Just a lil sumthin for ya’ll.
“Daryl Gates (the fascist Chief of the Los Angeles Police Department) and the L.A.P.D had it out for Punk Rockers.”-Ger-I
Saint Monica High School in Santa Monica provided much for this hack with a keyboard and yes, even pen and pencil. Believe or not junior there was at one time an instrument of recording one’s thoughts,emotions,observations etc by (drum roll please.)hand! This was known as a journal! Novel yes? No? (NYC accent) Go get me a Cannoli you shumuck and make it snappy! Now where was I? Oh yes Saint Monica High School. The Catholic institution of religion and education located at 7th and Lincoln Blvd in beautiful Santa Monica, California.
To begin,the good old McGinty family kids two doors down from grandma’s place, all attended Saint Monica High School.Thee girls and two boys, all red headed, milky,fair-skinned, and freckled all over. The sisters teased and punched me incessantly being 5 to 8 years older than I. The older brother already in college ( he made the BBall team at Washington U) would show up on vacation to show off the fine art of the J. That left John. John 4 years older than yurz truly, the scrub,the ball boy, the constant buzzing in your ear, begging to get in the game.Begging,”Pick me . pick me, man!” John played for the Saint Monica Mariners, starting forward.
Carrying John’s gym bag, yammering on about the upcoming game as we walked down Lincoln Blvd past the park to the High School gym. I was a pest for sure but a useful pest, The iconic steeple and church in the nearby distance grew ever larger.
I was a body and this body worked all the drills. Weave, give and go, lay up lines, pick & roll, defense,
chasing loose balls,passing out towels, and everything else that I could do to play a little basketball with the team.
Good old John McGinty, he turned me on to music as much as the 90′foot game. Artists such as David Bowie and Jimi Hendrix. The radio would blare these tunes as we passed the ball around, then I would attempt to guard John, he toyed with me dribbling the brown Wilson leather ball between his legs, around the back, suddenly rising like an elevator, straight up, releasing the ball so clean and effortless hanging in mid air,shouting, “Hawkins” and drain a 25′ foot J smooth as silk, the net snapping, cleanly, making that beautiful swish.
Rest in Peace, John McGinty.
Lord have mercy! Ghosts living and souls long ago passed on, are materializing from thin air! Again. Or not so thin air this being L.A. Let me begin with an older apparition’s haunting.” Christmas 1980 the saddest time for L.A Punk Rock and our circle of friends. Darby had ODed and died the night after his Germs Return to show and the L.A scene as well as the world is in a tailspin of sorrow and mourning. The world you say? Yeah,Darby’s big plan to go out in a blaze of glory and headlines was upstaged by the murder of none other than John Lennon, Talk about ultimate irony. L.A’s anti-rocker was upstaged by the murder of the “We are more popular than Jesus.”himself. Darby Crash was regulated to back page news in L.A and was barley a blip on any other media radar. His ghost began appearing in the apartment building we all lived in soon after his death. Within in days ‘ol snaggle tooth began his mischievous paranormal pranks on us. First of all, Darby’s favorite blue light flicked on and off constantly when we were at home, as if he was sending a Morse cod messagee from the beyond.I unplugged the light from the wall socket yet the light continued to turn itself on and off. It was creepy, really! The manager who did not know Darby had died 3 days prior, told us he saw Darby in the hallway but he would not turn around when he called to him. He wanted to know if Darby was feeling ok. I said Darby killed himself 3 days ago. The manager looked really pale after this news. Hey! I’m not going to reveal the entire haunting here, man! How am I going to sell any books?
Well after 35 years Amber appeared back in my life too. She tracked me down from the 1978 Crashed Memories facebook page. We talked. Could result in a new project. She has most of Darby’s manuscripts and other items. Well, I got a sudden hankering to do some haunting myself. Check out the old digs! If you read 1978 Crashed Memories you will recognize this line from the book “Yes, even the stars of Hollywood Blvd rolled under the urethane.” I filmed the video to reflect lines in 1978 Crashed Memories.A virtual reenactment! enjoy! Ohhh one ‘lil correction I will make as to the video, Don Kirk did not “live” there with us as Amber had left Don. He was always hanging around though, looking out for Amber.