All The Young Punks Pt. 28

--- I submitted an intermission piece about this project and the decade long process of writing and rewriting behind it. The Lit moderater moved it to the Reviews & Essays category. I then chose to delete it rather than have it land where no one cares. ---

--- JANUARY 1980 ---

Joe lay in bed early on a weekend morning, staring at the ceiling. Daybreak peeked around the window shade. He had raging morning wood. Tina was asleep at his side, very close, her arm on his shoulder. He was contemplating his future.

When Tina stirred, partially awake, he gently moved her hand down, under the covers. She opened her eyes.

"Good morning," she said, gripping him. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

"No, just hoping."

It took a few minutes for her to wake, then she had to pee. She climbed back in bed and snuggled up to Joe. They played handsy under the covers until T decided she wanted to ride on Joe's rock-hard pony, bouncing and squeaking... as she usually does. Her purple hair swept over his face. She kissed him and let out a guttural moan when her body reached the finish line. Joe placed second, a minute later.

She fell on Joe's side and kissed him sweetly. "That's the best part of waking up."

"Oh, it's not Folgers in your cup?"

"Nope. I got my cup of Joe right here." She ran her fingers over his chest. "I love you."

"It's a good thing you said so. I was having my doubts."

"Why can't you just say I love you back?"

"I love you. I say it all the time in many ways. Do I love yous have to come in pairs?"

Tina slapped his chest. "Why do you make everything a philosophical debate? She sat up against the headboard. "What are you gonna do today? You have no job and a lot of time on your hands."

"I'm gonna take some time off and think. And I'm gonna take care of you, cook meals, and give you whatever attention you need."

"I like the sound of that. But I'll be in class and Mags bumped up my work hours. Are you just gonna bum around and think?"

"Yes. If my lazing around is a bother to you," Joe sat up and reached for his underwear. "I can bum around and think in Providence. I have to tell my family what happened."

"You're not a bother. I'm just asking what your plans are."

Joe slipped a leg into his Levis. "Right now I plan on cooking breakfast. I have eggs, fat sausage links from the deli, and those Thomas' English muffins Simon had never heard of in his life."

"I love that you cook for me."

"I only cook for the ones I love."

Tina smiled. "I know."

"I'll call home during breakfast."

---- BREAKING NEWS ----

Joe plated Tina's eggs and sausage while she buttered the nooks and crannies. He poured coffee and joined her at the table. She was doing the New York Times crossword puzzle. After a few bites, he reached for the phone and dialed.

"Hey, sis. How's life in the asylum?"

"It's not an asylum when you're not here. The asylum is wherever you are."

"That's not nice."

Jackie laughed. "The truth is like that."

"That's my line."

"I know. What's going on? Morning is an odd time for you to call. Are you just checking in?"

"Yes. Where are the girls?"

"They're fighting in the bathroom and Mom is playing referee. Should I call them?"

"No. I have some breaking news. You must promise to not react, don't tell anyone. Not yet. Can you promise that?"

"Are you getting married?"

"The last MLB team to sign a black player," Tina said out loud.

"Boston Red Sox."

"What," Jackie asked.

"Nothing. I'm talking to Tina."

"What's the news? Are you engaged?"

Joe laughed, "No. I need that promise. Don't tell anyone."

"Okay. I promise."

"The band is done. We broke up. Johnny is gone. Sal and Nate are back home. I'm here with T trying to figure out what's next. I have a plan, sort of."

"Johnny is gone?"

"Rehab. I'm not playing with him again."

"What about Sal and Nate?"

Tina waved at Joe. "Alaskan archipelago."

"Hang on a second, sis," he glared at Tina. "I'm on the phone. Do your puzzle alone."

She smirked. "Alaskan archipelago."

"The Aleutian Islands," Joe said flatly. "Now let me talk to my sister."

"Tell her I said hi."

Tina knew if she asked Joe a crossword question and he knew the answer, he would say it because he couldn't help himself, even when her questioning annoyed him. She counted squares. Joe continued with his conversation.

"We had a big blow-up in Brooklyn in the middle of a gig. It was humiliating. We didn't finish the set. I don't think I can ever trust Sal again. I'm done with him too."

"And you're staying in New York?"

"You're right," Tina looked up. "It's Aleutian."

Joe glared at her. Tina smirked and took a sip of coffee.

"I'll be staying here for a little while. Give me a couple of weeks. I'll come back. I need to work on my next thing. I'm not gonna sit around and cry about the punks."

"Are you okay, brother?"

"I'm fine. Having Tina is making this a lot easier. If I was alone I'd probably be a fucking mess. And I have Simon. I'll do it again with new friends."

"Six letters," Tina looked at Joe. "Pivotal Pacific battle."

"Midway!" Joe half shouted. "Will you stop?"

Tina wrote the letters in. "Thanks."

"Why are we keeping this a secret?" Jackie asked.

"We're not. You can tell everyone after we hang up. I just didn't want everyone on the phone." Joe waved at Tina. "This is for you too."

She looked up from her puzzle.

Joe took a breath. "I'm telling the most important women in my life this so you can remind me if I fuck up again. I have a resolution starting this year. I'm not wasting one minute on people who hold me back. I've done enough to know I can do it again. I won't tolerate junkies or anyone who looks the other way. Drugs won't destroy what I build.... Never again."

Jackie and Tina said nothing, so he moved on and changed the subject. "How's Doreen Pinto's knee looking these days?"

"Very funny," Jackie said. "She's in a knee brace, and she's been busy picking on another girl."

"The worst feeling is seeing your bully tormenting another kid, and you feel horrible for that poor nerd, but you're also relieved it's not you. I was ashamed of that."

"Oh, my God. That's exactly how I felt last week. I saw the look in Rene's eyes when she was getting pushed around and I wanted to cry. And then thought... better her than me."

"It's a shitty feeling isn't it?"

"Yes. It stuck with me all day."

"Is everyone good in the house?"

"The usual. Jules is whining and Jeanie is ditzy."

"That's the way it should be. I gotta run. Kiss them for me."

"I will. Love you, brother."

"Love you, sister."

Joe hung up and turned to Tina. "Why do you do that? Do your puzzle yourself. Why do you need me?"

"Because you have a weird amount of useless information up there," she pointed at his head. "I don't know how you keep history and geography up there. I have no room for that shit in my head. I have other stuff to think about."

Joe took a bite of sausage. "Like your useful fashion and celebrity gossip news? Maybe you're not equipped for the New York Times crossword puzzle."

Tina stuck her tongue out. "Maybe you could shut up and help me. We can do it together. I know some things and you know others, like a team."

Joe exhaled, "Sounds exhausting for me. I'll be doing all the heavy lifting, college girl."

Lana came out of her room. "I thought I smelled breakfast."

Joe pointed at the cast iron skillet on the stove. "It's still warm, but you'll have to toast your own muffins."

"1977 NBA MVP," Tina smirked at Joe.

"Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. I loathe that fucker."

"Being a loser Boston fan," Lana laughed. "you would."

Tina counted squares. "Jabbar." She smiled. "You know sports too."

"Hey, you girls need to let me know what your schedule is so I can plan meals."

"Are you serious?" Lana said while standing by the toaster.

"Yeah. If I'm gonna cook I need to know who's gonna be home, breakfast and dinner."

Tina looked at Lana with a nod. "He's gonna spoil us."

The toaster popping startled Lana. "Do you want me to write it down?"

"Sure."

In the days since the band melted down, Joe's mind touched many bases. The likelihood that he would move to New York was weighing on him. He was excited about it, but the thought of leaving his sisters offset the good Jones Street vibes. It was hard to imagine seeing them less than he already was. Jackie will say she predicted it because she did.

---- HELP WANTED ----

When his West Village roommates were in class Joe began working on his next act. He placed ads in The Village Voice, and The Beacon, and made playbill-sized ads to post in nearby record shops and music stores.

Lana and Tina walked in midday to find an arts and crafts project underway in the kitchen. Joe had 11 x 14 poster boards. He was painting and using markers. Tina smiled as she read his simple ad.

WANTED: Bass player and drummer. Punk, rockabilly, garage, and surf rock. No drugs.

He had Marty Cohen's studio number listed with his new friend's blessing. Marsha, Marty's receptionist, would take messages.

"Why are you going so big with these?" Lana asked.

"Have you seen the message boards in music stores? If you don't go big and colorful, you get lost in the clutter."

"This is actually good," Tina pointed at a black and red variation of his poster with some yellow splashed in. "It's a simple abstract, and your hand lettering is...it works with the abstract."

Joe shrugged. "I didn't really think about it."

Lana pointed. "I like the green, black and gray. It looks like camouflage."

Joe shrugged again. "You artsies put too much thought into simple stuff. I just fucking painted."

"Like you with music?' Tina said, "You and Simon, blah, blah, blah."

Lana walked away, "You're a young man of many talents."

Tina leaned against Joe, overthinking his project. "Yes, he is. I like how you created an artificial border by ending your brush strokes end away from the edge."

"I didn't think about it. I just did it."

"That means you have good instincts."

"This is 8th grade art."

"Fine," Tina kissed him. "I give you an A+ for your 8th grade art."

Joe had called Marty Cohen that morning and Simon immediately afterward to set up a session in the studio for the following day. Joe wanted to run his plan by the two men he hoped would be his partners in the next chapter of his life. In the meantime, Joe was settling into a routine in The West Village. He could see this working.

He already knew all the shops, the best meat, freshest seafood and produce, and tastiest baked goods. Some days he'd hit three markets just to make dinner. He enjoyed the routine of fresh food shopping several days a week. He wore his Boston colors during his daily travels, Celtics and Red Sox, seeking attention from the shopkeepers, Yankees and Knicks fans, and some Mets. They broke his balls. He gave it back. He was imagining this as his future, living behind enemy lines.

Marty was excited to have two young musicians in his studio. He helped them set up in the small sound room. Made sure they had everything they needed and got out of the way. He did ask a few questions.

"Will you call your new band The Young Punks?"

"I haven't decided, but as far as I'm concerned... I own that name."

"Are you planning to do the same stage show?"

"I don't know, Marty. I think so. I have to find my rhythm section first. Those personalities will help me decide if that shit will still fly."

"I understand," Marty nodded. "You had the right personalities for that show."

"Joe was the carnival," Simon jumped in. "Those guys had nothing to do with that. They played the roles Joe gave them."

"Maybe so," Marty said, "but the wrong guys can't pull that off."

Joe didn't say a word. He felt uncomfortable taking all the credit, but it was his sideshow, so he didn't protest. "Those guys all thought my ideas were dumb, but once they saw what I could do, they got on board."

Simon and Joe played guitar for an hour and twenty minutes. They jammed some covers from Joe's setlist and then worked on original music.

"I want to transition from a cover band to playing originals," Joe said while playing one of his homegrown groves for Simon. "I was alone. Those guys had zero interest in songwriting. I felt it was all on me, and I'm not super confident in my songwriting."

"Your songwriting is fine, Joe. You're a riff machine. Like this," Simon pointed at Joe's guitar. "This is good and the rhythm is easy. I can hear what the bass and drums should be playing."

"I'm excited about having a songwriting partner. I hope that minor degree in music finally gets a little exercise."

Simon played okay that day, but it was painful at times. He popped painkillers before and after their session.

"Be careful with those things," Joe said.

"Oh, I am. I only take them when there's pain or before I work out these bloody fingers." he wiggled the damaged hand. "Trust me," Simon held his pill bottle up. "This will go away soon. I hate taking pills."

At the end of that day, Joe felt good that he had creative people to work with. Joe didn't know Marty well, but he had a great first impression and he seemed eager to help. Joe liked him from the start. He was modest and urban down to earth... if that's a thing.

---- A LITTLE EMPIRE ---

On Thursday he contacted Sheila Abrams. A woman he had never met but spoke to on the phone a few times regarding new venues. He invited her to a Friday lunch to discuss the future. She demanded it be Russ & Daughters, a Lower East Side deli he had never been to because Katz' was just around the corner from Russ & Daughters. It was like the Crips and Bloods. You were one or the other.

Joe was seated in a booth when a woman walked in and made a small scene greeting people. He laughed, likening her to an actress playing the role of a middle-aged New York Jewish lady, finely dressed, but not too fine. He went back to his menu.

She was loud, chatting with staff. He looked up when he heard that commotion coming his way. He then realized the TV actress with big hair was Sheila.

"Oh. my Gawd," she said. "I'm so happy to finally meet you." She extended her hand. He stood up and took it.

"I'm sorry I'm late." Sheila removed her coat and hung it on the hook above the booth. Joe waited for her to sit, then sat himself. Sheila smiled, dark bright eyes, long lashes, and said... "Well, you're a cutie. Tommy didn't tell me bout that. " She grabbed a menu and opened it. "I've known Tommy Galardo for sixteen years. He was a waiter when I met him. He's a good man and he speaks highly of you." She looked over her menu. "If he says you're a good bet, I have to check you out."

She went quiet, mulling her lunch options. Joe looked at his menu. The waitress delivered a coffee Joe had ordered and water for Sheila. "I'll be right back," the waitress said.

Joe looked over his menu and realized he had not yet spoken. "Has Tommy told you anything about my business plan?"

"He said you had one and he was impressed," Sheila lit a cigarette. Joe was not pleased.

"Don't worry," she smirked. "This will be finished before your sandwich arrives."

The waitress arrived and took orders. Sheila went for the brisket, and Joe the pastrami. He sipped his coffee. "Hey, this is good coffee for a deli." He looked at Shiela. "Most diners and delis have weak coffee. I don't understand why, but this is good."

"This is my favorite deli," Sheila said. "I have friends here. You won't be disappointed."

"My rule is simple," Joe said. "First time at a deli I always get pastrami. If that's good I'll try the brisket."

"I'm the exact opposite," she smiled. "If both are good, the deli passes." There was another stretch of silence as Sheila's soft drink arrived.

"At the moment," Joe opened his pitch. "I have more than twenty bars and nightclubs that we've played, from Portland, Maine to Manhattan. I have Boston, Providence, New Haven, Worcester, and Springfield. I have seven beach bars and lots of college bars. I'm specifically seeking college towns and bars near schools in the big cities."

Joe took a sip of coffee giving Sheila a chance to speak. She just smiled, so he continued.

"The Syracuse and Troy venues you pitched us were very good. Albany sucked, a one-and-done, we didn't like them and they didn't like us." He sipped again. "In nearly all the towns we've played I have record shops we've hooked up with. I visit them every time we're in town. The staffers come to our shows. We've become friends."

She just smiled and sipped her coffee, staring at Joe. He assumed she was listening. Finally, she spoke.

"What are you building, Joe?"

"Relationships with independent music businesses, live music venues, and record shops. I also have diners and motels we've used. I've built a little club circuit. It's not a big deal, but they're all good venues with honest people. Our beach bars are a fucking blast... excuse my French."

Sheila smirked. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Someday I'd like to see other bands using the the circuit, not just us. I'm friendly with some good bands. If they want to play Boston, I can hook them up. I know a guy."

"Look at you," Sheila smiled. "You're adorable, and so full of excitement."

"Oh," Joe didn't know what she meant by that. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, you want to start a tour company and send bands on the road. You want me to find you more clubs, in New York, Pennsylvania, and Jersey. You have New England covered. Is that what you said on the phone?"

"Yes. I have my plan for New England, we have cities and beach bars, I'm now focusing on those small college towns."

Food arrived at a good time. They got quiet and busy for a while.

"I never thought of it as a tour company," Joe said. "I was thinking like a network of venues for performance, record shops for selling records, and now I have Marty on board." Joe smiled. "Now that I think of it, with a studio, venues and retail partners we could be fully independent of the corporate vultures."

"Yes, Tommy told me you hate corporations." She smiled. "Who made that leather you wear? A corporation. Those sunglasses on your head? Corporation." She waved dismissively. "They're so terrible."

"In the music business, they are, from studios and labels to radio stations. The artists get fucked from end to end while the gatekeepers reap the rewards of someone else's talent and sweat." Joe laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm a reader; lots of music magazines and anything about the business."

"That's fine. I'm just teasing you on corporate stuff." Sheila wiped her mouth with a napkin. "You want to build a little empire, under the radar. I get it. I'll help you find venues. I have contacts out there..," she waved. "in the land I will never go."

"What land?"

"Honey, all of it. I never leave New York City."

---- UNEMPLOYED MUSICIAN ---

Joe left that meeting with a clearer picture of the ideas in his head. A tour company. That sounded right. Tie that to a recording studio and a distribution network and he could build a little empire, as Sheila said. Joe took a subway detour to Tommy's to touch base with TG and had a chat with a few hard punks. He told them about lunch with Sheila.

"Listen to you," Tommy smiled. "You're gonna be a music mogul."

"Pfft," Clyde scoffed. "He's nothing but an unemployed musician without a band."

"Joe is a real nowhere man," Zip added. "Mooching off his girlfriend."

"Nowhere Man!" Clyde laughed too hard for a mediocre joke. "That's a good one."

Jett looked at Joe and smiled. "He's a real nowhere man, living in his nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans for nobody." She winked at him.

"If you sing it to me like that," Joe nodded. "You can call me anything you want. You have a sweet voice, Jett."