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Here is a story about when Cherie Currie and Sandy West played a gig together in 1986. It was the first Runaways (partial) Reunion ever, as far as I know. This is the story that I originally printed in the fanzine Neon Angels that the editor of BITCH Magazine liked so much she reprinted without my permission. I cleaned it up a bit as I had a tendency to purposely misspell and purposely use bad grammar. I found that it did not translate well today...too lame - even for me. And I had a horrible time with my 'tenses' back then, but I don't feel like going thru this dang story yet a third time tonight to fix that shit. I'm leaving the tenses all fucked up.
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Three Runaways Called Their Mothers From Hollywood The Other Night ...
Los Angeles' FM Station night club was a happenin' place on January 24, 1986. Three bands were to entertain us on this night - the last one, no doubt, to be scribbled into the rock and roll history books. But right now, in between sets, we listened to Sheila E., Vanity 6, Madonna, and those Prince-clones Ready For The World. People danced. Guys and girls. Girls and girls. One guy with two girls. You name it, it happened. I was at what appeared to be a fucking disco. Oh well, to see two original RUNAWAYS back together onstage for the first time in almost 10 years would be well-worth it. So, I dealt with the sparkling mirror ball over head, and all that silliness. Wasn't too bad, actually. I was groovin'.
After the second band of the night had long left the stage a blond chick wearing skin tight pants, a baby blue leather jacket with the sleeves shoved up and a wide rimmed black hat darted across the stage and disappeared thru the curtain, which replaced a door and led to the backstage area. It was Lita. You just KNOW my neck was craned after that - okay, where's Joan??? Also in attendance for this extravaganza were a couple of ex-members of LEATHER ANGEL, Krissi North and Debbie Wolf.
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Okay, so here is what we would expect on that night: Hot Shot West was to start off with a six song set, then Cherie is to finish the show with six songs. Before the night was to end, the two ex-bandmates would once again join forces and play their versions of RUNAWAYS songs. Right before West began her set I realized I had to take a leak, so I made my way to the little girls' room. Inside I saw a chick that looked just like Cherie Currie, but it turned out to be her twin sis Marie. I guess I asked something about Cherie. Marie asked, rather astounded: "Do you know my sister?"
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I was taken aback: "Well...yeah. We came to see her tonight..." Marie was totally stunned for some reason, but also quite pleased. Sincerely, Marie confided how Cherie's fans "keep her going and keep her spirits high". I thought that was really sweet of her to be so concerned over Cherie's well-being. I mentioned that my two friends and myself are from San Francisco. That information just floored Marie. "My God!" Marie said to me. "Oh, hon, Cherie would love to meet you. Tell you what, where are you sitting, sweetie?" I told her that by now my friends were probably at the front of the stage waiting for the set by the ex-Runaways' drummer. Marie pleaded: "Well, after the show look for me and I'll take you backstage to talk to Cherie. I really mean that. She'd love to meet you, hon. She's looking so good these days. Look for me, okay?" I promised I would. I didn't have the heart to tell Marie that the REAL Cherie Currie fans were my two gay male friends standing in front of the stage. I was only there incidentally as there was a major heavy metal show I wanted to see that weekend at another rock club in Hollywood.
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Just before she walked out of the bathroom, Marie took a few back steps and came over to me again. "My husband's in San Francisco right now," she told me, "doing some work...." I was still a little off-balance from her previous enthusiasm but managed to sputter out: "Oh yeah? The guy in the band TOTO, right?" With even more excitement than when she found out my reason for being at FM Station that night, Marie gasped: "Yes! You know of the band?! Yep, that's his band. Well, look. Don't forget to look for ME after the show, okay sweetie? See ya then, hon!"
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Of all things to happen next, Marie and Lita collided in the doorway. They exchanged brief greetings, then Marie went on her way. Lita came in and sat on the counter top with her back to the mirror. "Hey, man. What's up?" I said to the ex-lead guitarist of The Runaways. "Hey!" Lita greeted me. "How ya doin'!" Here's how our conversation went:
Me: Good to see ya again, man. You shoulda heard when you walked through the club. Everyone was goin' 'There's Lita! There's Lita!'
LF (giggling): "Oh no, really?! Yeah, well, I heard Sandy and Cherie were doin' this thing tonight, y'know, so I told (she said some guy's name) 'Take me to go see 'em play! I wanna see my ol' pals play!'"
(she recited the story with re-lived passion, then giggled again.)
LF: "Then when I got here I was at the back door, y'know? I was kickin' it and kickin' it (she demonstrates while still seated on the counter top, which made her look like a little kid throwin' a fit), and no one would let me in! So, y'know, I ran around to the front, told them chicks at the door, 'Hey, I'm Lita Ford!' and they went BAM (she faked the act of getting her hand stamped with ink). And I came in!"
The woman who was dressed to kill finished her story with another giggle. I asked what the deal was with the delay of her new record's release. She had no idea when it'd be out, and apologized. I asked where she's living now cuz I'd heard she moved to Europe.
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"No way!" Lita said. "I'm stayin' in L.A. now." I nodded my approval. "I don't stay in any one place though, really..." she confessed. "I'm kinda like a vagabond!" She let out a big laugh. Out of the five or six other chicks in the bathroom with us I was the only one who knew who the hell Lita was. I took a few baby steps and got back in line for the bathroom. Lita followed my lead.
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It seemed she had just remembered where she was: "Ah, man! I gotta pee! WHO's in there?!" Like I know, right? Spontaneously, the small-structured axe lady grabbed the receiver of the pay phone that was innocently implanted in the wall near us. She pressed zero and waited for the operator: "Yeah, collect call for Roger...Lita...How bout Dena, try Dena...." After a few more seconds, apparently unable to place the call, Lita hung up the phone, totally un-phased. "Want a cigarette?" she asked me, pulling out a pack of Marlboro Lights. I shook my head. Lita shoved the pack back in her pocket. She didn't want to smoke either.
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Me: You know, Lita. I'm stayin' at Holiday Inn...
LF (kinda confused about why I'm telling her, but kind of amused too): "Yeah?!"
Me: ...and I'm in your hometown...
LF (giggling and giving me her full attention): "...uh-huh..."
Me: When you were in my hometown up North you stayed at Holiday Inn, so know what I'm gonna do?"
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LF (with a laugh and genuinely intrigued): "What?!"
Me: I'm gonna let you get in front me so you can pee first...
LF (pleasantly surprised): "Would you?! I'd really appreciate it, man. I've had so much Vodka tonight...geez..."
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Lita Ford pondered that confession for a moment, then demanded: "What's your name?!"
What could the other chicks in the bathroom with us be thinking, I wondered, after observing Lita and I having this intimate conversation and she didn't even know my name.
"Are you in a band?" she wanted to know next. I shook my head, no. "You're not?!" she gasped.
I stood there feeling kind of ashamed. I admitted that all my friends are musicians and have bands. "Well," Lita said as she examined me, "you look like you should be in a band..." I either smiled politely or rolled my eyes or maybe both, then I said "I'm just a photographer...." Without missing a beat, Lita tells me: "Well, that's cool, a photographer..." Tanx, Lita. There were only two stalls in this fucked up tiny bathroom and one of the toilets was backed up. Lita's turn to take a piss finally came. She thanked me again from the bottom of her heavy metal heart, then practically pulled the girl out of the stall so she could get in. I could hear her bitching about the condition of the hellhole.
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Then, Marie Currie came bursting in. "Oh good, you're still here!" she said to me. "C'mon, hon, Cherie wants to talk to you...." I never even got a chance to pee.
On my way to Cherie's dressing room I ran into her former drummer, Hot Shot West, but I ignored her. Marie introduced me to her mum. Cherie decides she's not yet presentable, so I tell Marie I gotta go get my friends. It was the only decent thing to do since THEY were the true Cherie Currie fans. I found them in the crowd, grabbed them by their shirt collars and dragged them backstage without explanation.
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We got there just on time to see Cherie enter our atmosphere. I introduced everyone - like I knew what I was doing, right? Cherie confessed how much it meant to her to have our support. Her face expressed undeniable sincerity. She looked at me and said, "Geez, you deserve a hug..." I, of course, felt no urge to argue with the infamous ex-Cherry Bomb of the equally infamous and legendary RUNAWAYS.
Tanx, sweetie.
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