In my many abortive and failed attempts at adulting in my rock and roll days, I had on occasion had a roommate or roommates. This was done for financial as well as social reasons. I will attempt not to digress with all the adventures in roommate-ing as I’m prone to do as the others adventures might be worthy of future tales on their own. But I would be remiss not to start with probably the most well known, Hell House.
Located at 4126 Shenandoah Ave, my experience here maybe had a lot to do with me taking stock of my rock and roll life style. By the time I had departed Hell House I was certainly ready for a life more stable.
There was a large contingent of characters that would walk through the door of Hell House from local rock journalists to west coast punk bands but the main cast:
Myself
Chuck DeClue – roommate
Fred B. – roommate and Drummer for Drunks w/ Guns
The infamous and rightly so Mike D. – constant presence at Hell House and “singer” for Drunks w/ Guns
One of the attractions of renting this house was unlike an apartment, there was a basement for having band practices. All three of the roommates were active in the music scene of mid 80’s STL. Chuck and I were past the prime of our late 70’s early 80’s endeavors with the Retros, Obvious, Camaros and AntiMation but we both were sure our next big thing was just around the corner if we had a rehearsal space. Fred and Mike where on the verge of making STL punk history that would escape the confines of our unfair river city.
Now about that rehearsal space…
Unlike what you might think, the basement of Hell House did not contain the fiery flames of Hades but instead it had an always present ponding of water. For those who unfamiliar with a typical rock band rehearsal space this was completely undesirable to be mixing high wattage electric band equipment and conductive water.
To stave off certain death while practicing, unattached doors found in the basement were placed over the ponding in strategic areas to allow playing with out being electrocuted if…. you didn’t rock out too much and leave the safety of the wooden island while windmilling a power chord and jumping off the door and into the water. This occurred with the former Proud Young Men’s lead singer Steve F. Fortunately for him and for the insurance company the landlords had for property insurance if indeed they had any, he was only lightly shocked and didn’t die.
As utilitarian as these doors were they were used in unusual ways or so I have been told. Where Mike D. had conjugal relations with a woman on one of the doors. As I understand this was not done in private but with an audience. He was quite capable back in the day of finding willing women for copulating with in front of an audience.
With three punk rock musicians playing in different bands there was a constant stream of people and parties going on at Hell House. It was almost like Warhol’s Factory minus the art but with all the debauchery and drugs… and Schaefer’s beer. If there was a Guinness Record for most Schaefer’s beer consumed in one location Hell House would’ve had to have been the winner.
You may well ask, why Schaefer’s beer? Price. I think you would have to go back to 905 beer which when I was a teen you could get a case of for $4. Now in my twenties I think a case of Schaefer’s beer might have been about $5. I believe it was the official beer of Drunks with Guns and they purchased and consumed so much of it before, during and after practice that they had no more money left to purchase the guns to be drunken with. Which was a real relief to me.
There always seemed to be a party going on at Hell House. The house was constantly filled with people who I didn’t know. One time a got a call on the phone during a particularly large gathering. the person on the line asked, “Is Frank there?” I didn’t know this Frank so I asked, “what does he look like?” The person said, “he’s got a Mohawk haircut.” I looked around the assemblage for a moment. Then I spoke back into the phone, “you need to be more specific,” as more than one individual fit that description.
Eventually things had gotten so crazy that I ended up moving my record player and other items into my room from the shared space on the first floor. I then set a padlock latch and lock for when I was out.
While I had done a lot of shiftless living up to this point in my life Hell House was a bit much for me and it all came to a head after a Drunks with Guns show at a South County nightclub, Reflections. The bill for this show included 45 Grave, The Vandals, along with St. Louis groups White Suburban Youth and the Drunks with Guns.
It was a week night and at the time I was working a second shift, 3:30PM to midnight at American National Can, where now sites a Home Depot on Kingshighway across from the Courtesy Diner. I was ready for a bath and some quiet time before bed. But not long after I arrived home Fred arrived with a caravan of people.
I met him in the yard to see what was up. He said he invited all the attendees and bands at the club over for an after party. I told him that wouldn’t work for me because I just got off work and wanted to rest. Fred exclaimed, “I’m having a party” in the gruff way that led me to understand this was not debatable. Being two and a half feet taller than me I didn’t see physical altercation as a viable option for me to pursue either.
I retired to my room hoping against hope that things would not get out of hand. My hopes were in vain.
45 Grave’s Party Time
I once was at a club where I was talking to a teacher who was a friend of mine. I think I was hoping to kick up some sparks with her but as luck would have it describing a punk song about a true crime incident of a party where a mother and her friends raped and murdered her child was not the way to go. Who knew?
I hid in my room as more and more people arrived. The house was already nearly full. I peered out on the front from my bedroom. There were a pair of girls walking down the street. A car full of guys were driving down the street. The girls shouted out, “where’s the party?” “It’s there”, the car load of guys said while throwing full beer bottle onto Hell House’s front stairs and shattering it.
This is not good I said to myself and the crowds grew and noise on the block got louder. In a stroke of genius I thought I should call the police in hopes they would break the party up. See Night of the Blackhearts for my personal experience on the effectiveness of this method.
I called the police and lickity split they arrived to confront the pandemonium. What they did was to give Chuck, who was standing in as the home owner, a warning and left. However none of the party goers did. As I came to a realization that this was not going to work another idea came to me… I’ll go to my parents house and sleep there. So off I went. As it was relayed to me later the police did return based on another call, but not one that I placed. I believe they gave Chuck a summons, left and the party continued.
In fact I didn’t return back to Hell House until after my shift ended the next night. I got home and while things were relatively mellow in comparison to the night before there were still people there including the LA band the Vandals.