by Gene Mahoney

Hey, S.F. -- L.A. is.... okay!

January 2002 - On December 1st, when I awoke to hear a weekend Bay Area forecast promising nothing but wind and rain, I quickly hopped in my piece-of-shit 1980 Toyota Corolla, headed down Interstate 5, and didn't stop until I hit Los Angeles. Some of you may be saying, "Hey Gene, what's with you going to L.A. all the time lately?"

Well, I know as a native New Yorker/ immigrant San Franciscan I'm supposed to loathe the City of Angels. But you know what? It's not a bad town for a day, maybe even two. I remember moving to L.A. in the summer of '90, right after college, hoping to "make it" in show biz, and then being so disappointed by not succeeding within a few weeks that I left and didn't return for 6 years.

Well, I'm over any youthful delusions of grandeur (driving a 1980 Toyota Corolla will do that to a man), so when I go there now it's just to get away. Oh, and being the arrogant social climber I am, when I'm down there I hobnob with successful people, including Ian Copeland, who I mentioned in this column a few issues ago. As you may recall, Ian is the brother of former Police drummer Stewart Copeland (who's now in a band with guys from Primus and Phish). His other brother Miles Copeland founded I.R.S. (International Record Service, which first recorded The Police, Squeeze, Chelsea, Skafish, etc.). Ian founded F.B.I. (Frontier Booking International, which got gigs for the bands Stewart and Miles were associated with).

Ian's father, Miles Copeland, Sr., founded the C.I.A. (Central Intelligence Agency, the Central Intelligence Agency, not something in the music business). I parked my car on a residential street in Beverly Hills and walked to the Backstage Cafe (9433 Brighton Way) which Ian owns with the brothers Copeland. Smoking a cigarette outside, he recognized me and smiled. I handed him a copy of the October Herald and told him to read James Dylan's "Why I Re-joined the U.S. Army" story, because Ian had once joined the military as well, ending up in Vietnam (for a full account of that and his founding of "New Wave" music in the '80's, read his autobiography Wild Thing, available at your local bookstore).

After dinner at R.J.'s, I walked around the 90210 zipcode and then headed back to the Backstage for some wine. "Sgt. Pepper" and "Revolver" were playing over the speakers. MTV was on (without the sound, thank God) playing trashy hip-hop videos with these morons pushing their face into the camera, yapping their big mouths about how great they are, waving their hand gestures (the white ones are even more nauseating, trying to be authentic "street"). Is this music or pro wrestling? (No, I'm not racist -- I hate heavy metal and similar white trash music.) What a contrast. Listening to the Beatles in a restaurant owned by the guy who brought us the Police -- and this stuff on TV is what kids today are listening to? Worse, they're watching it. Where did we go wrong? You try not to be some bitter old man and give music today a chance. You want to like it.

But man, it just sucks so bad!

I thought it was so cool when David Bowie was interviewed by MTV in the early '80's and quipped: "Let me ask you a question; How come you don't play black artists?" Man, if only we had known.

Then I overheard some guy call the Beatles "fags" (you know the type, don't you? Huuurrrrllll) and that Lennon was the only good one. I hear the latter part of what that guy said a lot, but for what my opinion's worth (probably not much), I have to pooh pooh that notion. The Beatles were a synergy. Yeah, solo-wise they all put out some good (even great) work, but when they were together we never got "Woman is the Nigger of the World" by John and Yoko, Paul singing "Mary Had a Little Lamb", "Gone Troppo" by George, or any of Ringo's solo efforts (okay, his 1973 self-titled album was okay). There always seemed to be something missing from them without the others around. Even when one of them recorded something great, it would have been even better if the other 3 guys were there, too. If you wanted to get even more specific, Lennon and McCartney together were the Beatles. John's quirky rebelliousness mixed with Paul's catchy melodies gave us the best music since Beethoven and Billie Holiday.

Wow, I haven't argued about rock music since high school. Enough of this.

Ian finally showed up, and along with his British friend Dave (another bitter 30-something like myself) and this couple at the bar, we all toasted George. So long, Mr. Harrison. Thanks for being born.

At around 11:30 I said my goodbyes and headed to the car. I put Natalie Merchant's new CD on the stereo, reclined the seat back, and figured I would catch some ZZZZ's for a half hour before I checked out the Hollywood club scene. Unfortunately, I awoke at 4 a.m., too late to hang out with the beautiful people. I was freezing. Too tired to move and find a motel, too cold to sleep. Just kind of stuck there, with my dried contact lenses stuck to the insides of my eye lids. Hey, now this is what I call accommodations! I shouldn't complain, considering I was parked in Beverly Hills, I'm lucky a S.W.A.T. team didn't descend on me. After breakfast at some coffeehouse in downtown Venice, I decided to get washed up (and this being L.A., pumped up).

So I headed down to World Gym in Marina Del Rey. I asked the guy who runs the place, Eddie Giuliani (great last name!), this tough older guy from Brooklyn, if I could buy a day pass.

Eddie's such a nice guy, he said: "We don't have day passes, but tell ya what, buy a T-shirt for 10 bucks on the way out and we'll call it even."

On the way out I had the privilege of meeting Joe Gold, the founder of Gold's Gym. Joe founded Gold's, retired, and then founded World Gym. He's definitely got some cajones.

Pumped-up and refreshed, I headed for Hollywood to interview a San Francisco icon of that wondrous decade; the early '80's. I'm talking about the lovely and talented Pearl Harbour. This month makes it five years since Pearl left the City of St. Francis and moved to La-La Land. Pearl was born and raised in Germany (her dad was in the army), but upon dropping out of high school she moved to San Francisco, where she entered the first ever talent contest put on by Fee Waybill's band The Tubes. Pearl won (!) for tap-dancing (the other winner was a drag queen comic named Doris Fish). "Doris and I became good friends," says Pearl. "She taught me everything I know about hair and makeup."

Through The Tubes Pearl met Jane Doorknocker (her real name), who was in their touring company and co-wrote their song, "Don't Touch Me There". Jane was in a band/ comedy act called Leila and the Snakes (she was Leila), and asked Pearl to join the band as a back-up singer/ dancer (it lasted from '76 to '77). Pearl left the act and formed Pearl Harbor and the Explosions in '78, playing now-defunct clubs like Keystone Berkeley, The Old Waldorf, Mabuhay Gardens, and The Palms Cafe. The Explosions put out an independent single on 415 Records called "Drivin'". Beverly Wilshire ("The Beaver"), a popular DJ on KSAN managed to sneak the record on the station's rotation, even though she knew it wasn't mainstream.

But when "Drivin'" started getting requests, KSAN started playing it more. Later, "Pearl Harbor and the Explosions" self-titled debut album made the Top 100. Much to her record company's dismay, Pearl soon broke up the Explosions because she wanted to put together a rockabilly band. Her bandmates didn't share her taste for rockabilly, so Pearl, in January of 1980, moved to England. She had been encouraged by British bands to move there, as they told her that many English kids like "music of early American roots." Pearl even beat fellow American rockabilly expatriates the Stray Cats there (she saw their first gig at a little dank pub in London).

Living in the U.K., she made a slight change to her name: It was now Pearl Harbour (the spelling she retains today.) Not long after that, she started dating Paul Simonon, bass player for The Clash, whom she had originally met in San Francisco when they played here in '78. They eventually married (and later divorced.)

The Explosions had opened for big name acts like Elvis Costello, the B-52's, Talking Heads, Ian Dury and the Blockheads, Graham Parker and the Rumour, and, naturally, her boyfriend Paul's group, and now those bands played on her first solo record "Don't Follow Me I'm Lost, Too".

Her record company's patience ran out when Pearl refused to have the musicians credited on the album, claiming she didn't want to be accused of having a hit record just because big names were on it. After a rather spirited debate between the company and her 21-year-old manager, she was no longer with a label.

Ms. Harbour moved back to S.F. in late '87 and formed a solo band with Buck Naked as her bass player.

"Buck played naked with a toilet plunger tied to his private parts," she recalls. "On his bass was a picture of his private parts." Lee Vilensky, future columnist for the San Francisco Herald, took over for Buck when Buck was tragically killed in Golden Gate Park. "They caught the guy who did it," says Pearl. "The guy who did it was called 'The Pigeon Man' and he shot Buck because his dog was chasing the pigeons." Pearl likes the change of scenery living in L.A. "It's fun. I'm glad it's warmer here." Presently she's working on new comedy routines and is forming a country band.

After my pleasant little chat with Ms. Harbour, I headed to L.A.'s trendy Los Feliz (or is it Las Feliz?) area and had lunch at a coffeehouse (I think it was called Psycho Babble Cafe.) On line I ran into a 20-something woman wearing a Blowfish Sushi T-shirt. I asked her and her boyfriend if they were from SF and indeed they were. They've been down south for a month because the rent there is cheaper. I told them I was headed back to SF after I ate. The girl behind the counter, overhearing us, gave me my albacore tuna salad (for only $8 as I recall, what a deal) and said she would like to hitch a ride with me when she got off work, but then quickly remembered she had an art project due the next day.

I guess I don't have that "ax murderer" look.

Oh well, a pleasant 22 hours in Los Angeles. Time to get the hell out.

I kept listening to Natalie Merchant's "Motherland" CD over and over on the way back. It's good, though she can be a little depressing (sometimes, listening to the lyrics, I felt like driving off the road.) I had dinner at the exact midway point between L.A. and S.F. on I-5., at this fast food joint called Oriental Express (25014 W. Dorris, 198 - Interstate 5, Coalinga, CA 93210, Ph.# 559-935-8547) featuring "Authentic Chinese Cuisine". The last couple of times I ate there I was served by Mexican workers, but this time owner Chuh-Fu was there. I asked him what there was to do for fun in this town. "Nothing in this town. Just woods. I work all day. Go home. Watch a little TV. Go to sleep. Go to work next day," he replied. That may sound dull to you San Franciscans, but Chuh says he's just happy he has a job as the economy in his native Taiwan is bad. So all of you out there be grateful for what you have. You could be slinging egg rolls in Coalinga right now.

I'm glad I supported an independently owned small "restaurant", instead of the fascist corporate Denny's that was nearby. I can't recall if it was that particular Denny's or another one along I-5 in another hick town that I ate at a couple of years ago, but I have an interesting anecdote about it. I was tired, out of it from driving, and had just finished a Grand Slam Breakfast or something like that. As I paid the bill, the girl behind the register gave me my change, but rubbed my hand as she gave it to me. I looked up and noticed she was looking me right in the eye, smiling seductively. She was a big girl. A really big-boned girl. A really big, big-boned girl. Not really a girl. You know what I mean. On the way out to the car I looked around at the endless stretch of highway, the tumbleweeds blowing across barren land, and 18-wheelers pulling in to the parking lot. Man, I thought to myself, What a LOUSY place to be a transgender....

News and Notes, This and That...

Red's Sugar Shack, "The cities only boozin' and shoppin' bar-tique" is a relatively new addition to the San Francisco shopping scene. It's located at 510 Larkin (@ Turk), where infamous stripper/ dominatrix/ transgender bar Jezebel's Joint is, and it's the place to go for handbags, jewelry, novelty items, magazines, marital aids, sweets, hosiery, shoes, corsets, lingerie, strip wear, and retro vintage wear -- while getting ripped. Open Wed.-Sun., 11am to 7pm. Happy Hour is 3 to 7 pm (with all the weiners you can eat.) Their phone number is (415) 345-9832....

Some of you may remember the Twisted Image cartoons I published last year by the (in)famous Ace Backwords. Well, Ace has a new book out, and it's truly a fascinating read. I sincerely recommend this tome. It's titled Surviving on the Streets: How to Go Down Without Going Out, and Ace and I both think it's destined to become a classic. Over four years in the making, our hero recounts his running away from home at age 17, thinking his journey across this great country of ours would be filled with fun and adventure, only to discover that wasn't always the case, to say the least.

Ace has been homeless for over half his life, and as much as you may think he just has negative things to write about the experience, some of it is actually quite positive and life affirming. I think Ace said that the Tower Records near Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley is selling it. You can order it from the publisher -- Loomponic Books (P.O. Box 1197, Port Townsend, WA. 98368, (360) 385-2230, loomponics.com)....

Ace and his protege B.N. Duncan are selling their annual Telegraph Street Calendar at their table in front of Cody's Books on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley. For merely $12 you can keep track of the days while keeping up with photos and artwork by and of the homeless, eccentric, and downtrodden. Makes a great gift....

On a similar note, whether it's in North Beach or Menlo Park, I keep running into Arch Barcha, this guy who drove down from Seattle and has been living in his van while he's in the Bay Area.. Arch is an artist who just gives his work away! Although if you want to make a donation, Arch will give 25% to 100% of proceeds to humanitarian and social causes. His work is pretty good, too. He's at P.O. Box 14477, Seattle, WA 98114, (206) 850-8561, barchaprocess@yahoo.com).

If you wish to read more click here!

Gene can be emailed here.