1980: A week in San Francisco… As I go through my archives, my memories are refreshed and I recall the times associated with my photographs.

There’s an old dance hall in Vancouver called the Commodore Ballroom, which used to be my favorite spot to see live music and dance. The venue was originally designed for ballroom dancing, so the floor would bounce beneath your feet with every movement of the crowd, as if we were standing upon the very heart of Vancouver’s music scene, and riding every beat. Everyone who was anyone played there, and anyone watching had something in common just by being present. The scene was pretty small back then, so there was always a sense of openness towards meeting people at concerts. I remember being at a Ramones show one night, and seeing these 3 punk girls who were just too cool not to talk to. I introduced myself, as there was already a sense of connection through our involvement in the scene. One of them introduced herself as Maricela, in an affectionate, nasally voice, and made an instant impression on me. She wore all black, had this pixie face with an adorable toothy smile, big messy hair sprayed in every direction and heavy black eyeliner to top off the look. We talked for a while and realized we liked all the same bands, so of course, a friendship ensued. I recall finding it funny that they traveled to Vancouver for music, of all places, not realizing what an influential venue the Commodore would turn out to be. We all hung out for a week, and upon leaving Vancouver they invited me to join them in San Francisco. I accepted, and made the trip about a month later. Notably, this was just after I had just bought my first Walkman- actually it was an Aiwa, which I was told was better, less plastic, but just as cool. Upon arriving in San Francisco, I bought the Clash’s new album, Sandinista (2 cassettes). My friends were working jobs at the time so I had plenty of time to explore the city by myself. I found a place that rented Vespas, so I would scooter through the hills all day listening to the Clash and taking in the life around me. In the evenings we’d go out to shows, and although it’s a bit of a blur, I do remember seeing Flipper and Black Flag amongst others of the time. I'll never forget the nights I spent curled up in a sleeping bag, trying to sleep on the floor as the Sex Pistols blasted in my ear like some kind of violent lullaby. I think those times were enough for me, and I soon came to realize I may not be a true punk rocker.

I don't know why I didn't take more photos during that time. Perhaps I did and have yet to come across them, but for now, here is a roll of film I found from 1980, during my time hanging out with some of the punk kids in San Francisco. The Travis Bickle-looking guy was fairly well known in the punk scene, and although I can’t remember his name you can tell I was quite fascinated by him. The fella wearing the beautiful leather jacket was a male nurse, and a very sweet guy all around. He actually gave me that jacket as a parting gift when I left, which I wore for many, many years. I’ve never forgotten him, that gesture, or the times we all spent together, scouring the city’s punk scene for good music and moments to look back on.

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