For history sake: Sam's started out as a restaurant set in an African motif. Waiters and waitresses dressed ala safari. As the restaurant began failing, we had a KROQ party with the Poor Man at the restaurant and it was the most people we had seen in the place. So, Sam decided to put a stage in the corner and we pretty much let anyone who wanted to play. This was like 11/84.

As time went by, our reputation grew and by June '85, we got our first big break (meaning a national touring act): the Meat Puppets. That was a big week. Meat Puppets on 6/3/85 and Blood on the Saddle on 6/8/85 and we were all over the newspapers.

Jump forward to 7/9/85. Minutemen. Remember, we were technically a restaurant and we used that to stage all ages shows. To get in, you had to flash your ID and if you weren't old enough, you got two black stamps on your hands, meaning no beer for you.

We had a few entrances into the club. The stage had doubles doors out to the parking lot so the bands could easily load in. So, there's Mike Watt trying to come in the stage doors and our then soundman, John Sweeney, asks to see his hand stamp. Watt ain't got one yet, so, Sweeeny says, please go to the front door for your hand stamp. And Watt says, "I'm with the band." And Sweeney says sorry. So, now Watt is a bit perturbed. He goes to the front door.

At the front door is Brian. Call him Mr. Attitude. He checks IDs and is generally head of security. He says to Watt, "How old are you?!" in a very rough tone. Watt replies, "Twelve!" Brian nods and gives Watt two black stamps. Watt sets up. Then he goes to the bar for beer. Two black stamps. No beer.

Rather than try to fix it with us, Watt broods. So, by the time they get up on stage, Watt begins harranging our club. Complaining about our management, etc. Then Brian is yelling at him from the door. At one point, Watt says, "What's with the kiddie stamps, man?!" Then the audience begins yelling for them to play and they launch into "Heart Attack" (sic).

I HAD that all on tape. But, alas, as I said, we lost that tape. a real damn shame.

Eventually, all was good with the Minutemen, to the point that Boon offered to be in one of our plays. "No lines," he had said, "I'll be a guard or something". I had to hang up and cry when Jim Washburn told me of his death.

Gil