I Remember Part I
by Michele Christopher
A story about a day in my life as a mid-teen Punk. I changed names and a couple facts here and there to keep it interesting.
I always hated Market East; bums everywhere, the whole station smelled like piss, every single asshole that walked by me either tried to start shit or just gave me that ‘I’m so glad my kid is not you’ look… but I waited there anyway. John showed up about 20 minutes after I did and we didn’t even get to the Gallery entrance before a couple older black kids started some shit – there were too many this time so we had to walk – this just made John even more pissed. We weren’t two blocks from the Gallery when John decided to beat some innocent kid to the sidewalk. John had a violent streak created by his older jock brother who would literally throw him down a flight of stairs if he looked at him wrong. I stood back on this one, I wasn’t a violent kid… at least not like John and CJM. We kept walking. John was singing “I ain’t no goddamn son of a bitch…..” I loved the Misfits but the only music in my head was GBH – man what a fucking great show – City Gardens actually got some real bands in there back then.
“Dude, let’s stop at Rock’s and grab some beer.” Didn’t matter that it was only 11:00 AM – John could drink all day…. Rock’s was this little deli where the old man who ran it didn’t care how old you were, if you showed him a card, any card I’m talking a school library card – ANYTHING, you got served. This was perfect for a couple of 15-year-olds, who either cut school or got suspended for poisoning the vice principle’s fish, and had nothing better to do all day, “I’m sure Brody’s out…” Of course I wasn’t gonna say no. I was a poor kid from the suburbs of Philadelphia – John lived in some $500k house in Buckingham – He always had some dough – Dude wants to buy me some beer, who am I to say no? (Nancy Reagan would have loved me!). We got some beer, Old English 40’s, and continued to Brody’s place. We ran into Butcher at the ‘Circle’, “Watch your back dude, DC skins are up.” Every now and then a couple of DC skins would show up, fuck up some young punks and steel their boots. ASSHOLES!
Butcher was probably to blame for this – He was one of Brody’s boys, a real fucked up dude who got his name from slicing up some dude’s face with a straight razor because he threatened Brody in some local rag….. He started with the skins at a ‘Rock against Reagan’ gig in DC. Philly Skins were pretty well known back then and actually got along with the punks… well, most of us anyway – As long as you didn’t wear any ‘un-American’ shit or rich kid Rock n Roll mall store crap, they were pretty tolerant. They always liked Butcher, probably because there wasn’t a situation that Butcher would back down from. Well they backed him up, chaos erupted and the relationship between Philly and DC would forever be shot…
“Fuck her!” He was referring to India-- the leader of this little skin mob from DC – If that’s not enough, she’s a black girl who doesn’t remotely resemble a skinhead…. whatever – “The mood I’m in…I hope we run into that bitch – no one’s fucking getting my Doc’s!” (This ‘fuck you’ attitude was typical of John…… CJM and I once witnesses a brutal beat down by his brother and his jock stooges…we tried to make him stop but he just kept going back – his face swollen and bleeding, he was like a wild pit bull – eventually THEY stopped and moved on…. as far as CJM and I were concerned, John won).
“Brody! Where the fuck are you man??” John was too busy looking for floaters, “Yo Brody!” –
....to be continued....
Tesco still lives just outside of Philadelphia and still has his boots. Archives