Thanks to Jeremiah Cornelius for providing this portrait of himself as “Romulus Johnson”, ca. 1988, after many of us had relocated from San Diego to San Francisco and a year or so after the dissolution of the original Morlocks.
As anyone familiar with our scene knows, Jerry Cornelius was the indefatigable trend-setter, flyer-maker, lyricist, MC, band manager and catalyst behind myriad San Diego adventures.
“What Would Jerry Do?” Read all about it!
Transplanted to San Francisco, Jerry continued his cultural explorations via music and fashion.
Jerry Cornelius performs “Sister Heat” — listen now!
As for the picture: “The photo was taken when I lived on Mason St, off Duboce,” Jeremiah explains. “Kevin — the photographer’s surname unforgivably escapes me — was a regular at Nickie’s Haight St BBQ. He was brother of the amazing Jeff Grubic, who descended from great heights to play sax in The Deep Six, my crazy late-’80s band with Jean-Luc Ascencio from Shredded Ermines and Guillermo – Mexico City’s answer to Carlos Alomar and Dick Dale. This bunch of guys went on, after Jeff and I moved along, forming The Latin Street Dogs.
“We did a bunch of once-standard stuff, along with our originals, including a medley of House of the Rising Sun and St James Infirmary. For the never-to-be-produced press-kit, I wanted a Hollywood, big-band leader shot – like a pale Cab Calloway. The process hair is still James Brown – and folks who made it to Nickie’s will remember just how much TGFOS was a part of that impossible scene.”
More Jerry Cornelius:
- When Garris met Cornelius
- Bandmates/other friends 1982-1990 (+1)
- Photo paydirt from the garage
- The Answers: “Home”
- The Morlocks: Live at the Swedish American Hall
- An evening with the Wallflowers
- The Cyndie Jaynes Collection, Part One
A personal aside: I met my spouse at Nickie’s in early 1989, back when the place was still scruffy and cool. (I don’t know for a fact that it’s no longer scruffy and cool, but 25 years is a long time!)
Alas, Nickie’s is more a sports bar now. 🙁
You’d recognize quite little of it. No longer owned by a retired, gay Muni-driver, nor full of 3 decades of stuff…
But once we played Roy Ayers discs, locked the doors after 2, and lined all sorts of folks up to do Soul Train ’til the sun came out.