April 13, 1981 – The Ritz after the Jefferson Raid – Journal Entry

Paul Garcia, Arthur's partner, at the Jefferson, said he was going to be at the Ritz tonight. I walked there at 10 expecting a no-show, but he was speaking with the owner at the downstairs bar. Jerry signaled the barman and said, "Give this man whatever he wants to drink. He had a rough night."

Jerry was one of us, but not Paul, who surprised me by cuffing me money.

$150.

My nightly pay.

I counted it twice.

"It's all there," the model said annoyed by my distrust.

"I'm not good with numbers." I counted the money again and ordered a Stoly Screwdriver. It was Arthur's favorite drink and

"Thanks for the money." Most people would have stiffed an employee after a police raid. Paul hadn't needed to pay anyone. "Have you seen anyone?"

"Scottie's upstairs," answered Paul without asking anything about the raid. The less he knew the better. "We're opening this weekend. Are you in?"

I nodded yes and raised my glass.

"To the Jefferson."

I climbed the back stairs to the rear bar where Scottie was speaking with the bartender, Don, who was now going out with my ex-, Elizabeth. I was happy for the new couple, but not with Scottie looking over my shoulder.

"What? You think I'd snitched you out to the police?"

Last night I had seen him leave the Jefferson without a police escort. His eyes had met mine. He saw no one and I saw no one back.

"Just checking."

I leaned close and said, "They aren't after us. They're after Arthur."

They were Internal Affairs and the criminal element of the 9th Precinct.

"He made it out the back door."

Arthur had said he was the only one they were after.

"I figured as much. Paul paid me my wages. you know I went into the Jefferson this morning."

Scottie didn't have to ask why.

"Conniver the Australian bartender was my lookout and I climb up to the Marquee. I searched the place for money. I found none, but I got more than a few bags of blow. I did them all with Conniver at my place. It wasn't that much."

"Cool, we're opening this weekend."

"I told Paul I'm in."

"Good." He raised his glass and we silently toasted whatever was in our mind.

Nothing. = ncsza a nbbvcccxxz/.,mnmk,kj '

Life Is Illusion in the Combat Zone

Back in 1969 Jerry Brendt took this photo of two brothers messing around with white girls. This was not Selma, but Boston's Combat Zone where people could be people.

The Caddy is a convertible and the girls love the horseplay. Everything seems perfect.

Everything depends on your point of view or disposition.

"it's just a car, girl.

Riot At The Ritz 1981

In May 1981 PIL, the front band for ex-Sex Pistol Johnny Rotten was approached by the Ritz in the East Village to fill in for Bow Wow Wow. The band wasn't into doing the gig but according to Ed Caraballo, the band's cameraman said to the band, "Wait,they have all this fabulous video equipment there and we could do this really cool performance art thing.' He said 'yeah?' So we went down to check it out."

After seeing the stage the band decided to play behind a screen just to piss off the audience.

The night was bad.

Rain.

A sell-out Bow Wow Wow crowd.

PIL tormented the audience by not letting anyone into the Ritz until the arrival of Johnny Lydon.

The bouncers were my friends. I resold the tickets for SRO shows. Tonight was a one of those nights. We all stood to make several hundred dollars, so they let me in before anyone else, saying, "Make us green."

I don't remember the first band, but after their set I descended to the door and grabbed a stack of tickets from the bouncers. Everyone was in a good mood. Money has that way with us back in the 1980s.

The tickets went fast and I handed the bouncers their share.

50/50 in my favor.

The dance floor was packed and I went to the sound booth.

The audience was shouting, "PIL, PIL, PIL."

I was standing next to Jerry Brandt, the owner, and asked, "What's with the screen?"

"Johnny Lydon wanted it."

"For what?"

The crowd was pissed at the long wait in the rain and the even longer delay in the Ritz. It was almost 1am. The audience was getting nasty, They wanted a show and wanted it thirty minutes ago.

Some woman came out and yelled on a mike, "HI, I'M LISA YAPP! I'M HERE TO TALK ABOUT PUBLIC IMAGE LIMITED!"

Beer bottles flew at the stage and I turned to Jerry and said, "Watch this."

"What?"

"A riot. But don't worry, you're with me." I had a reputation back then and $500 in my pocket. Half of it should have gone to the club, but that half was better in my pocket.

The music was trash.

But good trash, however the audience wanted to see the band.

It wasn't happening.

More beer bottles hit the screen.

Then Johnny berated his fans, "Sil-ly fuck-ing aud-ience, sil-ly fuck-ing aud-i-ence..."

"Fuck."Jerry on the phone to security.

It's too late.

PIL sucks and they don't care if they suck.

This is art.

And Johnny's loving the danger.

It's 1981.

I told Jerry, "I'll see you later."

"Fuck you too."

He wasn't happy with any of it.

I wouldn't have been happy either if I was him, but I wasn't and had $500 in my pocket, which was a lot in 1981 and still is today.

PIL PIL PIL

To see the riot online, please go to the following Url

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Ru6TuywY-0