I can't remember crap. I don't know how you could remember much. Maybe people that worked there or in the music business in some way, and kept your head a little. Some people may have only gone a couple of times and the memory is more distinct? I doubt it. Maybe if you went in the mid sixties when the drug use wasn't quite as out of control? By the time I started going to the Action House/Rockpile it was the early seventies.
This place was down the road a couple of miles from where I lived. About a mile from Nathan's. A few of us met up at Nathan's beforehand. Sometimes.
Oh yeah. I was underage, but we were more ready to get out there. Something has happened to humans. I don't know what it is, plastic bottles? But it seems as though in just 50 years there's been some kind of physical, mental, emotional change. What I'm trying to say is that... you know how you look at movies from the 50's and laugh because the teenagers seem older. Sure, the actors were a little older, but in my experience we were ready to hit the road much younger than kids today. I'm not going to make a judgment as to whether that's good or bad. Just trying to help you understand that we weren't completely dependent at that age.
Often enough I used the excuse that I was sleeping at a friends' house. (I may have described this before but I'm not checking. It just comes out all at once when I do this.) Sometimes I was. It was kind of fun when I went over my friend "I's" house. Her room was on the first floor and we jumped out the window. Climbed back in. Sorry. Nobody knew.
My entire life I passed by this place. Even as a little kid when it was The Shell House my face was plastered against the car window. Breath fogging it up. Glaring at the sign. Who was there? Who was playing? Then when it switched to The Action House mid sixties or so... holy crap. Everyone played there. I mean everyone. It has been said that everyone that had any kind of record contract in the US played there except for The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and The Beach Boys. I'm not exaggerating. I can't believe that nobody has written a book about the place. I have a theory why. But if they're going to do it, it better be soon. Won't be many left.
Christ, I couldn't tell you the first time I went. Sometime in 1970. They were open Friday and Saturdays. Let's see... how do I describe this. You get there. There's a big parking lot out front. Dirt parking lot. Even if you got there kind of early, they'd be some people already there so they were waiting by the front. It was a big party already. People were smoking joints. Passing around whatever else. You wonder why the cops weren't there? I found out. One of my distinct memories was some guy next to me saying "You know this place is owned by the mob?" Huh? Nobody cared, the place was rocking. Back then you almost needed to know someone in the mob to get a county job. It was everywhere. I heard from a few people that if a band wanted to be promoted or get a record deal they had to play at The Action House/Rockpile. I know some people are aware, but I'm guessing a lot don't know really how much the music business was intertwined with shady characters back in the day. I'm not going to write a bunch of stuff about that, but musicians were taken advantage of by everyone. I'm not an expert, but it's part of history. Thing is... if the managers just could have stopped ripping people off, who knows. But when the big corporate entities stepped in... that sucked.
The owner of the place was Phil Basile. If you're interested there's some info out there. Club owner, music promoter. Lucchese family. Big airport heist. You know, Goodfellas. Stuff was real. Later, plays a part in my story.
So, I don't know who would be left to tell stories, or who wants to. What kind of papers are left, whatever. It's not on the internet. But there's probably plenty for a book. I honestly don't know much about that, I was just a kid that went there for the music and fun. It wasn't my life, I was really trying to figure out the journey. Everything I did, I thought it was just a piece of the puzzle. If I tried different things, somewhere along the line I'd find something.
I know the place was called a dance club for the "public." Maybe in the early 60s' when the music wasn't the heavy rock n' roll. God damn. Everyone was so wasted. They had guys at the entrance that today you would say were like Christopher Moltisanti. I didn't hang around with these people. But I wasn't going to put people down because they were different than me. I tried to love everyone. Anyway, they told me I didn't have to wait on line. Just c'mon up next time. I didn't have to pay either. They seemed nice. Maybe I could do some flow of consciousness thing to describe how my brain worked then. Space cadet hippie chick, but read a lot of books, did meditation and witchcraft and was on the honor roll. I thought these fellas were a fine judge of character. I was so damn cool. Maybe they could read my mind. Knew I was awesome? I walked cool, lanky like I was truckin'. I guess when I snapped out of it, I finally figured out it was they liked the way I looked. I think they liked hippie chicks. I wasn't a model. Not to sound weird, but that's how it was. Dumb, huh? Get this... stupid stuff, believe me I was an idiot, but people would ask "Can I get in with you?" They could. I was not important, just a goofball that they liked.
So what was it like inside? Well, I remember the stage and the red room. I don't remember it as being huge at all. That's why it was so damn fantastic. I just never could love huge controlled concerts. This place was bedlam. The bands got up there and sweat. Your ears were blasted out of your head. You felt the drums and the bass go right through your body. People were happy as hell. It was a mash of bodies but I usually wasn't smashed in the crowd. Uh, the big groups had roadies that did a lot of different kinds of work for them. Sometimes roadies had to find dope of some sort, but there usually wasn't a problem if there were people around with connections. Yeah. Lots of them here. They also had roadies that combed the audience for girls that could inspire the music. 🤯 Some got to line the front of the stage and some got to sit on the stage. 😉
 | |
| This was a little before my time. I wish I could have seen Napolean the XIV. Would be as fun as the time I saw Zacherley play the saxaphone. |
Funny. I remember seeing an article about the club when it changed to the Rockpile. The "owner" made a big deal about the wine room. Ha. Like it was classy? I didn't know anyone that drank wine in there. It was a room off to the side, painted red. Most of the people in there were tripping on acid. They needed to get away from all the commotion for a little bit. There were some real conversations in there. I spent quite a bit of time in here, also wanting to get away from the roadies.
 |
| Ha ha. |
Really, I wasn't there all the time. I don't remember going in the winter, though I'm sure there must have been shows. I don't think any of us thought things would change so much. Somehow it would go on and on. All the fun. The music. If I had known how things would turn out, I would have written things down, but we were living for the moment. Must be one of the reasons it was so great. Had such a fun time. Never, ever had a bad time. I abruptly stopped going in 1972 and I'll talk about that later.
Here's some examples of ads. Hope you can read them.
No comments:
Post a Comment