The rise of the Gravedigger Five

(Gravedigger Five co-founder John Hanrattie recounts his side of the renowned San Diego garage band’s short but eventful history.)

I was 17 when I first played guitar for an audience. I was working as a roadie for a San Diego band called N/E One. They were a very good cover band that would occasionally write one of their own songs and include it in their set. They built up a loyal following among San Diego teenagers and started playing high-school dances and at a local “under-21″ night club called Headquarters.

They started inviting me on stage to join them in covering the Rolling Stones’ take on Bobby Troup’s “Route “ I was using a six-string Rickenbacker and playing rhythm guitar with Rob Glickman, the lead guitarist. I had been taking classical guitar lessons, but I really wanted to play rock ‘n’ roll. I switched teachers to someone who could teach me Chuck Berry and Buddy Holly licks. It was a long process, and I learned some chords, but my skills were limited.

During my senior year in high school, the ASB started booking bands to play in the quad during Friday lunch. They eventually got around to inviting N/E One to play, and I joined them on stage for their set. Afterward, several people approached me, asking if I wanted to start a band. I was flattered, but I held out, hoping to find people who wanted to play the same kind of music I loved. I refused to have anything to do with playing Aerosmith and Led Zeppelin covers. I wanted to play British Invasion beat and 1960s garage music.

I discovered San Diego bands like the Crawdaddys and Manual Scan doing the same kind of music I liked. My best friend Ted Friedman and I started going to clubs in San Diego and Los Angeles. At the time, I was enamored with the “Paisley Underground” movement in Los Angeles. Ted and I would drive up to L.A. on weekends to catch shows by bands like the Salvation Army (later the Three O’Clock); the Bangs (later the Bangles); the Rain Parade, the Unclaimed and the Pandoras. Shortly after seeing the Pandoras, Ted and I decided we could do the same thing.

Ted and I were tired of school. We both got straight As in high school but decided to pass on going to a university. I had been accepted at UC Berkeley but chose to attend Grossmont Community College in San Diego. Ted had been accepted by a couple of different Ivy League schools on the East Coast but passed on them. I never told my parents I had been accepted at Berkeley. They would have been heartbroken. I have no idea what Ted told his parents.

Anyway, Ted and I started classes at Grossmont and soon hooked up with Leighton Koizumi because he said he could sing. That was the beginning of the Gravedigger Five. We had tried different names, and it was Ted who came up with the name the Shamen. It was a good name, but we found out there was another band already using it. It’s not like we needed a name at the moment; we certainly were not ready to play any live shows. We didn’t even have a bass player until Leighton recruited his friend, Chris Gast. Chris owned a Hofner bass that looked just like Paul McCartney’s bass when he was in the Beatles. Chris wasn’t much of a bass player, but then I wasn’t much of a guitar player. The only thing we lacked now was a drummer. That was temporarily solved by Leighton and Ted when they found Matt Johnson. He was a good drummer, but for some unknown reason his parents decided to move to Colorado, forcing Matt to go with them. Matt was 17 at the time, so he had to go. He came back as soon as he turned 18, but by then the Gravedigger Five had already been buried.

Around this time, I was hospitalized for a stomach virus that was so bad it caused internal bleeding. I was unconscious for three days, and the fucking thing nearly killed me. Ted and Leighton came to see me, but I was still out like a light. Ted, Leighton and Chris got busy while I was in the hospital. They learned five songs while I was sick. They showed their true colors by not looking for another rhythm guitarist or keyboardist. They had a perfectly understandable reason to get rid of me, but they stuck by me. (I’m pretty sure that was Ted’s influence, but he’s never said anything about it.)

I recovered in the fall of 1983. Because of my illness, I had been forced to withdraw from my classes, which left me with a lot of free time. I went on a record-buying spree, and found a number of garage-band standards we could play. We cut our teeth on songs like “Wild Thing,” “Gloria” and “Hey Joe.” While the rest of the band might have been more proficient on their instruments, I was the one who provided musical direction. By this time, my record collection had grown to include more than 500 titles. I spent hours playing records in search of material for the band. We were beginning to get our shit together when we lost Matt. (He rarely showed up for band rehearsals, anyway.)

Ted recruited Dave Anderson from the Answers, and we had our first stable lineup. Ted was writing some good music, and Leighton and I were coming up with lyrics. (One thing has always bothered me. When our record came out a year later, I got no songwriting credits despite writing a lot of lyrics with Ted and Leighton.)

Anyway, we added a few original songs to our growing catalog of cover versions. I’ll be the first to admit that some of the songs were too complicated for my limited guitar abilities. When we started to play live, I would play tambourine or maracas if I couldn’t contribute anything with my guitar. The 1960s garage-band movement started to get a little too sophisticated, in my opinion. I felt garage bands should be loud, crude and inept. I continued to cherry-pick songs from my record collection. I brought songs to our practice sessions that featured a two-guitar lineup, thus assuring me the opportunity to contribute rhythm guitar if the song wasn’t too complicated.

One night, Ted, Leighton and I were at a coffee shop by my house. We were trying to come up with a name for our band. I referenced the song “Monster Mash” and said “Crypt Kicker Five.” Ted looked at me and we both said “Gravedigger Five” at the same time. That was the name that stuck. Later, people started using the Roman numeral “V.” I didn’t like it. It looked like the Gravedigger “Vee.”

At the same time we were getting our shit together, the Tell-Tale Hearts were doing the same thing we were doing across town. We weren’t imitating each other; it was just a coincidence. Everyone in the “Hearts” had been in bands already. Mike Stax had been in the Crawdaddys; Bill Calhoun, Ray Brandes and Dave Klowden had been in the Mystery Machine; and Eric Bacher had a garage band called Psychedelic Chuck and the Glowing Nodes. Eric and Dave Klowden went to high school with Ted and me. (All through high school, Eric’s favorite band had been the Pink Floyd. I have no idea how he wound up playing in a 1960s-styled garage band like the Tell-Tale Hearts.)

To be honest, I thought the Mystery Machine was the best 1960s-influenced garage band I had ever heard. They did an amazing cover the Blues Magoos’ “One By One.” They were only around for the summer of 1983 and recorded a track for Greg Shaw’s Battle of the Garage Bands series. I don’t remember the name of the song, but it was quite good. However, the recording failed to capture the real sound of the band. The Mystery Machine broke up when Carl Rusk went off to college.

Watch the Mystery Machine in motion!

The Tell-Tale Hearts and the Gravedigger Five debuted together. Ted got us the gig, a party thrown by a girl he knew from days he spent acting in Junior Theater. It was supposed to be a private party, but someone made up flyers, and the whole San Diego punk scene showed up, along with people from Los Angeles. Even Shelley Ganz from the Unclaimed and Paula Pierce from the Pandoras showed up. Shelley Ganz said we played “Wild Thing” wrong, but really, who cared? The party escalated into a food fight, and the girl’s house got trashed. I missed the trashing because the Gravediggers and the Hearts were outside playing. I’ll never forget sitting down with her dad, in the middle of a destroyed kitchen, and watching him write me out a check for $200. I could see a giant hole in the wall if I looked over his shoulder.

Shortly after that gig, Ted and Leighton told me to fire Chris Gast. They said he couldn’t play the bass. I was uncomfortable about it because I played guitar as well as Chris played the bass. Years later, I came to the conclusion that getting rid of Chris had nothing to do with how he played the bass. He and Leighton had gotten into a fight about something and made the decision to oust him from the band.

Because of that, I became the Gravedigger Five’s manager as well as the rhythm guitarist. It was tough to get gigs in those days. It was a time when MTV became a driving force and the idea of a guitar-oriented band was looked down upon. I booked us just about everywhere I could, but San Diego was not like Los Angeles. There weren’t many places to play. When I was in high school, there were two nightclubs for kids under 21. By the time the Gravediggers were ready to play to an audience, both clubs had closed down.

We couldn’t do any more gigs until we found a new bass player. We held auditions and selected 15-year-old Tom Ward. He couldn’t drive, so we had to pick him up at his house. One time, Tom wasn’t quite ready to go, so his mother invited Leighton, Ted and me into her house and offered us carrot sticks. It was very hard to keep a straight face. We gave Tom a ration of shit for that.

We now had everyone in place. Too bad there was no place to play.

I finally got us on a good bill. We opened for the Dickies at a nightclub in L.A. I don’t remember the name of the club, but I do remember an important moment. Greg Shaw was there, and I walked up to him and told him he should record us for his Bomp subsidiary, Voxx. He smiled and asked why. I told him we were better than the Pandoras. It wasn’t really true, but I wanted to get his attention. I gave him a business card and told him to call. I have to assume he asked around about us, because we were supported by Paula and Gwynne from the Pandoras, Rich Coffee from the Unclaimed, and a few other people. Greg eventually called me back.

Speaking of boosters, I have to mention Ron Rimsite. He was from New Jersey and came out to visit Mike Stax and hear what kind of sounds all of us were producing. One night, Ted and I were downtown hanging out with the Hearts at their rehearsal space. Ron was there. I remember Mike and Ron getting into an argument about who was better, the Pretty Things or the Easybeats. I liked both groups, but I took Ron’s side of the argument. I’ve always liked power pop, and the Easybeats were among the first and best purveyors of that sound. I got Ron’s attention with that, and he became our most outspoken supporter. He even moved out to Los Angeles for a couple of years, starting a two-year relationship with Paula Pierce. Eventually Ron would help produce the first Gravedigger Five album, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

That was in November. We kept rehearsing and playing, mostly with the Tell-Tale Hearts at a club called Studio 517 downtown. It was a rehearsal space that doubled as club on Saturday nights. To this day, I’m indebted to the ” Hearts” for using us as an opening act. I produced three shows myself just so we’d have a place to play. I had two separate meetings with a husband-and-wife team that wanted to open a club for teenagers in Point Loma. I told them I had access to a number of bands from both San Diego and Los Angeles. I put on shows with groups like the Crawdaddys; Manual Scan; the Tell-Tale Hearts; the Pandoras; and of course, the Gravedigger Five.

The Gravediggers in flyers!

I never made much money producing these shows, but then I wasn’t in the game for money. At the time, my sister was dating a guy named Bill. His band was called Mr. Safari, and Christ, were they boring. I only saw them once when they were the opening for N/E One in the gym of El Cajon High School. They were the most pretentious band I’ve seen. However, Bill indirectly was responsible for me getting the Gravedigger Five more gigs and a record deal. One day, he was over at the house I shared with my sister and said to me, ” You’re not in a real band.” I don’t know how he defined what a ” real band” was, but I was determined to prove him wrong. I started setting up more shows. I would front the money and sponsor shows anywhere I could. Even Mike Stax gave us a little credibility by mentioning us in the pages of his fanzine, Ugly Things.

Into the studio
In April 1984, Greg Shaw invited the Gravediggers up to Los Angeles to record a three-song demo for his Voxx label. He wanted a song for his third volume of Battle of the Garage Bands series. We recorded ” It’s Spooky” for inclusion on his Battle album. At one point during the demo, Greg pulled me aside and told me he wanted us to record a full album. I told him we didn’t have the money to do something like that. Greg explained that Voxx records would pay for it and he would recoup his money from album sales. Greg and I agreed to the album during the summer when Tom Ward and Dave Anderson were out of school. It was hard enough for Ted and me to get off work; we didn’t need the hassle of getting Tom and Dave out of school. We had already ” kidnapped” both Tom and Dave for this demo recording. Looking back, I can’t believe Ted and I walked across school grounds, found out what class Dave was in and walked into the middle of a class lecture. We just walked right in and told Dave it was time to go, we had to record. We did it in two days. I had arranged for all of us to stay in a motel in Hollywood. We were right across the street from Hollywood High. Ted, Leighton and I stayed up all night. When dawn broke, we watched all the homeless people come staggering out of the bushes surrounding the school. It looked like a scene from Dawn of the Dead.

That trip to Silvery Moon Studios was an eye-opener for all of us, especially Tom Ward. When we emerged from our motel room, a group of prostitutes surrounded Tom and started asking him if he was in a band, paying him compliments and offering sex. Tom thought he was something really special ’til I told him they were hookers.

In the space of time between recording the demo and doing the album, we continued to rehearse and play live. Thanks to Ted’s Fender amplifier and reverb chamber, we had developed our own sound. Our biggest show to date was a June club date where we finally received top billing. In my opinion, it was our best show ever. A bunch of girls showed up from Ted and my former high school and screamed and carried on. At one point I even jumped on top of one of the speakers while playing guitar. I remember Ron and Paula were there, encouraging us to go wild. Naturally, I don’t remember our set, but I know we closed with ” Caveman Stomp.” It was our noisiest number, written by Ted and Leighton, and all I had to do was play a “D” chord and get as much feedback as possible. This was in June 1984.

Greg Shaw called me on a Tuesday morning in the middle of July 1984 and told me it was time to make an album. He had already booked the studio time and told me to get everyone’s ass up to Hollywood. I could have hesitated because I needed to get everyone together, but I was afraid the chance would never come around again. I scrambled like an egg getting everyone on the same page. Ted and I had to arrange time off from our jobs. Leighton didn’t work, but he was MIA when I called his house. Tom Ward had to get permission from his parents, and Dave was in summer school. Things did not look good. I was on the phone all morning making deals and arranging transportation. Leighton finally returned my call, and Tom Ward called his dad at work to get permission. The trickiest part was getting Dave Anderson out of summer school. Tom Ward looked the most respectable, so we sent him to the office to find out where Dave was. (This was before school shootings and campus lockdowns.) After Tom came back with Dave’s location, Ted and I walked right into the classroom and had a conference with Dave. I remember the teacher saying, “What the hell is going on?” as Dave got up and left with us.

We reached Silvery Moon Studios by three in the afternoon. We had no money and no place to sleep, shit or shower. It didn’t really matter to me. I could hardly play my instrument, yet I had the chance to make a record! Greg never even asked us to sign a contract. Everything was settled with a handshake.

Greg met us at the studio. We were hungry, so he gave us money to buy food at the ” Tail O’ the Pup” hot dog stand across the street. The liner notes on the back of All Black and Hairy are true. We ate nothing but chili dogs for three days. We’d start recording around 3 in the afternoon and go ’til 11 at night. None of us had any money, so Greg kept buying us food. Then we had to find a place to sleep. I don’t have a clue as to what the other Gravediggers did at night, but Ted and I slept in his car, in an alley behind Silvery Moon. We even got rousted by the cops.

The second morning, Ron told all of us we could take showers at the apartment he shared with Paula Pierce. He regretted that after we went through 10 towels (leaving them soaking wet all over the apartment), used all of Paula’s shampoo and managed to stop up the toilet. Ron was not happy. We let him sing backing vocals on our cover of “Searching” to make up for it. Paula couldn’t have been too mad, because she visited us while we were recording and played piano on our cover of the Downliners Sect’s One Ugly Child. That version didn’t make it onto our first LP, instead it surfaced on The Mirror Cracked LP that came out two years after we had broken up. (Years later, I was more than shocked when Paula died. She had been a good friend to the Gravediggers, and I liked her as a person.)

The third night was spent mixing the tracks we’d recorded. I hate to admit it, but I was less than interested in the mixing process. Now that I’m more experienced, I would never make that mistake again. I was there to hear it, but I offered no suggestions on how it should sound.

One thing I haven’t mentioned is Greg’s generous attitude. Whenever I dropped by his office with either the Gravedigger Five or the Tell-Tale Hearts, Greg would let us raid his record storage room. We got the whole Pebbles series and the entire Highs in the Mid Sixties catalog, plus whatever else was available, all for free. Additionally, he would allow us to plow through some of his 45’s and buy original singles for pennies on the dollar. You want a ” or instance”? Greg sold me a copy of the Eyes’ original EP for $25! That was practically giving it away when you consider how much it was really worth.

Greg was nice enough to put all the material we recorded onto a cassette tape I could use to get gigs. It was taken directly from the master tape and had a lot of power. I was confident the LP would sound great. In the meantime, we continued to play anywhere we could. I remember producing a couple of shows that summer. Both featured the Crawdaddys, Manual Scan and us. Both shows got a big turnout, and I actually made a little money. I also remember playing a party. We didn’t usually play parties because the cops would show up as soon as you played a note. We were promised $500 to play this one in the Golden Hills section of San Diego. We played one set, and the cops showed up and shut us down. They didn’t break up the party, though.

Breakup and beyond
The Gravedigger Five were a garage band. We rehearsed in garages, first Chris’ and then Ted’s, but Ted’s parents finally had enough. As manager and guitarist, I was forced to find another rehearsal spot. I found one in North Park. This was 26 years ago, so forgive me if I don’t remember the monthly fee. It was something like $50 a month, which was perfect because it meant we all put in 10 bucks and were covered for the month. We rehearsed there once, in the beginning of August, and I could tell Leighton and Ted weren’t into it anymore. I didn’t know it at the time, but they had already been invited to join the Morlocks.

The Gravedigger Five broke up at the end of the month.

It was bad timing on the part of Ted and Leighton. Our album was scheduled to be released on Oct. 31, 1984. When the album reached Europe two months later it became very popular. I received invitations to tour Spain and Italy, but had to turn them down. It was a real shame, because all five of us would’ve been able to see some of best countries in Europe without spending a dime.

The Morlocks had asked me to be their manager because of the job I had done with the Gravediggers. The only problem was, I didn’t think much of their sound. I turned them down cold. Had I been the manager, they never would have signed with Midnight Records. At the time, I didn’t know much about Midnight. But when I moved to Manhattan in the late 1980s to work for an advertising agency, I went to the Midnight Records store and discovered they were a bunch of musical snobs.

Just before our album came out, I had a sit-down with Greg Shaw, and he explained how to set up a publishing company for our songs. Ted wanted to call it Grave Rave music, and I agreed. Apart from that, I left Ted and Leighton out of the process because I felt they had betrayed me. Besides, they were busy in their ” super group.” I may have left Ted and Leighton out of the process, but I never failed to share royalties with them.

It was a sad day for me when the Gravedigger Five broke up. I didn’t think I’d ever have a chance to play live again. Nevertheless, I bought a beautiful Gibson 175 electric/acoustic guitar and started taking lessons again. I replaced my Fender amplifier with a Vox Super Beatle amp. I formed a band with a couple of guys from San Francisco, as well as an Australian vocalist named Jacko who was in the country illegally. We recorded a four-song demo tape and I remember Bill Calhoun from the Tell-Tale Hearts listening to the tape in his car stereo. Bill himself said we made the Tell-Tale Hearts nervous. We had a good sound, but only played one gig. The bass player and lead guitarist both returned to San Francisco, and that was the end of that project.

I maintained my friendship with Mike Stax and the Tell-Tale Hearts. I worked with Mike and Ted at the print shop. Every night when we closed, I’d give Mike a ride home to the apartment he shared with Bill Calhoun. Eric Bacher would come over most nights, and we’d drink beer and watch The Rockford Files. I lobbied Mike to add me to the Tell-Tale Hearts, but he said, ” Six people in a band is one too many.” I think he was just wary of my guitar playing.

The next time I played live, it was with a slightly modified version of the Tell-Tale Hearts. Greg Shaw put on a show at his Cavern Club in Los Angeles that was a tribute night. Musicians formed ” super groups” and did material by one of their favorite bands. I hooked up with the Tell-Tale Hearts and we called ourselves the ” Sect Maniacs,” playing about 10 songs recorded by the Downliners Sect. We rehearsed twice, and Eric showed me the chords to each song.

Eighteen months after we broke up, Greg sent me a letter concerning the Gravedigger Five. There was still quite a demand for Gravedigger Five material, especially in Europe. He wanted to put out an album that featured live recordings, rehearsals and out-takes from the first album. It was accompanied by a very generous advance. I gave him the OK to proceed and got in touch with Ted and Leighton to split the advance three ways.

A couple of years later, Mike Stax came to me singing the praises of a teen combo called the Event. They did the U.K mod/Freak Beat stuff that I loved. They were extremely tight and knowledgeable about music for a group of teenagers. They had been together about nine months when I saw them. After attending two of their shows, I approached them and offered to be their manager. I promised to get them better gigs and a recording contract. They were a tight group and did note-perfect covers of Freakbeat. I got them booked into a couple of big shows in San Diego. They quickly became one of California’s top draws for people who loved bands like the Creation and John’s Children.

In the beginning, they didn’t have much stage presence. I came up with the idea of smashing T.V.s with a sledgehammer at the end of each performance. Sure, I ripped the idea off from the Move, but audiences loved it. It became a badge of honor to get cut by flying glass. The Event were asked to take part in an all-day, all-night show in San Francisco. I rented a station wagon for the trip, the band put all their instruments and amplifiers in the back, and I drove the band upstate. It was my idea for the group to bring a TV set and hide a sledgehammer in an extra guitar case. No one knew what to think when the Event took the stage with guitars, amps and a large console television. During the last number of the set, Ken the vocalist pulled the sledgehammer out and went to work on the TV. In the process, Ken destroyed part of the floor. The funniest thing was Liz Idontrememberherlastname paying me $500 cash, not realizing we had caused substantial damage. The Event blew everyone else off the stage.

After their jaw-dropping performance in San Francisco, I wanted to get them in the studio. I had raved to Greg Shaw about them, and sure enough, Greg put up the money to record three songs by the Event. I was smart enough to choose Mark Neill’s Three Track Shack. Mark Neill produced the recording in one all-night session. I was the executive producer. I came up with ideas to capture the right sound. I suggested things like backwards guitar solos and phasing. The three-song demo convinced Greg to finance an entire Event LP. But by this time, I had secured a job at an advertising agency in New York and was forced to abandon the group. Much to his credit, Mark did an excellent job recording and producing the Event without any input.

To this day, I’ve never seen or heard a copy of the Event LP; someone told me it says, “Thanks to John Hanrattie” on the back cover. I wish I could have worked with the group more, but I had to get my professional career going. The Event was the last project I tackled in the music business.

— John Hanrattie