Pink House Forever

Spirit of '76 at The End Unit and a Drive-By Disco Party

2011-07-31T23:59:00.000-07:00

In past posts, I've waxed poetic about how the madness at 401 Pritchard Avenue kept the Pink House vibe alive, after Jay M. moved in and stayed for eight years. Well, it's now been six years since Mr. Murray left town, and we miss him. But for the past couple of summers, former 401 residents Ellie and Neill have been doing their own part to maintain a relaxed living environment at their Carrboro crib, affectionately known to visitors as "The End Unit."

Party starters at The End Unit, May 2011. Photo by DJ Old-Time Granny.

So it should come as no surprise that as the twentieth anniversary approached of when our original Pink House lease began (8/1/91), they would be hosting a movie nite at their place curated by yours truly. Utilizing the new indoor screening room that just got rolled out within the past week, in part to cope with the ongoing oppressive temperatures of the Great Heat Dome of 2011. And a new, giant wall-sized screen devised by Neill and unveiled for the first-ever time that night!

The consensus flick turned out to be The Spirit of '76, which I first discovered sitting on the living room couch at a Pink House movie nite back in the day. But this latest showing didn't get underway without much haggling and vote-trading in favor of other contenders (since it's safe to say every audience member in attendance was a certified film freak, with Claudio getting special props becuz it turns out he used to host a long-running outdoor movie series in his backyard on Lindsay Street, showing 75 flicks in all). Including another Chez Pink fave, Beyond The Valley of the Dolls, plus Lost City classics like Psych-Out ("Taste a Moment of Madness! Listen to the Sound of Red!") and Over The Edge, and a very recent discovery, I Was A Teen-Age Zombie, which I think sat on our dollar rental shelf for years, although it should have been a store favorite. Based only on the short clips I've seen so far of the Weed-Man ripping some dude's face off, once he's been turned into a zombie by the toxic lake that he was either pushed or fell into when he wouldn't give kids back their "monies" for a refund on the bad "marah-jahooby" he sold them.

Anyway, Spirit of '76 didn’t disappoint, as Leif Garrett aka Eddie Trojan put some kung fu fighting on the CIA so he could get back to "hustling" with Olivia D'Abo, "Downtown" Julie Brown dropped knowledge on Heinz 57 about how Watergate really started with the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, and Adam 11 aka David Cassidy learned about Tang and all the other good stuff the astronauts did for mankind from Chris Johnson and Tommy Sears, aka Jeff and Steve McDonald from Redd Kross, the coolest kids ever to rock a pair of banana bikes. As our time-traveling heroes made it back safely with the cultural knowledge they'd gathered and turned the bleak future of 2176 into a sunny disco paradise, the credits rolled, leaving us cheering and getting our couch boogie on.

At which point we were spotted by other revelers from the street who decided to come join the fun. Starring frequent 401 traveler and Fly Five sista Alexis (who beat out like, 500 other costumed kids with her amazing sea algae outfit to take home the title of costume contest queen the night before), and her friend Jason, who was celebrating his birthday, plus his whole birthday crew. They were actually politely waiting out in the parking lot for the movie to finish, but busted in immediately after it ended, just like emissaries from a future dancefloor!

Alexis rockin' a past costume contest-winning outfit at 401 Pritchard, May 2004

Then a drive-by disco party erupted, kickin' off with Bobby Thurston's "You Got What It Takes" (a Francois K mix), followed by Suzy Q reminding us to "Get On Up" (during which Jason showcased his mad breakdancing and shoes-on-the-hands air moonwalking skills), continuing on and on via some Trammps and Debbie Jacobs, with Ellie serving up a healthy mix of Sylvia Stripland's "You Can't Turn Me Away" and other Roy Ayers productions sprinkled throughout, and climaxing with the epic 10-minute Alkebu-centric opus known as "The Crown," music by Stevie Wonder mixed with knowledge by Gary Byrd, aka "Professor of the Rap," which Neill found recently in Raleigh. Ellie and Alexis were both Dancefloor MVPs, as they made sure the whole joint was jumpin'.

We were also belatedly celebrating Ellie and Neill's 3rd wedding anniversary, and counting up various cosmic coincidences that kept occurring, so it's fitting there turned out to be three total that evening, the third undocumented until now. That being how the drive-by dance party extended the entire movie nite until well past the midnight hour, so we were all jamming and singing along to "The Crown" exactly twenty years after the modern Pink House era officially began. A "toad-ally awesome," unplanned bonus anniversary jam.

Hammer No More The Fingers rock the living room

2011-03-31T20:05:00.000-07:00

So I was leafing through the DTH tonite, becuz that's one advantage of having not yet left Chapel Thrill, you get to read the DTH straight outta its blue & white vending boxes. Don't laugh, I know lots of expatriates who read it every day online. It's a hard habit to break.

And I spotted this week's Diversions feature story, on hot Durham band Hammer No More The Fingers, who have a CD release party coming up tomorrow nite at Motorco, over on Geer Street. That place was previously an abandoned car dealership that I passed every day for a year or so on my way to work circa 2006, and always thought it would make an awesome nightclub.

Then I saw the part of the story that said, "DTH staff met the band at a Chapel Hill house where they rocked out for our cameras (thankfully, the neighbors didn't complain)." And did a doubletake at the pictures, becuz clearly, Larry Short must not have been home that afternoon!

Gotta give Carolann and the rest of the current crop of ladies over there some props, for following through on their pledge to keep the legacy strong by hosting indie rockers in the living room. Their bona fides were already pretty apparent from their first party update, plus the fact that the Pink House mafia has got inside sources at Twitter that keep us on top of all the super-hilarious shit they tweet about...and think no one can see! Those girls are too funny. But don't worry, we won't publish any of it. :)

Now if they would just paint over that hideous Old Well mural...please?

Flashback to the New England Tour '93 and a Suede/Bowie soundtrack

2010-11-28T02:43:00.000-08:00

Now that I've got the digital audio hook-up, I'm gradually recording artifacts from my cassette collection. It was while looking for more tapes from the Pink House era earlier tonight that I happened to find the mix tape Mel Benner made for us the day we left town with Lem and Derek Elliott to drive north on the New England Tour '93.

Lem's cousin, Derek, Lem & Erik at Lem's aunt's house in Boston, Dec. '93

It wasn't really a mix, it was simply Bowie's 1973 LP Aladdin Sane on one side, and on the other, a new, self-titled debut LP by Suede, a UK group I'd never heard of. Although apparently, that's because I wasn't reading any issues of the British music press that littered the XYC studios. During '92-'93, Suede were the most-hyped English band since the Sex Pistols, and when their debut record dropped in late March '93, it was the fastest-selling UK debut since Frankie Goes To Hollywood's Welcome To The Pleasuredome in 1984.

Mel, however, was tuned in. At the time, she was living in a tiny house on one of the streets of Northside that ran west off Church Street, a little ramshackle shotgun shack. She was really excited about Suede, and thought they were the reincarnation of glam-era Bowie. So she made this tape for us to play on our roadtrip. It added some rockin' flavor to everyone else's preferred vibes (hip hop for Derek, deep house for Lem, and 70s funk for me).

I was hooked from the first song (So Young), because their debut album was a freaking classic, a neo-glam masterpiece.

It didn't hurt that it was probably also the first time I'd ever heard Aladdin Sane (except for the better known tracks Panic in Detroit and The Jean Genie).

For the next seven years or so, this tape never left whatever car I was driving at the time. Even during the period I was rocking my deathtrap '84 Mazda GLC that lacked a tapedeck and I had to cart around a little boombox in the back floorwell. The Suede/Bowie tape became part of my essential driving soundtrack. I’m shocked it's still playable.

Don't know what happened to Mel Benner, because she graduated and left town the next year and I never saw her again. I can't find a Facebook or other definitive link for her, but she was a track star at UNC, and I did find mention of a Melisssa Benner in PA who was still running in charity 5K races as of 2009. So hope she's doing well.

While googling Suede to see where they are today, I found out they're back together and touring Europe right now! They've got a UK gig coming up at London's 02 Arena on December 7. Not that I'm gonna hop on a plane and go, and unfortunately, they're touring without their original lead guitarist Bernard Butler, who co-wrote all the songs on their first LP and played a huge role in shaping their sound. But surely it will be a great show, and for that reason alone, right now seems a particularly appropriate time to be looking back to the moment 17 years ago in a Northside driveway when we were preparing to embark on yet another memorable Pink House road trip and Mel first turned us all on to Suede.

"This is dedicated to all those who will contribute to the New England Tour '93, whether in the city or on the road..." – Lem, 12/21/93, 2:32 am

The August Sessions...Unearthed

2010-11-15T05:32:00.000-08:00

Recently while visiting North Carolina, N'Gai convinced me to patch together all the equipment I needed to digitize some sound recordings. The occasion was his unearthing of a forgotten stash of cassette tapes documenting the legendary August Sessions. Dating from the infamous summer of '93, the second summer N'Gai lived at the Pink House before leaving Chapel Hill for the Far East, these tapes captured a series of day and night jam sessions held in his downstairs room.

They featured a rotating cast of musicians, including N'Gai on flute, Lem on buckets and various other percussion, Grant Tennille on guitar, Bryan Ellerson on keyboards, Charles Overbeck on the cello, and Karen Hurka on harp. The sound quality is surprisingly clear for having been recorded on an old boombox ("I think the cassette door was broken off, and the tape was just held there by the heads," according to N'Gai), and several priceless, previously unheralded moments in Pink House history have been discovered (like Lem macking on Jyoti). More details will be forthcoming.

Since we've been here, the ghost has appeared

2010-08-22T22:23:00.000-07:00

From: Carolann Belk
Date: Sun, Aug 22, 2010 at 10:23 PM
Subject: First Pink House Update!

Oddly enough, your most recent post of my message coincides with the e-mail we were planning on sending after our Pink House christening party, which occurred last night. Needless to say, it was epic. Two kegs were tapped, random freshmen made appearances, and the night ended in a mud puddle that we drunkenly attempted to mop up in the kitchen. Luckily we didn't get in any trouble except for a comment from a neighbor about having to clean pink cups out of the street (oops!).

I guess I should begin this story telling how we worked our butts off to get this house a year ago. I saw it come up online in July, didn't really consider it due to the price ($3500-yikes) but then once we shopped around some and realized the study would have to be a 5th bedroom, we knew we had to go for it. We conned 2 of our guy friends into signing the papers needed for us to get the house since we needed at least four people and told them they could switch off the lease later, which inevitably happened and they probably regret it now. Long story short, we called the realty company about every day after touring the house to beat out all the other people that they said were also looking at it, and ended up getting our official papers in the day before another group of girls - sucks for them, good for us.

Since we've been here, the ghost has also appeared. On top of the upstairs shower turning on by itself incessantly – which we attribute to a lose knob – one of the roommates was doing laundry one night and turned on the dryer, left, and came back into the room 5 minutes later to find the dryer door wide open. Then about a week ago one of the upstairs roommates woke up in the early morning hours to someone apparently attempting to enter her locked door by shaking and turning the knob, and when she asked who was there it stopped. Creepy.

Here's a link to our facebook event for the party.

I'm also attaching a picture of the roomies from last night + the 2 other roommates who I photoshopped in because they were probably off filling their cups. And a picture of randos in the kitchen and the keg gargoyles keeping watch.

We'll try to keep the legacy going strong!

2010-05-15T02:17:00.000-07:00

(8/20/10 - I got an e-mail a while ago from Carolann Belk, one of the new crop of Chez Pink residents. Classes start next week for the Fall '10 semester, and hopefully at some point they'll drop us a more detailed update about life on North Street. Welcome to the spot!)

May 15, 2010 at 2:17am

So this is super random, but I was just updating myself on y'alls pink house blog on account of I'll be residing there as of a week from today (along with some friends of course) and thought you should know the identity of the "unknown occupants".

As of next school year they'll include me (a senior) as well as 4 other senior girls and an additional junior moving in second semester. Shockingly, only one of us is in a sorority. And I will be an assistant editor of the design desk at the DTH, but actually had no plans to work for the DTH when we signed the lease last September. The close proximity was definitely one of the deciding factors on applying for an assistant editor position though.

For 2011-2012, the junior moving in will probably take over and have some of her friends move in. Anyway, I just figured I should keep the pink house alums updated and let you know that we'll try to keep the legacy going strong!

Peace,
Future Pink House Resident

P.S. - Do you have any idea where I can get a copy of that movie?

Pink House back in business

2010-02-02T13:30:00.000-08:00

Groundhog Day seemed as good a time as any to check on the rental property time almost forgot. Except Bill Murray was nowhere in sight, and it wasn't snowing on North Street. And in the clearest sign that the hours were indeed marching on, the for rent sign had vanished! Yet the place was still deserted.

Further investigation revealed the house has been rented for next year, with a May-to-May lease signed by as-of-yet-unknown occupants. Looks like Larry Short's McMansion plans will have to wait awhile. I'd be shocked if the new crew didn't include some DTH staffers excited about the prospect of a 30-second commute to their reporting jobs. Starting in the fall, the paper will be operating out of the building next door at 151 E. Rosemary Street.

The Chi's took quite a bath while it sat vacant for two whole years, which probably translates to slapping the new residents with a sharp rent hike in May 2011. But as of this moment, the place is still available, "for a short term lease only."

So if deep-pocketed alums have any unfinished biz with 130 North Street, now's the time. Like, Ben Folds Five needing some studio space with authentic crash pad flavor to record a reunion album. Or Ian deciding he wants more re-shoots for the movie. This offer is only good until April 20, 2010. An appropriate date (4/20) to mark the end of a peculiar chapter in Pink House history.

Broken mirror in back yard, Dec. 3, 2009. Photo by Further Musings.

Confessions of the Switchboard Operator - Part 1

2009-11-19T01:30:00.000-08:00

by Jessica Deltac ('91-'92)

1991. That was the year the Pepto-Bismol house was liberated from the sorority house next door and its real reputation got started. I have an incredible slew of memories of not just the original housemates – Raj, Clint, Lydia, Erik, Shyam & myself – but all the regulars who were always hanging around or just crashed at the house (if you cooked for us honorary status was immediately conferred): Pam, Deepu, Raj, Dana, Kendall, Pedigo, Dave, Ian, Jason, and... Oh, my mind isn't sharp enough to remember any more names – I just see the faces of the friends and the faces of the short-lived boy and girl friend/toys we had too.

At times living at the Pink House seemed like having a part time job that was a cross between Cruise Dir. Julie McCoy and a Switchboard Operator, as everyone seemed to call our house looking for where to go that night or the upcoming weekend. Looming over our housephone was a corkboard overflowing with flyers and handwritten addresses to the best shows and parties! I really am amazed that I got great grades while living in that house. But to me, the aforementioned Social aspects of University life far outweighed the value of my GPA-incented learning.

I have been requested to share my version of the first time the 2nd most mentioned person on Pink House Forever ever stepped foot into our community house. (How is it that he has 29 posts about him, anyway?)

Jay Murray in his (formerly Jess's) room. Photo courtesy of Mel Keister (Lanham).

(Editor's note - 'cuz he's so sexy...plus he stuck around for FIVE YEARS! But Jess is right - to date, only N'Gai has gotten more blog love.)

Well it was the night of the BIG party in October. It was our coming out party if you will, the one that started the all-campus craze. But it was also slated to be a Birthday Party for our Lydia, the soft spoken but willful feminist of the house. And it was also to be the Debut Show of Chapel Hill's latest band with our Dramatic (drama addict) housemate, Clint Curtis, debuting as frontman!

The band name itself had arisen from a heady post-dinner chat with housemates. I don't remember any other band members present beyond Clint. Raj and I pushed the name Dada Veda after our impressive discourse on fusing the untouchable Hindu scriptures that existed for over 4,000 years, the Vedas, with Dadaism, the art movement that questioned the validity of art. With just a name, we were questioning one of the world's oldest spiritual arts, while covertly Raj & I were questioning the validity of the band itself.

And only days before the party, I had designed the T-shirts that would have one day made epic cover art – the back for Dada Veda and the front celebrating Lydia's Birthday. I wish I knew what I wrote on them, but I am being blackmailed to pen this account in order to get one of the last remaining shirts that were made for the party! Sadly, Dada Veda were short lived and never gave me the chance to design their album covers, owing to the typical tragedy of differing musical dreams that most bands experience before any real money is dangled by signing labels. Or maybe it was just because of Clint. Who knows?

So back to prepping for the party. We were all on switchboard duty that week, as everyone seemed to be calling the house to confirm the BIG PARTY. With Erik as a housemate, you know the party had been well publicized. We were beginning to believe the Pink House Party had been Over-Advertised. And we weren't just plugged into the UNC campus, we were plugged into the local scene as well, so there seemed to be no parameters for the invite list! The whole house was starting to get nervous. What was the phrase in the early 90s? We were Buggin!

And that wasn't all. The 100 t-shirts Erik had ordered to help recoup for the beer and what ever else we had spent money on weren't done and the almost full keg we were supposed to get from someone had mysteriously disappeared (that's not so mysterious, is it?). This all led to the serious conversation we had about what if we locked the doors and killed the lights in an attempt to pass on having this party.

In the midst of this somber and yet paranoid mood, Erik brought a big cardboard box into the house that shifted the vibe upward. The shirts were completed and looked great.

Everyone was thrilled. I went out and spent parental funds earmarked for food on four dozen OE's from the bowels of Big Bertha's. Olde English - brewed since the 800's! With no legitimate coolers, I filled up my kiddie pool with ice and water and loaded them all in. If we were anything, Pink Housemates were resourceful. I think there was also an amp issue, (isn't that a given with every band?), but by the time the sun started to set, it was getting squared away. Somehow we got the backyard trimmed too. I don’t know if we borrowed a weed-whacker or what, but it was well groomed by the time we put sofas outside and other suitable furniture absconded from the sidewalks of nearby neighborhoods.

And then with a toast to the Gods, other Housemates, and honorary Pink Housers, the First Pink House party began!

To Be Continued...

Pink House O.G.'s. Photo courtesy of Jess Deltac.

Two Mayor Marks and a Cowboy on Election Night

2009-11-03T20:30:00.000-08:00

On the night of Nov. 3, two-term Chapel Hill town council member Mark Kleinschmidt was elected mayor of Chapel Hill in a hard-fought race, becoming the first openly gay and youngest mayor in the town's history. I may have seen a sign for his opponent in Larry Short's front yard, but that might just be wishful thinking.

Mark threw his victory party at the R&R Grill (aka Papagayo's), and it was packed with Chapel Hill's liberal political establishment. As an official Kleinschmidt campaign donor to the tune of $20, Mani was there to witness her investment paying off, and got to hang with her former FTI co-workers who came out in force to congratulate their director.

At one point, I was sandwiched in conversation between Donna Bell, who was calling out election results from the Board of Elections website, and a tall, dark stranger in a ten-gallon hat and black leather jacket who was talking about what Chapel Hill used to be like circa 1970. He turned out to be...Randy Jones, the original cowboy from the Village People!

Former Morehead scholar at UNC, graduate of Enloe High in Raleigh, who knew? And the only member of the group to ever really live in Greenwich Village (from 1975 to this day). He happened to be in the neighborhood, and dropped by to celebrate Mark's historic win. Not just a pretty face, his book Macho Man: The Disco Era and Gay America's "Coming Out" is a behind-the-scenes account of the emergence of gay culture in the 70s. It tells the real story of disco's black and gay roots, and how the music changed America.

Anyway, Mark joined two-term incumbent mayor of Carrboro Mark Chilton (who was re-elected to a third term the same night) in an elite club, besides N.C. mayors named Mark - mayors who can say they attended Pink House parties back in the day, and still managed to get elected to public office. Congrats, guys!

Gorgeous magnolias, purple living room, and gooey mold on the ceiling

2009-09-19T00:15:00.000-07:00

By Mel Keister (Lanham) ('93-'95)

Originally I lived in the Mona Lisa room with Sally. Then I lived in the little pink room upstairs, then moved across the hall into Erik's old room. The upstairs rooms were the BEST.

There was an older lady who lived next door. She was the house mother for one of the sororities. She was a sweetheart, and she also asked us girls about our lives. I don't know if she chatted with the guys much.

I was always cleaning that place - especially the dishes. And the downstairs bathroom would get this virulent-looking gooey mold on the ceiling, all brownish-black, that looked like it would drip on you.

Painting the living room purple was a bitch! Looked cool though. I'm sure whoever came after and repainted it was cursing my soul.

I had heard the place used to be a garden showplace (maybe someone else had heard it from a neighbor?), even having been photographed for a magazine. There wasn't much left of that, but in the spring, these odd-looking lilies would pop up in the far back yard, right in the middle of the grass. Like red alliums, but with no leaves - just a big ball of delicate flowers.

And there were these gorgeous magnolias, but they were being killed by the wisteria, so I got Steve to help me save the trees. He wasn't into it, so I promised we could dress up in ridiculous outfits first. Wish I still had that picture!

Oh, God! And those creepy spider crickets! They were always in the bathtub! Jay was so freaked out by them - I used to get the critters for him. It was so fun saving the day for Jay. He was always making those huge pots of spaghetti.

Pink House For Rent...Again!

2009-08-11T17:43:00.000-07:00

In a twelve-year rewind, the Chi's have once more (at least temporarily) abandoned their ill-timed plan to sell the Pink House to a deep-pocketed single family, and instead put the place back up for rent.

It's been renovated again, and now features amenities like carpeting on the stairs and hardwood floors nearly everywhere else. When I visited recently, courtesy of the contractors who had just finished re-painting inside and out (covering the Mona Lisa with yet another coat of white), the place was sparkling. But there was clearly still work to be done, because the downstairs bathroom looked as grungy as ever. Leaning over the tub to take a picture, I half expected spider crickets to come swarming out of the air vent.

The current asking price on a Pink House rental? Thirty-two hun a month, or roughly twice what I remember our crew last paying when I moved out fifteen years ago. After figuring in inflation, that's nonetheless a steep rate for a five bedroom (or 4 1/2, taking Jay's room into account) student crash-pad. And since today's kids are less likely to want to share bathrooms than the Gen-X'ers who came before them, and even Chapel Hill's sorority girls who deal a little coke on the side have lately fallen on hard times, maybe it's no wonder the place is still available (as of 9/20/09) six weeks after I first saw the for rent sign.

UPDATE 10/25/09 – As Fall Break 2009 for UNC students drew to a close, I drove down North Street on my way to the Franklin Street post office. Lo and behold, no renters yet.

UPDATE 11/26/09 – The day before Thanksgiving, and I finally got the memo that Hell closed down nearly a year ago. While checking out the debris piled at the top of the outside stairs (including Hell's soft pretzel cabinet), evidence the space is still being excavated, I looked up through the chain link fence and saw a bicyclist zoom through the deserted parking lot of the Phi Mu sorority house. Curious, I noticed the rider was headed for the Pink House. Could it be rented? There did seem to be a couple of trucks parked in the back yard.

No, it was only the blogger next door on his way home. I introduced myself and explained I used to know the old couple who previously lived in his house. He was remarkably cool for being accosted at dusk outside his own crib by a quasi-cyber stalker, and said the place is still sans residents. And he thought Sylvia's initial rental asking price this go-round had actually been $3600, thirty-two was at a discount.

R.I.P. Laverne (1994-2009)

2009-05-05T17:05:00.000-07:00

I adopted Laverne on May 14, 1994. She was about four months old. Although I adored her, I shouldn't have gotten her while I was living at the house, since none of our housemates were into the idea (plus Sylvia's whole "no pets" rule!).

One time, she got onto the roof. Terrifying experience! I think a couple of us came back from the video store, and that slum-lord guy across the street was outside saying there's a dog on the roof. I had just moved into the pink room upstairs with the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, and didn't know about the loose screen window that could be flipped open. Laverne had been waiting for me in the room.

Anywho, she went out the window, where the roof was over the porch, but then made her way to the very slanted part of the attic area. She was trying to grip the roof, but you could hear her nails scraping the roof tile as she slipped. So of course, I ran up the stairs, popped out on the roof and climbed over to her. Pretty tricky carrying a dog off a roof!

We euthanized Laverne in May because she was having kidney failure. Broke my heart. It was almost 15 years to the day of her adoption.

- Mel Keister (Lanham), 9/18/09

Jay Murray returns for Gerald's 40th B-day

2009-04-11T16:00:00.000-07:00

In April, Gerald Bundy turned 40, and Jay made the scene, taking a train up from Davidson to do it. Gerald hung out with Jay a lot at the Pink House and found him a room at 401 Pritchard when everyone got kicked out in '97.

On Friday night, we grabbed some grub at Milltown in Carrboro, then crossed the road to meet up with former housemate Karen Hurka (summer '93) at a free record release party at the Cradle for the latest LP from her husband Ryan's band the Kingsbury Manx. This show sparked even more Pink House memories when we all ran into Grant Tennille and Matt Hedt.

The next day, enroute to Gerald's in Durham we picked up Barbara and Jeff, and did a drive-by on Sam's Quik Shop. I had invited Lydia to come along, but she couldn't make it. Also at the party was Allen Sellars, Chez Pink resident during 1995. Before that, Allen also lived at 401 Pritchard. Many Pink House and 401 stories were told, including the tale of the two hippies who lived in the Pink House driveway. Gerald fed us oysters, wine, and gourmet root beer.

"Jay and I missed getting to hang with you at the birthday party the other weekend. He had a tough night's sleep on our lumpy futon couch, but was good to go after shaving his head on the porch. Here's a photo, the other people are Jay's friend Gerald, Barbara, who used to live at 401 Pritchard Ave with Jay, and her husband, Jeff."

- e-mail to Lydia

While in town, Jay also owned up to various Pink House housemate misdemeanors.

J: I remember once I was making out with my girlfriend at the time Julia, and somehow we ended up fooling around in Steve’s room. Then Steve suddenly came in and cut the lights on, and we were like, oops! Busted! I also remember when Steve took my fan. I came back home one day, and my fan was gone, and I was like, what happened to my fan? And it quickly mushroomed into a conversation about how I wasn't doing enough around the house.

E: This was your fan?

J: It was supposedly a house fan.

E: And there was a confrontation between you and Steve?

J: Yeah, but you were there, backing him up.

E: That was cold.

J: I wasn't the perfect housemate. A couple times, I mooched some of Sally's food, and when she found it missing, she immediately blamed you. And I was okay with that.

E: Fifteen years later, the truth all comes out in the wash.

North Street is burning!

2009-02-13T13:30:00.000-08:00

More from the guy next door. There was a FIRE on their lawn one recent spring afternoon, and if not for the intervention of one of Chapel Hill's trusty Carolina blue fire trucks, the Pink House could have burned down. So nearly seventeen years later, Raj's bad fire feeling came to pass. And on the star-crossed date of Friday the 13th, no less.

"Flames!? On the front bank, 50 feet away and moving towards our house?! Ah!!! I shoved an empty bucket underneath the bathtub spigot. As it filled I could hear the fire truck approaching. I ran outside and dumped the water on flames closest to the house..."

- Further Musings, "Fire!"

Here's a whole bunch of his posts about life on North Street.

The view from next door...

2009-02-10T15:44:00.000-08:00

Next door lived a very nice old couple (the Sommerfelds), whose bedroom faced my upstairs room. I was constantly afraid the techno, disco, jazz, hip hop, house, funk, and all the rest of the records I played until late hours of the night were going to give them seizures. This wasn't the little blue house where Phi Mu's sorority mother lived, but the white house on the opposite side. The Sommerfelds kept a beautiful backyard garden. Like ours, it stretched all the way back to the chain link fence that separated North Street properties from Rosemary Street parking lots.

The Sommerfelds both passed away several years ago, and now there's a young married couple who live in their house. He and his wife are huge gardeners, so they've kept the backyard garden thriving. And the guy, when he's not attending grad school at UNC, keeps a blog. Since June of 2008 he's watched the Pink House sit vacant, grumbled at Sylvia's failure to maintain the place, and occasionally written about it.

Like in this post:

"This afternoon, under the warm sunlight of these first days of another Chapel Hill spring, I cut behind the empty pink house next door on my way home..."

- Further Musings, "The Beauty of Spring"

Mini-reunion '09 at Weathervane Cafe

2009-02-07T14:45:00.000-08:00

On a sunny Saturday afternoon in February, a few Pink House alums' paths crossed in Chapel Hill. The Tar Heels were playing UVa, and Caroline Philson swung through from ATL to go to the game with Susan Comfort, in town from D.C. Meanwhile, another epic sports battle was about to go down, as Dana Lumsden drove up from Charlotte with his kids Alec and Kyle for the first annual Mardi Gras bowling invitational.

Kyle, Alec, Erik, Dana, C-line & Mani, 2-7-09

"We were sitting around having brunch at the Weathervane Cafe inside A Southern Season (the first time I've actually eaten at that overpriced joint since it moved to U-Mall a few years ago). Caroline's former roommate Donna Bell was there, too, along with her new baby who's a few months old. Turns out Donna is married to Jason James, who used to run the Carolina Critic. But he saw the light and converted to the Democratic Party at some point.

When I found all this out, I thought of piping up, "Be sure to tell Jason that the reason his office supplies kept disappearing was thanks to me." But I didn't. Mostly because Caroline had just told a story about watching me pee into the can-I-take-your-order speaker outside a Dunkin Donuts on our Fall Break '92 roadtrip because they wouldn't let me use their bathroom without buying something, and Mani wasn't feeling it.

Dana and his kids showed up, and were deciding on the perfect flavor of pancakes, when who walked in the place to eat with his girl but Lem! It was a trip. Everybody said what's up and exchanged love.

Re the weekend's bowling tournament, I'm proud to report that the Alec-Kyle-Erik team beat the Mani-Dana team by a resounding 149-141. Although there was a disputed six points that Mani insists Dana accidentally scored on one of my frames, which would have been enough to swing the outcome in reverse."

- e-mail to N'Gai

Remembering the Pink House, 15 Years Later

2009-01-08T14:34:00.000-08:00

2009 marks fifteen years since I graduated from Carolina and moved out of the Pink House, the legendary off-campus crash pad located at 130 North Street in Chapel Hill. To celebrate the occasion, I'm digging up some Pink House photos and stories from the early 90s, the last time control of the house was wrested away from civilians and turned over to the bohemians.

Pink House dinner at El Rodeo, 1993. Firas, N'Gai, Erik, Jay, Scott, Kyle, Caroline, Lydia, and friends.

I lived in the Pink House for three years, from the summer of 1991 through the summer of 1994. By the time I left, most of our original crew had graduated, except for Jay Murray, who took over as Pink House den mother. We passed the torch onto a new group of nonconformists, who went on to have three more years of their own adventures. Some former denizens from the early 90s even moved back into the house, most notably N'Gai Wright.

More freewheeling parties were thrown, with DJ Pez continuing his residency behind the turntables. Although most events were not quite as off the chain as the ones we got away with during our era, before the neighbors got completely fed up with Pink House Jams. The house even inspired a feature-length movie, named, aptly, The Pink House, written by Ian Williams, who lived there during 1995-97 and has done his best to chronicle everything he remembers of those years in occasional posts on his own blog, XTCian.

Freestyling in the kitchen at Pink House party, mid-90s.

Unfortunately, six years of tomfoolery and hedonism took their toll on the poorly maintained Pink House infrastructure, and the place predictably deteriorated. The absentee landlady had a Hong Kong lifestyle to maintain, and kicked everyone out in the summer of 1997 so she could renovate the place and rent it out to kids with more of Daddy’s money to burn than slackers in our circle could ever hope to scrape together. They paved the beautiful, overgrown backyard, and as a final insult, painted over the Mona Lisa mural in the downstairs front bedroom that Clint and I shared during our first year in the house (Ian wrote a great column for the Independent Weekly in 1997 about what a tragedy the loss of that mural was).

For several years afterward, in a stunning twist of fate, born-again Christians and traveling Mormon missionaries took up residence. But I recently stumbled across an on-line stash of Pink House pics dating from the spring of 2005, showing drunken party antics in the spirit of yesteryear. It warmed my heart, even though the house had come full circle and was full of sorority girls again.

The property was put up for sale in the summer of 2008 for a cool $625,000. I haven't driven down North Street in a while, so don't know whether it's still on the market or not. But even if evil next-door neighbor and local developer Larry Short was to buy it for a teardown and put up a McMansion, the friendships that were formed there (and the spiritual lessons learned during all-night "rap" sessions) will live on forever.

Pink House reunion dinner at Mariakakis, 1995. Scott, Zak, Jay, Jenny, Erik, Mel, and Lydia.

A Farewell to Hell

2008-12-07T17:00:00.000-08:00

It's been so long since I went bar-crawling there that it took me nearly a year to realize Hell shut its doors for good in early December, 2008. Or maybe I stopped caring once Mark & Bronwyn sold the place in late 2007, deciding ten years was long enough to own a Chapel Hill watering hole.

Hell circa 2006. Photo by Patrick Talbert.

Before it was Hell, a short-lived rock club called Smokin' Joe's occupied the space, and before that it was Troll's, a typical frat bar. Hell opened the same month that the Lost City did, in April of 1997. So even before I made my first descent down those long concrete stairs, I felt a kinship with the place.

Plus, it was almost literally next door to the Pink House, in the basement of the multilevel building at 157 E. Rosemary St. with Bub's on the top floor. Hell was owned by a guy I'd known for a few years, Mark Dorosin, the local civil rights lawyer and Carrboro Board of Aldermen member, and his wife Bronwyn Merritt, who from 2000-02 ran a great little eponymous art gallery in Carrboro located in the tiny rectangular space at the corner of Main and Lloyd Streets.

Throughout the late 90s and early 00s, the spot was a mandatory stop on the Chapel Hill nightlife circuit, and THE place to go anytime for pool games, air hockey matches, and classic arcade throwdowns. I hung out there a lot, most memorably with '98-'99 crew members like Trish and Scott, then later with Jay, Lauren, Ellie, and the rest of the 401 Pritchard crowd. It's possible the last time I ever saw infamous grifters Chalky and The Wood was when one of them borrowed $8 from me to buy drinks there. Tim Ross helmed a long-running series of Chapel Hill's best dance parties of the past decade at Hell, dubbed Disco Inferno.

Disco Inferno, Oct 2006. Photo by Tim Ross.

Many a pickup scheme was hatched on Hell's inviting couches, hanging out by the amazingly well-stocked jukebox, or navigating the squalid, too-close-for-comfort men's and ladies' rooms. And I loved the place in no small part because Pink House party regular Malcolm Aaron and 401 Pritchard scenester Eddie Sanchez had permanent gigs as the doorman and bartender, respectively.

Eddie, Melissa, Malcolm and friend at 401 Pritchard Ave., Feb. 23, 2002.

Mona Lisa's Ghost

2008-06-15T09:00:00.000-07:00

In June of 2008, current owner Bernard Chi, son of our original landlady Sylvia Chi, put the Pink House up for sale. It had withstood eleven more years of rentals since being renovated in 1997. The asking price was $625,000, reduced to $612,500 by the fall after no takers materialized. With the local real estate market finally feeling the trickle-down effects from the national recession, it was a tough time to be marketing a rundown, modestly-sized former rental property that had been well lived in by students for most of its 70 year existence (the house was built in 1936).

Visiting the property on a recent afternoon, days after the first snowfall in Chapel Hill in four years, I found the Pink House empty, with a real estate agent's lockbox on the door, but no for sale sign out front. I was struck by how little some things had changed, at least on the outside. From the ancient porch light fixture, to the stonework still crumbling in the exact same places it was when I moved out in 1994, to the battered mailbox with one hook still broken from a long-ago Pink House party.

It was like stepping back in time, except that I have occasionally been by the place over the years. The last time was probably in 2004 or so, when I met some of the nice Christian girls living there and they proudly showed me the hideous mural of the Old Well they’d painted on the living room wall.

Pink House on January 22, 2009.

Although the back parking lot is currently still rented out to students, and it was the dead of winter, I thought I saw signs of growth stirring, as if the back yard was struggling to reclaim its former state of nature. And maybe it was the afternoon sun reflecting off the window pane, or just wishful thinking, but I swear that once I looked hard enough, I could still see the Mona Lisa in the front room, smiling beneath all that white paint.

R.I.P. Joe Herzenberg (1941-2007)

2007-10-28T18:15:00.000-07:00

Joe was one of our neighbors and could often be spotted walking down North Street. He lived around the corner from us at 6 Cobb Terrace, on a cool little street just a stone's throw away from downtown but set back from the world in a hidden corner of Chapel Hill. On Monday nights when Town Council meetings were held, he passed by like clockwork to walk the short distance to Town Hall and back home.

Joe on North Street in front of the Pink House, Spring 1992.

He was also one of my political mentors. During the fall of '91, the first semester I lived in the Pink House, I saw Joe a lot during the course of Mark Chilton's campaign for Town Council, and his own successful Council re-election.

Throughout the early nineties, Joe would occasionally stop by to shoot the breeze if we were hanging out on a porch. He sent us some of his famous postcards when he was out of town on his travels. He even came to a couple of early Pink House parties, before the days when they blew up beyond control.

In late October of 2007, Joe died of complications from diabetes in Chapel Hill. He was 66 and greatly missed by his family and friends.

For more about Joe's life and times, visit JoeHerzenberg.org.

R.I.P. Chris Pedigo (1971-2006)

2006-12-29T15:50:00.000-08:00

Chris was a regular visitor at the Pink House, and one of my good friends at UNC. He was hilarious, generous, kind-hearted, and a co-conspirator in many capers. For several years Chris lived in the gorgeous, decaying mansion known as the Russian House. He spoke Russian, French, and was fluent in a couple other languages. In the spring of '92, I was his campaign manager when Chris ran for Senior Class Vice President on a ticket with Caroline Philson in the top spot. We lost, but it was a very fun campaign, and the Caroline and Chris team had the coolest posters of any candidates for student office that I saw in my entire time at Carolina.

In the summer of '92, our paths memorably crossed for several weeks in Paris, when my brother and I took a trip over there and hung out with Chapel Hill ex-pats like Pedigo, his friend Aaron Gannon, globe trotting journalist and Pink House roomie Kyle York Spencer, and future Pink House couch surfer John Hamilton Palmer.

Chris was gay, but closeted in college, even after he contracted HIV in Paris and returned to Chapel Hill. Living with HIV was hard for Chris in the early 90s. A full decade after the epidemic burst into the public eye, progress on developing life-saving drugs remained painfully slow. It was a direct result of right-wing politicians like Sen. Jesse Helms (R-N.C.) underfunding the nation's public health response, under the criminally homophobic, warped belief that AIDS victims deserved to die.

Chris enrolled in numerous experimental trials of AIDS drugs at Duke University, which kept him alive until more effective treatments came onto the market a few years later. As time went on, Chris’ medical condition left him facing increasingly perilous financial straits. But he kept his sense of humor and refused to give up. Sadly, I lost touch with Chris after he moved to Florida in the late 90s, where he lived and worked in West Palm Beach.

Death Notices - News & Observer (Raleigh, NC) 1/2/07, B6

Christopher James Pedigo
MARCH 9, 1971 - DECEMBER 29, 2006

Christopher James Pedigo, 35, passed on Friday, December 29, 2006.

He is survived by his loving mother; Elizabeth Ann Pedigo; father, James; younger brother Taylor; and friends.

Despite the many obstacles set before him due to a long battle with compounding physical ailments; armed with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge he achieved various levels of advanced education and was fluent in several foreign languages, along with being an accomplished pianist, for all of which we are very proud.

Chris, your enthusiastic conversation and bright eyed smile will be missed, yet will remain in our hearts forever.

The undercover cops didn't even wear pink!

2006-09-16T00:18:00.000-07:00

Scene report from the Pink Party, Fall '06, almost exactly fifteen years after we moved in and threw OUR first Pink House party. The more things change... I love how these girls told the Chapel Hill fuzz which end was up re why kids scattered when the blue lights arrived - "you see a cop and you duck...you just don't want to be around cops." Priceless!

From The Pink House of Chapel Hill:
"Our first Pink House party was fabulous. It was a pink theme, and I am happy to report that a lot of people followed the rules. It is Chapel Hill, after all, so it shouldn't have been too hard. The girls and I spent all Friday late afternoon decorating. Seriously, we went all out. We doused our house with pink streamers and balloons. We strung up white lights in the backyard and in the shed. Put pretty pink table cloths over the beer pong table and the flip cup table.
Our house was so cute. We made pink pj, got a keg, got some pink wine and made pink jello shots. About 150-200 people showed up. We all dressed really cute in pink (pictures coming soon), and everything was going perfect.

Then the Chapel Hill police show up. They check mine and the girls' IDs, then tell us that there had been a noise complaint about our party and that we shouldn't have underage drinkers there. I responded that most of our invitees were 21 or over, but the cops retorted that our guests must be underage since 3/4 of them left.
I told them that's just instinct. You see a cop and you duck. regardless of whether you're doing something wrong or illegal. You just don't want to be around cops.
Well, I was a little skeptical that there was really a noise complaint. We live right beside a fraternity that keeps me up every night with their music. We live behind three very large bars, and there are students up and down our streets. I highly doubt that anyone complained. The cops stayed across the street for a while, and some undercover cops had even been chilling at our party for some time. They even cited two of our underage guests in our backyard!

I walked across the street to ask the cops if our party's noise was up to par since they cleared out 3/4 of our guests and since we turned down the music. It was only 1:30 am. Then, we got to talking about how and why they busted our party. Apparently, one of them told me, there was a "911 call" about the Pink House party. The cop even used the lingo, "the Pink House."
That makes me think that they were just on the prowl for parties that night. That, and the fact that today's police log shows the police activity from Friday night and it seems like every party in Chapel Hill was busted. One observation: when there's a noise complaint called in by a neighbor, I highly doubt the Chapel Hill police scurry up all the undercover officers they can and come chill at a party. Seriously. And the undercover cops didn't even wear pink!
From today's police log: society victim of loud music/party/other noise, at 130 north street, chapel hill, nc, between 00:18, 09/16/2006 and 00:18, 09/16/2006. reported: 09/16/2006."

- "cops don't like pink" by Shanny (aka Shannan Bowen)

Regardless of the facts, I still suspect Larry Short made the 911 call. Thanks to Shannan for the photos and on-scene reporting, and co-hosting (along with her 2006-07 roomies) such a worthy addition to the house's long line of legendary parties!

A sort of charisma only a Pink House would have

2006-09-14T13:30:00.000-07:00

After Sylvia had a string of good luck with docile tenants like the Mormon missionaries and nice Christian gals (late 90s – early 00s), the place got passed on to a gaggle of sorority girls who re-inaugurated the Pink House party tradition during their residence from Fall '04 – Spring '05. The next year, a bunch of guys with a "weird stinch" moved in, thereby reviving the slob tradition. They, in turn, handed the house over to a group of girls who decided on the place partially because of its infamy. In their year there, they tangled with the police while throwing parties, and otherwise did the most to carry on the Pink House legacy of any post-'97 crew. How do we know all this? Well, I found some deleted blog entries dated Fall '06, which brought the house's recent history to light.

Shanny (the author, a DTH staffer at the time) deserves props for being the first resident to start a blog solely devoted to the Pink House. Even though she later deleted the whole thing. Luckily, the internet has a long memory.

From The Pink House of Chapel Hill:

"The Pink House was built a long, long time ago and has served as a home to many groups of UNC students and those who just never wanted to leave Chapel Hill. Groups have associated their college years with this house, and the current residents have not forgotten the legacy of this place.
I have to admit, I actually had never been to the Pink House and had hardly heard about it before we moved in here. Around February, Jess, Maile, Lindsay, Tara and I were looking for a house to move into together for the next school year. So Jess saw a picture of the Pink House hanging on the office door of Dunlap Lilley Rentals. We contact Mr. Jim Lilley and ask him if it's available. "I don't know," he responded. "Go ask the guys living there."
So, we knock on the door and ask the dudes to show us around. It's a typical college pad, complete with beer cans and a weird stinch (they were guys). They told us the fireplace didn't work, the plumbing and the floor in the downstairs bathroom were really bad, the repairs weren't getting done, and the energy bills and rent were really high. But then they told us that the place was famous. It had a sort of charisma that only a Pink House would have. It was old, and many people have lived there and many memories were made there. Ben Folds lived there. There was a movie made about the place, we were told. Wow. I think that - and the fact that it was pink and big - had us sold.
We moved into the Pink House this summer. Well, we moved our belongings into the house this summer and subletted while we were all away at internships and other summer places. Now, we're all back together. School has started, we've already lost two football games, I have a paper due in a week that I have no idea about, we've called our landlord to fix repairs more than 10 times, and we are finally throwing our first Pink House party!"

- "the pink ... what?", by Shanny (aka Shannan Bowen)

End of an Era: Jay Murray leaves Chapel Hill

2005-08-30T16:57:00.000-07:00

From 1997-2005, Jay kept the spirit of the Pink House alive at his next communal house, 401 Pritchard Ave. While finishing his PhD studies, he and his fellow roomies gave a broader life education in how to have fun to the next generation of UNC's unwashed and unruly college-age youth.

In August, 2005, a few months after graduating, Jay painted his room white, packed up a U-Haul, and left town for a teaching gig in NYC. Chapel Hill hasn't been the same since.

Jay's Graduation BBQ @ 401 Pritchard

2005-05-14T17:00:00.000-07:00

Misc. Mugs @ 401 Pritchard, 2001-04

2004-05-22T15:00:00.000-07:00

After the Pink House crew was evicted in the summer of 1997, Jay landed two blocks away, at 401 Pritchard Avenue.

From time to time, I'd hang out with him there. I wasn't a regular couch surfer, although I spent a few nights at 401 over the years under various circumstances. But I was a semi-frequent visitor, first downstairs, then upstairs, too, after Barbara Berry and Andrew Pearson moved in. As the years went by, Jay became the most senior 401 resident, just as he had at the Pink House. He continued his long stint as a WXYC jock, filling the airwaves with a weekly dose of choice, obscure cuts. It was hard to think of Chapel Hill without him.

The Pink House vibe lived on at 401. It wasn't just that Jay's first room looked like an exact replica of his tiny nook at Chez Pink. Both rooms were about the same size, so he didn't have much choice. It wasn't just that he and his housemates eventually painted all the rooms in different day-glo colors, reminiscent of how the Pink House living room got made over in bright purple, or that they threw huge, out-of-control house parties at the drop of a hat, or that bands also practiced in their basement. Of course, the basement at 401 took things to another level, big enough to host slamming DJ sets, rock shows, theater gigs, and dance performances by the Fly Five. I can't imagine what Pink House parties would have been like if we had that much space to play with.

It was something deeper than that. With the glaring exception of MC Paul Barman, nearly everyone who I met there over the years added something positive and creative to the mix. Featured here are a few of the more memorable mugs from the early 00's.

(Among other dates, photos are from Halloween party, 10/27/01; post-Valentine’s Day bash, 2/23/02; Isaac Trogden’s senior art show opening, 4/11/02; 401 Tag Sale, 5/22/04).

For more scenes from the 401 Pritchard era, see online albums like THIS ONE from Meredith, and the ones HERE, HERE, HERE, and HERE as faithfully archived by Ellie, including a photographic record of Fly Five performances.

N'Gai and Dana in NYC

2003-06-16T17:00:00.000-07:00

After N'Gai finally gave up on the booming metropolis of Winston-Salem, he moved back up to NYC in late 2002. Dana was still working at a law firm there, before he migrated in the opposite direction down to Charlotte. Over the next couple of years, I occasionally got to chill with them both amidst the mean streets of Manhattan.

On one of these afternoons, N'Gai and I threw down in an epic chess tournament before making a pilgrimage to Electric Ladyland Studios in the Village, to pay homage to Hendrix's spirit.

(Photos from 6/16/03 and 11/21/04)

Kyle Spencer Goes Country

2002-06-11T15:00:00.000-07:00

In 2002, our former Pink Housemate and favorite globe-trotting journalist Kyle York Spencer published her first book, She's Gone Country. It was a fish-out-of-water account of her experiences as a twenty-something "lost soul" (courtesy of the book jacket) born and bred in Manhattan who wound up working as a reporter for the Raleigh News & Observer during the mid-90s.

Jay and I came out to represent at both her Triangle readings - McIntyre's Fine Books in Fearrington Village and The Regulator on Ninth Street in Durham. Rolling down 15-501 South to the McIntyre's reading, it was an extremely hot June afternoon, and the air conditioning in my recently acquired vintage (aka falling apart) Volvo wagon gave out for good. That sucked! I also remember that Kyle and I had a long conversation with the manager there about trends in bookselling and retailing, recent books, authors, the writing and editing process, and the book industry in general.

After Kyle signed books for her fans at the Regulator, where I met ubiquitous scenester Dave Graedon for the first ever time, we caught up with some of her N&O pals over at George's Garage and kicked back over drinks.

Rosemary Street runs through it

2001-12-18T23:30:00.000-08:00

I was driving back to the store today and happened to turn onto East Rosemary Street at Boundary, so I passed by the house where I lived during the summer of 1990, and that got me to thinking about how central to my life Rosemary Street has been over most of the time I've lived in Chapel Hill. The Pink House was a block behind East Rosemary on North Street, the second national SEAC office was on East Rosemary, the MOVE office & the first Lost City location overlooked West Rosemary, and the second Lost City is at 402 West Rosemary Street.

Even the side streets running off Rosemary Street have been important. Ericka Kurz lived on the corner of Church and Short Street, a block from Rosemary. Jyoti & Swati's Plastic House was right behind La Rez on Pritchard Ave., one house off Rosemary. I started running my used furniture business working out of Chris Pedigo's apartment on Pritchard, also storing stuff at the Plastic House, inside the Pink House garage, and throwing yard sales at both Pritchard locations. And of course, Jay Murray has kept the Pink House vibe alive for five years on the corner of Pritchard and Carr.

The Lost City

2000-07-09T15:09:00.000-07:00

From April of 1997 through October of 2003, I could often be found tending shop at the Lost City, Chapel Hill's most underground music and video outpost. Lem and I opened the store in 1997, in the basement of the Ogburn building at 412 W. Franklin Street (the building that houses the Mediterranean Deli). We quickly discovered that friendship and business don't always mix.

My other Lost City business partners over the years included Uzoma Nwosu (Uzi), Bill Berzinskas (Billie Blaze) and John Lomanto, and Bryan Boggs, aka DJ Sploo. In 1999, Lost City moved across the street to a spacious, one-story house with a lot of character at 402 W. Rosemary Street, where it remained until we closed our doors on October 31, 2003.

Many friends visited the store while our doors were open. Sometimes a camera was around, more often not, because I had a business to run! But here are a few shots of Pink House denizens at the Lost City.

(Jay swung through to shop for the latest fashions on 7/9/00, Matthew Dan Stewart came all the way from San Francisco on 4/22/01, and Jenny taught her niece Kelly how to play Tron on 2/24/02).

They evicted the raccoons!

1999-03-14T01:30:00.000-08:00

N'Gai stopped through to see me yesterday. He bought a cargo van last month. Says he's putting together plans to launch a magazine this summer targeting black college students around the state.

Ohmigod, he cut his dreads off! They're totally gone. Completely. He looks just like he did when I first met him, back before he first moved into the Pink House.

I also had an encounter earlier this week with the maintenance guy who works with Jim Lilley, the property manager hired by Sylvia Chi to care for the Pink House. He walked into the store, checked it all out, got a membership, rented some movies, and was running his mouth to me the whole while. Very talkative character.

He told me all about how they renovated the place after Jay and the remains of our crew moved out. They put in a new heat pump, ran power lines from the garage to the back of the house and installed a washer/dryer unit in the kitchen closets, put in a dishwasher, replaced the refrigerator and range, cleaned out the entire basement, put in fluorescent lighting down there, redid both bathrooms, and redid all the heating ducts.

And explained what the problem was with the fucking heat. All the ducts that led up from the furnace had interior valves that were closed. I couldn't believe it. I lived for three years in a house with fucked up heat. Oh, and they evicted the raccoons who used to live in the chimney.

Then he rented She-Devils On Wheels, told me how it reminded him of growing up as one of the leaders of a biker gang in Miami in the early seventies, and started spinning tales about drunken biker parties from back in the day. Right on!

Mel back in town, Jay heads to Berlin

1999-02-20T22:43:00.000-08:00

Do you realize I don't even have your new phone number? Are you really back in town, or is that just an illusion?

Information still gives out your old Pittsboro #, 542-5805, so that's no help. And on a night like this (Saturday the 20th), when I was trying to call you to invite you to a going away party for Jay Murray (he's going to Berlin for like six months) at his house so you could hang with lots of fun people, it poses problems (I would have tried to reach you about this before, but I've been out of town a couple days this week and just found out about it myself in the last day or so).

So step up, girl, and give me a call or something! Otherwise your slack ass is gonna be in heap of trouble!

- e-mail to Mel

Jay gainfully employed at Besa Mi Burro

1998-06-21T23:40:00.000-07:00

Last night I was out on the town with my friend Trish hand delivering invites to this party next weekend. And we went by the place where my friend (and former roommate - you met him in Boston that one time) Jay Murray works, this really cool Mexican restaurant called Besa Mi Burro. I hope it stays open. They had about four customers in there besides us and nine employees including Jay running around trying to act busy.

It's ultrafunky on the inside, you sit at the bar in these big creaky chairs, there's weird Mexican shit hanging everywhere, like right in your face, crazy dim colored lights everywhere, obscene hand-lettered Spanish signs, you drink the margaritas out of gigantic, heavy glass bottles, there's a guy dressed like a friar sweeping the floor, and everyone else in the place is wearing funny hats. We also know the bartender, and he's crazy.

- e-mail to Carolina

Reliving the madness

1998-04-08T13:33:00.000-07:00

Sorry we didn't get to hang out for dinner or whatever when I saw you down here the other week. I thought we were going to chill after 10 pm, like you told me when we saw each other on Franklin Street, so I didn't even get home until around the time your flight left.

Oh well, just wanted to say hi, that it was good to see you, etc., and you need to call me in advance the next time you come to town! Okay? Dana just spent the weekend with N'Gai and myself, reliving the madness of college life.

Good luck with the rest of your semester. You're almost done with law school! Can you believe it? Wow. So what's next on your life roadmap? Make sure to keep your fans informed.

- e-mail to Rashmi

Clearly before she was famous...

1998-04-08T01:33:00.000-07:00

What's the story, hon? Where is you? I have a time-sensitive questiion I need you to answer for me! I'm trying to get in touch with this girl that your friend Tift knows, and can't remember Tift's last name. So that or her (Tift's) phone number, assuming she's still living in Pittsboro, would help me out immensely.

Help! I'm going crazy trying to locate this girl. Talk to you soon...

ps - Boogie Nights came out on video yesterday. Have you seen it? You need to. It's the bomb!

- e-mail to Mel

Sad to see the Pink House go, but everything has its cycle

1997-09-16T02:06:00.000-07:00

What's the deal with the (718) area code? Are you living in Brooklyn now? And which other Pink House alums are up in New York?

I really only saw Jess for about 10 minutes, but the paintings she showed me some photos of looked really good, like she's definitely matured as an artist. She said she had stuff up in several galleries.

...

Business at the store is definitely picking up, but I won't be satisfied until it's booming. We just hit 500 video memberships this week. More of our tapes are renting on a regular basis. We finally got our adult section out on the shelf. We're trying to get a Lost City catalog produced so we can drum up some mail order business.

And the underground lounge we're running (the 333 Lounge) is going strong. This past Saturday we had 75 heads roll through from 11 pm - 4 am (actually this particular event was still kicking at 5 am) who paid to get in ($3 each). That was the highest amount we've done at the door yet. It would be really cool if you end up coming down this fall on a weekend when we're running one, so you can check out the rebirth of Club Zen before we get shut down by the Chapel Hill fuzz on some wack pretense.

Ok, enough about the nuts and bolts of my shady plans to become a wealthy high-roller and destroy the entire foundations of capitalism from within.

What I need to do is send you a copy of this article that Ian Williams wrote as his "farewell column" in the Independent, where he was writing a bi-monthly column that was pretty good. It was all about his finally leaving Chapel Hill, and about the Pink House simultaneously reverting to a renovated rental property suitable for lease to sorority chicks. Seems the Pink House was the very first place Ian went to an off-campus party when he arrived in town as a freshman back in 1986, so it held a special place in his heart that made it all the more fitting for it to end up as the last place he'd live before finally leaving town. You'll like this article, I'm sure.

...

I told you that N'Gai moved in with me, right? Oh my god, I just remembered him telling me that he now works with Shyam Patel, who just got a job doing graphic design alongside him at the Chapel Hill Newspaper. Crazy. I haven't talked with Shyam in like eight months, but I guess he's still in town. Incidentally, Jay had the Pink House's final number switched over to his new house, on the corner of Pritchard and Carr streets (his friend Gerald's place).

...

Yeah, it was sad to see the Pink House go, but everything has its cycle. Denizens like the ones we knew will move in again sometime in the future. Anyway, it was time I stopped feeling like I could flow through the Pink House every time I was downtown or bored and wanting to get into some trouble. Not that I've really been doing that sort of thing lately, mind you.

The only really fucked up things about the house's demise is that (a) they ripped out every shred of vegetation in the entire back yard, all the way back to the chain link fence, and put down gravel so the new dumbasses wouldn't have to park their freaking cars on the street, god forbid, and (b) some miscreant painters that Jim Lilley (Sylvia's current property manager) hired to do touch-up work and paint the ceilings goddamn painted over the Mona Lisa.

We initially figured it was the crew of spaced out UNC students and their girlfriends who Jim Lilley brought in to paint the majority of the house, inside and out, and who were in there painting for two weeks, taking breaks every day to smoke bowls on the roof outside your old room. Then one of them came through the Lost City the other week and when I asked him why they'd done it and under whose orders it was done, he acted totally freaked out, and swore up and down that they hadn't done it, that Jim specifically told them not to paint over it, since it was one of only two murals by the artist left inside houses in Chapel Hill, and it must have been the other painters who came in after them.

This tragic occurrence serves as the focal point for Ian's article, where he concludes it was such a typical thing to have happened - in Chapel Hill, anything (or anyone) that stays around too long gets painted over.

When are you coming down in the fall? If you want to crash, you're welcome to sleep on our futon. Let us know...

- e-mail to Lydia

Speaking of people you did see...

1997-09-12T01:53:00.000-07:00

I remember we only got to see each other for like 5 seconds when you were down here in May, so that's probably the last time we spoke. The store looks much more together now that it did when you saw it, but at least you got the general impression.

...

Speaking of people you did see while you were down here, I saw Jasme outside this bar called Brothers Pizza (well, they actually just changed its name to Silent Sam's) about two months ago, telling me she was going to go play her guitar on the street and try to make enough money to come back and buy a slice. She's performed a couple of times at the new Franklin Street Starbucks, and from what I've heard, she's gotten really good.

...

So Mark Chilton passed the bar. Or I think he passed the bar. I know for a fact that the last time I saw him we were both in a bar. It was this spot called Hell, in the former Troll's location, now operated by the owners of the Lizard and Snake, and sort of like Henry's, only with pool tables and more downscale. I believe he said he found a job in Raleigh doing labor-related law.

Business at our store is going good, but wait until we get the inflatable furniture in there. Or the scratch-and-sniff clothing. I'm not kidding.

N'Gai says hello. Did I tell you he was my new roommate? Jenny moved out at the beginning of August, and started her new job in Greensboro last week.

- e-mail to Rashmi

The Tree House

1997-09-01T23:11:00.000-07:00

After the Pink House's demise in the summer of '97, N'Gai moved into the Tree House with me in Chapel Hill, and our adventures continued for another year.

Our couch was always open for traveling Pink House refugees, as well as other itinerant characters including Rooster, before we pawned him off on Alex Shumaker, some girl who kept us up all night with her enthusiastic screaming, and a dope who crashed in N'Gai's room one morning by mistake. Discovering the scene, N'Gai was not pleased.

Then N'Gai moved to Winston-Salem, but still came back to visit for special events or touring jazz performances, like Sonny Rollins at Duke, or when Archie Shepp came to SECCA. Shepp delivered a flawless set, highlighted by a haunting version of "Mama Rose," and we were there sipping wine in the front row.

So sad that we lost the house

1997-08-19T14:21:00.000-07:00

Thanks for the nice long letter. I called you at the "Lost City" but they said you were away, goofing off somewhere.

It's so sad that we lost the house. When Jay was up here a few weeks ago we went to a concert in central park and there were about 10 ex-pink house denizens gathered together, all now living in New York. Anyway, it's definitely better for the place this way. It really does need to be renovated, or bulldozed. What does Sylvia expect the house to look like after five years? Did she think it would renovate itself while she was away?

Your store sounds really cool, Erik. Tell Lem I said hello. How's his little girl doing? Give my congrats to Jenny for surviving law school. I can't believe that you ran into Jess. What did her paintings look like? I'm dying to know.

- e-mail from Lydia

Consequences of the Pink House implosion

1997-07-29T02:55:00.000-07:00

So hope everything in your life is on a positive track. I was thinking about you this week for several reasons. One, as of August 1st, "our" chapter in the history of the Pink House will have closed. Those knuckleheads couldn't keep the place in good enough shape to get the lease renewed for next year, so it's c-ya. Sylvia Chi is going to have the house renovated (good luck) and then try to rent it out to a single family. You know Larry Short is about to cum all over his pants with joy.

Anyway, this development has several consequences. First off, N'Gai, who moved back into the Pink House last summer, and was living in your old room (you knew that, I think), is moving in with me at my swanky suburban pad.

Jenny, of course, is moving to Greensboro where she'll be working at a job with a corporate law firm. I think Jenny and I are both kind of like, well, let's see what happens with the relationship after we put some space between us.

Until then, I'm ready to be a bachelor again. N'Gai, already being a bachelor, is more than psyched to start things swinging. Nightlife is picking up in town lately, too, especially because I'm throwing lounge nights once a week at the record & video store that Lem and I opened in April. It's like the second coming of Club Zen, and we're in charge! Word.

Did I tell you about having opened a store, Lost City Music & Video? Lem and I are partners, and Uzi is sort of our third partner because he's selling records there. You knew Uzi, right? The phone number there is (919) 933-LOST. We rent weird videos, sell underground hip-hop, house & techno vinyl & CD's, carry funky clothes, accessories and underground comic books, and display art.

It's great, because it's not only the funkiest, coolest looking place in town during the daytime (I'm serious, we're totally rocking it!), but the space is flexible enough to completely convert into a laid back, chill little dimly lit lounge where we have live hip-hop MC's and underground electronic and house DJ's come to perform until 3 or 4 in the morning, on alternating Thursdays and Saturdays. We charge a $3 cover, and lately turnout has been a solid 60-75 heads, which is about all the place can frigging hold!

O.k., more consequences of the Pink House implosion. Jay Murray is being forced to move out. He's hating it. He is moving in with a friend of his named Gerald, who lives in some undisclosed location "off Airport Road."

Ian Williams is finally leaving Chapel Hill! Talk about the end of an era. I guess he finally got tired of trying to live the undergraduate social life while working at being a serious writer. He is a good writer, and I genuinely like him as a person. He's just very cynical and needs to find a more positive vibe. He's moving to San Fran, where I'm sure he'll find a thirty-something bohemian social scene that he'll feel right at home in and be much happier. As long as he can also find some guys to play basketball with him.

I went over there the other day looking for N'Gai, and lo and behold, not only was nobody home who lived there, but who was standing in the hallway gabbing on the phone? Jess Deltac. She was just passing through town and stopped in to see who was around. She showed me her portfolio, and it was clear that she's been hard at work on some amazing art. I was like, whoa! Talk about a six year time warp. That's how long it's been, can you believe it? It was exactly six years ago this week that you guys must have gotten back to Chapel Hill and moved into the place. Wow.

- e-mail to Lydia

Dai returns to the Pink House

1997-07-06T16:20:00.000-07:00

Over an extended 4th of July weekend, Dai came through town and stayed with me at the Tree House, and N'Gai at the Pink House. After the week and a half he spent crashing with us in 1993, Dai was an honorary Pink House denizen for life. Within a month or so, all Pink House residents would be evicted for good, and Dai made it back in time for one more visit.

We mourned the house's impending doom while relaxing and reminiscing in the far back yard all afternoon, which was as lush, magical and serene as I'd ever seen it.

Far back yard circa Spring, 1994. Photo by Mel Keister (Lanham).

It's been a time warp

1997-06-16T16:16:00.000-07:00

You know about my latest project, right? I think it was under development the last time we spoke. Lem, Uzi and myself opened up a music and video store. It's called Lost City Music & Video - I'm usually on duty from 12-5 most Mondays through Fridays. We've been open for business since April 14, and things are going good! Which hopefully means we'll blow up when school gets back into session, 'cuz right now this town is el-dead-o.

Other news: Our mutual friend Mr. N'Gai Wright is moving into the Tree House with me come August 1. Until now, N'Gai's been living in your old room, which is currently painted in weird shades of yellow and red.

The Pink House kids have lost their lease for next year! Everyone's getting evicted! Talk about the end of an era. Oh well, you wouldn't believe what a shithole the place has deteriorated into. But it's been so strange - Kyle Spencer moved to Raleigh when she got a job with the News and Observer, and she's been at every party they've had there this past spring. With her, Jay, N'Gai, and myself in the same room at a party, surrounded by characters like Ian Williams, Scott Bullock, Lindsay Bowen, and Greg Humphreys, it's been a fucking time warp.

- e-mail to Lydia

It's our good man N'Gai

1997-06-12T12:15:00.000-07:00

Just as I come into the office today specifically to sit down and write you a little letter to go along with this most belated birthday present I'm sending you, along comes the phone a-ringing. And guess who's on the other end of the line? It's our good man N'Gai, saying, "Heeey, I was hoping I could stop by and use the computer to type up a letter!" Go figure. So I guess I'll type away until he shows up.

How are you doing today? Thanks for the call the other week. I've been ultra-busy and have completely dropped the ball concerning communication with quite a few of my closest friends, yourself a primary example. But my cash flow is edging steadily towards sustainability, and in the hierarchy of life needs, eating and paying rent are right up there.

Oh, check this out. July 5th and 6th, I think, a mutual pal of ours is swinging through the States and stopping off in Chapel Hill. Daisuke Ikeda, I think the kid's name is. This is according to N'Gai, so I'm sketchy on exact details. But hey, if you can take some time off, that would be a great time to come down.

Wait, a knock on the door. I have to go, 'cuz N'Gai is already tripping. "Tell Dana I love him, and would love to write him a few lines in this note, but I'm really stressed for time. I have to write this letter on my one hour lunch break. C'mon man. Hurry up."

Call me about the possibility or impossibility of coming down for Dai's visit. My new work # most Mondays through Fridays 12-5 pm is (919) 933-LOST.

- letter to Dana

Too Many Schemes

1997-02-20T15:18:00.000-08:00

I guess you really did have only two minutes to talk earlier this morning. Sounds like me about this time last year conducting all my long distance phone business using several dozen 5-minute phone cards I swiped from inside cereal boxes.

...

It's been a transitional past six weeks or so for a number of reasons. I found out mid-January that we needed to re-locate the PAC's office space by March 1st, so I've had to scramble around looking for other potential spaces. I finally found one that will be cheaper than the one we're in now, since we'll be sharing it with a friend of mine who needs a temporary home for his business.

Simultaneously, I and some of the other DJ's that I've been working on this for-profit mail order business venture with (including Lem) have decided to also rent another space, where we're planning to open a combination record/culture store by day that will function as an underground, members-only nightclub by night. This particular space is actually right underneath the old MOVE office, and it was the site of the original Cat's Cradle back in the early 70s.

So I've kind of been running around trying to get these details together.

I've also been promoting various parties with Lem and the fellas at other rented spaces around town, and still selling a ton of used furniture to kids on campus. It was so bizarre, there was this unexplained rush of kids calling up the "furniture cooperative" looking for loveseats and shit, right in the middle of the year when people generally don't want to buy jack. But seriously, I'm getting out of the furniture business! Before it's...too late! Ha ha. Anyway, so I've also been busy with that.

- e-mail to C-line

Fuck Jesse Helms!

1996-11-09T19:37:00.000-08:00

Sounds like things in your life are upward bound, which is cool. How'd you get to meet Diana Ross, and why are you speaking in eighty languages a day?

...

All I can say about the outcome of the elections in North Carolina is Fuck Jesse Helms! That bastard managed to locate 1.3 million dumbasses who were willing to vote for him. How does he do it?

Anyhow. At least if Jesse dies within the next six years then Gov. Hunt can appoint Harvey to his seat. After all, he is 75 years old. Actually, I'm even happier about the fact that now I can fundraise against Helms for at least another 6 years. Whether I'll be down here that long is another question.

Oh, and we did manage to beat two backwards-ass Republican Congressmen, former Rep.'s Fred Heineman and David Funderburk, who represented the two districts covering Orange, Durham, Wake, Chatham, and a bunch of surrounding counties.

Overall, we registered more than 10,000 young voters through MOVE, plus distributed 20,000 additional voter registration forms and 50,000 voter guides around the state.

There's a Pink House party tonight, and I think Lem's going to be DJ'ing. You should see his little girl Donya, she is so adorable. She's almost two years old now, I think.

Speaking of mutual friends, I also talked to Derek Shadid the other day, he called me up earlier this week to offer his condolences about the election. I'm definitely going to make a road trip out to Oklahoma City to see him around January or February.

When I went up to DC for the AIDS quilt recently, I stayed with Caroline Philson, who just started this year at Howard Law. It was good to see her, except that she's living in a really fucked up part of town, and there were four gunshots across the street from us while I was there.

- e-mail to Lydia

Pink House fete

1996-11-09T13:14:00.000-08:00

ch-scene listserv, 11-9-96

· To: ch-scene@listserv.oit.unc.edu
· Subject: Pink House fete
· From: ecstasy@calzone.oit.unc.edu (Ian Williams)
· Date: 9 Nov 1996 13:14:39 -0500

Truncated version - there is a dance jam/party at the Pink House tonight (Saturday night). Come with minds way open.

-i

--
Ian Williams, from the Pink House on a misty November eve, Chapel Hill, NC

Baby powder in the Cradle's monitor system

1996-11-01T20:02:00.000-08:00

ch-scene listserv, 11-1-96

· To: ch-scene@listserv.oit.unc.edu
· Subject: Pine State
· From: Chris Riser
· Date: Fri, 1 Nov 1996 20:02:35 -0500

Well, if you didn't believe it before, do you believe it now? We are thru. Just in time too. 'Cause the only fucking place we'd be allowed to play anymore would be Local 506, and then probably just once more too.

So, there was the fire thing at the Coffeehouse, started by an overzealous matchthrowing fan, admittedly at the 'tarded instigation of the Gimp. Now there's the problem of baby powder in the Cradle's monitor system, accomplished with no 'tarded Pine State instigation, just someone's really fucking dumb initiative. We don't have to worry about it again, because we're really done now. But Frank does. So, hope whoever it was got their thrill out of it.

Anyway, Pine State T-shirts for sale at the low low clearance price of $5. E-mail me. We've got Chainsaw Honkytonk shirts and Booze Prison Heartache Mama shirts.

Good possibility of a Pine State CD to come in a few months. If we get a good tape of last night's show and/or a good videotape, we might make that available too. If anyone would have any interest in the videotape, let me know.
_____________
Chris Riser
riser@email.unc.edu

Dave made some housemates "nervous"

1996-10-24T19:42:00.000-07:00

You know, it's funny that I just read your e-mail right now, because today I had to go over to the Pink House and track down N'Gai, and some character who's been living there comes up, all pissed off, because (1) he has to move out tomorrow (everybody else banded together and kicked him out, his name is Dave, by the way, he makes some of them "nervous"), and (2) he's currently locked out of the house.

Well, I also had an ulterior motive to get into the house, so I climbed onto the porch and bum rushed through your old window, into N'Gai's current room! Thus I was thinking about you. It's crazy, too, because half the furniture in his room is stuff I've given him, including the blue, orange and red rug I had in my room for the longest time. So I feel even more deja vu'd than I normally would whenever I'm over there.

- e-mail to Lydia

Supposedly last weekend but this is just a rumor...

1996-09-28T00:11:00.000-07:00

ch-scene listserv, 9-28-96

· To: ch-scene@listserv.oit.unc.edu
· Subject: Re: Does anyone seriously use this group? Any Ben Folds fans out there?
· From: venus_in_pisces@vnet.ibm.com (Chris Calloway)
· Date: 28 Sep 1996 00:11:35 GMT

In <52gn79$8ao@newsgate.duke.edu>,
danie016@mc.duke.edu (danie016) writes:

>>I'll say. Seems like a coupla years back every weekend was "Pink House party Friday, Mallette Street house party Saturday" and Dada Veda or Reverb-A-Ray or somebody would be playing in the basement. Or is this still going on and I don't know the right people anymore?<<

pink house supposedly last weekend but this is just a rumor, i dunno. i don't get invited to these things, or even told about 'em until later, so apparently i never knew the right people. sheesh, we know more about house parties going on in blacksburg that we do about 'em here.

Phone tag with Mr. Lumsden

1996-07-11T15:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Lumsden,

Greetings and salutations. I got a call from you a while back, and left at least one message in return. Anyhow, send me e-mail or something.

...

P.S. - You'd never guess who's coming to a rave with me tonight to help register voters - a volunteer by the name of Mr. N'Gai Wright.

- e-mail to Dana

Raps-N-Snaps feat. DJ Pez

1996-02-25T21:00:00.000-08:00

Mel and Martha's pleasant living

1995-06-15T11:11:00.000-07:00

Mel left the Pink House in '95, right as she and Martha graduated from UNC-CH and the Plastic House was shutting down. The two of them (plus Laverne) joined forces in a little brick apartment complex off Pleasant Drive in Carrboro, which was always a fun place to visit. Mel and Martha kept a steady stream of yummy snacks on tap, cool movies available to watch, and interesting games to play. That apartment was full of laughter and good times.

While plotting her next career move, Mel served a stint delivering pizzas around Chapel Hill and Carrboro. It was around the same time that N'Gai returned to town, bounced from Cole Street to the Dungeon, and starting throwing an early morning paper route in addition to his work laying out the Chapel Hill News. So 1995 was a year that Pink House alums took it to the streets, except for Jay, whose giant white Beast of a truck died and began a permanent residency blocking the Pink House driveway. Taking up where the hippies left off.

The Dungeon

1995-06-01T15:54:00.000-07:00

The Cole Street crew changed residences in 1995. They went even deeper into the historic Pine Knolls neighborhood, down the street from Doug Clark's eye-catching house that the Hot Nuts built, ending up at a duplex apartment at 135-A Johnson Street. It was instantly dubbed the Dungeon.

Owned by recently-gone-bankrupt local slumlord (or "real estate baron," as he preferred to be called) George Tate, the Dungeon was an unforgettable spot. Not very big, but home to outsized egos, and a never-ending supply of plots and schemes. Roy Ayers' "Running Away" was the unofficial theme song. Plans and strategies to change the world were abundant. Grassroots business ventures were hatched, and you never knew if whatever you did (or with who) might end up on video. But times were tight, the heat didn't work very well, and the winter of '95 was a cold one.

The Dungeon phone has been long distance disabled to prevent the kind of outrageous unknown phone charges that were plaguing them, what with random motherfuckers rolling through at all times. - Letter to Dana, 4/10/95

Life in the Dungeon finally drove N'Gai to the ultimate act of desperation – moving back into the Pink House in mid-1996.

Pre-Summer Jam '95 at Seeds of Sheba

1995-04-27T21:30:00.000-07:00

N'Gai, the generous host

1995-04-09T15:33:00.000-07:00

Spent way too much of my sunny, 80 degree afternoon with a pack of Dungeon-dwelling knuckleheads who go by the names of N'Gai, Lem, Dawad, and Charles. And look at N'Gai, newly paid, all ready to be the generous host, shelling out for two large pizzas with delicious toppings like barbecued chicken, broccoli and pepperoni. Accepting donations on credit from all the rest of us dollar-less fiends. Like I said, way too much of the day. But then again, it was Sunday, and it's always important to kick back with the fellas once in awhile.

- Letter to Dana, 4/10/95

The Hippies Who Lived in the Driveway

1995-03-25T04:20:00.000-08:00

Allen: Mel met these two hippies at a Grateful Dead show in Charlotte in the spring of '95 and told them they could park their van in the driveway overnight. Well, the van broke down there, and they lived in the driveway for the next two months.

Jay: They nearly drove Scott crazy. He was bitching about it every day.

Allen: They both slept in the van, but showered and shit in the downstairs bathroom.

Jay: And they weren't even very nice to us, seeing as how they were mooching off our facilities.

Allen: Their van was parked right between the side porch and the garage, so it was always in the way. You had to walk around it just to get into the back door. Finally, they painted the sign for the Gates of Beauty body shop in Carrboro. And it was the shittiest sign ever. On one side, there was a crashed car, and on the other, a rebuilt front end. It looked terrible. But that sign was perched on top of their building up until like, just five years ago. And the job got them just enough cash to fix their van and move out of the Pink House driveway for good.

- as told by Allen & Jay, 4/11/09

Mural depicting Gates of Beauty. This was not painted by the hippies.

The Greatest New Year's on Earth at Fifth Column

1994-12-31T23:59:00.000-08:00

Pine State

1994-12-16T23:00:00.000-08:00

Perahps the most legendary of several outfits with claim to the title of Pink House house band, Pine State first secured their reputation as out-of-control rock'n'rollers at...what else, a series of raucous Pink House parties during 1994-95.

December, 1994 performance at the Cradle. Charlie Speight is on lead vocals and washboard.

Fronted by Charlie Speight, who shared the Mona Lisa room with Chris Palmatier in '94, Pine State also featured regular Pink House guests from the early 90s like Chris "A.C." Lee on guitar, Mike Shoffner on drums, and Dan Partridge on miscellaneous instruments (officially described by the band as "junkyard percussion, rants, screech vocals, saw and whistles").

Chillin' in Chapel Hill

1994-10-13T23:03:00.000-07:00

If I was Woody Woodpecker, I would say, "Guess who!" If I was Woodsy Owl, I would say, "Hoot Hoot!" But guess what? I'm not either of those two wacky birds. I'm just your buddy Erik, here chillin' in Chapel Hill, missing you and hoping everything's going well for ya in San Jose. I assume you found a good place to stay and you're not living on somebody's bathroom floor. Well, I guess you never know with miscreant members of that Golden Fleece organization.

...

How's work? Say hello to Susan for me the next time you see her. We talked for a while when I called looking for you in Washington. Tell her I recently caught a bad case of boogie fever, so I went out and bought eight bona fide disco CD's.

I too am working full time these days. I got a job at FGI, the market research firm/advertising agency on the corner of Franklin and Church Streets, where the Cradle used to be. They started me in the phone center, down in the basement, working inbound and outbound phones on a variety of different projects for $8/hr. Could be worse - at least I get overtime pay. These past two weeks I've worked 50-60 hours a week.

My furniture business was a gigantic success. Thank you again very much for your generous contribution to Erik's Used Junk Corporation, I mean, Salvage Engineering Firm.

I finally sold your table and chairs after storing them at a variety of different places around town, and showing them to numerous skeptical customers. ("You want how much for these? Someone paid how much for these new?") But I knew we had some quality stuff, so I held on to them. One of Derek Shadid's housemates ended up as the buyer, so he's the one who's now eating meals at your table. Good karma prevails.

Let's see, what else is happening. Chilly was described in the paper today as having made an "eloquent speech" urging the town council to rezone the University's Horace Williams Airport tract so that any major UNC development/construction there could only go ahead with input from the town. The final vote was 5-4 against rezoning, so I bet he was bummed. I will try and call him tomorrow.

Rashmi was visiting from N.Y. last weekend. On Friday, Jenny and I had dinner at Pyewacket with her, James, and Stuart Hathaway, who I remember somehow from the Campus Y. Dana got engaged to Erika. It happened about six weeks ago. N'Gai returned home safely from Japan, and Thailand, and wherever the hell else he's been for five months. He's in New York, but he's coming back to Chapel Hill in January and applying to UNC for graduate school in music. Guess he's been playing his flute quite a bit lately.

Pedigo is doing well, as far as I can tell. He's enjoying the comfort of living in this new luxurious home in Durham where he's staying, right overlooking Duke Park. But he's all psyched up about applying to work for Morgan Stanley or some other mega-company and going to live in Boston. He called me the other night, so I really should call him back. That's the downside to working overtime - it's Wednesday, and it's the first night this week I've been able to sit down and call people on the phone, or write long overdue letters like this one.

...

I miss you and hope everything is turning out positive for you on the West Coast. Write back whenever you can - keeping up correspondence with a slack motherfucker like me should be a breeze.

- Letter to C-line

The house predictably sank into utter summer filth

1994-09-04T13:30:00.000-07:00

Whassup! This is your former Pink Housemate Erik coming through loud and clear on the straight-up tip, doing deals and making crazy cash while chillin' in Chapel Hill, sending you out a positive shout up there in D.C., where the word on the street says you've finally made the big move into an apartment of your very own! Well, actually I guess it's a place you're sharing with someone else, namely, Jenny's very close friend and former roommate Alston Neal. What a coincidence. Hope everything's going smoothly, from what I've heard you're having a great time living closer to the heart of the city.

Shelly was in town this past weekend and tried unsuccessfully to get in touch with me regarding your mail. It was a very hectic weekend for us both I guess, for me because of my latest, on-going, money-making venture. More about that in a second. Anyway, I figured I should get off my ass and send you this mail and your farewell videotape before any more time elapsed. It's a two-hour tape, and your goodbye party takes the award for most interesting portion.

Yeah, so the Pink House vibe has definitely dissipated. You're gone, I'm gone, and for a while it looked as if Mel was planning to jet as well. The troubles all started when I left town shortly after you, leaving a check for both our phone bills with Chris Palmatier. He proceeded to lose this check, and instead just assumed that neither of us had paid our bills. Jay Murray, of course, at this point hadn't paid the phone bill either. So guess what happened? The phone got disconnected. It took those kids about six weeks to finally get their phone service reconnected. Mel was truly bugging out. The inconvenience of not having a phone was really getting to her, plus the utter summer filth that the house predictably sank into within days of our departures, plus everyone else's general slack attitudes. And since I took most of my stuff with me when I jetted, the house got left kind of bare anyway. So Mel started thinking about jumping ship herself.

Then Charlie came back from New Orleans, Trent moved in, and I finished moving out. Mel came back from Pennsylvania and realized how much bigger my room was than the one she'd been living in across the hall. Trent is an actor, and he can't live without a phone, so within a few days he arranged to have the service re-connected. Then Charlie, Jay and Scott went on a mad furniture buying spree, and bought all this new funky furniture to replace the stuff I'd jetted with. I think they even started picking up after themselves. Mel tried looking around for apartments, and realized there wasn't much out there close to campus where she could keep a pet. Laverne is getting so big, by the way - you wouldn't believe it. So all these factors converged to influence a change in her plans, and now Mel is again staying at Chez Pink. You have their new phone number, I assume, but in case you don't, it's (919) 967-8969.

O.k., I'm on the verge of wrapping this letter up, but I did want to tell you how I've been making crazy money these last few weeks. Basically, I've become a used furniture broker! Selling absurd used furniture to kids moving into dorms and apartments, all kinds of crazy shit, and I've netted about $2500 since mid-August. I feel like I've been stuck in an extended episode of Sanford and Son, driving around town in my Volvo, scanning the streets for wayward couches and easy chairs, searching apartment complex dumpsters for those "special items" just waiting to make some sucker (I mean furniture customer) a happy camper.

Essentially, I'm raising capital. Kristen Schoonover (who told me all about the great night out at Fifth Column she had with you and Jyoti a few weeks ago) and I are now exploring becoming co-investors in a nightclub in Raleigh, a space over on Hillsborough Street. It's got 1500 square feet, rent is $1000/month, and we're going to look at it on Tuesday of this week. It's owned by two brothers who are friends of hers, Leon and Louie, and who own half the real estate on Hillsborough Street. I'll keep you informed of developments.

Feel free to drop me a line with all the latest lowdown on your plans and activities, because both Jenny and I would love to know how things are going with you. And you know you're welcome to stay with us whenever you come down to visit next - we've got an extra futon and it's all you. O.k., kid, I gotta go sell some more used furniture. My inventory is almost depleted, but I've still got about $800 worth of deals to close. Jyoti, Ryan, Firas, and Derek Shadid all say hello.

- Letter to Steve

The Plastic House and Noble Street

1994-09-01T16:20:00.000-07:00

During 1993-94, my two favorite spots to chill away from the Pink House were Derek Shadid's house at 112 Noble Street, with its beautiful backyard full of boulders dating back to glacier days, and the Plastic House at 207 Pritchard, home to Jyoti and Swati Argade, Martha Pryor, Kristen Schoonover, and a rotating cast of other cool women. Who were all very real, not plastic - the name was derived from the five-bedroom place's yellow siding.

In the fall of '94, I had recently moved out of the Pink House, but wasn't quite ready to ease into post-collegiate life. During those few months, if I wasn't on the clock at FGI or at home enjoying my new existence with Jenny as a condo-dwelling couple in suburban Chapel Hill, I could probably be found at 207 Pritchard. The Plastic House kept the vibe alive, and was the scene of many a legendary party that season.

After Martha graduated in December, she lived in the front room for one more semester before getting her own place with Mel the following summer.

Mel on Plastic House back porch, Spring '94

Everything Must Go!

1994-08-31T16:08:00.000-07:00

Note from Kristen during back-to-school yard sale behind Pedigo's apartment, 408-A Pritchard Ave.

Lindsay and Dana's Get out of the Country Party

1994-08-27T22:00:00.000-07:00

Farewell to Steve William as he leaves for D.C.

1994-07-10T16:00:00.000-07:00

Beth, Martha, Steve, Mel, Erik, Scott, Dave, Jyoti, Chris, Ryan, and Kristen. Photo courtesy of Mel Keister (Lanham).

Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company at ADF

1994-06-30T20:00:00.000-07:00

Execution of Justice at Manbites Dog Theater

1994-06-19T15:15:00.000-07:00

Cole Street

1994-06-17T20:00:00.000-07:00

Lem, Dawad, and Derek Elliott set up their own post-Pink House crash pad on Cole Street during the spring of '94, in the shadow of UNC's Cameron Avenue power plant. The apartment was one half of a duplex, the other side rented by Charles McNair and Denise Matthewson. Meredith Smith lived down the street in a hipster bungalow with some musician she was dating, and Cole Street quickly became another stopping point on the Pink House legacy tour. It was on the couches of Cole Street that our jaws dropped as every TV station broke into live coverage of O.J. Simpson's infamous Ford Bronco chase on June 17.

All year long, Cole Street was the spot to be. Countless jams packed the place to capacity, and Pez's reputation as a DJ reached lofty heights. The vibe was strong, and Jungle Juice flowed freely. Other heads including Cherryl Aldave moved in and out. Lem left for a more secluded lifestyle living with his girlfriend Ebony. Derek eventually decamped for his own bachelor's lair in the back of a stately home near UNC Hospitals. At the time, N'Gai was traveling in Japan, Thailand, and other Far East destinations. When he returned to Chapel Hill in early '95, he moved in, too.

Jyoti was struck with a bolt of dirty head

1994-06-16T20:00:00.000-07:00

Everybody pursuing their own destinies

1994-06-14T18:14:00.000-07:00

It is Tuesday, June 14, and I am staring at a huge pile of your mail that has been collecting in our house for God knows how long, probably since the last time I sent you your unforwarded mail. Wow. I assume your first year at Harvard has gone really well, since knowing you, you're astounding everyone with your talent and intelligence. As for myself, I graduated last month, hon! I snuck through right under the wire, but I'm finally done and I'm psyched as a motherfucker. In another month I'll be moving out of the Pink House...the end of an era...and in with Jenny, who since late April has been my fiancee! Yay! So I'm engaged now, too. Seems kind of unreal.

Jay Murray will still be here, the only one left from our year together, working to finish his Masters. Then he plans to complete his PhD, but maybe he'll get tired of living with undergrads by that point. Jay also recently cut his hair off - equally big life adjustment. Oh yeah, Scott Bullock is now living with us and will also still be here next year - Jay's friend from Duke who liked to sleep on our couch. He also just graduated.

Firas, N'Gai, Erik, Jay, Pat, Scott, Kyle, Caroline, Michael, and Lydia outside El Rodeo, Spring '93

I haven't talked to Kyle in nearly a year, so tell her I said what's up. Even though Michael now lives around the damn corner from us, I've probably seen him twice all year. I've hung out with Pat several times, though, until he left to tour Tibet a while ago. Lydia is in Australia now, living with her aunt, working, enjoying herself. Her address is... N'Gai Wright is doing some intrepid traveling in Japan, of all places! He was supposedly staying with Dai for a while, the kid who crashed with us for a couple of weeks last spring. But I haven't spoken to him in a month, so I hope he's not buried. Before that N'Gai was working in New York City all this past year.

I still see Michelle Sinott around town, though - her boyfriend got out of the Marines and they're living together now. Remember Lem? He's finishing school next year, but for the past six months has been spending lots of time being a mega party host and DJ at happening Pink House functions and various other locations around town. Do you ever see Erika Gantt in Cambridge? She and Dana are living together in an apartment in downtown Boston for the summer starting June 19 while Dana works at a law firm.

Looks like everybody's pursuing their own destinies, huh. I am currently deciding whether or not to do grass roots fundraising work for SEAC or work for NC-NARAL until I can begin to fundraise for my own voter registration/grassroots media projects. I will be living, working and organizing in North Carolina (and maybe Virginia, to try and stop bastards like Oliver North) for at least the next three years, while Jenny attends law school. I wish you all the best with everything, and maybe we'll see each other in Boston sometime. Take care of yourself, follow your dreams, be free...

- Letter to Caroline Hall

B-GLAD presents Primal Rave: The Legend Continues

1994-04-21T22:00:00.000-07:00

Designed by Steve William.

Tokyo beckons, and new paths to explore

1994-04-20T02:00:00.000-07:00

Have you left New York yet? I hope this gets to you before the weekend. Exactly one week to go before my last day of classes at Carolina. Wow. The concept is deep.

So your time in the city has come to an end. Tokyo beckons, and new paths to explore. Instinctive travels are just around the corner, after a short trip to Indiana, I guess. For me, it's best anyway that you couldn't come down. Distractions are already ubiquitous, constantly watching for moments when I let down my guard. Lem, on the other hand, definitely wanted to see you. Oh well, sooner or later the crew will reconvene, perhaps learning to play their individual instruments in the meanwhile. The clarinet will be located after May 15th.

Here I am rushing this letter off because I wanted to give you a copy of my grant proposal. It outlines the sort of non-profit structure I'll create this summer. Got to have something to fundraise around. I'm applying for funds from both the Mary Babcock and Z. Smith Reynolds foundations, and looking for more dollars everywhere.

Both Charles McNair and Denise Matthewson are working for Community Self-Help in Durham. CSH fixed up that building in very styley fashion. I told you about going to the From The Hip opening. It was kind of sad, but still cool. This little community of twenty-something do-gooders has really developed over there. By the way, I think Ian Williams wrote a cover article in The Washington Monthly this week. Rush out and buy a copy. There's this one particularly positive woman in the office next to Chuck involved with some new group called S.E.E.D.S., some business about planting urban gardens, and she is so fine! She was giving me the eye the whole time.

Two a.m. is chillin' on the clock, and I'm surrounded by half a dozen supreme buzzkilling assignments to create for school. I'm so focused I've even given up music lately. But free deliveries of beautiful jazz CD's arrive weekly from BMG and Columbia House. Mostly addressed to motherfuckers I didn't even know lived in the Pink House. It's probably those damn raccoons.

Enjoy Tokyo, take care, and give a positive shout to my main man Daisuke. Send me a postcard with your new address when you get situated.

- Letter to N'Gai in NYC

Rave Your Head benefit party for SCALE

1994-04-09T22:00:00.000-07:00

What's up down here on Tobacco Road

1994-04-05T02:00:00.000-07:00

Whassup, cat. This is a diatribe coming to you straight out of Chapel Hill, North Carolina, home of that graduating motherfucker himself. How's life in the Apple treating you?

Right now we're looking at 'round about 2 am, chillin' with a new Bob Marley CD that arrived today courtesy of those ignorant imbeciles at Columbia House who seem to have no problems sending hundreds of dollars of free merchandise out to imaginary individuals. I'm procrastinating doing real work, like writing one of the ten papers I need to finish in the next month in order to graduate with two majors. I'm also putting off going to the copy store to work on a flyer for this benefit keg/rave we're throwing here at the Pink House next Saturday. Hundreds of drunk people destroying their brain cells in order to benefit a local literacy education project - makes sense! So it's a perfect time to write you a letter.

...

Let's see, what's up down here on Tobacco Road. Are you a big basketball fan, Robb? I hate sports in a general, ideological sense, but b-ball is so ubiquitous here that it's hard not to caught up in this March Madness bullshit. So, I'll admit it, I have been known to actually watch short stretches of particularly decent games. On TV, of course. I've been to exactly one home game since I've been down here. It was my junior year. We were playing Florida A&M, and the game before the one I went to, a brawl had erupted on court. One of their players actually stepped on another player's head. So I was like, cool! Let's check this shit out. But nobody even got elbowed.

This year the Heels got eliminated from the tournament right away. People were walking around like somebody had stolen all their comic books or something. There were positive and negative sides to this development. On the positive side, people weren't out mobbing the streets every night a game was on, fucking with me whenever
I wanted to drive somewhere around town. On the negative tip, it meant that all these basketball yahoos who would normally have been holed up in bars drinking beer were clogging up the libraries, cafeterias, and other places on campus where there are already far too many motherfuckers to begin with. Oh well.

...

I saw this cool play on campus recently called Life As Art: A Tribute to Paul Green. He was a Chapel Hill playwright who essentially set up my school's drama department. Have you heard of In Abraham's Bosom? This was the play he wrote about race relations that won a Pulitzer prize in 1927. Check out a copy of the script. It was incredibly hard-hitting for its time, especially for the South. Green also worked with Richard Wright to adapt Native Son for the stage in the 1940s.

Right before Easter, it was my birthday. I had a phat time, since my friends organized a little birthday get together for me at our house. Folks were stopping by all evening, bearing gifts.

My housemates baked me a cake, and one of my really good friends down here took me out to dinner. Her name is Jyoti (pronounced Jo-thee), she's a dancer, and a speech communications major. We're going to be working on business and activist projects together this summer. One of the profit-making ones will be a local ice cream delivery service. I'm also going to try and open up a Chapel Hill nightclub as a business partner with my housemate Steve, who's from the Bahamas.

On the non-profit end, I'm applying for grants to fund some grassroots democracy projects. I've enclosed a copy of one of my grant proposal project descriptions for you to check out.

...

I heard from Tony on my birthday. He was trying to come down here for his spring break (his perpetual quest for the past three years), but things didn't pan out. So he claims he'll make it down for my graduation in mid-May. Well, I won't be moving into condo land until mid-July. Until then, the Pink House remains the spacious crash pad of choice for any friends seeking to escape Northern landscapes. Don't know if you planned to get out of New York for a road trip any time soon.

- Letter to Robb

Was the Pink House haunted?

1994-04-01T23:30:00.000-08:00

I remember when we all went down to the basement and tried to freak each other out. We were in a supernatural phase. I had found that bottle of old scotch stuck in between the dirt and the foundation - I'm pretty sure we drank it. Anyway, there we are in the dark, and suddenly Steve yells out "Oh my God, I smell raw chicken!" and busts out of there. Interesting how cultures have their ghostly warnings - I guess the islands lean toward the raw chicken smell.

Truly, though, a couple of times I heard noise downstairs when no one was home. Once sounded like furniture being moved, and another like someone scrambling in the ice in the freezer. Sally and I got inspired and tried to make everyone think the house was haunted by doing things on our own, but no one really cared. We had fun, though!

- Mel Keister (Lanham)

Michelangelo Signorile at Duke

1994-03-30T20:00:00.000-08:00

From The Hip exhibition Sneak Preview

1994-03-30T17:00:00.000-08:00

Something to remember in your cooking travels

1994-03-19T15:33:00.000-08:00

Attention Pink House Denizens

Folks, something to remember in your cooking travels.

This microwave has caught on fire in the past because it was allowed to get too dirty. Now, Jay Murray is the cool man who graciously labors to keep our microwave clean. But he should only have to clean so much. We can all help him out by doing the following:

Covering everything you heat in the microwave with Saran wrap

If everybody could please do this, exploding bursts of food will no longer fuck up our microwave and leave it in danger of burning down the house and killing us all.

Thank you - The Management

Springtime snack invite from Mel to Jay

1994-03-17T15:17:00.000-08:00

Why didn't Lynn Saimler ever pay rent?

1994-02-28T14:28:00.000-08:00

The Bad Girls are coming...to the Bamboo House

1994-02-19T21:00:00.000-08:00

Something for Everyone at Jim and Kristen's Party

1994-02-18T20:30:00.000-08:00

HeartBeat at the Depot

1994-02-12T22:00:00.000-08:00

We closed this rave down, dancing 'til five o’clock in the morning. It was a packed event, held at the historic former train depot in downtown Greensboro. 14 years later, Barack Obama and Joe Biden would appear at this same spot, speaking on its front steps in the closing weeks of the '08 elections to a crowd estimated at 25,000. But on this cold night in the winter of '94, underground rave culture in North Carolina was in full bloom.

Were there a thousand kids at this party? Whatever capacity the fire marshals would allow, that's how many bodies were packed into the Depot. We met kids there from as far away as Nashville and Birmingham, AL who had come to Feel the HeartBeat.

The night was put on by Ed LeBrun, the owner of Spins record store in Greensboro. In June he would begin promoting the legendary First Friday monthly parties at Babylon, a newly opened dance club on Elm Street. Until his tragic murder in August, 1999, Ed was one of the driving forces behind the rave scene in the Carolinas.

Ed LeBrun outside Spins, mid-90s

The dancefloor space was small, and the amount of lighting and effects that Ed packed in there was truly breathtaking. I remember amazing video and computerized projections washing over the crowd, and constantly flickering on the walls. The night's theme was love, and the house music and visuals were in perfect harmony. Even the floor lit up!

I remember thinking that the spot where our group of Pink House ravers were grooving was a dancefloor heaven, the perfect place to be at that moment in time. It certainly seemed that way. I was surrounded by the love of my friends, the energy of the night, and the smiling crowd. Everyone was beautiful, and happiness was in the air. Then, at five o'clock on the dot, the lights came up. I looked around, and saw that our mystical rave paradise was actually a shabby little room in the back of the Depot that resembled a broken-down high school cafeteria. It was a bit of a come down. But I was still smiling, all the way home to Chapel Hill.

Bamboo House Chapter 2: Electric Potential

1994-01-22T21:00:00.000-08:00

New Year's Eve '94 at Hardback Cafe

1993-12-31T23:00:00.000-08:00

Note with warm Xmas touch from Chris Pedigo

1993-12-27T22:00:00.000-08:00

The New England Tour '93

1993-12-21T02:32:00.000-08:00

It was late December, right before Christmas, and we all needed to get north. Our friend Mel Benner was headed home to Philadelphia. I was going up to Rhode Island. For whatever reason, Derek Elliott was bypassing his parents' place in New Jersey on the drive up, instead heading for Boston to hang with Lem who was visiting his aunt in Jamaica Plain.

Lem's cousin, Derek, Lem & his aunt at her house in Boston

Mel's mom very graciously greeted us with open arms when we showed up around 8 am in the morning. Then she cooked us breakfast, I think it was pancakes. Clearly, we had gotten a late start, and drove through the night from Chapel Hill.

This was actually the second time in a space of a few months that Derek and I had breakfast at someone named Mel's house in Pennsylvania – the first being our Fall Break '93 trip to NYC when we crashed at Pink Housemate Mel Lanham's place (just south of Valley Forge) along the way. But dropping Mel Benner off meant a trip to the heart of downtown Philadelphia. Before we got back on the road, Derek, Lem and I made some new friends on the mean streets and with our tour guides along for the ride, took a driving tour of South Philly that shocked all of us. The blocks we drove through looked like war zones. It was the most rundown urban landscape in America I've seen before or since.

After Xmas, in the aftermath of a blizzard-strength Northeast snowstorm, all of us (minus Mel) would connect in Boston with Tony Fishel, who was at that point living in an apartment on Mass Ave.

It was right before Tony moved to a huge three-story house in Jamaica Plain with my brother Jared and several other roommates, including his then-girlfriend Shelly and possibly Pete Moss, who would later relocate to Baltimore and become a fairly well-known DJ on the rave circuit. Jared and Tony lived in two attic rooms on opposite ends of the third floor, and it was a swank pad. Their house was within blocks of Lem's aunt's place.

Then the three of us drove down to NYC to spend New Year's Eve with Dana in the city. To be exact, we were crashing at his place, although on our own for entertainment, because he was probably spending the night with Erika. I think that's how everything went down.

Details are hazy, but among other places we stopped by a party at Rashmi's apartment in midtown Manhattan after running for like, twenty blocks through the cold streets to try and make it there by the time the ball dropped. We could hear the Times Square crowd in the distance.

And then likely ended up over at Sapphire, our favorite little out-of-the-way NYC club, which was around the corner from a spot where my RI buddy Robb Teer was working as a bouncer for a hot minute.

Altogether, we hit three major cities, which was about par for the course on a Pink House road trip.

"This is dedicated to all those who will contribute to the New England Tour '93, whether in the city or on the road..." – Lem, 12/21/93, 2:32 am

Christmas Cocktail Invite

1993-12-04T06:40:00.000-08:00

Designed by Steve William.

Tribe and De La Soul at Memorial Hall

1993-11-03T20:00:00.000-08:00

On Wednesday, I went with my friends Derek, Lem, Lydia (she was my former housemate) and Dana (who was in town for two days as an official law school recruiter for Columbia Law School, where he's in his second year) to see A Tribe Called Quest and De La Soul. It was a phat double bill, right on campus, all for just $13. I was psyched. They each played about an hour, amazing vocal interplay, the crowd jumping around off the tops of seats, rushing the stage, that sort of shit.

- Letter to Jared, 11/7/93

A Fiendishly Good Time on Halloween, 1993

1993-10-31T23:00:00.000-08:00

Firas, Steve, Mel, Erik, Lem, Derek, Jenny, Mike, Allen, Jay, and friends. Photo courtesy of Mel Keister (Lanham).

Heaven and Hell at the Purple House

1993-10-30T23:59:00.000-07:00

Last weekend was Halloween. The night before, my housemates and I went to a party at the Purple House, which is where Tony was supposed to DJ that time y'all were going to come down. The party had a swinging theme - Heaven or Hell. See, the Purple House is a very big house. Every room was open to the crazed, costumed hordes who came swarming through. The rooms were all decorated in different ways, colored lights everywhere, black lights, strobes, debris on the stairs, floors, all over. And everyone, it seemed, was wearing these really elaborate costumes. One guy was William Shakespeare. Then there were some zombie tourists. Another miscreant had an Ernest mask that covered his face, and made him look like a ghoul. He was up in people's faces all night long, fucking with them.

One of the guys who lives in the Purple House is a friend of mine named Ian Williams, who worked on a book project with my housemate N'Gai this summer. Ian also was a contributor to this book 13th Gen, which you may remember me showing you at some point, a book all about kids in our generation. Anyway, Ian was dressed as a blue angel. He was the party host in charge of Heaven, this room where he was mixing up clear blue drinks all night long. Also in this room was something thoroughly bugged, which you have to try and find up north.

It was this christmas tree light device called "Magic Christmas" - a specially designed string of christmas lights. They were arranged in a spiral, all strung up on the ceiling. Using this little hand-held device that you squeeze in and out, sort of like a little joke water-squirting device, you can control the speed and frequency of the patterns that these "Magic Christmas" lights flash in. It was too much. Oh, and at the very center of the house was this little scroungy bathroom, lit up with the only red light in the place. So you could say this bathroom was the epicenter of hell as it existed that night at the Purple House.

- Letter to Jared, 11/7/93

Lichtenstein at the Guggenheim, Miro at MOMA

1993-10-24T13:00:00.000-07:00

During our NYC trip, we went to all these museums, chilled in the Village nearly every day, went out to clubs, hung out with Dana and N'Gai, checked out Harlem, went to a church service for New York's jazz community, saw famous people, got to see a completely phat jazz performance, and were almost constantly driving all over the city, owing to the fact that our crew was staying in three different places around Manhattan.

We saw retrospectives of Paul Klee and Roy Lichtenstein at the Guggenheim galleries, and a Joan Miro exhibit at MOMA, which was incredible. We went to the Museum of Broadcasting, which is on West 52nd street, between 5th and 6th avenues, I think, right around the corner from MOMA, and is totally the shit. They have a computerized card catalog system with all these TV and radio programs from the past, donated by the networks.

Anyone can go in, reserve space on one of the ninety-six VCR consoles they have, and select programs to watch. I saw the premiere episode of this animated show "Wait 'Til Your Father Gets Home" that you and I used to watch when we were little and that I've been wanting to see again for years.

It was produced by Hanna Barbera, Tom Bosley from Happy Days did the father's voice, and it was like an animated All in the Family, very socially relevant, a hippie son, sexually liberated daughter, and a crazy right-wing next-door neighbor who belonged to the John Birch Society.

- Letter to Jared, 11/7/93

Ray Combs almost caused a riot at the $5 Psychic

1993-10-23T22:00:00.000-07:00

The jazz show was in a little restaurant in SoHo called Sweet Basil, an infamous spot in the pages of New York jazz history. My housemate Mel and I went there on the Saturday night of our visit, a night when everybody had split up to pursue their own agendas. We saw Mal Waldron, a pianist who used to play with Eric Dolphy, and who now has his own quintet. On bass was Reggie Workman, who used to play with John Coltrane. It was essentially the best jazz going on in the city that whole weekend.

Recorded in 1987

You know what else I recall about Sweet Basil? We were seated in the very front, and you had to duck and swerve whenever the trombone player had a solo lest you get banged in the head with that brassy curve. That was a great concert! - Mel, 2009

We each had to pay a $15 cover and get $10 minimum worth of drinks, so Mel and I split a big bottle of wine. Later, after the show, we went out walking around the Village for a while, both of us slightly drunk. There were all these psychic stores around, and one of them had glaring neon signs everywhere that said "$5 palm reading special." Mel decided she wanted to have hers read.

We sat down and were chilling, waiting on another guy and his girlfriend who were inside to finish their reading and get out. Then, up came these other four kids, two guys and their girlfriends, about our age. They were all from different boroughs outside the city, mostly Queens and Long Island, I think. We started talking with them, and they were cool. None of them were in college, but they were all very aware, and we were talking with them about NYC politics, and the media, and all sorts of bullshit.

Meanwhile we're all getting kind of impatient waiting on the people inside, and I'm thinking to myself, and saying out loud, yo, we should chill out before this palm reading woman puts a voodoo hex on us. And then, we're all looking inside the window, thinking all of a sudden that the guy in there with his girlfriend looks awfully familiar, that we've seen him somewhere before, and then it hits us - he's the guy from the new Family Feud! The motherfucking host!

So everyone flips out, and we're yelling "Survey says!," and tapping on the window, and waving to him, and then the girlfriend comes out, and she starts yelling at us, telling us that she's trying to have her reading done, and then the psychic woman comes out and starts yelling at as too.

Now I'm like, oh my fucking god, she's definitely going to put a hex on us. All of a sudden, from out of the shadows come these mafia type guys, three of them, real shady looking. They start telling us, alright you kids, get out of here, this is our store, we don't want you here, and I'm like, oh shit, whatever, and I start trying to get up and leave. But one of these kids that we were talking to starts arguing with one of the mafia types, and the shit looks like it's escalating fast.

Not one of these kids could have been more than twenty-one or twenty-two, and these guys were like in their late forties, early fifties. Out of a door comes another shady character, this one a skinny kid about our age, and he gets into the thick of things shouting, "yo, that's my father you're talking to!" Mel is right up in there herself, trying to be a peacemaker, and I'm thinking, great, so we're about to get shot by some mafia family. I don't know how the shit cooled down, but it did, and there was no fight. Luckily. In the commotion, the Family Feud guy vanished, and we never saw him again.

Later that night, however, when we went to meet Steve at a gay club called The Roxy, I ran into that Norman guy from the first Real World. He hosts a cable access show now, and since it was Disco Diva night, they were filming some of the transvestites at this club. So those were our brush-ins with celebrity while in New York.

- Letter to Jared, 11/7/93

Did we meet Michael Alig clubbing at Tunnel?

1993-10-23T02:00:00.000-07:00

Friday. Our road trip to NYC continued. This was the night that Mel, Steve and I tripped down to the gala opening of Puzzled, a new weekly event at a nightclub called the Tunnel. Located on the corner of West 27th Street and 12th Avenue, on Manhattan's extreme west side, overlooking the West Side Highway. As we pulled onto the block of 27th between 11th and 12th avenues, hookers scattered in all directions. Various unsavory characters who resembled pimps lurked in doorways, keeping watch over a steady flow of club kids who were teeming everywhere.

The crowd flow seemed to be headed away from the club, which immediately made me fear that we might have a hard time getting in. It was precisely two a.m. when we finally walked up to the main entrance. Five or six doormen were keeping things in line. It took us a half hour to get in, and we still had to pay $20 apiece, but it was worth it.

The shit had three levels, inside it stretched for like half a city block, and there were a good 2000-2500 people there. At least. Every second person was wearing some elaborate, fucked up costume, people in cages were dressed as animals, mirrored lounges lined with silver-upholstered couches everywhere, with holes in the middle, filled with little yellow plastic balls. One big room where all the balls came from, just like at Chuck-E-Cheese.

Nude dancers downstairs in the basement, upstairs a whole network of different rooms, each with their own DJ, each hosting a separate private party for all the New York club cliques. Huge silver tendrils hanging from the ceiling, only slightly lighter than punching bags, swinging back and forth amidst the crowds. The former lead singer from Devo (Mark Mothersbaugh) had some paintings on display in an art exhibit in one section of the club. Right near the coatroom was some guy wearing a business suit, chilling behind a desk in a picture perfect office space, behind a plexiglass window, who was being paid to sit pretending to do type, and file stuff, and do office work all night long, just to fuck with people, because it was the last thing you would expect to see at a place like the Tunnel!

The whole scene was like a rave, only for the older, New York club set glitterati.

- Letter to Jared, 11/7/93

(Note from 2009 – we met a lot of crazed club kids that night in the VIP areas. I wouldn't be surprised if one of them was the infamous Michael Alig (Party Monster), who had to have been there hyping up the next Puzzled. On the puzzle-shaped, die-cut flyers from this night, plus the ones we took home for the next Friday's party, Alig was listed as a co-promoter.)

NYC road trip detour through Pennsylvania ghost country

1993-10-20T23:59:00.000-07:00

I went up to NYC with four other friends - my housemates Mel and Steve, a guy named Zak, who's a friend of my other housemate Jay, and Derek, who I first met through N'Gai this summer.

Our journey began on a Wednesday afternoon, right after classes let out. We drove straight from Chapel Hill to Pennsylvania that evening, which is where Mel is from. She lives right near where this Revolutionary War battle called the battle of Brandywine took place, just south of Valley Forge. Her town looks like a little village that time forgot - I could totally envision ghostly horses and carriages winding around the curves of the roads as we got closer and closer to
her crib.

- Letter to Jared, 11/7/93

One Night Only!

1993-10-15T19:00:00.000-07:00

Chapel Hill Eyesores by Jay Murray

1993-10-13T21:00:00.000-07:00

Was The Matrix conceived at the Pink House?

1993-10-13T17:55:00.000-07:00

Here's the scenario - Carrie McLaren asked me to contribute a hitlist to Stay Free!, her kick-ass local 'zine. This is what I came up with. Written in my upstairs room, probably late at night, and printed out on a...wait for it...dot-MATRIX printer. Coincidence? I think not. Hand-delivered to the editors (or at least given to Jay the next time I made it to the bottom of the stairs, so he could deliver it), because in the fall of '93, I was still six months away from getting an e-mail account (although our future housemate Chris Palmatier already had one through UNC, and Stay Free! was using it to receive online submissions - see below).

The Oct. 13/Nov. 9 issue's cover story was a Beginner's Guide to JFK Conspiracy Theories, written by Stay Free! co-conspirator Pat Anders, who had graduated from UNC Law in May (An unemployed attorney, Anders lives with his parents in Burlington). Around this time, Carrie was getting ready to leave Chapel Thrill behind for the Big Apple, where she would produce Stay Free! as a respected, full-fledged magazine for nearly ten years.

MY conspiracy theory on the subject is that Carrie brought copies of this particular issue up to NYC (out of a 6,000 print run) to help get Stay Free!'s name out there, and it became a hot item on the strength of Pat's cover story. Eventually, a copy found its way into the hands of...the Wachowski brothers! Who read my hitlist, threw in some shit from Jean Baudrillard, William Gibson, and Philip K. Dick, and voila! The result was an hugely profitable franchise called The Matrix. Where's my f-ing royalties, that's what I'd like to know. Although there's also a school of thought claiming they ripped it all off an episode of Doctor Who.

The Pink House was well represented in this issue. In addition to contributions from myself and Jay (his take on Chapel Hill Eyesores plus assorted record reviews including My Trip To Planet 9 by Justin Warfield - "This is the best rap record I've heard since Gang Starr's Daily Operation"), Chris Palmatier interviewed one of the guitarists from Pittsburgh-area rockers Don Cabellero, future resident and newly-minted veteran of the couch scene in N'Gai's room Grant Tennille reviewed Black Sunday by Cypress Hill ("What looks like death metal, sells like Garth Brooks, and makes you want to light another?"), and frequent houseguest Zak Bisacky did a review of Chapel Hill band June's debut 7", "I Am Beautiful."

Lenny Kravitz with Blind Melon at UNC

1993-10-05T08:00:00.000-07:00

Dazed and Confused at the Varsity

1993-10-02T21:20:00.000-07:00

M: I remember going to see...what was the movie that the Slacker guy made?
E: Did you come with us to see Dazed and Confused?
M: Yes. Dazed and Confused, absolutely. Like a huge line of us went to see it.
E: That was a legendary voyage. Because we rolled deep. There were like, a dozen or fifteen heads.
M: I remember there was a line to get tickets to the movie, and we were the line.

E: We brought booze into the Varsity. We were passing around big bottles of rum. And boxes of cereal. For snacks. We had our own snacks. Either Froot Loops or Fruity Pebbles. Whatever it was, it was good.
M: Yeah.
E: So you were there!
M: I was there.
E: That was awesome, man.
M: Having seen Dazed and Confused since then, it was much better the first time.

- Mike & Erik on the back stoop, 2009

Kyle hops a plane back to Paris

1993-08-22T13:30:00.000-07:00

Kylie, what's up. How you doing, hon. Hope this letter reaches you before you've hopped a plane to Paris to be with that Frog boy.

Olivier and Kyle, Spring '93

I am writing to you because I didn't want you to miss out on your chance to win ten million dollars. Don't forget to return the winning entry before September 3rd.

Kyle got one like this, too.

Jay and Lydia tell me that tricks with you are good, that you've had a good summer and all of that. I am so disappointed that we all didn't get to go to Block Island together, but hey, it'll happen someday. That Monday, Jenny and I got up around noon and both felt really sick. We decided to stay home and rest all day instead of coming to Watch Hill, because we were driving back South the next day. So hope everybody didn't worry about us being buried somewhere.

It was a fun visit in Rhode Island, though. Jenny got to know my family much better, and we did things together like going to a Native American musuem in Bristol, visiting friends in Boston, clubbing at Club Babyhead in Providence, going out to the Cape, and attending this fundraiser for Save The Bay at Senator Pell's summer house in Newport.

Jenny at Pink House, Spring '93.

That was fun. Totally catered, free drinks and food, hobnobbing with the politically active high society crowd and having power chats with all four of my congressional representatives before the night was through. We even sneaked into a cocktail party thrown for donors who had given $10,000 or more. Mike Wallace and his wife were the guests of honor. He looked like an old motherfucker.

So, anyway, hope that you drop the Pink House a line from Paris every once in awhile. N'Gai will be in New York next year, as will Dana, and Rashmi, and this friend of mine John Hamilton Palmer, who is up there working for Hearst magazines again. We met him when he was on an internship for Vogue in Paris, right after you had left town. Thus, I will have many reasons to visit the city, and perhaps our schedules will coincide at some point when you fly back in for the weekend to buy bagels. That ten million you've got coming will probably lead to many life changes for you, I have a feeling.

Jay and Olivier, Spring '93

Say hello to Olivier for me, and take care of yourself, hon. Be especially careful of old men who sit muttering to themselves wearing long, dark coats. These men are chronic masturbators and are probably lying in wait for you.

- Letter to Kyle