HANGING WITH DURAN DURAN

Edited by #Don Fuchs #80s #NYC nightlife – #Max’s - #NYC legacy nightclubs – #sequel – #Rock star memoir – #non-fiction – #Duran Duran – #Johnny Thunders - #classic MTV

There I was in 1982 at the Peppermint Lounge on 15^th Street in NYC. I was catching the band A Flock of Seagulls--good band music-wise. They were coming to the end of their set, and I was sitting in the back of the club next to a group of very attractive people, maybe about nine of them. They seemed to be my age — in their twenties — yet they were highly clean cut.

The guys looked like male models, the type I fantasized about being on expensive yachts. These men were all dressed in tailored white and black outfits, while the women were tall dirty blondes with gorgeous tanned legs that went on for miles. Their hair was done up in the way all the ‘Beautiful People’ had it done in the 80s.

In contrast, 1982 was not a good year for me. I was doing plenty of angel dust and copping spit-backs from the methadone addicts that year. With my unkempt hair and torn dirty jacket, I was lucky the bouncers had even let me into the club. I had looked like a Jewish version of ‘Ratso Rizzo’ from the classic 1969 movie Midnight Cowboy.

I sat closer to the elegant crowd. They were affable British gents with obnoxiously happy faces. Then right there in the back of the club - the crème de la crème pack started doing lines of blow. They offered me some and of course I was happy to oblige. Bluish lines of very good cocaine were going right up my nose!

I started getting a little nervous that the club bouncers might notice but nobody bothered us. True, the alluring women were practically blocking the view of the action. Nevertheless, the nightclubs had decent video cameras even back then. Still, not a single security person came by.

I was pretty amazed that they were turning me on. Meanwhile A Flock of Seagulls was playing their last song - an encore dedicated to the band Duran Duran.

“Wow,” I said out loud to myself. “I wonder why they’re honoring Duran Duran?”

“Oh,” one of them replied, “that’s because it’s us!”

I looked up at them and shockingly realized my newfound friends were the band Duran Duran! And there they were with their stunning girlfriends. What an elegant party they were! It dawned on me at that moment that they had to be really high to have accepted my company.

A Flock of Seagulls had finished their gig and the music crowd was getting restless. One of Duran’s band members - the whole band looked alike to me with their fashionable thin white and black jackets - asked me if I was a native New Yorker and I replied, “Yes I am.” Then another gentleman from that elegant circle asked me if I liked “punk music”.

At this point I felt like a Morlock being asked for directions by some Eloi from that old movie The Time Machine. That’s how bad I felt about myself hanging with them. However, they seemed not to notice my shabbiness. I answered them, “Yes, I’m a big fan.”

“Great.” they said. “Do you know where Max’s Kansas City is? We want to see those chaps Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers.”

I smiled at that and replied, “Look, if you guys would wait for me outside for just a few minutes I’ll walk you over to Max’s. I know for a fact that Johnny and the Heartbreakers are not going on until at least midnight with their habits and such.”

Even with my untidy appearance, I still took mixed up pride in my grooming. Sometimes a little confidence can go a long way. I immediately went inside the Peppermint Lounge bathroom and put on a dash of cheap men’s cologne I probably picked up at the thieves’ market in Alphabet City. The little plastic bottle that contained the pretty gold liquid was probably a sample of some budget-friendly scent. In spite of that, I remember that I smelled good, even if I did not feel at the top of my game.

And let’s face it, I was lucky. My stylish newfound crew was waiting for me outside. Straight away I said, “No need for a cab, we are only five or six blocks away” — the Peppermint Lounge was at 100 Fifth Avenue and Max’s Kansas City was at 18^th Street and Park. (Even with my poor sense of direction, I knew that part of town like the back of my hand.) We started on our way, and I made sure to navigate around Union Square Park, which in the early 80s was a very dangerous place - full of junkies and desperate street criminals.

My brand-new friends were so delighted with me. While we were walking, I was surrounded much as a tour guide would, that they would stop every once in a while to ask questions about the neighborhood and give me a snort or two! Meanwhile their gorgeous women friends were playing with my long curly dark hair. I don’t think they had ever experienced meeting a young hip Jew before.

The truth of the matter was they were all very fine chaps, not stuck-up rock stars with their ‘arm candy.’ Well, their hot girlfriends may have been models, but they weren’t arrogant assholes. It wasn’t like that at all – like what I had saw or felt from MTV and TRL (total request live)!

Finally, after a few slight streetwise maneuvers, I had gotten them to Max’s. The huge white bouncer, who was a daunting, towering torpedo, looked at me with troubling eyes. I couldn’t blame him for giving me that look. A few weeks prior he had to drag me away from harassing Andy Warhol, whom I’d met outside Max’s waiting for Allen Ginsberg, the famous NYC poet. Stay tuned for this sequel.

Unfortunately, at that time I was experiencing the effects of an angel dust wipeout, so I wasn’t the most popular person to be around at Max’s Kansas City Nightclub that night, or any other night!

But now I was on my game, and I am sure the stars and constellations were in my favor. I talked fast and loudly. “Hi, these friends of mine from England are the famous MTV band Duran Duran. They are here to see Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers.”

The sky-high sentry looked stunned! Before he could say anything, the owner, Tommy Dean, appeared right behind him. And right on cue he said, “Yes, of course. Come with me, guys. I’ll escort you and your group right upstairs,” smiling with delight with his fifties-style hairdo and his little moustache. I could see it in his face - the photo ops and publicity he was dreaming up with this fantastic opportunity.

Before my guided tour of rock stars left me, I said very quietly to them, “Wow, you beautiful Brits are the best. I’m sure Johnny is going to have an amazing show tonight with you great musicians in the audience. I’ll see you guys later. I have a few things I have to tend to.”

As I was about to shuffle away, one of those Duran Duran dudes — like I said they all looked alike to me—gave me an envelope. After I nudged my way outside, I opened it up. There was quite a nice amount of bluish cocaine. What a great night!

END