As my search for knowledge and truth deepened I would get the answers to my questions. Even as a little kid I knew life was about something bigger and something deeper. I wanted something more than just a normal life which basically involved going to high school, then college, finding a job, having a wife and kids and then death. My life was anything but normal and I constantly had this feeling as early as I can remember. I had to figure out the puzzle and answer questions like, who am I? Where am I from? And most importantly, where the hell was I going? Even from age nine when I saw a dead body, my first reaction as I looked at him in that coffin was, "What's the difference between the guy lying here and the guy I saw two days ago running around?" I constantly looked up to the heavens and asked God why I was being put through this hell. As I found more answers at 171A, I realized that things were happening exactly the way they were supposed to on this bumpy ride called life and it couldn't have been any other way.
Not all the punks on the scene were so dull spiritually. I met this really cool dude named Tomas from Spain. He was a real political-type and a thinker. We would get into some serious discussions about everything and one of our rituals was going down to St. Mark's to panhandle so we could get money, buy weed, smoke it, talk philosophy and meditate. Tomas had a Mohawk that was 100 percent natural. He didn't need to cut it that way, because he was suffering from Alopecia Areata, a disease where the hair on your entire body falls out. Bottom line, if God gives you a Mohawk, you know you're punk!
In November of '81, I was invited to my mom's house for Thanksgiving, but I didn't really want to go because I still held a lot of resentment toward her. Tomas said we should go and I realized I had to learn to be more forgiving about the past in order to grow in the future. As we sat at the dinner table chatting away and about to say grace, my grandfather told Tomas to take his hat off. When he did, there was dead silence. Then my grandpa being the class clown he was yells out, "Holy shit, Pilgrims. It's the Last of the Mohicans!" They couldn't stop laughing and neither could Tomas and I.
Tomas was very intelligent and had a really cool vibe. He was soft-spoken and very humble. He was squatting in this empty apartment on 10th Street between B and C, and offered to let me move in. Since 171 had no shower or kitchen facilities, I jumped at the opportunity. He said he didn't know how long we had until we would get evicted, but I figured what the hell, I'll stay here until the landlord comes knocking and then I'd figure out something else. What was really cool about staying with Tomas was we were both on the same path in life. We were searching. We talked philosophy for hours on end, went to yoga classes almost every day and spent our nights hanging out at 171 or going to gigs. I still remember our first yoga class at the Integral Yoga Institute on the West Side because I was sitting next to this old lady and every time she bent into a stretch she ripped the loudest fart, which broke my meditation and made me laugh my ass off. After class the instructor made an announcement that for the benefit of the others, it wasn't a good idea to eat before class and I said, "Yeah, especially when you got no BMC (bowel movement control)."
We even went out to Queens once to hear Krishnamurti speak, or at least that's what I thought was going to happen. All he did was walk into the room, sit down close his eyes and then every one else followed suit. I looked at Tomas like, "What the fuck is this?" After about forty minutes had passed the dude next to me, who was asleep with his head on my shoulder, started snoring. I so wanted to push him off, but I didn't. After an hour Krishnamurti opened his eyes and the dude up front rang this little bell signaling everyone else to break their meditation, or in other words, wake the fuck up. The guy whose drool now covered my shoulder looked at me and said, "Did you feel it?" I pointed down at my soaked shirt and said, "What? Your hot-ass, bad breath on my neck?"
This dude Krishnamurti had some racket going. He charged twenty bucks, never said one damn word and then sold a shit load of his books in the lobby. I truly felt like I just got hustled. It was like the more we kept looking, the more we found that these people posing themselves as spiritualists were full of shit. The sannyasis in the yoga centers, who are supposed to be in the renounced order of life, were having sex with their female disciples. The so-called philosopher gurus charged twenty plus dollars to hear them speak, or in Krishnamurti's case, sleep. It just seemed like everywhere we turned on our search we ran into snake-oil salesmen. We saw the most bizarre example of this from Michael Cesa on 10th Street who called himself "The Pope" (who was later known as the "Pope of Pot"). He ran a storefront called, "The Church of the Realized Fantasies," and get this ravers and club kids…he gave out hits of free ecstasy (which was still legal at the time) as the Blessed Sacrament during Mass. The Pope was a blatant homosexual and he would invite boys back to his church, get them high on X and have his way with them. Sounds a little like the Catholic Church, doesn't it?
It's said that this is the age of the cheaters and the cheated. If you want to cheat spiritually then you'll join a bunch of cheaters and the leader, who's the best cheater of all, will cheat you too. But, if you truly are searching for the truth you'll find it. Well, I was and so was Tomas. After all the meetings and seminars we went to, we knew our search had to go on. But in the meantime there was a punk rock revolution happening, and this time, this revolution was going to be televised.
It was Halloween '81 and Tomas and I were wondering what the hell we were going to do that night. That's when I ran into Ian MacKaye and some of my boys from D.C. They told me that, Fear was going to be on Saturday Night Live that evening and they could get me in if I showed up to NBC studio inside Rockefeller Center. I invited some of the New York punks and later that evening as we waited on line to get into the studio hallway, the scene was complete and total chaos. A few of the normal audience members were absolutely terrified as we screamed punk lyrics, slam danced and basically raised hell. Some NBC producer-types came out, saw what was going on and separated the two groups. They were led into the studio and allowed to take their seats as a small contingent that included me, Tomas, Ian MacKaye and a bunch of the D.C. posse, were taken backstage to the dressing room. When I walked in, John Belushi was hanging out and drinking with Lee Ving, the singer of Fear.
As it turns out, they sent those producer clowns to get us because Belushi wanted to meet everyone and make sure we really showed America what punk rock was all about. The way this whole thing went down (as I mentioned on MTV's news documentary, Social History of the Mosh Pit) was Lee was friends with Belushi and he convinced the SNL executive producer and creator Lorne Michaels to let Fear be a musical guest. Lee invited the D.C. punks, they invited me and I invited the NYC punks. Belushi was a really cool dude. He was like a ball of energy that could explode at any moment, kind of like that scene in Animal House where he stands up in the cafeteria and yells, "Food Fight!" I shook his hand and introduced myself, hoping to jog his memory by telling him I was the guy with the Black Flag Kills Ants On Contact shirt at their last New York show and how he sent me flying across the dance floor. He just laughed and said something like, "Yeah, man. I was really fuckin' wasted that night." We hung out with him for a little bit and assured them that this country was about to witness history in the making - their first slam dancing.
After about twenty minutes, the producer dude came and got us and led us and the forty or fifty other punks into another room, which was empty except for a piano and a few chairs. There was this window that faced the studio and you could see all the sets and the stage where Fear was about to play. The NBC dude told us that for the first song and the duration of the show we were to stay in this room. When Fear played their final song at the end of the show we would be led onto the set where we had to behave ourselves. Well, that did not sit well with us and as soon as he left the room we trashed it. We practically ripped every string out of that piano, broke chairs, walls, sinks in the bathroom and slam danced down the halls only taking a break to cram against the window and watch Fear play their first song. Then it was back to raising hell and after a while a guy came and locked the door to the room so we couldn't leave at all.
Finally, it was time. Our moment of glory was upon us. We were led down some stairs, then a hall and finally stood in front of a huge door that read: studio entrance. The door opened and the bright stage lights blinded me like one of those UFO landing scenes from a movie. We were given some more instructions on how to behave by several very nervous NBC studio personnel. As we were led inside I thought to myself, " How fuckin' funny is this? I'm AWOL from the Navy and a wanted man, and here I am about to be on national TV."
As we walked onto the set, our chains, spurs and steel cap boots clanked away. We must have sounded eerie as hell to the straight-laced audience. Once they got a glimpse of us the audience collectively gasped and then some big, scary-looking punk rocker pointed at them and yelled, "You motherfuckers are gonna die!" This had them cowering in their seats and a few were so worried they even got up and left. We went to the front of the stage and waited anxiously for Fear to emerge as Belushi joined us. He looked pretty high and was slamming people around before the music even started playing. The stage was covered in dozens of pumpkins and at first I was like, "What's up with the pumpkins?" Than it hit me, "Oh, shit that's right. It's Halloween."
What's bugged-out though is I'm sure some of the audience members probably thought we were some kind of Halloween gag and were part of the show. Get it? Fear = scary punkers. Fear walked out on stage and grabbed their instruments and when they did we went nuts, screaming and yelling. People started slamming into each other, and everyone, including myself, looked for the cameras. Punks always talk shit about posers and this and that, but let me tell you, when a punk's got a camera rolling on him believe me, they know how to ham it up with the best of them. At that point actor Donald Pleasence, the host for the evening, came on and announced Fear and more importantly, warned the audience that this was no Halloween gag. I got a copy of the tape from Spit Stix, Fear's drummer and Pleasence's exact words were "They're really nice people ya know." Pleasence laughed and continued. "They uhhh…look very frightening, but they're really very nice…our Halloween guests. By the way tonight…look out for surprises. Ladies and gentlemen, Fear." With that Fear broke into "Beef Bologna" and I hit the stage, launching out over the crowd in perfect stage dive form.
The place went absolutely nuts as the dance floor exploded into complete and utter chaos. Some punks were running in the aisles and diving onto audience members sitting on the folding chairs. Those poor bastards ran for cover along with the NBC staffers as Belushi went wild, skanking across the dance floor and laying people out. The NBC cameras only shot what was happening on stage, but out on the dance floor a fight was brewing between the D.C. and New York punks. It left a couple of the D.C.'ers hurt (I believe one even suffered a broken nose) and by the time Fear played their last song, "New York's Alright…If You Like Saxophones," fistfights broke out all over the studio. I was neutral because I was cool with people from both camps. Besides, I was way too busy trying to get on camera to get caught up in dumb shit like that. NBC security people were trying to get us out of the studio and a few of them made the crucial mistake of coming out onto the dance floor. Not a good idea and towards the end of that song the fighting got worse. That's when Ian MacKaye grabbed the mic and yelled live on national TV, "Fuck New York! New York Sucks!"
Even Lee tried to cover that one up by saying, "Awe, he don't mean that," and Fear quickly went into, "Let's Have a War." Sure that'll help the situation Lee. NBC cut the show off the air as soon as Ian cursed (I believe that was the first time that ever happened) and they ran a tape of an Eddie Murphy skit, but back in the studio we were still going nuts. We now had ten security guys in NBC jackets trying to get us out of the studio and screaming that they were going to call the cops if we didn't leave. Since Fear was still playing, we weren't going anywhere.
As a way to defuse the situation, the head honcho of security came on stage, grabbed the mic and told us that the police were on their way and blah, blah, blah. It didn't matter, because Tomas picked up a pumpkin and threw it, hitting him in the head and knocking him down. That's when the pumpkin fight started. Pumpkins were flying everywhere. A camera was knocked over, monitors were smashed and mics were thrown. The fisticuffs died down and we were still laughing our asses off when the cops rushed in with riot gear. The D.C. and N.Y. punks took off running side-by-side with the cops in hot pursuit who were trying to take our head's off with their billy clubs. They chased us down the halls of Rockefeller Center and out into the NYC Halloween festivities where we easily blended into the crowds of ghouls and goblins walking the streets.
On the following Monday, the New York Post front page headline read: "SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE RIOT DESTROYS $250,000." SNL claimed in their book that it was a lot less, but I just think they didn't want to look like a bunch of schmucks for not seeing that disaster in the making. I mean c'mon guys, you let a band named Fear play on national TV on Halloween night and invited seventy-five or so of their craziest slam dancers to the set, Belushi included. Smooth move. One thing's for sure though, we definitely gave the good old U.S. something they never saw before. To this day that is the one episode of SNL, NBC has vowed to NEVER re-air. (Elvis Voice Here) "Why thank you very much