Born in 1965 in Orange County, California. Lived in Mission Viejo and San Diego, California, in the ’80s and attended shows at various venues throughout Orange, Los Angeles, and San Diego Counties, and in Tijuana, Mexico. Currently lives in San Diego and is the owner of Presley Fine Jewelers.
I WAS FIFTEEN. My uncle, Mike, lived in South America. He wrote me a letter and asked me to go to a record store and pick up a couple of records for him that he couldn’t get in Peru. One of the records was Never Mind the Bollocks . . . Here Comes the Sex Pistols. I always thought he was a cool uncle, so I thought, I’m going to buy myself a copy. If he wants that all the way in Peru because he can’t get it, it’s gotta be something cool.
The minute I listened to it, that was it for me. That was the first punk record I ever bought. It changed my life right there. It was my way to rebel. I came from a really strict Catholic family. I’m the oldest of five children. I wasn’t allowed to do anything. I wasn’t allowed to go to school dances. I wasn’t allowed to get my driver’s license. That record started it all for me. All the rebellion. Taking all my aggression out.
At my school in Mission Viejo, it was so new. There were maybe ten of us that liked punk rock. We were pretty much outcasts. The jocks made fun of the way we dressed. I was on the soccer team, so I had the punk rock life and then I had the soccer life. I started going to shows when I could sneak out. I would pretend I was going to a movie, and I’d go to a show. The first two years I was into punk rock, I didn’t go to as many shows. It was really hard to get out of my house. I wasn’t allowed to spend the night anywhere.
I used to change my clothes after I left home. I had a change of clothes in my purse, so that I could change to go to the show. It was the same with school. I would change my clothes at the bus stop. I paid my brothers money so they wouldn’t tell my mom and dad what I was actually wearing.
Once I turned eighteen, I started going to a lot more shows at the Olympic Auditorium and Fender’s Ballroom. You name it. All over the place. Places in San Juan. There was a pizza parlor there, and the Couch House even had punk rock shows at the time. We would drive wherever there was a show.
It was crazy at Fender’s. I remember being at one show there. I think it was Valentine’s Day. There was a Hispanic wedding going on at the same time. In the other ballroom was the punk rock show. I just remember the fights that ensued afterwards and trying to get out of there, hoping you weren’t going to get stabbed.
Once I moved away to go to college, when I turned twenty in 1985, that was when I hit every single show I possibly could, because there was no one to keep an eye on me. I would say I saw the majority of the punk rock bands from 1985 to the present. I saw everyone you could think of or would ever want to see.
There was a bar in San Diego. It was a little dive bar called the Pink Panther. It was just a beer and wine place. After shows, a lot of punks would show up and hang out. I got to meet a lot of people after their shows. I also worked at a bar called the Casbah in San Diego back in the day. That’s one way I got to meet the guys in the bands, because I served beer to them while they played.
I have a lot of crazy stories. One time, my best friend Joni and I had no money, but we decided we wanted to see the Ramones on their entire West Coast California tour. Basically, we took her Mobil card and we went from Mexico to San Francisco and did everything with the Mobil card. We ate at Mobil stations and pumped gas at Mobil stations and slept in her jeep and went to shows for a week. We bought our beer at the gas station. It was pretty cool.
One time, there was a Social Distortion show at San Diego State at the Back Door—a really small show. I was with Joni. It was sold out and we had no way in. We sat at the bar, and Mike Ness was sitting there next to us. He asked us if we were going to the show and we told him, “No, dude, it’s sold out.” He had a guest list of two women. Apparently, they were porn stars and they didn’t show up. He told us to go to the door and say this is who you are and you’ll get in. I was Linda Lovelace and I can’t remember which porn star Joni was. That was how we got into the show. There was always a story when we went out.
One time, Johnny Rotten came into the Pink Panther. All I used to do at the Pink Panther was shoot pool and drink Jolt Cola. I was on the pool table, and he wanted to shoot pool. He had to play whoever won the game. I beat the guy I was playing, so Johnny came up to the table and I said to him, “Can we bet on this game?” And he said, “What do you want to bet?” I said, “If you win, I’ll buy you all the beers you want all night. If I win, you have to sign one of my records.” He said, “You have a record here?” I said, “No, that’s the catch. I’m going to go home. I live ten minutes away. I’m going to bring my record back and you’re going to wait for me and not leave and you’re going to sign it.”
I beat him at the pool game. I said, “You’re going to wait?” He said, “Yep.” I went all the way home and grabbed my record. For some reason, I couldn’t find Never Mind the Bollocks, so I grabbed Rock ’n’ Roll Swindle and a Public Image Limited postcard. I raced like a bat out of hell and sure enough, he was waiting at the bar when I got back. When I got there, he looked at me and said, “You brought the wrong record. I will not sign the Rock ’n’ Roll Swindle. We all got screwed on that record. We made no money.” But he signed the postcard. Everybody was laughing.
I met Joey Ramone after a show, at a place called Bacchanal. He was standing there after the show. I met him and chatted with him. When I went to New York years later, I was invited to hang out while they were auditioning a new bass player.
One time, Johnny Thunders played at the Bacchanal and he was so high on heroin that he was falling asleep while he was playing. Then he showed up at the Pink Panther, the dive bar, after the show, and I asked him to sign a cocktail napkin. As he was signing it, he just puked all over me. That was 1987.
One time, nobody wanted to see Iggy Pop, so I went down to Mexico by myself and I drove across the border. I parked my car in front of Iguana’s. That was probably one of the scariest things I ever did, because I was surrounded by some sketchy people. Luckily, some other people came by and helped me and I was able to drive away safely. That was probably the dumbest thing I ever did, but it was totally worth it.
At that time, it was cheaper for bands and they got paid more to play in Tijuana, because the promoters didn’t have to pay the insurance that they would have to pay in San Diego. There were shows all over Tijuana, from little clubs like the Long Bar to Iguana’s, a big place where there were a lot of punk bands. When you went to Mexico, that was when you were really scared, because that was just crazy. Any time you went into the Long Bar, fights ensued. You were watching yourself, your back, and your friends. That is probably where I saw the most violence, was at the shows in Tijuana. It wasn’t just California bands playing there. Everyone played there. The Ramones played Tijuana.
I think there was violence, but I think there was always respect towards women. The guys were always there to watch out and protect women, whether they knew them or not. I never felt unsafe at a show from the punks that were there. It was the outside influence. At Fender’s, for example, people coming in and trying to start fights with punks. But I always felt completely safe surrounded by punks. They always watched out for the girls. They were happy to have women in the scene.
Guys wanted women in the scene. They wanted women to date in the scene, because you had stuff in common with them and they thought it was cool. I’m definitely different from mainstream women. Punk rock taught me how to be a leader and not a follower and not to be afraid of anything. That you don’t have to worry about what people think of you. We were looked down upon by women all the time. And still, the values that most women have, I don’t share. I never wanted to marry rich. I wanted to be a self-made person, and I’m able to do that. Punk rock really did get me through it all. It taught me how to be myself.
The punk rock scene influenced every aspect of my life, except for sexually. I had my own values. Politically, it opened up my eyes to what the government is doing and what they’ve done and how I vote. It’s influenced me on how I raise my daughter. The one thing I want to instill in her is independence, and to not ever care about what people think of her. Socially, I surrounded myself with strong women who were like me and in the punk rock scene. My two closest friends were both in the punk rock scene, and we’re still friends to this day. Most of my other friends are friends from the scene.
I still go to punk rock shows. I saw Fear a couple of months ago. Before that, it was X. Whenever there is a good show, I’m there. I still play my records. I have a really good record collection. I take my daughter to shows. She is ten years old.
Punk rock was the best thing that ever happened to me. Besides molding me into the person I’ve become, I have lifelong friendships that I will have until the day I die. At the time, punk rock wasn’t acceptable. You couldn’t go to Hot Topic and buy your punk rock clothes. It taught you how to be strong. I am strong. I’ve survived two marriages that didn’t end well. I’m a single mom and a home owner. Without punk rock giving me a source to look at the establishment, my family, and everything in a different way, I don’t think I’d be the person that I am right now. It taught me to stand up for myself and not bow down. Punk rock made me question authority.