On the Death of Anita Sarko

 This morning I awoke to the news that Anita Sarko, a DJ who worked at such New York clubs as Mudd Club, Danceteria and Palladium, killed herself.

I didn’t know Ms. Sarko, but I used to go to these clubs in the early ’80s and probably heard her deejaying.

Once again I was confronted with a strange feeling of grief over someone I didn’t know, but felt like I did. I also felt a need to express my grief, but I was worried it might seem like I was using someone else’s death to talk about myself (which, perhaps, I partly am). But I also felt it was important to say that sometimes people you barely know can profoundly affect your life—sometimes just for what they symbolize—without their even knowing it.

As it happens, I had to go to the post office on Canal Street this morning to pick up some mail. I can’t walk down a street in Manhattan anymore without being assaulted by a rush of memories, of people and places that used to be. Around the corner from the post office was the first club I ever went to, the Rock Lounge on West Broadway, and not too far below Canal Street was, of course, the Mudd Club. Now there’s an enormous high-rise towering over the post office, completely out of scale with the neighborhood, just as there’s now a high-rise down the block from where the Mudd Club used to be.

There was a line in Michael Musto’s touching obituary on Facebook¹ that shook me to my core. “She couldn’t find creatively satisfying work and worried about her career, feeling that various projects had reached an absolute dead end for her…she found that nothing clicked, since employers were looking for recent college grads, not old-timers with history and personality.”

Could this perhaps be my future, too?

I posted a link to Musto’s obituary on my Facebook page and one of my friends recalled that Sarko used to deejay at a bar called the Lismar Lounge in the East Village. I struggled to place the bar (which was right around the corner from where I used to live on East 4^th Street), so I Googled it and found an article about it², which also mentioned the now-defunct 99 Records and a performer named G.G. Allin, who also passed away—could it be?—22 years ago! (That’s another hazard of getting older in the age of the Internet: any memory can send you off to Google in search of your lost past, until you disappear down a nostalgic K-hole, to use a drug term that was popular in the ’80s--or was it the ’90s?)

Maybe it’s my imagination, but when I hear the drunken club-goers outside my apartment now, there seems to be an air of desperation to their behavior. They know that they’ve already missed out on what was arguably New York’s cultural zenith and that their future looks even more depressing. They think that today’s New York of chain stores and suburban safeness is fabulous because they’ve never known anything else.

That’s what I meant before about someone symbolizing something. And that’s what Anita Sarko symbolized for me: the pre-chain store, pre-safe New York of unlimited possibilities.

1 http://www.kennethinthe212.com/2015/10/anita-sarko-called-queen-of-discotheque.html

2 http://vassifer.blogs.com/alexinnyc/2015/01/back-to-the-lismar-lounge.html

Chrissie Hynde’s Reckless Life

Chrissie Hynde is the living embodiment of punk rock’s “DIY” (“do it yourself”) ethos: a non-writer who wrote for the NME (and has now written a memoir called Reckless); and a self-taught guitarist, singer and songwriter who became the lead singer, principal songwriter and rhythm guitarist for one of rock’s seminal post-punk bands: The Pretenders.

While the writing in Reckless veers between amateurish and literary, the voice is unmistakably Hynde’s: brash, in your face, and unapologetic—much like punk rock itself.

Two things struck me while reading this book. One is how much you can get away with when you’re young and cute (especially if you’re young and cute in London in the ’70s). The other is the unique position occupied by women in rock: able to trade on their gender in this male-dominated world, but also vulnerable because of that gender. Hynde pretty much admits to being raped (or, at least, sexually abused and/or beaten) in the course of her journey, as Cyndi Lauper did in her memoir, and Madonna did in a recent interview.

It’s a miracle Hynde survived, let alone thrived!

Her ascent to rock stardom thus reads like either a series of incredible coincidences or something on the order of divinely preordained destiny.

She arrives in London with no money and no prospects and, in short order, meets Nick Kent, a writer for the NME, which results in her landing a writing gig there, despite her lack of credentials.

In a similar fashion, on a return trip to London, she winds up meeting Pete Farndon, James Honeyman-Scott and Martin Chambers, the other three quarters of The Pretenders. (It turns out that Honeyman-Scott was actually living next door to Hynde at one point, and she overheard his guitar playing without knowing who it was.)

She also hobnobs with such future luminaries as The Clash, the Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols manager Malcolm McLaren and his girlfriend, designer Vivienne Westwood (working in their clothing store was one of her many odd jobs), Iggy Pop (with whom she has a memorable dalliance), Ray Davies, John McEnroe, John Belushi, and many more.

All of this is heady stuff.

But, in predictable Behind the Music fashion, it all comes crashing down once the band gets a taste of success and fame. Shortly after their second world tour, half the band—Honeyman-Scott and Farndon—die of drug-related causes.

Reckless is a tale of fulfilling your wildest dreams and having them turn into your worst nightmare.

And still carrying on.

Sue Mengers as Metaphor

 Have you ever read a book and actually been sad when the book ended? That’s how I felt when I finished reading the deliciously entertaining and gossipy new biography Sue Mengers, Can I Go Now?: The Life of Sue Mengers, Hollywood’s First Superagent by Brian Kellow.

Why was I was so affected by reading about the life of someone who, in her own words, was nothing more than a little pisher? Because (of course) she wasn’t a little pisher, that’s why.

For those of you under 35, let me give you some background.

Sue Mengers, as book’s title says, was Hollywood’s first superagent. But, more importantly, she was Hollywood’s first superagent during what I consider to be the greatest period in American film history: the seventies.

Let me explain why this is so.

The seventies were a period that occurred after the collapse of the studio system (roughly, the end of the sixties) and before the era of the blockbuster began (signified by Jaws and, later, Star Wars). This meant that Hollywood's writers, directors and actors were free to create some of their most brilliant movies: Network, Midnight Cowboy, Taxi Driver, Nashville, Chinatown, The Last Picture Show, etc. (I could go on, but Peter Biskind has already written an excellent book about this time called Easy Riders, Raging Bulls: How the Sex-and-Drugs-and-Rock ’n’ Roll Generation Saved Hollywood.)

Sue Mengers was an interesting person and this is an interesting book because she was a mass of contradictions: someone who could be warm and funny one minute and cutting and sarcastic the next. She was indelibly shaped by two traumatic events in her life: her distant relationship with her overly critical mother and the suicide of her father when she was a child. This is what, I presume, made her the attention-seeking overachiever she eventually became.

Sue Mengers lived for what she called her “twinklies” (meaning her star clients) and, particularly, Barbra Streisand, with whom she had a spectacular falling out when a movie Mengers’s husband directed and Streisand starred in (Jean-Claude Tramont’s All Night Long) bombed at the box office.

By the time she was 54, Mengers was essentially retired. Although she would later sign a three-year contract with William Morris, she had already done her best work.

The New Hollywood was typified by bottom-line M.B.A. types like CAA’s Mike Ovitz, people who were essentially bean counters and didn’t espouse the schmoozy, dinner party lifestyle that Sue Mengers practically invented.

A few years ago, Mengers’s larger-than-life persona was captured on Broadway by another larger-than-life performer, when Bette Midler portrayed her in the play I’ll Eat You Last by John Logan. (The fact that Midler wasn’t nominated for a Tony Award for her performance is one of the most egregious omissions in Broadway history.)

From the perspective of 2015 chain store-and hipster-laden New York City, Los Angeles in the 1970s seems like an impossibly glamorous time and place and Sue Mengers seems like an impossibly glamorous character. 

The New Normal

Paddy Chayefsky must be spinning in his grave. Because he predicted the collapse of American civilization 40 years ago. Only he underestimated our depravity. Because now we’re shooting people on live TV.

But don’t expect anything to change. If an entire classroom of children being slaughtered didn’t change anything, and a Congresswoman being shot in the face didn’t change anything, this isn’t going to change anything, either.

Because the N.R.A. has our country by the balls.

Because as much as many people are convinced that gun violence is out of control, that’s how much the other side is convinced that we’re trying to take their guns away.

So you better get used to there being a new mass shooting or some similar atrocity happening every week. (And isn’t that precisely what’s happened?)

We’ve already talked about the easy availability of guns and the lack of mental healthcare in this country, and that’s a good start, but I’d like to raise another issue that hasn’t entered the conversation yet. And that’s the collapse of our economy and our social safety net.

Because in many of these cases where already unstable people are pushed over the edge, there’s been some economic cause.

In this latest instance, it was some guy who lost his job at a TV station. But just last week, some guy walked into a federal office building in Soho and shot an innocent security guard because he lost his job twenty years ago.

Who are all these people we’re calling “terrorists” (both foreign and domestic) but people who have been economically disenfranchised?

I’m not condoning their actions. These people are nothing more than common criminals who are trying to elevate their senseless actions by attaching it to a so-called “noble” cause.

But it would be a mistake not to examine the underlying factors so we can perhaps understand them and try to prevent such things from happening.

The Death of the American Workplace

This past weekend the New York Times did a front-page exposé about the working conditions at Amazon, the biggest company in America. It talked about such things as Amazon’s forcing women who just had a miscarriage to report for work the next day, making people work in a 100-degree warehouse with no air conditioning while ambulances were stationed outside, and encouraging employees to report on coworkers’ shortcomings, even if they had to make them up. It seems to have caught Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos by surprise. As news of the article spread like wildfire, Bezos was quick to issue a mea culpa and say that he was shocked that such things were happening at Amazon.

But who are we supposed to believe? The new, warm and fuzzy Jeff Bezos, whose employees are apparently so happy they do cartwheels down the hallway? Or the Jeff Bezos who perfected the art of undercutting his competition by selling products at a loss in order to gain market share? And who removed all of Hachette's books from Amazon's website in order to force them to pay Amazon a higher percentage of their sales?

How about all the Amazon employees quoted in the Times article?

For anyone who actually works for a living (or has had to look for a job), this article was no surprise. The American workplace has become a race to the bottom at least since President Reagan fired striking air traffic controllers. This has been followed in more recent times by union buster (and possible Republican presidential candidate) Scott Walker demonizing public employees and cutting their pensions as governor of Wisconsin.

In fact, the last 35 years have been an object lesson in how corporations collude with Republicans to apply downward pressure on wages.

And they’re succeeding spectacularly!

During the last 35 years, most people’s wages have either been stagnant (when adjusted for inflation) or have actually gone down!

Not only that, but benefits that were once taken for granted are now increasingly hard to come by at all.

Health insurance? Not when there’s Obamacare (which, of course, you have to pay for yourself).

Vacations? Not when you’re a freelancer.

In fact, an entire industry has sprung up for the sole purpose of allowing companies to get around those pesky benefits. It’s called the temp industry. (And you thought they existed to find people jobs!)

You see, when you’re a temp, you’re not even technically an employee of the company whose computer you’re using 35 hours (or more) each week, you’re an employee of the temp agency. And, as such, you’re not entitled to any benefits. (Some temp agencies do offer benefits, but you usually have work for them for longer than the typical assignment lasts. And if you’re working for a company that long, why aren’t you an employee of the company?)

You can also be let go at any time, for any reason, with no notice.

Try asking a member of Congress to work under those conditions!

In a kind of sweet revenge, though, the temp agencies are now finding themselves being “outsourced” as employers can go directly to LinkedIn to hire people.

But that doesn’t change the poor conditions endured by many workers today.

For example: There has been much debate recently over the $15/hour minimum wage for fast food workers. That comes to $31,200/year, based on a 40-hour work week. But one study has shown that in order to maintain a “middle-class lifestyle” in New York City, one needs to make $75,000/year. I’m not talking about living in the lap of luxury, I’m talking about being able to afford things we used to take for granted: a smart phone, cable TV, a two-week vacation and eating in a restaurant occasionally.

And that’s if you’re single. God forbid you have a family to support! No wonder people who work at Walmart have to go on food stamps!

Our country has become a victim of what’s come to be known as “quarterly capitalism.” That is, doing whatever is necessary to make your quarterly profits look good to investors. (And this usually means getting rid of workers, because that’s the easiest way to boost your bottom line.)

Remember how companies were supposed to use their record profits to create jobs? Instead, they used it to buy back their own stock and pay their executives even higher salaries and bonuses (even when their companies did poorly).

As Labor Day approaches, it’s more important than ever that we rebuild the labor movement in order to address some of the serious injustices in our workplace that have occurred over the last 35 years.

And on Election Day next year, we need to elect Bernie Sanders as president. He’s the only candidate who understands the huge income inequality that exists in our country and isn’t afraid to do something about it.

Bette Midler, Gay Marriage and the End of Gay Culture

 This has been a historic week. In the same week the Supreme Court upheld both Obamacare and gay marriage. And in the same week, after not having been to a concert at Madison Square Garden in two years, I saw two gay divas there: Bette Midler and Morrissey. (The last concert I saw there was that of another gay diva, Lady Gaga.)

Bette Midler’s concert was an emotional show for both of us. For her, it was a triumphant homecoming after a long career. But it was a homecoming for me, as well.

I’ve been following Midler’s career for at least 35 years. The last time I saw Bette Midler in concert was on Broadway in 1979, and that was an emotional story in itself. On the same day, I attempted to see both All That Jazz, Bob Fosse’s career-defining autobiographical movie, and Bette Midler’s concert on Broadway. In between the movie and the concert, I made the fateful decision to eat at a questionable steakhouse on 59^th Street and got so sick, I had to be hospitalized. Being both a rabid Midler fan and a rabid cheapskate, I went back to the theater where Midler was performing the following week to use my standing room ticket, hoping that the box office attendant would take pity on me and not notice that my ticket was for a different date. I’m happy to report was I was successful in my effort to see Midler’s show (which was filmed for the concert movie Divine Madness) and, to this day, it is the only time I have ever stood to see a Broadway show.

So now you know why I have such an emotional attachment to Bette Midler. But that’s only part of the story.

I also went through a “Bette Midler period” during my high school/college years, a period when I was struggling with my sexuality. It’s almost laughable that I embodied every gay cultural stereotype in the book (I also went through a Barbra Streisand period around this time and was already an avid theatergoer). Yet the last person to figure out my sexuality was me.

Fast forward 35 years and I’m sitting in Madison Square Garden with a predominantly heterosexual audience for Bette Midler's current show. I wonder how many people in this audience know that Bette got her start performing at the Continental Baths (with Barry Manilow as her accompanist). I’m sure most of them know her from films like Beaches and The Rose.

So now we have marriage equality and that strong identification that gay men of my generation had with female singers (and they were almost always female) like Bette Midler and Barbra Streisand (and Judy Garland for even older gay men) seems almost quaint. Sure, other female singers have come along—Madonna, Lady Gaga, Beyoncé, Taylor Swift, Katy Perry—and they all have loyal gay followings, but something is missing.

In today’s New York Times, there was an excellent article¹ about everything that has been lost with the Supreme Court’s legalization of gay marriage and a reference was made to what writer Andrew Sullivan called “the end of gay culture.”

It talked about (among other things) the increasing irrelevance of gay bars and the annoying phenomenon of straight women holding their bachelorette parties there (one of the pet peeves I talk about in my comedy act). Lisa Kron, author of the Broadway show Fun Home, talked about the special thrill she got from feeling like an outsider and how that spawned a whole genre of gay art.

Now that we’re “just like everyone else,” I can’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia and a certain sadness.

So if you see my crying at tomorrow’s Gay Pride Parade, it will be for all of the things we’ve lost as well as for all of the things we’ve won.

1 http://www.nytimes.com/2015/06/27/us/scotus-same-sex-marriage-gay-culture.html?fb_ref=Default&_r=0

Spandau Ballet Comes Home

Spandau Ballet at the Beacon Theater

Spandau Ballet’s concert at the Beacon Theater was something of a homecoming for both of us. They hadn’t played in New York in 32 years and I hadn’t seen them play in New York in 34. At first I was worried that the concert couldn’t possibly live up to their American debut at the Underground, a show so impossibly glamorous and exciting that Tina Turner was in the audience.

But Spandau Ballet has grown from the synthesizer-based club anthems of their debut album, Journeys to Glory, to the radio-friendly mainstream pop of their international megahit “True.” They’ve also gotten better as musicians.

The show got off to a bumpy start (for me at least) because they were playing a lot of new material, and a lot of it sounded to me like—I hate to say it—“easy listening” music. (The fact that there were quite a few empty seats in the balcony at the start of the concert didn’t help, either.)

But then they did a medley of songs from Journeys to Glory and that’s when they hit their stride. Some other new songs followed, interspersed with hits like an acoustic version of “Gold” and a powerful “Chant No. 1,” as well as an impressive drum solo from John Keeble during an instrumental version of "Glow" that proved he has real chops.

The concert ended with the obligatory performance of “True,” a full-band rendition of “Gold,” and “Through the Barricades,” another “True”-like power ballad.

This show, in conjunction with their new documentary, Soul Boys of the Western World, should prove to doubters that they are, and always have been, more than just five pretty faces. In addition to having one of the best male vocalists in pop music in Tony Hadley, they are, all of them, real musicians.