A fabulous gift arrived just arrived for Che Underground: The Blog, and ultimately the San Diego Punk Archive!
Skeleton Club founder Laura Devlin (née Fraser) sent along a trove of photos, flyers, ‘zines and other ephemera of the San Diego punk scene in the late ’70s.
Her contribution comprises many posts’ worth of seminal rock-‘n’-roll history. Today, we’ll start with Laura’s own account of the rise and fall of the Skeleton Club (which operated from 1978 to 1980 at 202 Market St., then 921 Fourth Ave.). Her tale illustrates the resistance, corruption and downright brutality San Diego music pioneers faced from the authorities at the turn of the ’80s.
Were you there for the Skeleton Club’s last night — or at the subsequent trial? Tell us about it in the comments below!
Laura Devlin writes: A little bit of my personal history: In 1977, I was a nursing student at San Diego State, living with my boyfriend Greg Willis, bass player for the beloved Glory band. Greg was a wonderful man and helped me with the Skeleton Club, along with many other people.
So much was happening in those days. I met Larry Shadgett, an owner of Babylon Records, who invited me over to his place to listen to music, including “Human Fly” by The Cramps. Larry had great taste and changed my life! I saw the Ramones at Montezuma Hall. Bands like the Dinettes and the Penetrators were playing parties for lack of public venues — that was where I first heard them.
Wanting to support the bands and contribute something was how my friends and I started putting on shows. All-ages show venues were especially lacking.
I always got the correct permits, and when I opened a permanent location for the Skeleton Club I asked for and was given a police liaison to try to head off trouble.
Read more: “Fleshing out the Skeleton Club”
Police were always trying to bust us for having booze or drugs in the club, but because people understood those behaviors would shut the place down, we never were cited for any such violation. I would walk the blocks around the club to ask people not to drink or smoke in the neighborhood, for their safety and to keep the club going.
In spite of best efforts, the police behaved badly. I believe their intention was to incite a riot the night they came to the Skeleton Club in force. They could not be appeased, and I was telling the crowd the show was cancelled when they arrested me on.stage, handcuffing me behind my back (so absurd) and took me to a patrol car. I saw the people streaming out of the club, I am so glad there were no severe injuries.
Read more: “The Skeleton Club in flyers”
We had a 10-day jury trial, and all the Skeleton Club defendants were found guilty. The jury was dismissed. Then the judge told us she was declaring a mistrial, as she found that the police had perjured themselves. And, oh yes, they had lied through the whole trial.
So then the prosecution had the option to charge and retry us again. Our wonderful pro bono attorney bargained, the disturbing-the-peace charge against me was dropped, and the much more serious felony charges of my codefendants (like assault on a police officer) were reduced to misdemeanors.
Hurray for the undefeatable Tim Mays, who carried on after I slunk off to Hawaii. I eventually started an all-ages club there too — another story. — Laura Fraser Devlin
What a great find!
I think that it’s important to remember that the SDPD pigs acted completely under the sponsorship and consent of then-mayor, Pete Wilson. Wilson went on record more than once about “driving punk-rockers out of San Diego”.
The immediate post-mortem of the Skeleton Club — and of FONO hi-jinks, etc. — was written for The Reader at the time. It was an article to which most people in the scene took some kind of exception, but not for the depiction of police harassment. Has anybody got that archived?
Also great “SRO-style” sink and mirror selfie of Tim Mays!
There is a Reader article that describes the whole affair as well as the trial if I recall. The night in question was one in which the Unknowns were playing and very fortuitously, Mark Neill was recording the gig with his ever present cassette deck. This came into play during the trial when the prosecution characterized the music as being acid rock or some such overstatement based on lies from the police officers.
The song they were playing at the time the police shut the show down was Rat Race, hardly acid rock but a more mellow incitement to get away from the hub-bub of fast living. When Mark was called to present evidence, he played the cassette for the judge and the jury and the judge apparently chuckled out loud and made comment about the music being fairly innocuous (Mark’s recollection).