In Vancouver in the early 80's a nihilist post punk scene was emerging, inspired by the rawness of The Sex Pistols, The Ramones and many others. At that time The Pacific Northwest was rife with clubs that were 60's icons that had faded badly in the 70's and were hungry enough and divey enough and cheap enough to make the perfect venue for a burgeoning grassroots music scene.
The Smilin'Buddha Cabaret was one such place.
This whole scene is brilliantly captured in the Bruce McDonald film Hard Core Logo.
This place was the CBGBs of Vancouver, a punk hang out from the late 1970s. DOA, Black Flag, Dead Kennedys, Subhumans, Vice Squad, MIA, Stretchmarks — so many played in this tiny club on Vancouver's Skid Row. It was also the first gig that my faves 5440 ever played. It closed in 1989.
In one memorable prank someone I know was convinced that it was going to be a costume party at the Smilin' Buddha and showed up for a DOA show in a bunny suit. Good one!
The clubs location had always been dodgy, located at the most derelict location in North America, Vancouver's infamous Main and Hastings
One night in the mid eighties, I ended up at the Smilin Buddha, to see some long ago forgotten band. Clearly by now the punk revival had long receded and the joint was nothing more than a haven for the strung out and the desperate. Clearly any cache that the place had was well past the verge of extinction.
Back in those days you could get "off sales" at bars in British Columbia. This meant that you could get beer to go for a premium price until 2:45 in the morning at any bar that was licenced for off sales.
Around midnight, I began to realize that the band wasn't coming back for another set (perhaps they knew the importance of getting out of Dodge early) and I found my self engulfed by people so dodgy that they would freak out Tom Waits.
It was time for me to go. I grabbed a six pack from the bartender and made my way out of the bar and onto Hastings street. I turned the corner just west of the bar, to head into Gastown to get a cab. I didn't get far.
I remember someone trying to grab the beer from me. As soon as I resisted someone struck me in the face, causing my glasses to fly off. I heard a voice say "get his wallet" (which contained about six bucks as I recall) I had fought the attackers off, but I it began to dawn on me that I had been severely injured.
I had been knifed in the face.
My lower lip had been sliced in half to the point that I had to hold it in place to keep it from touching the bottom of my chin
Blinded without my glasses and with blood spewing forth I begged someone to get a cop. God bless whoever did that, and given the reputation of the hood the cops were there in a minute or two.
In that minute or two, it crossed my mind that this might be the end. I had THAT moment when I thought that I might die here. My first thought was what a stupid way to die. My second thought was about my family and how much I loved them and how lucky I was.
The police found my glasses and called an ambulance immediately. Inside the ambulance I remember asking the paramedic "how bad is it?" and imploring him to give me an honest answer. "Its pretty bad," he said.
By now, I was in shock. The magnitude of what had just happened to me began to dawn as we pulled into the emergency at Saint Paul's hospital in the West End of Vancouver.
I was wheeled in on a gurney and examined immediately. I remember hearing one nurse say "Should we wait for Plastics?" It was agreed that I would have to lay there for about six hours until the plastic surgeon arrived at 7am. Oddly, I refused the nurse who offered something for the tremendous pain I was in.
In the interim the hospital called my roommate and my brother. I was inconsolable in the hospital when my roommate showed up. I've always been impressed by what he said to me next. In the calmest voice he said "the healing starts now".
A short while later, my brother and his girlfriend showed up. I laughed at the fact that my brothers girlfriend couldn't stand hospitals and that she looked almost as bad as I did. How sweet is that?
Eventually plastics arrived, and my face was sown up. I was released at around 9am. I remember people staring at me as I walked the few blocks home with my stitched up lower lip swollen to ten times its normal size. Throw in the bloodsoaked sweater and I must have been quite a sight.
I got home, lit a smoke, and put on the Beatles Blackbird. "take these sunken eyes and learn to see". Then I cried. I cried a lot.
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