Artie Kane was in a band called The New York Dolls.
They were one of the founder punk bands.
Maybe even pre-punk/post glam-rock, if you’re purist.
Anyway they broke up in the mid eighties I guess.
Excess of everything as usual, drugs, booze, bad behaviour.
They were generally naughty boys.
Morrissey, who had been leader of their fan club when he was young, asked them to reform for a concert at The South Bank.
This was a godsend to Artie, who had been destitute since they broke up.
He’d been just about surviving in LA.
Living in a dump, spending every day finding some way to get wrecked.
He got badly mugged while stoned, and was near death for a while.
He said the only people who gave a damn were the Mormons.
So he joined their Church.
When he found he was coming to London for the concert he sent tickets for me and my family.
Artie and I had been mates at art school in New York in the late sixties, and shared an apartment.
I told my kids all the stories about those times.
I don’t think they believed me.
Until they met Artie.
He came to stay with us for the weekend following the concert.
Artie started reminiscing about the industrial quantities of drugs we (he?) did.
Grass and hash were like offering a cup of tea, merely a courtesy.
Then there was speed, LSD, seconol, Valium, Thorazine, DMT, THC, pscyllosibin, glue, coke, and heroin.
Oh yeah, and when he had no drugs, Artie would shoot whiskey straight into his vein.
We had a fridge full of Ready Whip cans that were useless.
These were cans of spray-on whipped cream, but the cream only dribbled out because Artie had sucked all the gas out.
He thought it was curious that when he’d come home with heroin I’d refuse to use a needle.
I’d say, “I’ll snort it Art, but I’m not shooting it.”
He’d say, “What are you Mr Straight, a fucking bank manager?”
In Artie’s world I was an eccentric Englishman.
Our ways parted about the time I graduated.
I wanted to work in advertising, Artie wanted the world of rock and roll.
So fast-forward thirty years.
After the concert, Artie was staying with us and we thought we’d take him to a restaurant for Sunday lunch.
My wife thought Pont de la Tour would be good.
Americans like it because it has view of Tower Bridge.
Then she met Artie and realised Tower Bridge wasn’t going to be his scene.
Camden Town would be more appropriate.
So we spent Sunday there, and Artie felt right at home.
To my kids he was like an eccentric old uncle.
They were walking around the market trying to make conversation with him.
My son pointed to a T-shirt with The Ramones on it.
He said, “Did you know The Ramones, Artie?”
Artie said, “Yeah, I used to go out with the same chick as Joey Ramone. She stabbed him in the ass and me in the hand.”
Well, he did ask.
Anyway, later that evening we had a quiet moment together, and I said to Artie, “Isn’t it time you thought about settling down, no more groupies?”
He said, “Yeah, you know I’ve met this chick I dig a lot.
She’s like very attractive you know.
In her thirties, with short blonde hair.”
Artie got strangely coy at this point.
“I’m kinda thinking of, you know, maybe asking her to marry me.”
I said that sounded like a good idea.
Artie said, “Yeah. But I think I have to ask her to stop hooking first. Waddya think?”
I said yeah, that was probably a good idea too.
The Mormons came to visit us while Artie was staying.
They were making a film about him that was eventually released as “New York Doll”.
They filmed Artie and me talking about the days at art school in Brooklyn.
But none of it made the final cut.
I don’t think the subject matter was what the Mormons really wanted in the film.
Like Artie talking about the time we took his friend’s Camaro up to Harlem to try to score.
We were so trashed we were driving around with the top down in January.
So everything inside the car, including us, was covered in a couple of inches of snow.
We crashed into a cab in Times Square while we were doing doughnuts.
I don’t think the Mormons wanted that in the film.
Or how we stole the 20’ long side off a truck to make two beds, and ended up being chased with it through the streets of Bedford Stuyvesant by the locals.
Or how we ate dog food because we were saving our money for dope.
(If you’ve ever seen a comic called ‘The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers’ by Gilbert Shelton, cross that with ‘Midnight Cowboy’ and you get the idea.)
I used to ask Artie if he wasn’t worried about getting addicted.
He used to say, “I ain’t worried because I’m not addicted to any particular drug, I’m just addicted to getting high.”
That sort of summed it up really.
Artie remembered things about those days that I’d forgotten.
He remembered I had nicked the domed top off a huge rubbish bin and sprayed it pink.
Then drilled a hole in the centre and put a bottle of Jack Daniels behind it, and a baby’s teat in the front.
Then hung it off the wall so we could all stand round sucking it.
I didn’t remember that.
But I did remember when Artie dropped out of college and I had to nag him to get a job to pay his share of the rent.
He got a job as a cabbie.
The first night out, on the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, he got a puncture. So he lit up a joint while he pondered what to do.
Then he noticed a liquor store nearby.
So he went and got a bottle of blackcurrant brandy to help him ponder some more.
Eventually he decided he was in no state to change the wheel himself.
So he called the cab company and they sent a guy in a truck.
When he’d finished changing the wheel Artie had finished several joints and the bottle of blackcurrant brandy.
He was too wrecked to drive.
So they had to tow the cab back to the garage.
The next morning I asked Art if he had the rent.
He said not only did he not have the rent, he now owed the cab company twenty seven dollars.
So he quit driving a cab and got a job servicing phone boxes.
One day his supervisor came with him to check why the takings were way down.
They went for a coffee and Artie offered to pay.
He took out a large bagful of dimes from his coat pocket and poured them on the counter.
So that job didn’t last long either.
In those days we all felt it was important to try absolutely everything.
Not to be repressed, it was important to break taboos.
One day Artie was discussing this with another guy in a coffee bar in the East Village.
They started discussing how they had never tried homosexuality, but felt they should.
I asked Artie what happened.
He said, “Well you know, we went back to his place, and I said whaddya think we should do? And he said, I dunno, we should probably take our clothes off or something.”
So I asked Artie what happened next.
He said, “Well, we’re standing around in our underpants and I say, maybe we should like do some foreplay. And he says okay. So I say, hey you look kinda cool you know? And he says, thanks you look kinda cool too.”
So I asked what happened next.
Artie says, “Well we kinda felt like we should maybe touch each other to get in the mood you know. So we sorta stroked each other a bit.”
And I asked what happened then.
Artie said, “Well like, we couldn’t think of what else to do next you know. So we both got dressed and I guess that was kinda it really.”
So Artie’s attempt at being gay didn’t really work out after all.
Anyway, after reminiscing for a while it was around midnight.
In the old days that would have been time to start going out.
But it was Sunday night, and Cathy and I had work tomorrow.
So we went up to bed.
And Artie and our two kids, Jade and Lee, went out onto the front steps to smoke a joint.
Just like me and Artie would have done thirty years ago.
The kids said, while they were passing the spliff back-and-forth, Artie was talking to them, something about The Book of Mormon.
Then he sort of drifted off.
So the kids just sat there, toking quietly.
Then after a while he came back and said, “Hey, what was I saying?”
They said they weren’t sure.
He said, “Whoa, when I’m talking at least one of us should be listening to what I’m saying, you know?”
In Artie’s head that made sense.
That’s why it was great that Artie spent that weekend with us.
And it was great that his band got reformed and people were making a film of his life.
On Monday I took him to Paddington station and put him on The Heathrow Express.
Two weeks after he went back to LA he died.
It was all over in two hours.
He got pneumonia, checked into hospital, and after all the years of abuse his body just couldn’t take it anymore.
At his last performance, at The South Bank, he had a T.S. Elliott quote filling the stage behind him.
“The end of all our exploring.
Will be to arrive at the place
Where we first began,
and know it for the first time.”
What was great for Artie is that he went out on a high.
In more ways than one.
RSS Feed
Twitter
Email
Hey Dave
Don’t suppose you have the rushes of the Mormon shoot?
Also, dont suppose Artie ever performed/guest-ed with The Osmonds, the famous Mormons?
Thanks.
Great story Dave. Funny and sad. Glad you wrote it.
http://ex-blank-page.blogspot.com/2009/08/in-reply-to-daves-great-posts-72.html
great stories dave. thanks for that. and i highly recommend watching NEW YORK DOLL. even though you didn’t make the cut dave. boo!
it’s great you met up before he died. did you attend the final gig?
TS Eliot
Recent interview with he survivors:
What was it that appealed about you to the British audience?
David Johansen: “They got us. New York City got us. Detroit got us. California, Texas and Florida got us.”
Did anyone not get you?
David Johansen: “Well maybe things got a little confusing in places like Oklahoma City where they were busy worshipping Jesus of Bethlehem.”
But could any of you actually play?
Sylvain Sylvain: “Some of us could play. Me, for example. [Laughs] I actually taught Johnny (Thunders) to play too. He and I used to swap girlfriends too back then. We’d swap girlfriends for a pair of pants or boots or something. But anyway he came to us and said ‘I have a guitar but it has six strings. You get guitars that have only four strings which looks easier, so I’m gonna play that.’ What he didn’t know then was that bass holds the whole fucking show together. I showed him some basics on the guitar, blues chords and shit then three weeks later he comes back and announces that he’s now the lead guitarist and I’m the rhythm guy.”
Full interview here:
http://thequietus.com/articles/02330-bringing-out-the-dead-new-york-dolls-interviewed
Hi Dave. I was a Morrissey fanatic when I was younger, so I got into the New York Dolls through him. I was at that Meltdown show at the Southbank. Great gig, very special night, I’m really glad I got to see it.
Good story. Wonder what you’d say to your kids if they took all the drugs you did though…
Tom,
I would be horrified like any parent.
But that makes me think of another subject for a post.
Thanks.
What a great story.
Better than fiction, you can’t write this shit.
Rock n roll.
“I would be horrified like any parent.”
With the discovery?
With your guilt/responsibility?
With the cost (not monetary)?
just askin’.
Ciaran
what a life.
this is what ‘burning out, not fading away’ really means.
Hi Ciaran,
With the stupidity.
Something sort of similar, on a smaller scale, did happen. maybe I should write a post about what I learned from that.
And the key words in what you’ve just written are “on a smaller scale”. Isn’t it past experience that makes you aware of the scale? We can put it this way: rich past experience allows fine tuning. Is it helpful for a parent to tell the difference between things? I think it is. It always seems to be. But then I’m not a parent, I may be wrong. Maybe you should have the same reaction when you find that your kids tasted light drugs and when you find out they’re on the brink of addiction. Maybe that’s the right prophylactic attitude, I’m not really in the position to have an opinion on this. So yes, you should definitely write a post on what you’ve learned along the way.
Anca.
it’s not always helpful for a parent to tell the difference. cause some beliefs are simply wrong or inappropriate but are so deeply programmed in our psyche we don’t even question them.
parents can learn a lot from their kids.
I’m forever grateful for the lessons my kids taught me.
Hi, Riki.
That’s the approach I was considering in the second part of my previous comment — having a radical attitude towards anything that might feed your children’s imagination in the wrong direction and make them move on to the next level, which could be fatal. Also, if we accept that being able to tell the difference is helpful, combined with the premise that if you really feel like testing drugs or getting involved in not-perfectly-moral activities it’s better to do it while you’re still young, not when you’re already a parent, then it means we’d also have to accept that our children should test everything right in front of us, so they can later… tell the difference, the way we do – which is hardly an edible version for any brain-driven parent. So this shows that your way of looking at things is perfectly vertical.
ONLY PROBLEM IS:
I’ve seen parents that were intolerant of their children’s experience with any kind of drugs and any kind of deviation from their definition of decency and I’ve seen less radical, less interventionist parents (like mine) that limited their parental behaviour to raising awareness of the risks and giving concrete examples – in a relaxed manner, only taking action when things seemed to go wild.
The results seem to always be these, from what I’ve noticed:
– Children that were brought up by radical rules now avoid their parents and many of them are complete social failures – like Artie. Which means the result of the whole parental “dictatorship” boils down to communication failure.
– Children that benefited from a lot of freedom to make decisions on their own and were not treated like potential losers for having dabbled with light drugs or for having lived below the traditional moral standards at some point, are now very domestic social beings.
Isn’t it a good encapsulation of the theory that radicalism is more dangerous than tolerance of light sins?
So my question was: is it worth ruining communication with your children by overreacting to anything that fuels your suspicions and makes you think they’re about to irreversibly “upgrade” to a dangerous lifestyle? Wouldn’t it be more constructive to assume that your children know when to stop (the way you did) and just stay alert in case anything goes wrong?
Anca rules this post.
As a parent I wrestle with the same questions. Mostly in terms of holding off the control button and watching my kids fail as they might. You ever watch your 2 yr. old go head first on to the pavement at like Mach 2 and NOT reach out your arms to stop him from busting his skull wide open?
It’s a tough act to pull off, but it is possible.
You’ve got me thinking though, of all things, about the Confucian sense of cycles (dynastic or otherwise). One of the elements of this theory is that adjacent generations confront each other with antipathy, but that every other generation is more sympathetic to each other. Didn’t you just love your Grands? An example:
1) I offer to be cool with my kids and let them know they can smoke dope in the house.
2) The last thing my kids want is for me to appear cool in any sense. That is an invasion of privacy their entire language rejects.
3) They are appalled at the thought that anyone from my hippy generation would waste time smoking dope and refuse to follow our example in this. And will lecture you on it.
Similarly, our Woodstock generation has become famous for buckling down to business in later life and following Reagan politically. If Confucius has his say, our moralistic children will grow up to be liberal and tolerant and will Vote Obama for a generation. Hmmm.
I can send anyone a bibliography on dynastic cycles if they are interested. Kung Tsu rocks.
Yes, Michael, that’s exactly the kind of freedom I was talking about, to let the 2-year-old die or not. That’s precisely the best time for a reality check – helps the kid get better at making the right decisions later on. And to keep the adrenalin high, I think you should never let you kid become a famous actor or musician, because you know, celebrities travel a lot and accidents happen all the time. Good parents make sure their kids become monks/nuns. That probably solves all the problems. But then there’s this other problem: tons of microbes in the air. After all, I’m not even sure having children is a good idea, life’s tough.
Who says “you can’t put your arm around a memory?” Cool stuff Dave. I’ll never forget those gigs at Max’s.
beautiful.
Anca, Michael
to me it’s not about teaching/telling/preventing my kids when to start (if at all). it’s teaching them when to STOP.
if me and my wifey would think they would never try ‘dangerous’ things we’d be delusional. so the best thing we can do is to try teaching them to quit.
and this relates to drugs, climbing, making fire… everything.
and yes, communication is crucial. you MUST leave a channel open.
Somewhat OT, but well done on the Subaru pitch.
Thanks Richard,
Or, as Artie would have said, far out man.
I’ve got 2 boys…
the eldest is 5 and is quite cautious. I often find myself encouraging him to get stuck in and try things - rugby, football, climbing frames, slides, trees, etc. He’s not a coward he just thinks about things a lot before he does anything. It’s the same with his school work - writing, reading, drawing. Once he’s done it he’s away but he weighs things up before taking action. He’s very social - great talker.
The other’s 2 years old. He’s almost the exact opposite. He throws himself recklessly into every situation. Climbs trees he can’t get down from. Picks fights with teenagers. Was up the big slide before his 1st birthday. Same with reading, spelling, numbers and drawing. He’s un-phased by any situation but is less social than his cautious elder brother.
My role’s the same with both - one expects me to push him and the other expects me to hold him back.
Riki nailed it. They must feel able to communicate.
About 15 years ago, beautiful sunny, spring, morning,
me doing a little tidying up in the yard. Daughter Nell,
17, comes home, driven by boyfriend, who seems to exit
in a particular hurry. Smile and a wave from Nell as she
goes into the house. Only to re-emerge tow minutes later.
“dad, the condom burst last night and mom says you will
know what to do.”
I didn’t, but it worked out.
Ciaran
And here I thought of Dave Trott as a somewhat staid, ultra-respectable eminence, someone I’d never have imagined as a wild drug-taking partier in the ’60s.
This made feel quite nostalgic for my own salad days.
Thanks for a very entertaining post.
Heyo Dave
On a different note, these days, many ECDs want to see digital work in books - even though most of these ECDs themselves haven’t done much ‘new media’.
Was wondering if you could please name some top digital campaigns.
I find it hard to think of 3 really good digital campaigns.
Thank you.
Hi Robin,
I’ve been thinking about it.
All the good digital campaigns I know are extensions of ATL campaigns: gorilla, meerkats, etc.
I don’t know any that are purely digital.
I think the real question to be asked is.. ‘Did you actually snort heroin?’.
It’s making me feel a bit woozy just thinking about it. Excellent post though, think my Dad will like this one.
Hope you’re well, Dave.
Tom of jpandtem