(A remembrance of E Street and its denizens by Patrick Works.)
Hey there, folks … Jeff Lucas finally logging on and his (very kind, thank you) comments on my old house on E Street makes me think of all of you who lived and loved there within its walls.
I’d rather not mourn a place, but celebrate its memory by sharing those memories with you … and ironically enough my most vivid memories are a bit mournful, as about nine years ago I lost my youngest brother Josh, and I think of him a lot.
Josh was the little mascot kid for so many living part-time with his mom and summers at E St. meant many of you got to know him as a little kid.
Louis Mello helped him string a bow to fight off the neighborhood kids … Jerry and Christopher and a bunch of the mod girls helped him get dressed up in a little suit once and we all took him to Quadrophenia … cute.
He and I used to tool around Golden Hills on my Lambretta, and all the girls LOVED him.
He had a long struggle with depression and lost his battle after heroin got the better of him. He died on the street in 1997. I miss him every day.
I don’t mean to be a bummer … but E Street reminds me of my brother.
Most all our memories of that place are happy ones, though … so chime in with yours if you care. Extra credit if you lived there (my mom — the famous Linda — and I counted once … there were 24 of you over the years before I left town), and extra-special credit if you lived there hidden in one of the closets.
— Patrick Works
pat im so sorry. i was bolth closet dweller and maven of the garage. those are fond memories. do you still have the signed picture of adam west next to your bed ?
why yes…somewhere. I forgot about that one.
got it at the SD Comic convention in 1981 I think. Met Lux from the Cramps there…I remember getting pretty tanked and floating on a raft in the pool at the El Cortez hotel and watching Dr. No on a poolside movie screen…decadent youth.
remember hiding Carla Shultz there when her crazy father came looking for her?
I think she hid out at Dirk’s place too and Dirk’s dad kicked him off the property ’cause he was drunk.
Pat
erm, yh… i guess i get extra special credit. i lived in the westernmost upstairs closet for a time… i’m saddened to hear about your brothers passing. r.i.p.
Having been a closet dweller at E Street for a couple years/lifetimes… and having known Josh (and his bow)… and the dogs (Brit? and the lab… oh man… can’t remember… Lady???)… subsiding off of Linda’s white wine and frozen fried clam strips… Pat’s Chesterfield’s®… great people all around. Great culture (Bodé, Dobbs, Kraftwerk, James Brown, Dostoyevski, L**, etc.), strange parasites (on Brit), Vietnam war recreations on L** with Lou, sermons in the garage, punk riots in the bathroom… Jesus, I could go on and on… E Street and Pat saved my life and took a lot of us in and made us family. It was crazeeeee… and worth every second, drop of blood, whatever. I literally still dream about that place. It was really the first place I felt at home.
Thank you, Pat (and Linda).
RIP Josh.
lol…yeah the lab was named Morgan…she was racist (hated black folks) and could NEVER learn to not shit on the floor.
she got a job in a junkyard when somebody found out she’d attack black folks on sight.
I seem to remember piercing your ear with a potato and a block of ice at least a couple of times in the kitchen with the 2tone floor…remember the phone numbers on the wall
and all the graffiti…
“God is Dead-Nietsche”
“Nietsche is Dead-God”
“Geitsche is Nod-Siddhartha”
I believe that one was Dave Klowden…
Pat
By the time I joined you folks, the E Street house was in full swing … What an incredible, eccentric scene!
There was only one dog? My memory has multiplied it into packs of dogs running in between all these crazy kids doing odd things at all hours. 🙂
My woefully belated condolences on your brother’s passing. Would love to see your mom again sometime! Send her mad love (if she’s not checking out the site herself). Besides her role as SD den mother, she was an important anchor amidst the madness of late-’80s SF. (Thanks for Shabat, Linda!)
I too was a closet dweller and a garden shed alumni.
Once I started thinking about it so many memories welled up it’s endless and many move me to distraction. One favorite: Linda had a boyfriend named Bob (I think) that was an incredible packrat. When he left, he left the garage full of boxes of various junk, and Cricket and I had an hours long battle with constructed forts and hiding places throwing his stuff at each other. Do you remember that Cricket? Weird stuff, like de-potted plants in boxes.
The first party I ever went to in the “scene” was at Pat’s house, I was very insecure about it I remember. When I came in I accidently let a dog out which was a GIANT no no. Jeff gave me a hard time and I remember Annie Sajdera who I knew from school stuck up for me and called him off.
The house was a learning ground for music and life in general, it was like a community center/flop house for freaks and was what enticed me away from college (no regrets).
I have mixed feelings about the house as I was one of the last people there and watched it fall into ruin by Dave Hinge and friends realizing an opportunity for theft and destructive acts. Since I was the oldest family friend there I always felt I should have been more responsible for the place as Pat and Linda we’re gone. I was 19 or 20 at the time. I still drive by the house occasionally and check it out. It’s been well taken care of.
Hi Pat,
The house is in good hands. One of the customer Folks at my work, her parents own the house now. I was invited to a dinner party there in 2000. The place looked very familiar as I drove up. The stairs and then the space under it sparked memories and I put it all together. I remember the excitement of realizing that I had spent some of my youth at this house.
I remember picking up Audrey for a ride to a show in LA for one of the last ON Klub shows in 1983. I remember seeing the wallflowers pre-marky mullen there. Arturo and some of SDSH tried to pimp me for my paisley shirt at a Dave Fest. I remember the Dave’s living there during the later answers period.
I am sorry to hear about your younger brother, Pat. My lasting impression of you was from aa time when you had left E street and we had met in passing on 6th and university. You were living in the apt’s above on 6th and Univ across from City Deli. Everyone had left for SF at that point. I remember talking about the E street house and the then recent moves of just about everyone to SF.
There was a wisdom about your ways that were way beyond our 20 year old selves at that point. I wish to still have that insight you had back then!
Tony suarez
Amen to that thought, Tony.
Pat, I could always rely on you for a greater understanding and a sense of order in the universe that would help ease my inner chaos and confusion. You and Linda were more than generous with your friendship, time and space, thank you for letting me join the household for a wonderful while. Linda thanks for your understanding even when I was running around in a WWI aviator cap and goggles in the middle of the night pretending to be Rocky the flying squirrel.
I am so sorry to hear this news about your brother Joshua.
I remember landing at Pat’s house after a particularly disasterous trip to TJ. The memories are understandably fuzzy, but it involved Dirk’s car and a transmission that completely fell out of said car after we hit an extremely large pothole. I remember fairy Christmas lights…were there fairy Christmas lights? And lots of books.
So sorry to hear about your brother. I always thought of your family as mythical.
I’ll third Tony … I didn’t get to know Pat well until we were both up in San Francisco, but back in SD I was already struck by how self-possessed he seemed. (I was occasionally possessed at that age, but only by my own insecurities!)
PS: I’m confused about the vintage of Patrick’s residency in that apartment across from the City Deli … I’d peg it at summer of 1984 — didn’t Lou Damien sleep on the roof? — which would be before the big San Francisco diaspora of 1985. Like, simultaneous with the Morlocks’ Golden Hill basement apartment … Am I transposing dates?
It’s where the smoke shop is now, right above it, by the freeway entrance. I remember visiting Jerry there. He was taking a bath.
I remember meeting your brother in SF once. It was my birthday maybe 22? Your brother was in the kitchen drinking like a one of those jugs of wine. I got hammered and you were taking photos of my car getting towed away.
I’d have to echo what Flem said about you Pat, you always seemed to have it together. You always seemed happy to be doing what you were doing. A very open person. Jerry too. Jerry was my guru. I loved listening to Jerry talk sometimes all night. I thought he was right on and always welcome.
Matt,
That place across from Silly Deli and Quel Fromage (sadly gone…I loved that place) was inherited from Sean Holly (obscure N. Park freak friend who hung out with us…Jerry will remember him well) who had it all outfitted ala Velvet Underground as an empty victorian flat with whips and other such devices hanging from the walls.
Nice ambience…
Sean was part of a circle of mod/punk/whatever kids from Crawford high including Carl (?) and Eric (?)…one of whom had a dad who was a prof at State…they did a lit tour of some sort and ended up on a train with William Burroughs who attempted to rape this kid at gunpoint when he was about 14 years old. By the time we met him he was older and not at all amused with the heroic light we saw Mr. Burroughs in. He disabused us of the myth with his little tale which had just enough obscure detail to be beleivable.
Carl’s dad was part of a nudist computer users network way before the web…ah…SD Freakdom at it’s best. Carl used to host almost as many parties as I did in the early days…2 zillion mod kids in the house and you’d turn a corner in the basement looking for the bathroom and there’d be Carl’s dad in the buff typing away on the computer.
Carl went on to do work with the State Dept. negotiating arms control treaties with the russians and having guys like George Shultz buy him drinks. Freak SD infiltrated the power structure way before Jerry goes to the Lawrence Livermore Lab…but I digress…
Eric Bacher and I were living in our first apartments outside our parents’ homes on Florida St. near Steve Garris Bridge when we all split up. I went to the place on Uni and 6th there…and yes Eric went to that basement on GH.
After that apt. I moved in with a friend from work in a place around the corner from the famous Normal St. John Murphy pad for a summer, sold my 65 Caddy, bought Dave Rinck’s Guzzi (where’s the motor vehicle thread?) and moved to SF in ’84.
I financed the Guzzi by putting on Dave Fest III at the CHE CAFE. 10 bands for 10 bucks. No fights. I loved leaving town on an up-note.
The Morlocks had left at the beginning of the summer, I got there in August so I missed the Swedish shows and the Time Magazine/Chronicle write-ups.
It was during that summer that Murph and I got jumped by the bomber boys at Presidio and Murph got his jaw broken. This was about 3 weeks before Dave Fest as I remember meeting with the Che manager to set up the gig and still aching from my beating.
Have Jeff and Kirsten tell the story about “a tattooed man named Charlie” and the severed head he kept in a backpack. Made the SD Union page 2…all about our dear friends in GG Park and the local…ahem…characters in SF.
I posted the newspaper article on the wall of my house next to the bloody shirt I was wearing when I got jumped…just to remind myself each time I went out the door that I should kinda be careful who I hung out with in the park!
I hope that helps your timeline.
Pat
Patrick: And all the pieces SNAP! into place. 🙂
Eric (Sloan) and Karl (Irving) were Shawn Holle’s high-school buddies. Eric lived with me at my folks’ Encinitas place when they went east for a teaching gig.
And I think the professor dad you’re thinking of is actually Mark Urton’s stepdad Larry McCaffery.
sean holly. carl erving. there green canpr van was the turtle. they were newd spilunkers/ the camping bares. his parents were actually goverment employees. hence the 1981 internet connections and the working at home. i am proud that we stayd out of the spare room next to the kitchen dawn stairs. it may have been one of the only time lines were not crossd in our croud. there was also mark urtin whos pop was a prof. and eric ? had a clint eastwood thing goin on with the stubble and poncho. dave dick would remember more. sean got that app. when he returnd from the air force as a medic. 2years in guam 2 years in south dakota. or he was living there and went from there to the air force ?
wow you typed faster ! jinx !
Shawn Holle yeah…he kicked my guts in once. I used to have this weird problem where the world would start getting black at the edges and creep in until total darkness engulfed me. I was sitting with him and Pat (before Pat lived there) at the 6th Ave. apartment when this happened once. Before it all went black I decided to try and make it to the front door, the landing, and the 48,000 rickety steps (smart). I didn’t quite make it, pulling some plates down from a cabinet and breaking a little window in the front door on the way down to the kitchen floor. I awoke to the boots in the gut. Pat saved me, and helped me down the stairs, walked me around the block. I love Pat, Pats my brother.
We corrupted Eric Sloan with our weird North County ways … He ended up living my house and working briefly at the Encinitas Pannikin, where he sharpened the knives to unprecedented acuity and participated in the general 3 Guys Called Jesus tomfoolery.
Eric, Shawn and Mark are all in the SF Bay area, while Karl Irving hangs his hat in the DC area. I hope they’re all lurking around this corner of the Web!
Yeah, Pat I remember chasing the moto guzzi on my vespa. That was a sweet bike. I think I even drove it once, but, that may have been a dream.
I actually think it was actual reality. I believe he let me use it for some Morlocks related errand once in Frisco.
Hey Ted…remember when Johnny Burkhalter ripped off your vespa and you whupped him ’til he crawled under the sink?
I think that was the Oakland place with Dave F.
I thought that was a bit extreme, I’m not generally in favor of such tactics, but Johnny basically took a LOT of liberties and needed a reality check. A stranger would not have let up as soon as you did.
For what it’s worth he needed that.
Pat
UGH! Yeah that was bizarre, he just took the bike and never told us he was mad or anything at us. I found it behind the club in the alley by the trash. Very like passive aggressive. Still I am not proud of my anger and being violent. It has taken me years and years to deal with issues around anger. Even after I got clean I was irritable and pissed off for years. I am happy to say I am completely harmless now. I won’t even eat meat. Although I do feed it to my dog.
In retrospect, I believe each of us earned at least one ass-kicking over the years 1982 to 1989! It’s just dumb luck I never actually received mine. 🙂
My condolences, Pat. Hopefully we’ll reconnect at one of these reunion shindigs….
RE:>>>remember when Johnny Burkhalter ripped off your vespa and you whupped him ’til he crawled under the sink?
Johnny Burkhalter! There’s someone I’d love to talk to again. He was so NICE but yet so….quietly insane -- in the most endearing way of course…..
Pat, didn’t you guys rip the ceiling out on Page street and create a ufo landing pad on the roof?
I guess he was friends with Natalie Merchant. He once told me a story about visiting her in NYC and going around selling those cool t-shirts he had screened, when he received this transmission to go to Chicago and found this huge sack of abandoned cash at the O’Hare Airport. Johnny was a bit older -- wasn’t he in Men of Clay?
I had nothing against the guy at all, until he ripped off my bike for no apparent reason and left it behind a dumpster.
Now, Johnny and Randy lived in Golden Hill, right? Same time the Morlocks and Eric were in that basement apartment?
Then he moved to SF, ahead of me. I heard the story about the roof/ceiling being dismantled … When I got there and lived with Dave Fleminger and the crew at Parsons St., Johnny was in the apartment downstairs and had a silk-screen studio in the basement. Dave had a studio in another stretch of basement.
We all got kittens! We had breakfast with the White Aryan Resistance! And Natalie Merchant! Parsons St. — damn!
I am truly sorry to hear about your brother. I personally have nothing but good memories of the house. I really wish I had stopped by more often, and for the life of me don’t know why I didn’t, seeing how close my house was and our common Lammies — i mostly remember a few big parties. I have a few great pictures from one of them. A big shout to you former Man Scannners, too. I actually just bought a CD last year off of Amazon…
And Eric and I went to Hoover, while Mark (midway between us, sort of how we met him) and Sean (a block past Eric from me) went to Crawford — all four of us were in a zone where you could choose which school to go to, and I don’t think any of us know why we were at one and not the other… I told my dad today what people were remembering of him, and he just chuckled. I’d reminisce more, but I’ll move it to a more appropriate posting. When I first saw this I was brought to the last comment and started working my way up, and only after leaving my first comment did I get all the way up and see the blog post that was prompting all of this…
I am sorry to hear about the loss of your brother…I remember him tooling around in the early days. Unfortunately, I share your sorrow. My younger brother and best friend, David Maddocks, died over twenty years ago-although sometimes it feels like yesterday.
He battled with drugs and depression, and ended up jumping off the Coronado Bridge in 1987. Ugh, I hate that bridge. David’s death broke my heart-I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. That was the year I suffered the loss of five young lives…most of them to drugs or violence…and I came to see that war used to steal our sons and lovers, but now they are lost to us in different ways….
Kristi…sorry about your brother. I remember hearing about that even up in SF.
Josh was self-medicating for his depression and it clearly did not work. He was pulling himself out after the birth of his daughter, but had a bad setback.
Seems one of his junkie friends gave the cops his name when he got busted and then jumped bail.
So they issued a bench warrant for Josh. He got locked up and they did 2 things. Policy in the jail with somebody on psych meds is take away the meds and put them in solitary. Seriously.
So he did cold turkey off a huge methadone prescription and his anti-depressants at the same time…in a cell alone.
Then they released him after 40 days because he hadn’t actually done anything.
3 days later he got all his meds and took ’em at once. Did it on the street so his wife and baby didn’t have to find his body.
I had to go ID his corpse in the morgue. That was no fun.
I was raised in Coronado…lived on Margarita Ave there until I was 12 when we moved to SD. We had a next door neighbor who was a brilliant painter, and his wife jumped off that bridge too. All the neighborhood kids were scared of the guy ’cause there were kid-rumors that he’d killed his wife. And he was a moody artist and kinda old and alone. Then we got to know him and he turned out to be the kindest gentlest man in the world…just really sad about his wife. I remember he had his wife’s 1960 Impala parked in front of the house and he’d never move it because it was the car she drove up there. I would not have wanted to look at it every day but he found it comforting somehow.
Last year I had a cousin get blown up in Iraq. I’m all done with the war and dead young people. It’s too damned easy to prevent these things but we allow them to go on…
It’s nice to hear from you after all these years. My condolences on your brother. I know I miss mine every day.
Pat
Hey Pat
Sorry for your loss. It’s nice to hear your doing well. Hope the fires are not affecting you or your family. The closest I’ve come to losing a brother was having to bury Chris Gast. He was the little brother I never had. Great family too! Took me in when I was evicted out of my first place. A day rarely goes by that I don’t remember something goofy we did together. I vividly remember a couple of parties at your house, one time the LA psych folks were there and I was tripping and offered Chris some in front of Shelly and Paula(??) they all got uptight and Paula got all pissy with Chris. It seemed funny to me at the time that people in a psychadelic band would have a problem with er psychadelics. I ‘m with you on the celebrating the memories of loved ones. I also remember meeting your Mother (Linda) in SF ,great Lady. Funny off note I grew up on Margarita Lane in La mesa (68-74)
Thanks for your kind words Patrick…it is a shame that we have to bond over the deaths of our brothers, but at least we can understand and connect with one another on a very distinct and deep level Nonetheless, I always have good memories of you Pat-hanging out in Point Loma or Mission Beach with Dirk Westebilt, Paul Phipps and Dave acamora in the early days…Young and dumb as bats…but you were always so kind with me, and was on my side when shit would hit the proverbial fan with Phipps…Anyway, twenty years have passed and i STILL DEEPLY MISS MY BROTHER DAVID i GUESS i ALWAYSWILL. Two things comfort me greatly in regards to our lives together. First, when he first sytarted me at the Madison Avenu apartment and he saw me sing at Pj’s in Point Loma for an important gig with eVERYBODY VIOLET. secondly, years later…I listened to my inner self and escaped a bad reltionship while living in Buffalo. I was able to move back intio my Dad’s place in Del Mar and live with he and David for six months before David opted out. David and I even had a film history class together! I never would have forgiven myself if I haden’t gotten out of the junkie slums of Buffalo Ny and back to living with him before he died.
Unfortunately, we are forever members of the dead brothers’ club.
and there are many club members in this broken land.
larry, it ias so good to see you involved with the blog. Until this day, I am deeply saddened by Chris’ death. What a terrible waste his lost is. I always remembered the both of you fondly. We used to have fun together at my place on Madison Avenue, as well as in his bedroom while we partied with thr dooor locked. Do you ever think about such things?
iT SEEMS LARRY THAT YOU, TOO HAVE BURIED A ‘BROTHER”.
rezst in Peace Chris Gast…you little bugger! You are missed!
l
How could I forget! I remember playing Bass for you and Chris on a short lived music project. Madison house was always fun. I remember having a crush on your roommate Kathie Bozzo(?) but I was too retarded to say anything. I only wish I wasn’t so spun out all the time ,as My bad habits at the time made me either say too much or nothing at all. This blog is a guilty pleasure of mine as I have few connections with anyone from high school. The Sd scene was were I got Schooled in cool , at least I like to think so, It makes me happy to know my youth was spent interacting with such a wide range of good people.
Hi Patrick,
My condolences regarding Josh. I remember someone telling me years ago about his death and I was heartbroken. Josh and I were closer friends than not from 1989 to about 1992 or so. He lusted after an early concert only JAM button I had in my collection until I gave it to him along with a 1970s ceramic black power fist. Josh was a gentle soul with a good sense of humor . He went with me once to get one of my tattoos at Mike Stobbe’s house and ended up having Mike tattoo “MODS” inside his lower lip on a dare. It faded out eventually, but the entire scene was tres amusing. I miss him dearly and am pained by the tragic news of his demise.
On another note,….Larry Halterman….You have a good point there about high school vs. social life in the day. I, too, feel no connection to high school as I was not particularly social with anyone there anyway. All my friends and acquaintances were at other schools and I saw them at nights and on weekends at shows and just hanging out. I have never felt the desire to attend a school reunion, but I would attend a SD 1980s Underground Reunion in a heartbeat if I could make it happen. Cheers to the social school of hard knocks, indeed.