Dig: Where was the real punk hangout? Was it CBGBs or Max's or is there another bar where people on the punk scene would hang out?
Eileen Polk: The great thing about the punk scene is that it didn't just happen in bars or rock clubs, it was a neighborhood scene which happened out in the streets and in the daytime too. The famous rock clubs of the 70's weren't even necessarily intended to be rock clubs at first. Some of these places were just local dives and restaurants or out of the way holes in the wall. Like Paris in the 1920's, the streets and cafes were as important to artists as performance venues and museums.
The punk scene had clothing shops, and storefront lofts which became art galleries. The lower east side was full of strip joints and gay clubs where the skulking Wall Street crowd could find entertainment and drinks by day, then after dark the rock scene would move in. But the pimps, drag queens and exotic dancers and other inhabitants of the demimonde would still be there to make the atmosphere more interesting. Then there were the after hours clubs; the best one was Harold Black's 210 Fifth Avenue, which was loved by both punks and rock stars. When things got really crazy in '79, a whole slew of after hour's clubs opened up in worse and worse neighborhoods and they stayed open until the sun crept through the black painted plate glass windows.
In the end of the 70's many clubs were trying to intentionally attract the drug scene. But in the beginning it was more like a vaudeville atmosphere where anyone with the guts to perform could find an audience. I saw people perform with chainsaws and wearing nothing but plastic wrap. There was even a Magic and Occult show at Madison Square Garden. All the magicians would come down to Max's and get drunk and perform magic in the back room. It was a circus side show atmosphere everywhere. And no one cared about asking for proof of how old you were so there were people of all different ages at these events. A lot of this was experimental and would probably be killed off at birth with negative publicity today.
Dig: What is your fondest memory of those times?
Eileen: My fondest memory of the punk scene has to be playing at Max's Kansas City in the Blessed with my friend Howie Pyro who always instigated me to do crazy things. I was asked to join the band about a week before their very first gig at Max's on Christmas Day 1977. The guys in the band: Howie, Nick and Billy; were all 15 or 16 years old; the youngest of the New York punk bands. They came into Revenge one day and asked me to play and I thought; "On the same stage as the New York Dolls, Iggy Pop and Alice Cooper played upon? "You Betcha!"
Finally all those years of classical piano lessons; playing at church recitals and family cocktail parties like a trained monkey; would pay off! If I could play piano, I could play drums, right? So at the first rehearsal I had to use wooden hangers from the clothing racks at Revenge because I'd never played drums before and didn't have any sticks.
Later that week I dug out Jerry Nolan's old drumstick he had given me after the Academy of Music show, and brought it to Max's and told Jerry about my plans to commemorate the Blessed event by using his old Ludwig drumstick from 1974 for my first gig. But it was so beaten up I was getting splinters so Jerry showed me how to wrap one end with electrical tape and save my fingers and told me that the best sound was made by using the wrong end of the drumstick on the skins to make the sound even louder! He said he played with the fat end of the sticks all the time. The other drumstick I used for the gig, I had gotten when it came flying out at me while I was photographing a Kansas concert and somehow I'd caught it in mid air flight. That and a borrowed drum kit was the extent of my equipment.
Terry Ork, from Ork Records, was there for sound check and just rolled his eyes. The night of the gig I thought, "People will recognize me and think; She can't play drums!" and that will ruin everything, so I wore a disguise inspired by the Unknown Comic, Steve Martin. I wore a paper bag over my head. I came out onstage and tripped over all the electrical cords because I couldn't see a thing in spite of the holes I'd cut out of the bag for my eyes. We played so badly but were quite inspired into mayhem by the large crowd who had come for the free buffet dinner that Max's management kindly provided for all the musicians on holidays.
I wore a plastic bag from a local pet shop, American Kennels, as a shirt; because it had a silly picture of a sheepdog on it. I thought people would think; "Their drummer is a real Dog!" I kept sticking my tongue out of the hole I made to breathe through and the paper got stuck to my mouth. By the last song the band and I were laughing so hard we could hardly play, but we could hardly play anyway so it didn't matter! Then the guys in the band did something I did not expect, they attacked me and ripped the paper bag off my head and revealed who I was to the audience. Finally I could see and immediately thought; "Oh No! Every musician in New York is in the audience!" One of my all time idols, Alan Vega, the astonishingly aggressive front man for Suicide, was sitting in the front row looking very serious. I was mortified, and laughing hysterically and crying too. As I left the stage and prepared to walk the gauntlet through the audience to the bar as every musician does when they finish a set at Max's, Alan Vega stood up from his seat and shook my hand heartily. It was a complete surprise and a huge triumph for me. I was vindicated in front of everyone - He must have thought we were performance art!
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