Nowhere To Go

Introduction

Growing up in the 80’s Los Angeles Punk Rock scene wasn’t for the weak of heart. It was a time where violence ran supreme, and kids either formed their own packs or were run over. On any given night, teenagers throughout the sprawling suburbs of the greater Los Angeles area set their sights on the streets of Hollywood. The city nicknamed Tinseltown was better known for its movie star glitz and glamour, but the reality was that Hollywood in those days was the epicenter for runaways, drugs, and prostitution. What a fantastic place to give birth to the infamous L.A Hardcore Punk scene. You could catch bands like Black Flag, Social Distortion, and Bad Religion playing at infamous venues such as the Starwood, Florentine Gardens, or the Cathay De Grande.

Not only was there a musical revolution taking place, but it became the backdrop for extreme gang violence. The music set the tone and the kids who were listening aimed their anger and rage towards anyone who was in the crossfire. When the sun was setting over the City of the Angels, the little devils came out to play. During those days, none of the kids really knew—or for the most part even cared—if they were taking part in some kind of revolution. For some, the only thing that mattered was seeking revenge on another punk gang, having sex, and getting wasted. It was plain and simple: fast music, sex, violence, drugs, and alcohol were the recipe for disaster Reading Nowhere To Go dropped me back onto the streets of Hollywood. It brought me back to the beat downs I took from the LAPD and LA Sheriff ’s Department, as well as the gang brawls inside and outside of the clubs. While the book’s content may seem far-fetched to outsiders, let me assure you: it’s the real deal. Punk Rock was not what MTV or Hot Topic deemed it to be a decade later. 1980’s Punk Rock in Southern California was not only about the bands and the incredible music that was left behind; it was also about all the disaffected kids taking part in it and creating the energy. What went on during those infamous shows—and outside the venues—has rarely been documented. It was a free-for-all at some of those places. There were numerous punk gangs wandering the adjacent streets looking for action. The number of drugs and alcohol consumed in the parking lots and alleys would make any junkie cringe. I have always felt that the true story of the music was in the lives of those kids, not just the musicians out on the stage.

Teenagers at war with the cops sparked the notorious punk riots that took place at little-known venues like Mendiolas Ballroom, or the Longshoreman Hall. It was billy clubs and tear gas versus beer bottles and fists. Punks and Skinheads took on the authorities in ferocious street battles that rarely received any notice on the nightly news. Nobody gave a fuck about these kids, so who cared if they got their heads smashed in by the riot squads? There was no Internet, so it was only the word on the street that brought all the youths out to these shows.

As I paged through the chapters of the book it reminded me of how things used to be. It brought the memories of those young faces I had seen fighting for survival: broken kids from broken homes just looking for acceptance, but finding it in all the wrong places. The early L.A Punk scene was a ticking time bomb that would, in due time, implode upon itself. Many did make it out alive from those days, but there were just as many who did not. Murders, overdoses, and suicides were common within the punk community, and it took years for it to come back from the brink of death.

Nowhere To Go will take you on a roller-coaster ride through the dark and gritty underworld of the 1980’s Los Angeles Punk Scene. Don’t fight or resist, let it consume you as you flip page by page as you read the adventures of Matthew Attack Potter. Get to know the faces, and stumble through the places that Potter and his rag-tag army of derelicts frequent. The story gave me a front row seat to the desperation of teenage degenerates and left me wondering if it was all really truth or fiction.

That’s enough rambling for now. I am leaving you in good hands. Enjoy the book.

Doug Kane

Prologue

Winter, 1987

Battle Creek, Michigan

Mathew Potter, turn that thing off right now or get out of my class!

Matt stared mulishly at the Algebra teacher for another second before slowly tapping the button on the top of the radio on his desk. The entire class had gone silent as the students divided their attention between him and Mr. Clarke. Matt stared at him, too, a daring smirk on his face. He couldn’t wait to see what Mr. Clarke would do.

He knew that he had violated the school rules. It was forbidden to bring radios to school and wasn’t permitted to play loud music—or any music for that matter—in the class or the school. Matt knew all of that. Still, he had brought the radio to school specifically to play in Mr. Clarke’s class. The teacher had entered the room with his usual mumbled greetings and proceeded directly to introduce the topic: algebra. Matt waited for the exact moment Mr. Clarke turned to face the blackboard. While the teacher wrote on the board in front of the class, Matt took the radio from his backpack and hit the play button. Black Flag’s latest song, Annihilate This Week, filled the air.

The loud music had startled the whole class into silence; however, Matt didn’t care about their reaction. If the muscle ticking away angrily beneath Mr. Clarke’s jaw was any indication, Matt was extremely satisfied that he had gotten his wish. Now, he awaited the result.

It, to, was just as he expected. Matt couldn’t deny hoping that Mr. Clarke would disappoint him, but he didn’t. Mr. Clarke stared down at him angrily for a good fifteen seconds and then turned back to his writing as if nothing had happened.

Since X is an unknown in this equation… Matt smiled.

The students began to whisper heatedly. It was a scandal that Matt knew would soon get retold throughout the entire school. He didn’t give a fuck about any of them. They always talked about him behind his back anyway. It didn’t matter if there was anything to talk about or not. Kids like that never needed a reason. Since entering middle school, Matt thought he should provide them with something to talk about, so he did.

The whispers died down when Mr. Clarke turned back to face the class, but Matt could still feel some of the students staring at him out of the corners of their eyes. The teacher did not spare him a glance afterward.

Throughout the class, he did not listen to a thing that Mr. Clarke said, and he made no pretense of doing so. He goaded the teacher with his inattentiveness and air of indifference, but Mr. Clarke continued to ignore him. When the class was over, the entire class was still silent. Matt waited again. He knew his classmates expected him to get disciplined for his behavior. He knew he deserved disciplinary action. But he also knew that he wouldn’t. Mr. Clarke wouldn’t dare.

To the disappointment of all the students, the teacher merely walked out of the classroom as if nothing had happened. The heated whispers resumed.

Matt put his head on the desk and closed his eyes, a victorious smile on his lips.

Chapter 1 — Garbage Man

THE CAN SPUN IN the air for a few seconds before hitting the ground barely a foot away from him. Matt ignored it. He knew the gimmicks; he knew the rules. If he flinched or so much as blinked, he was a goner. The boys would prey on him like vultures; not only today but every other day. He had tangled with them before, but it seemed as if they liked to push his limits and test him just to assert some dominance.

Matt wasn’t afraid of them. Once before, he had shown them what he could do.

He had been on his way home from school when he passed a group of eleventh-grade jocks, sitting in the shade of a tree and whistling at passing girls. They also taunted younger boys that made the mistake of walking too close to their turf. They were so infamous for their bullying that their turf had become their personal toll road. Matt was of the few brave—or maybe foolish—ones who dared to walk through their territory on his way home every day. Since the day he bit off the ear of one of the bullies for daring to snatch his backpack, the boys had left him alone.

Today, as with a few other days, one of them kicked a can of beer at him and waited for his reaction. Matt saw it coming and stepped out of the way, never dropping his stare at the group. When the can fell short of its target, Matt moved on, remaining on alert for any attack from the jocks. In fact, he would have welcomed it with a fighting grin. Mr. Clarke had chickened out and not given him the fight he wanted at school.

The man was a coward, Matt thought disdainfully.

For the whole of the year, Mr. Clarke had been Matt’s nemesis. The Algebra teacher never failed to tell the whole class what a dumb ass Matt was and how he failed his tests. Every time Mr. Clarke gave the class a test he always announced Matt’s scores to humiliate him. Mr. Clarke would send him out of the class or ask him particularly difficult questions just to embarrass him, for no apparent reason other than Matt was the only one in the class from a foster home. Matt never figured out why the man hated him so much. Mr. Clarke’s treatment of Matt contributed to Matt’s lack of popularity in the school. It wasn’t long before everyone knew that the Algebra teacher detested him. Matt felt like Orphan Annie, and the popular kids never missed a chance to taunt or bully him.

Well, all that was history now, Matt thought as he rounded the corner away from the boys. He had shown them today that Mr. Clarke could do nothing to him. The teacher was all bark and no bite.

A wide smile crossed Matt’s face as he remembered the incident that gave him the advantage over Mr. Clarke.

Matt had gotten lucky on Saturday evening when his foster mother asked him to deliver a ‘newspaper’ to a house on Decatur Road. Matt always rode his bike to make his deliveries. He was often uncomfortable with Eva’s customers. The address was not one of the usual delivery addresses, so it had taken Matt longer than usual to find it. When he got there, he had to wait for ten long minutes on the front porch before the housekeeper answered the door asking for his package and attempting to get him to leave.

Matt, recognizing Mr. Clarke’s name on a piece of junk mail left in the open had insisted that he would only deliver the ‘newspaper’ to Mr. Barnes personally. The housekeeper had told him to stand in the entryway. He had to wait another five minutes for her employer. As he waited, Matt observed the housekeeper as she fidgeted around the room, dusting this and that. Matt could tell that the actions were not necessary. He already perceived the smell from her as soon as she opened the door. That odor was one he could recognize ten feet off, courtesy of his foster mother and her boyfriend; it was the smell of sex. Her labored breathing and disheveled clothes also informed him of what she and her employer were up to before Matt rudely interrupted with the doorbell.

When they heard the bell ring, Matt thought with amusement, they must have thought the man’s wife had arrived home and forgot her key. Matt grinned; everyone has secrets if only one looked close enough.

The sound of heavy footsteps alerted him to the approach of a male.

Ah, it must be the delivery boy from Eva, the man said as he rounded the sofa to face Matt.

Matt had jumped up, ready to hand over the ‘newspaper,’ receive payment and let the man and his mistress get back to playing hanky-panky.

Teacher and student found themselves staring down at each other in a moment of surprise. You! Mr. Clarke stuttered.

Good afternoon, sir, Matt quickly recovered from the surprise and proceeded to milk his advantage. Yes, I have a delivery from Eva, and she asked me to give you this.

With a hand outstretched and a smile, he gave the ‘newspaper’ to Mr. Clark. The hand holding the ‘newspaper’ made it clear that he didn’t have the wrong address, and the smile on his face dared Clarke to deny the delivery.

Red-faced, the teacher, took the package from him, his mouth furiously worked as he tried to think of something to say to the boy whom he had taunted so much in the school. Smile in place, Matt received his payment and with a jaunty salute, proceeded to walk out of the house.

Enjoy reading the news sir, he called back over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him.

A loud expletive had followed him out of the house. Matt was sure that the teacher heard his laughter as he climbed on his bicycle and pedaled out of the driveway.

He couldn’t have known that the new client, ‘Barnes’ who ordered such a large amount of cocaine was none other than his Algebra teacher. Most of Eva’s clients used fake names when ordering their ‘newspapers,’ to protect their privacy.

His foster mom, Eva Hall, dealt cocaine, and he was the delivery boy. Matt delivered the drugs to clients wrapped up in newspapers on his bicycle every evening without anybody being the wiser. Cops never stopped him, some of them even waved to him as he rode past their patrol cars.

For the first time since Matt came to live with Eva three years ago, he was grateful to her. She knew how much he detested peddling her drugs for her while she stayed safe at home,

fucking her boyfriend, Rick. She also knew how much he hated Rick, who never failed to knock Matt around anytime the boy passed too close to him. Eva knew that Matt was not happy staying with her, but she refused to do anything about it. For three years, he continued to be her errand boy and her boyfriend’s punching bag. Saturday evening was compensation for three years of this miserable life.

All through the day, Matt couldn’t stop thinking of Mr. Clarke and his secret. He thought hard about how best to use his newly acquired knowledge to get revenge. Come Monday morning; he borrowed Rick’s prized radio to take to school to do just that.

Mission accomplished, Matt mumbled with satisfaction as he neared his home.

With one punk song, he had communicated his message to the class. Though he already knew that Mr. Clarke would never goad him anymore in the class, Matt wanted his classmates to know it, too. He wanted them to understand that they better not mess with him. He wanted to be left alone.

He had no doubt that all his wishes had come true. He still had Rick to deal with, but what else was new.

Putting the radio into his backpack, Matt entered the house as silently as he could. The front door always gave a loud creak when opened but if one lifted the weight carefully enough, the creak wouldn’t sound. It was Monday at 3 p.m. At this time, Rick was usually snoring away after a round of sex and booze, as was Eva. Most times, Matt would be done running his errands and preparing dinner before either of them stirred. Today, Matt hoped to have the radio replaced on top of the TV before then.

The door made no sound as he opened and closed it. On tiptoe, Matt went straight to the huge TV in the middle of the sitting room, reaching for the radio from his backpack. A second more and he would be home free.

Rick must have been waiting for him to come home. Eyes bleary and red from alcohol, Rick emerged from behind the door connecting the sitting room to the hall leading to the bedrooms. Rick was over six feet tall, muscular and surly looking. He always had his hair in a ponytail hanging down his back. Matt could not remember a single moment when the guy was completely sober. As far as Matt could tell, about the only things that Rick was good for were fucking Eva all day and drinking her booze afterward.

I knew you stole it, Rick barked.

Matt was so startled that he almost dropped the radio. He knew that he would be dead in five seconds flat if he did. Matt knew that every encounter with Rick was dangerous, radio or no radio.

Hi, Rick, he said forcing a smile. Nah, I didn’t steal your radio, I only borrowed it. See, I’m returning it without a scratch.

There was no indication on Rick’s face that he was listening or even cared about anything Matt said. There was a baleful expression on his face as he took a step towards him. Rick was the second person to hate Matt without reason. He and Eva had been dating for seven months now, and he lived with them. Eva had a singular taste in men; she always chose bikers, burly and mean types like Rick who could toss Matt around and ride off into the sunset when they were tired of her. Of them all, Rick seemed to particularly detest Matt and never failed to cease an opportunity to let the boy know it.

Stole, you stole it, boy, Rick said as he took another step towards Matt. When you take someone else’s property without permission, it is called stealing.

Matt knew that there was no reasoning with Rick, especially in his inebriated state. Rick was holding a bottle of beer in his large hands, and Matt knew he wasn’t above tossing the bottle at him. Eyeing the door, Matt quickly placed the radio on top of the TV and made a run for the door. He was smaller than Rick, and his size was his best disadvantage whenever scenes like this happened.

Rick jumped after him, throwing the bottle in his hand to the floor. Matt would have escaped if only he thought to shuck his backpack but he was too preoccupied with getting out the door. Since Rick didn’t have to come around the sofa like Matt did, it was easy for him to catch up with Matt and seize him by his backpack.

He pummeled Matt, his blows landing all over Matt’s face and arms. Matt tried to dodge, but Rick had him in his grasp and wasn’t letting go. The pain blinded Matt, causing him to fall on the floor. Rick knelt next to him, beating him mercilessly. Matt knew he had to do something or this piece of shit would kill him.

In one fluid movement, he jerked his knee up connecting with Rick’s groin. The drunk shouted in pain. Clutching his groin in both hands, Rick rose unsteadily to a crouch, giving Matt the chance he needed to roll out beneath him. Swiftly, Matt slammed his elbow as hard as he could into Rick’s jaw, adding another kick to his groin. He didn’t wait to hear Rick yell the second time. Matt ran for the door.

His chest throbbed with pain, and his face hurt like hell, but he didn’t dare stop running. He knew that he would be dead for real this time if Rick caught up with him.

What the hell did you do that for? Eva screamed at him. It was 9 p.m., and they were in her car, driving home. Eva was a beautiful woman, but for all her beauty, she couldn’t seem to survive a day without a man. Her cocaine addiction was also telling on her beauty, but Matt doubted she was aware of it. All she cared about was drugs and sex.

Matt had been hiding in an abandoned house a few streets over from the house for several hours. Eva knew about his hiding place and went to fetch him. She had to promise him that she would not allow Rick to beat on him before he got into the car with her. He believed her; for all Eva’s other boyfriends’ dislike of Matt, they never beat Eva. Matt guessed that it was because they feared her friends. In her line of business, Eva kept some unsavory associates and business partners who readily made their resources available to her. If she didn’t want Rick to beat him, Rick wouldn’t dare.

Matt had stayed in the rotting house all day, knowing that she would come for him. For all Eva’s faults—and they were way too many to mention—she would never allow him to sleep a night on the streets. Sometimes, Matt wondered why she bothered with him. She cared so little for his well-being that he wondered why she didn’t just return him to the system after her husband, Raymond Hall, a popular painter, died.

Matt had been with the Hall family barely two months when Ray died of prostate cancer. Only by eavesdropping on conversations had Matt learned that Ray had been unable to father a child. He met Eva at a nightclub like all the other whores he had before he passed. According to Eva, she had been the one to insist on taking in a foster child, though while she had her mind set on a baby, Ray insisted on an older boy. Matt always thought Eva resented him for that. In the end, the artist had died, leaving the sole responsibility of Matt’s well- being to Eva, who hadn’t wanted him in the first place.

You are asking me why I had to defend myself against Rick? Seriously? Matt shouted back at Eva. He was beating the shit out of me!

Eva only glared at him and returned to staring through the windscreen. Angry and in pain, Matt grabbed the wheel.

Are you out of your goddamned mind? she screamed at him when the car came to a stop.

Look at my face, look at me, he did this to me! Matt yelled again.

I can see your bruised face and don’t you dare fucking yell at me! she screamed.

Suddenly, he was tired of it all. He was tired of being beaten up by her boyfriends while she pretended that it never happened. He was sick and tired of her and all she brought into his life.

With a sound of disgust, he opened the car and got out. Matt! Get back in here this instant! Eva shouted.

Leaning down, he looked towards her through half-closed eyes, swollen and blackened from the beating.

I am getting out of your life, and there is nothing you can do about it. Wasn’t that what you always wanted? he spat at her.

He rose to his full height without waiting for an answer and began to walk back the way they had come.

Eva got out the car too and hurried after him. Eva wasn’t tall, and as if to compensate for her height, she always wore heels even around the house. The sound of her heels clacked on the road as she pursued him.

Goddamn you, come back here now! Matt continued to walk on.

Who will make my deliveries, eh? She called after him in a desperate tone.

Matt continued walking, faster with each step. If the first thing that Eva could think of when he said he was leaving, was her drug-dealing business, then he couldn’t get out soon enough.

Who would take you in? she yelled behind him. You’re too old to be adopted by anybody in their right mind!

Matt did not turn around.

How could you go to school? she continued to rant