouth of a forty-year-old struggling actress you had just met and then pulling the trigger was beyond me.
Every so often Phil turned around, looked right at me, and gave me a smirk. It was like Gold Star studios, where we were pretty much in synch. I knew exactly what he was thinking. Is that all they got?
I was upset the next day in court. The harmless-looking woman who had pointed me to the men’s room was a blogger who stalked celebrity criminal cases. She posted that she had covered a lot of trials in her time but on that day spotted the two most evil-looking people she had ever seen walk into a courtroom: Phil Spector and Marky Ramone. She went on to describe every item of clothing I was wearing, making a case even weaker than the DA’s.
I thought about the metal detector I had just gone through for a second straight day. Through that metal detector over the years had undoubtedly passed rapists, child molesters, and mass murderers. Compared with that, you had a legendary record producer and a punk rocker in what she called Converse. She had even gotten the shoes wrong.
But as I calmed myself down, I realized I was distraught over something else, too. The juror with the Ramones shirt from the day before was gone. Disappeared like a political enemy in Argentina. Someone from “the people’s” side figured out that Phil Spector, over a quarter century before, had produced a Ramones album. That album, as it turned out, had over time become the biggest-selling record the seminal punk rock group ever had. But it didn’t help Phil Spector much then, and it wasn’t helping him at all now. It was well past the end of the century. And perhaps the only person who stood between Phil Spector and another hung jury had been taken away by the KKK.
On May 29, 2009, Phil Spector was sentenced to nineteen years to life after being convicted on a second-degree murder charge. The last time I saw him, he was awaiting sentencing. He drove up with Rachelle and the two behemoth bodyguards in his Roll-Royce Silver Shadow to one of his favorite restaurants in Pasadena, where Marion and I were already waiting. When we sat down, Phil seemed relaxed. The impending sentencing barely came up. Instead, he told stories about Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, and his longtime bodyguard, George. Phil asked us to come to the castle after dinner, but I told him we really just needed to get back to the hotel and sleep. I hugged Phil and his wife, wished them well, and that was the last time I saw him.
When I heard about the sentencing on a cable news channel, it hit hard. Maybe the DA’s office went after Phil Spector with such a vengeance after striking out in high-profile fashion first with O.J. then Robert Blake. Maybe Phil Spector’s defense had blown it. Whatever the case, I thought back to the time we were all made to listen to the opening of “Rock ’n’ Roll High School” again and again and again. The principal players in the studio that afternoon were now all gone in one way or another. And I thought, Maybe bad luck comes in fours.
Good luck, I’ve learned, comes in thousands, maybe millions. I’m still very happily married to my childhood sweetheart. I’ve been sober for more than thirty years. My show on SiriusXM goes out via satellite to all fifty states and Canada and is entering its tenth year. Fans keep coming to the concerts in thousands, and giving them what they want is what I love.
There are different ways to accomplish that, but my way is to put together a very professional band and take it over the top. We spend a good part of each year in far-flung hotels and go to places that not long ago were entirely off the punk map—Vietnam, Dubai, Serbia, Colombia, the Philippines, China, and even Russia. Rocket to Russia, a tongue-in-cheek title, became a reality. A whole new generation is discovering the bold, unpolished beauty of the punk song—two minutes to convey your message of love, hate, anger, joy, frustration, fun, sarcasm, war, politics, or sometimes just an inside joke among you and your friends.
When we played Beijing for the first time in 2007, waving the punk flag high, the culture shock was mostly mine. At first I noticed a few people on bikes and on foot wearing respirators over their faces. They reminded me a bit of the masks I sometimes wore when I did demolition work. I thought these folks were perhaps fighting off some kind of new Asian flu until I realized there were thousands and thousands of city dwellers wearing these masks. They couldn’t all be sick or on their way to a construction site. Then someone explained to me the masks were to protect them against air pollution.
Fortunately, punk was in the air, too. At an outdoor stadium packed with nineteen thousand screaming kids and former kids, even the hip-hop group Public Enemy was infected. They played “Blitzkrieg Bop” along with my band as the fans went crazy behind tall security fences and rows of police wearing white gloves. In China, chaos is a very controlled affair. And I thought, Given how unlikely it was for these kids to adopt this music in the first place, the future really is wide open.
When we traveled to play Vietnam not long after, a bunch of government officials woke us up at six in the morning the day of the first show to review our songs. We faced five solemn-looking bureaucrats behind a long table. They pored over CDs the way they once pored over US military propaganda. After a while, however, they gave us the green light. I had to wonder whether they really understood the New York–bred cutting sarcasm of songs like “Commando” and “53rd & 3rd.” Probably not. But if ever one day they did, we would know Vietnam was truly free.
It’s been said that if everyone who claims they were at Woodstock really was there, Joni Mitchell would have sung about half a billion rather than half a million people. Sometimes it seems like it’s getting that way with the Ramones. Major acts who back in the day would sooner have had a ventriloquist open for them sometimes make it sound like they were headbanging in the first row at CBGB circa 1976.
Sometimes it seems the “half a billion” fantasy may actually become a reality for the worldwide punk nation. When we tour, it’s no oldies act. More than half of the audience is under twenty-five, and about half of them haven’t reached sixteen yet. These kids are just discovering punk rock, and they bring more friends back with them every year. We went from playing a hole in the wall to playing stadiums. And there is no end in sight. We always knew we had the greatest fans in the world, and now there are more of them than ever.
Not that our generation has gone away. Far from it. While punk back in the day was thought of as in the moment, it’s now the stuff of legacies. I recently received an email from a couple throwing a Rock ’n’ Roll High School pajama party for their kids. The parents wanted to know if Marky could call the house around 9 p.m., when the movie was about midway through. It’s not important that I happened to be catching some shut-eye on tour halfway around the globe. What is important and kind of unexpected is that sometime between the seventies and today, the music we made by the seat of our pants against all odds somehow became “timeless.”
The requests I get never cease to amaze me. I’m often asked to sit in with multiplatinum bands covering Ramones songs. And who would ever have thought the lyrics from �
��We’re a Happy Family” would come true? I recently found out Pope Francis and President Obama are Ramones fans. Every day is an adventure.
I see countless people around the globe wearing Ramones T-shirts. That’s a good thing, but I often wonder if it’s like the Che Guevara T-shirts worn by people who don’t know who Che Guevara is. Or if they can name the guys on the shirt.
If I had more time I’d be happy to tell them who these guys really were. The significance of John’s politics was overblown. No matter how bossy he sometimes got in the van, the America he loved was ultimately about freedom. Dee Dee was a poet trapped in a punk body. He never quite found the freedom he was looking for on earth, but the ride he gave the rest of us was liberating. Joey was a punk hippie who found an odd, self-styled freedom down in the basement of his mother’s art store, wrapped it up, and gave it to the world as a gift.
John, Dee Dee, Joey, and all the wonderful people we worked with in the Ramones as well as our friends in other bands were blessed and cursed by the same thing: they were way ahead of their time. I am incredibly lucky to have known all of them and to have lived long enough to realize something very important. The time they were looking forward to is now.
My grandfather, the chef, relaxing in Florida.
At the top of the Empire State Building with Fred and Mom.
Hurrah for the Beatles.
Mom and Dad.
Dust. (Courtesy of Alan Weinstock)
Early merchandizing.
Dust playing live. (Courtesy of Alan Weinstock)
Dust at the New York State Theater. (Courtesy of Alan Weinstock)
The Backstreet Boys. (Copyright © by Leee Black Childers)
Showing support for Wayne County.
My better half.
Me and Johnny Thunders, both born on July 15. (Copyright © 2015 by Eileen Polk)
Wayne County—Man Enough to Be a Woman. (Copyright © 2015 by Eileen Polk)
Me, Arturo Vega, and Sid and Nancy at CBGB. (Copyright © 2015 by Eileen Polk)
Richard Hell and me in New York. (Copyright © by Chris Stein)
The Voidoids circa Blank Generation. (Copyright © by Chris Stein)
The infamous Ramones van.
Guess what Marion’s doing?
Me and my car “Bully” at Coney Island. The Hornet had the same ride—a Chrysler Imperial.
My work is play.
With the Queen of Punk, Debbie Harry.
My friend, Phil Spector.
In New York with Roger Daltrey.
Tony Bennett—Tony’s cool. Washington, DC.
KISS and my friend Mark Neuman.
My childhood idol Dave Clark has the best snare drum sound.
Talking Beatles with Ozzy Osbourne. (Courtesy of Aimee Osbourne)
In England with Robert Plant.
The night Bono presented me with MTV’s Lifetime Achievement Award.
Lemmy the Great.
Hanging with Green Day in Italy.
With Joan Jett, a big Ramones fan.
Ginger Baker (center) . . .
. . . and Charlie Watts are two of my drum idols.
Seymour Stein, the headman at Sire Records. A great guy.
Joking around with Eddie Vedder, Los Angeles.
My man Anthony Bourdain.
Andrew W.K. is the King of Party.
Me and the best fans in the world.
Hey Ho.
Visiting my handprint at the Rock Walk in LA.
Chaos to couture—dressed to kill for the Met Gala.
The beat goes on. . . .
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to Mark Neuman. And thank you to Gertrude Bell, Meyer Rossabi, Francis Vitello, Charles Carpenter, Matthias Prill, David Riu, Andres Vignolo, Bonnie Slifken, Ray and Daang Goodman, Andrew Hilfiger, Tommy Hilfiger, Karen Mamont, Linda Aroz, Harvey Leeds, Cheryl Neuman, Andrew Wilkes-Krier, Linda Spinner, Bryan Cullen, Steve Leeds, Seymour Stein, Daniel Boulud, Anthony Bourdain, Peter Criss, Vera Ramone, Roy Rosenthal, Steve Lewis, Nancy Sayle, Vinny Damino, DJ Ringo, Doug Mustang, Angel Nokonoko, Andrea Rock, Steve Blatter, Gary Diaz, Jim Bessman, Larry Kilroy, Eddie Clark, Steve Leeds, Will Pendarvis, David Chiedkel, Stacy Creamer, Paul Carpenter, Stephen King, Chip Ruggieri, Andrew W.K., Graham Vanderveen, Monte Melnick, Kim Dillard, Tim Siedelbach, Gary Borres, Phil Spector, and Trigger.
Gone but not forgotten: Linda Stein, Bob Quine, Frank Barsalona, Gary Kurfirst, Ira Herzog, Kenny Kerner, Dee Dee Ramone, Joey Ramone, Johnny Ramone, Tommy Ramone, Leee Black Childers, Peter Bell, Arturo Vega, Charlotte Lescher, Bob Fitzpatrick, Neil Bogart, and Justin Leitner.
Additionally there have been an incredible amount of influences on my life beyond the music and here are some of them:
Drummers: Ringo Starr, Keith Moon, Hal Blaine, Mitch Mitchell, Buddy Rich, Dino Danelli, John Bonham, Dave Clark, and Benny Benjamin.
Bass players: Jack Bruce, James Jamerson, Paul McCartney, Kenny Aaronson, Carol Kaye, John Paul Jones, John Entwistle, Chuck Rainey, and Bill Wyman.
Guitarists: Jimi Hendrix, Johnny Thunders, Jimmy Page, Dave Davies, Bob Quine, Buddy Guy, George Harrison, Pete Townshend, and Wes Montgomery.
Producers: George Martin, Shadow Morton, Tom Dowd, Bob Crewe, Snuff Garrett, Mickie Most, Shel Talmy, Jimmy Miller, and Eddie Kramer.
Singers: Dion DiMucci, David Ruffin, Steve Marriott, John Lennon, Darlene Love, Mick Jagger, Frankie Valli, Eric Burdon, and Levi Stubbs.
Movies: Alien, Angels with Dirty Faces, On the Waterfront, Godzilla (1956), The Maltese Falcon, Raging Bull, A Hard Day’s Night, Giant, Man with the Golden Arm, and Bullitt.
Cars: 1963 Corvette Stingray, 1964 Aston Martin, 1968 Dodge Charger, 1965 Jaguar XKE, 1964 Buick Riviera, 1965 Pontiac GTO, 1967 Austin-Healey, 2014 Dodge Challenger, 1989 Mercedes 560 SEC, and 1963 Facel Vega II.
Born Marc Bell, MARKY RAMONE, a Brooklyn native, joined the Ramones in 1978. He was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2002 along with Johnny, Joey, Dee Dee, and Tommy and has received both a Grammy and an MTV Lifetime Achievement Award. Visit him online at MarkyRamone.com to keep up with all the latest.
MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT
SimonandSchuster.com
authors.simonandschuster.com/Marky-Ramone
Facebook.com/TouchstoneBooks
Twitter.com/TouchstoneBooks
Get email updates on
MARKY RAMONE,
exclusive offers and other great book recommendations from Simon & Schuster.
* * *
Visit newsletters.simonandschuster.com
Or scan below to sign up:
Get email updates on
RICH HERSCHLAG,
exclusive offers and other great book recommendations
from Simon & Schuster.
* * *
Visit newsletters.simonandschuster.com
Or scan below to sign up:
We hope you enjoyed reading this Touchstone eBook.
* * *
Join our mailing list and get updates on new releases, deals, bonus content and other great books from Touchstone and Simon & Schuster.
CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP
or visit us online to sign up at
eBookNews.SimonandSchuster.com
INDEX
A note about the index: The pages referenced in this index refer to the page numbers in the print edition. Clicking on a page number will take you to the ebook location that corresponds to the beginning of that page in the print edition. For a comprehensive list of locations of any word or phrase, use your reading system’s search function.
Aaronson, Kenny, 22, 30, 38, 41–42, 50, 57, 61, 75, 90
AC/DC, 128
Adam Ant, 208
Adios Amigos (Ramones), 353–54
Aerosmith, 74, 81, 128, 210
“Airwaves” (song), 244
Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), 300–302, 315, 340
alcoholism
addiction to, 288, 295
detox process, 298–99
/> NY rehab facilities, 290–91, 297–99
withdrawal symptoms, 288–89
Alligator Alley, 3
“All in All” (song), 60
“All My Loving” (song), 19
“All Quiet on the Eastern Front” (song), 251
Alphabet City neighborhood, 101
Altered States (movie), 247
alternative rock, 325
Alyson (Marky’s girlfriend), 25, 33
Amboy Dukes, 210
Amsterdam, 153–55