CBGBs was a rough bar. The Hell’s Angels used the Bowery bar for away play and no one questioned their right to act like they owned the place,since they scared off most other asshole bikers, although not every night.

The night of the Cramps’ first show at the Bowery club was packed with affectionados on garage trash music and the Cramps played, as if tomorrow the world was diving into the sun.

I Was a Teenage Werewolf, Sunglasses After Dark, Strychnine, and a cover of the Trashmens’ Surfer Bird highlighted the show. My hillbilly girlfriend loved them. She wasn’t white trash, but Alice didn’t live far from the hollows.

During the encore the scrawny saxist James Chance of the Contortions took the stage not to perform, but to fondle two biker chicks from Jersey. He had a reputation for trouble.

Their boyfriends were in the front row.

James stuck out his tongue.

The girls thought he was funny.

One of the biker boys had no sense of humor and jumped onto the stage.

It wasn’t much of a fight. Chance was skin and bones. The biker had a body of of mechanic muscle. A solid right to Chance’s nose sent the sax player into the drum set. Blood poured onto James’ dirty white shirt.

Eric Mitchell, film actor extraordinaire, scrambled onto the stage to rescue his skinny friend. The actor was part-Cherokee and warned the biker to stop.

The band kept playing Surfing Bird.

The audience watched the show. Alice grabbed my arm. This wasn’t my fight.

The biker looped a slow overhead right and his fist impacted on Eric’s nose louder than the band. Blood splattered everywhere. Merv the bouncer threw out the bikers. He was 6-6 and looked like a family member of the Addams family. Even the Angels respected Merv.

The next night Eric entered the club with a black eye.

James was wearing the same badge of dishonor only for both eyes.

That night the two were everyone’s darlings in a bar filled with losers.