Cheetah Chrome - Cheetah Chrome: A Dead Boys Tale: From the Front Lines of Punk Rock

a dead boys tale
from the front lines
of punk rock

Foreword by Legs McNeil

Voyageur Press

First published in 2010 by MBI Publishing Company and Voyageur Press, an imprint of MBI Publishing Company, 400 First Avenue North, Suite 300, Minneapolis, MN 55401 USA

Copyright 2010 by Cheetah Chrome

Foreword 2010 by Legs McNeil
Hardcover edition published in 2010. Digital edition 2010.

All rights reserved. With the exception of quoting brief passages for the purposes of review, no part of this publication may be reproduced without prior written permission from the Publisher.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Chrome, Cheetah.

Cheetah Chrome: a dead boys tale: from the front lines of punk rock / Cheetah
Chrome; foreword by Legs McNeil.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-7603-3773-8 (plc)
1. Chrome, Cheetah. 2. Rock musiciansUnited StatesBiography. I. Title.
ML420.C48A3 2010

782.42166092dc22

[B]

2010010885

Digital edition: 978-1-61673-980-5
Hardcover edition: 978-0-7603-3773-8

Editor: Margret Aldrich

Design Manager: LeAnn Kuhlmann

Cover and text designed by: John Barnett / 4 Eyes Design

Printed in the United States of America

Front cover: Me and my guitar, 1978. Tom Hill/Getty Images
Facing page: Dead Boys, 1977. James Sliman
Back cover: Onstage with Stiv, 1977. Ebet Roberts/Redferns/Getty Images

FOR JANICE OCONNOR, WHO GAVE ME LIFE...
FOR ANNA AND ROGAN, WHO MAKE IT WORTH LIVING...
AND FOR STIV.

FOREWORD:
THE STREET-WALKING CHEETAH BY LEGS MCNEIL

INTRODUCTION:
DEAD AND ALIVE

PART ONE:
THE PROJECTS 19551974

PART TWO:
DEAD MANS TALES 19751989

PART THREE:
MUSIC CITY 19902010

THE STREET-WALKING CHEETAH

I LEARNED VERY EARLY ON ,

in those golden days of the 1970s New York punk rock CBGB scene, not to underestimate Cheetah Chrome, the lead guitarist of the legendary Dead Boys.

When the Dead Boys showed up for their Monday night audition at CBGB in some ancient milk truck from Cleveland (or wherever the fuck they are from in Ohio) and stored their equipment in Arturo Vegas loft (known as the Ramones loft, since Joey and Dee Dee were both living there, until Dee Dee was asked to leave), I just thought the Dead Boys were your typical thug/musicians.

You know, our kind of peopleyoung, loud, and snotty.

They were a great bunch, but with the exception of Stiv, who was a superb social-climber, charmer, and all-around cool and witty rock star wannabe, the rest of the band didnt impress me as anything other than great rock and roll musicians.

As anybody knows, great rock and roll musicians can excel at their instruments, but be pretty clueless about everything elseexcept pussy, dope, and free rent, though not necessarily in that order.

Now these were my first impressions of the band, and you gotta remember that Cheetah was pretty weird looking in those days. He was like a punk rock monk in leopard-skin Spandex, with a perfectly round bald circle at the top of his orange hairnot red, but bright orange.

But he could play the guitar just like a ringing bell. Go, go/Go Cheetah go!

I love it when my preconceived notions get shattered, and thats exactly what happened when Joey Ramone and I started hanging out at the Kiwi Club, an after-hours joint on Ninth Street, after CBGB closed at 4 a.m. It was just a long bar, with a pinball machine up front and a bathroomwell, more of a toilet roomoff to the side.

That was it.

Yeah, more ice-cold Buds, playing pinball until seven or eight the next morning, and hanging with the best of rest. The perfect place to go to ensure that tomorrows hangover would be a killer. And since the Dead Boys moved into some dump on Ninth Street, they lived upstairs or down the street and would always be at the Kiwi Club.

Thats where I first heard their comedy routines, some of the best rock and roll stories ever: Stiv climbing out on the hood of the car that was doing 70 miles an hour, and mooning the Ramones as the band drove out of town. Or Jimmy Zero telling me he had shaved a swastika into some girls pubic hair the night before.

As a band, the Dead Boys really had that Beatles Hard Days Night wit updated to a bankrupt New York City in 1976, but just as funny, with Cheetah bearing the brunt of most of the jokes.

Cheetah slammed the ball up to the top bumpers as Stiv put his bottle of beer on the glass top of the pinball machine.

Get that beer off my fuckin game, Cheetah spat out, trying not to let the ball drain.

Blow me, Stiv laughed.

I would if I could find it, Cheetah shot back, getting his ball back up to the bumpers, where it bounced around, scoring points and ringing bells.

Cheetahs a fag? Jimmy Zero asked seriously. Well that would explain a lot....

Not really, Stiv quipped.

Im thinking hes more Neanderthal, Jimmy mused, than some civilized cock-sucker.

Yeah, a regular Homo erectus, Stiv grinned, before finishing off another beer, turning to me, and announcing, Legs, youre still standing! What time is it? Is this some kinda world record?

Then he called to the bartender, Another beer for Legs! Hes still standing. We gotta take care of that fast!

And then the whole band laughed, turning their sights from Cheetah and targeting me for an unmerciful put-down session, when I was too drunk to defend myself.

Jesus, those guys were fast.

And I believe it was at the Kiwi Club when Cheetah disclosed the secret of my real name, my legal name, which was a closely guarded secret at that time. To make a long story short, my father named me Roderick when I was born, then died three months later, so my mom called me by my middle name Eddie, after my father. No one ever called me Roderick. Ever.

Back in those days in New York City, to get your phone registered with a business name cost a fortune, while to get it in your personal name was free.

So when John Holmstrom, the founder of PUNK Magazine, told me to go get the phone turned on, since we didnt have any money, I had to get it listed as Roderick McNeil, since it had to be in someones name. We just put the phone number on our cool PUNK Magazine business cards and knew no one would be the wiser.

I was at the Kiwi Club one night, talking about getting laid, instead of actually getting laid, when Cheetah casually asked me, So hows it going Roderick?

I almost fell off my bar stool.

I was shocked.