Johnny

By Crispin Sartwell

I'm not sure why the Ramones keep dying: really there's not much left. But I remember Johnny from the following gig, as well as many others and the occasional interview. Me and my (late) bro Adam and my friend the incomparably articulate Michael Dolan were gonna attend a Ramones show that night (let's say: 1982).

We spent the whole day snorting coke (source: Dolan), drinking gin and grapefruit juice (source: Adam), and smoking mind-boggling sensi (me). Then we set out from me and Rachael's place in Ellicott City to the Hopkins campus, where the concert was gonna happen.

Dolan was driving his little Toyota, or whatever. We rear-ended a truck at a light near Druid Hill ("Murder") Park, which in a way is not that surprising. Dolan's head broke the windshield. I was sitting in the passenger seat and felt a bit dazed and whiplashed myself.

Dolan said "ditch," and we ran up into the park and took shelter beneath a tree. Pretty soon, I tell you straight up, there was a police helicopter hovering overhead, and a huge collection of police and emergency vehicles below.

Dolan said: "I'll go down and deal with it." We were like, "no way.' But he walked back to his car.

Me and Adam walked he rest of the way to Hopkins. We were amazingly fucked up and we were bleeding. We slammed, hard, for two hours.

And what drove us was Johnny's guitar. Joey was an amazing- and still unappreciated - singer. Dee Dee was... whatever. Shattered. It didn't matter.

Johnny played like a motherfucker. He did. All, night, every night. Every time I saw them: half a dozen times, maybe.

Me and Adam slammed like we were psychotic.

After we ditched and (I'm not sure how) bummed a ride home, I started calling hospitals, jails, police stations, trying to find Dolan. You feel bad in a situation like that.

I finally found him...at home in Chevy Chase. He was like: I walked down there. I told them: "I'm *eager* to take a breathalizer test. They said: son, you don't appear drunk to me. Call somebody."

There is no decency, no accountability: and wherever you may be, Dolan, I pay tribute to you. But there is great, furious, pure, simple, direct, perfect expression on the guitar. Johnny.