Main Lines, Blood Feasts, and Bad Taste - Lester Bangs [170]
So what? If Sid Vicious had been a dishwasher in Queens the Nancy Spungen murder would have amounted to one paragraph in one day's edition of the New York dailies, which instead covered the case in predictable tones: “Sid Vicious, former bassist with punk rock band the Sex Pistols, famed for swearing, stomping, vomiting and spitting on their audiences, yesterday was arrested for stabbing his negligeed go-go dancer girlfriend after both succumbed to heroin fits”—not a precise quote, but that sort of thing.
I am probably as guilty of this as anybody. While I was covering the case for the Voice, I ended up on the day after Nancy's Thursday murder down at the NYC courthouse at 100 Centre Street with all the other journalists, and while Malcolm just laughed at me when I inquired about the possibility of an interview with Sid, Murray Kempton, a pipe-chomping “liberal” of some renown, did take the time to pick at what I was so willing to blab up. He followed me across a parking lot, I guess I looked authentic or something to him, and of course I waxed quotable like any stupe. The next day I saw it in his column in the New York Post, which might be the single worst daily in the USA, under the headline “The Awful Return of Sid Vicious: He Lived Up to His Name” (all the local TV newscasters summed it up with those exact words by the way): “Lester Bangs, a wise man there present, said: ‘People are gonna say punk rock leads to this. Nothing leads to this. This was just babies beating each other and this time it went too far.’ ”
Of course swell Murray left out the part I told him about the Pistols being a great rock ‘n’ roll band (“The thing that gets me,” he said that day on the courthouse steps, “is that there didn’t seem to be any talent involved in the first place!” Which I guess indicates his priorities, not that they are that different from Malcolm's, or any of us when you get down to it. We wanted a geek run amuck, and Sid was happy to oblige), and when I saw myself thus quoted in that rag the next day I almost dropped my own piece entirely. Because suddenly one thing occurred to me which seemed to invalidate everything, or at least my own involvement on any level: I had been going totally under the assumption that Sid was guilty, that he had in fact stabbed Nancy to death, no, I’ll go further, I wanted to believe it. Just like everyone else? Why? Oh, I dunno, the name of the guy or something …
In case you ever wondered whether America really was the land where, just like in Perry Mason, you were innocent until proven guilty… well if the cops and courts and lawyers most of whom are corrupt by definition don’t kill you, the press down to what remains of what was once called “underground”/“alternative” will be glad to oblige.
I just broke off writing this to call up the District Attorney's office. I got Assistant District Attorney Sullivan, whom I’d been referred to by the Third Homicide cops who originally booked Sid; after introducing myself, I said: “I was just calling to find out whether in the aftermath of Sid Vicious’ death the Nancy Spungen murder case was still being pursued, or…”
He seemed genuinely surprised that anyone would even think of such a question. “No. Why should it be?”
“So then you are fully convinced that Sid and he alone was responsible for the girl's death.”
“Sure.”
“But how can you be that certain? From everything I’ve heard, I don’t think even he knew whether he killed her or not, and there was an awful lot of talk about a third party in the room, as well as all their money being missing …”
“Look, he killed her. We know it. We’ve got witnesses.”
“What witnesses? Look, unless there was a third party in there the only two witnesses are dead!”
He began to lose patience. “Listen, I don’t have all day for this. I’m telling you, he killed her, he confessed to it, and we’ve got witnesses. The case is closed.”
There didn’t seem to be much else to say, so I just hung up. I thought about calling Rockets Redglare, a buddy of