Dysfunctional.
Disenfranchised.
Disorderly.

A Tribute to Johnny and The Ramones

Who would have guessed that a motley "band of misfits from Queens" playing in N.Y.C.’s dive clubs would have such an impact on the music and the culture of Rock ‘n’ Roll, and a generation.

Completely lacking in pretense and artifice, The Ramones, arguably the originators of Punk Rock, neither sought nor achieved rock star glamour or ever reached the top of the billboard charts.

The band’s belligerent attitude and simple driving songs yanked popular music back to its dangerous and controversial roots. A far cry from the stylized look and sound of the mid ‘70s, The Ramones reminded everyone what Rock and teenage angst was all about.

Unlike their sunnier troubadour counterparts, the Partridge Family, the members of The Ramones’ "faux family" performed 2,263 live shows on cramped stages; toured relentlessly in a small van for more than 20 years, 17 of which lead singer Joey and lead guitarist Johnny refused to speak a word to one another.

Yet despite bitter personal and inter-personal conflicts and disappointments, The Ramones continued to perform, record and sustain a career–-inspiring rockers the world over.

Sadly, like so many Rock legends whose lights burned brightly but were extinguished early, three out of four of the bands' founding members have passed. 

In this issue of "AtlasPlugged," guest contributors Jim Fields (co-director, co-producer, and co-editor of the critically acclaimed documentary, End of the Century: The Story of the Ramones) and fellow NYC musician and scenester, Pat DiNizio of The Smithereens, share their thoughts on Johnny (John Cummings) Ramone who died September 16, 2004 at the age of 55.

Jim Fields: 
To tell you honestly, the extent my relationship with Johnny Ramone consisted of only a few seconds of actual conversation. But our contact and involvement with one another spanned seven years and included numerous visits to his house; accompanying him to a guitar convention in Anaheim and many, many phone conferences. I don't want to claim that he really even understood my role in the making of End of the Century or even quite got why the hell I was, in fact, spending so much time in his presence and in his home.

And that was the weird thing about Johnny. He knew our co-director Michael Gramaglia quite well. Michael had struck up a friendship with him by helping with The Ramones financial management for eight years. Me? I was just Michael's weird, shy friend who seemed to be there whenever Michael was working on the film. I even attempted once to step up and introduce myself, explain myself to him. He just looked at me like, "Yeah, I know and I don't care." Wow. It was cold.

The reason I share this is not to complain about Johnny's social skills. I'm saying this to describe two parts of his personality that I grew to actually value a lot. He didn't give a shit about being "nice". He was what he was. And as such, he really came through for us when no one else would. You see, Johnny loved The Ramones and understood the aesthetic, concept, and sound of the band he co-founded, co-invented, co-created.

He saw early on in our concept and proposals what we were trying to achieve. He got it right away and he wanted it done. No one else got it because our ideas were so outside of how The Ramones were used to being marketed and written about. We were going to show them as real people and tell the truth. He saw that as a way to escape their cartoonish and therefore underrated legacy. So he helped us by making himself and whoever he could, available to us for interviews. He even revealed things about himself that literally caused him to lose sleep.

We were in L.A. when he called up our hotel room and told Michael he was up all night freaked out that the "Linda thing" would be revealed to all his friends and fans. [Editors note: Linda, Johnny's wife, former girlfriend of Joey.] But still, he saw why we wanted to talk about it. When he gave us his notes he always said, "Here they are, but do what you think is right." I have to tell you, to this day, the [other members] have tried to pressure us to change the film to either settle personal grievances or censor us in other ways.

So there was Johnny, as I knew him. Totally unfriendly. Totally smart. Totally creative and totally Johnny Ramone. To me he was intimidating and even rude. But in the big picture I have to say we are indebted to him for his help and support. It was a total honor to have been able to work with him. I'd take his no BS [approach] over false friendship any day.

Pat DiNizio: 
I am very saddened by the death of Johnny Ramone. I knew him casually, having toured with The Ramones back in the summer of '86, and would run into him and his wife from time to time on the streets of the Village in New York City, or sometimes in our local video rental store.

I knew he had a huge and extremely rare and valuable baseball memorabilia collection, as well as an awesome collection of vintage horror movie posters from the '50s. So besides the obvious rock and roll connection, we had a few other things in common, being a collector of horror movie films, magazines and posters myself since childhood. It wasn't until very recently that I became aware of the fact that like myself, Johnny was an anomaly in the music business, a political conservative, a risky and dangerous thing to be in the liberal entertainment industry. Like my friends Ted Nugent and Jeff "Skunk" Baxter, Johnny was a staunch, outspoken Republican, whereas I prefer to call myself an Independent Conservative, without a strong allegiance to either major political party. In any event, I considered Johnny to be a kindred spirit.

Years ago, when Guitar Player interviewed me for a feature article on The Smithereens, I was asked who my favorite guitar players were. I replied, "John Lennon, Buddy Holly, and Johnny Ramone". All three were primarily rhythm guitar players, something which I still consider to be more of an art form and a much more disciplined and difficult-to-master style of guitar playing than lead guitar. Johnny was an absolute genius and complete original at what he did in terms of his style of playing. [He was] a true eccentric, and I always appreciated that, and marveled at it.

Back in the early '90s, I presented The Smithereens with a work-in-progress punk-influenced song, roughly titled "Johnny Ramone". Mike Mesaros, our bass player, suggested that I change the title to "Joey Ramone", as Joey was the perceived image of the band. I didn't change the title because I knew then what I know now: While Joey was the focal point of the band, Johnny was the true heart and soul of The Ramones, the one who, for me, truly defined and set the pace for the group.

In truth, I was a lot closer to Joey Ramone, and spent many a night drinking and getting plastered and getting into trouble with him when I was a young man back in the old days in New York City in the late ‘80s. And although his death was shocking to me, it didn't trouble me the way Johnny's passing has. I think it's the fact that three of The Ramones are gone. What are the odds of that happening? The loss at a relatively young age of three of the four founding members of one of the greatest, most important and influential rock and roll bands ever is a spectacular loss. It is just so unfair, so unexpected, and so disturbing. And it has probably made all of us who grew up and grew old with rock and roll painfully aware of how truly tenuous our grip on this brief journey really is.

For me, Johnny's passing is yet another nail in the coffin of rock and truly represents the end of an era, not at all unlike the way the death of Frank Sinatra represented the end of another era. It was a tremendous honor for me to know them and to share a stage with them. God bless Johnny, Joey, and Dee Dee.