Escape From the Rookie in Punk Row

By Kim Crawford

We called it Punk Row; it is where all the punk rockers and glammers hung out. It was the 1990s, and your music of choice was still mainly found on vinyl. On Fridays, we would walk down from Chelsea after work and spend some of our pay. Always in hope of landing some imported gem from one of the many cool record establishments like Bleecker Bob’s, Sounds, or Tower Records. This is where I found my Chris Spedding collection, Tenpole Tudor, the best party music ever, and my prize Clash and Pretenders live bootlegs. You may know it as St. Marks Place in Greenwich Village, Manhattan. I’m sure it is still one of the most interesting places in the world.

The Village has many small clubs to play your music, and I made my rounds in all of them. On this particular night the Speakeasy was featuring the newest version of my band New London along with friends’ band Untold Stories.

Morris was running sound. He took a liking to me when I played solo there a few weeks back and was excited to run sound for the band. As I predicted the show was fantastic and the sound was amazing because we had Morris. I always knew Morris to be one COOL dude but I would find out just how much COOLER than most by the end of the night.

After the show it was the usual suspects hanging out in front of the establishment. The main question now being whether to head back to Queens or go to the deli next door and get a turkey and cheese on a roll. While these important next steps were being discussed, my friend and I decide to slip around the corner and partake in the smoking of the herbal delights, if you get my meaning. This should have been no big deal at all, we were in Greenwich Village after all, and anything goes, right? Well, maybe if you know how to keep your mouth shut. And I didn't.

He came out of nowhere - boom there he was - caught us red handed, two passes in. He gives us the speech and confiscates my stash. Now this could have been the end of it, he wasn’t even going to write a ticket and he could have. I said some dumb ass remark under my breath as we walked away that he heard enough of to get extremely irritated.

“Hell no, that is it, now I’m taking you with me”, says the very pissed off New York City police officer to yours truly. My friend coming to my defense, “She didn’t mean that, did you Kim.”  
     “No I didn’t mean it, I was out of line.”
     “No, you are coming with me! I take shit all day long at work because I’m a rookie and I am done taking shit today!”    
There it is. It seemed like I was going to see what it is like inside of a NYC jail.

The rookie escorted us back to the front of the club. I asked if I could go inside the club to get my jacket. I could tell by the look on his face he was thinking no. I quickly pleaded “My ID is in my jacket, I will need that, right?” I told the guys this cop was taking me to jail and would they get my equipment home safe. In unison, three or four “What! What did she do? What did you do?!” All these questions supplied enough distraction for me to slip into the club without him in tow.

The Speakeasy has a front bar and a back area where the live music happens. I quickly shuffled my way through the bar area. The amount of people there made it easy to disappear in the crowd. I knew as soon as Rookie noticed me gone he would be right behind me. Through the door I come into the music area where Morris still sits at the soundboard. “Morris, there is this cop I pissed off and now he wants to arrest me. He is probably on his way in after me now! What should I do?!”

“Go downstairs to the women’s room and stay there until I come and get you.”

That is what I did. Went to the farthest stall, closed the lid and squatted on top of the toilet so my feet could not be seen under the door. I could hear Rookie talking to Morris above me, I heard them both coming down the stairs! Oh no, gigs up. Door opens, it is Morris, “Kim, you here?” Closes door, moves closer, “Kim?”
   I whisper, “Yes.”
   “Okay stay put until I come back. He is convinced you are not in the club. I told him you went out the back door and down the fire escape.”

In high stress situations time seems to move slower, like when someone describes a car accident by saying, everything seemed like it was moving in slow motion. This is why I remember what seems to have been a two hour wait for Morris to descend back down those stairs. In reality, it was probably thirty minutes. Morris did finally come to say “The coast is clear.”

Up the stairs I walked with Morris, my hero. Through the bar I went and out the front door. I looked left and right and all around, still feeling nervous. He could be waiting. I walked a fast pace to the subway uptown to Penn Station. The nervousness did not leave me until I was on the LIRR (Long Island Railroad) home. My friend brought my equipment back the next day. He reminded me of how dumb that was. I had to take it, eat crow because he did take care of my guitar and amp. Okay, yes, he was also right.

I’m sure Rookie turned into a fine police officer. He has 25 years in now if he stuck to it. Now I look back and admire him. After all he was letting us go with a warning. I opened my big mouth. Maybe a small part of him had mercy on me and decided to let it go. It did seem too easy, or maybe Morris really is a super hero with mind control. Whatever the reasons, I thank them both.