Robert Logan's legend goes back as far as Mike Palm telling me about being chased through fields by him in 2nd grade on his bicycle, with Logan screaming and baring his teeth behind him. Here's a few of my fonder memories...
(I recently emailed this recollection to Denise, the daughter of the late, great Weasels singer Mike Brophy): We knew a punk legend named Robert Logan who thought I'm The Commander was the greatest song in the history of mankind. One Saturday night when we were getting completely hammered, he challenged me to a contest to see who could listen to I'm The Commander the longest. The turntable repeated it from about 8:PM to 2:30AM, and we were both groveling on the floor at that point, ready to pass out, when I finally caved: "Robert, that's enough. You win! Take it off!" Robert bounced up off the floor with a newfound victory energy, crouched down with his nose an inch from my face. and started screaming the lyrics along with the record that had been playing for six hours; "I told you what to do, yes, I'm the Commander!!" Hah. That was brilliant!
When Robert threw a party, you knew interesting things were gonna happen. One at his parents house started with word of The Mentors coming, and we saw their 1961 Impala make the turn onto his street and the two Mentors in it both put on their hoods to look cooler when they pulled up.
Sometime into the evening someone said The Mentors were in the field next to Robert's house doing a local girl bass player we knew. A group of about 20 walked over, and sure enough they were having a threesome on a dirt patch. She looked up and was vaguely pissed at the intrusion, but went back to business. When Dr. Heathen Scum (bassist) was about to finish, Sickie Wifebeater (guitar) handed him his hood to make sure he finished with his hood on. Great friends, these two.
While Sickie continued, Heathen joined me in a joint circle. I pulled my amyl nitrate out of my pocket and handed it to him, and he sucked in the fumes as long as a person can suck air back. I looked at him to see if he was gonna fall over, and he looked at me, smiled, and in his best El Duce voice said, "You gotta take all you can get".
Sickie ended by bouncing said bass player's head off the aforementioned dirt spot, then they both sat with us in the joint circle and held hands. Ah, young love.
Robert's band Several Pamela's used our Fullerton studio to film a video. An unsuspecting crew arrived of two guys who looked like firemen and had no idea what they were in for. The first song starts, and before he even starts to sing Logan lifts his shirt and starts hacking away at his chest with a box cutter, blood flying everywhere. The mustached one of the two ran out of the place with his hand over his mouth. Rumor was Logan destroyed the video afterwords. Rats!
After a night of every drug he could get his hands on, Robert was sitting with Rick Agnew in Tim Maag's VW bus with Rick being brave going, "Robert, cut me!" In hindsight probably a bad idea. Without hesitation Robert took his box cutter and went about a half inch through Rick's arm and accidentally through his own thigh. Rick panicked & yelled repeatedly, "Robert! It's too deep!" with Logan smiling at me with the most insane smile I've ever seen. Someone took Rick to the hospital and we drove Logan to the facility Christie Lance's dad was a doctor at. After he stitched Robert up, he snuck back to Maag's bus, we drove off without paying and got more beer on the way back.
Robert had a fantasy about us holding hands and jumping to our deaths off the Disneyland Hotel. Whenever he'd see I was in a funk, he'd pounce: "Dennis! Disneyland Hotel!!"
The night I met Robert, we were rehearsing in Santa Ana early 1978. Right away he started baiting me about my long hair (The Ramones had long hair, never got that with punks :-) I started back baiting him about being a cliche' with the safety pins through his forehead and the tired thrift store clothes. I dinged him back and he went from antagonistic to having the coolest expression, as if to say, "We are gonna be great friends now!" We were too after that. We worked at jobs together, he set me up on dates with the weird girls he knew, and I'd routinely fend off his drunken advances when he'd try to charm me by telling me I looked like Marc Bolan. Why didn't this ever happen with Vanessa Williams?
At an Omilt's show at our Fullerton studio, Robert did a Pete Townsend with a guitar, and started heaving the pieces at everybody in a rage. One hit me under the eye, and in a moment of humanity he froze and looked at me to see if I was O.K. I was pumped and put my fists up to show it was O.K., and he went right back to the mayhem. I still sport the scar there, which is infinitely cooler than any Germ's burn.
Robert was the first person who told me about the Hillcrest Park bathroom thing where gays would cruise & have sex in the bathrooms. He met someone there once and they met away from the park for a while at the guys apartment. The guy, being an opera buff, would sing opera loudly when Robert would hit him doggie style. This, my friends, is what love is all about.
Sandy's roadie Johnny Socie was working at the pawn shop across from our studio on Commonwealth and Harbor, and on one drunken night Robert talked him into letting him inside so they could play around. Johnny opened the place up, not knowing he'd trigger the central alarm, and ten minutes later we watched as the Fullerton SWAT Team arrived, rifles drawn. They pulled a sheepish Robert and Johnny out, made a call to the owner, and 15 minutes later they were back partying with us in our studio.
The infamous Anti-Christmas party. This was a Robert idea, even down to the flyer's he designed himself.
It took place at our Fullerton studio, with the original idea of Top Wave being the headliner (a concept band of Robert's, me on guitar, John Socie (Sandy's roadie) singing and Robert scrubbing floors with Comet.) I backed out due to not having big enough cojones, so Robert enlisted Little Johnny Monologue and the Albino Family Dance Band, a band Robert assembled with the biggest misfits he could find:
Martin Toben: This frizzy haired guy who worked grave at the local 7/11 and best known for fearlessly beating gun-wielding thugs with a baseball bat. He was about 320 pounds, huge and fucking scary looking.
Ragu: A 250 pound roller derby fan with horn rimmed glasses and a helium voice.
They were all enlisted to first each write their own original song about the Jim Jones tragedy in Guyana. Then they all decided on their stage look, with Ragu coming up with the best outfit. Being a Gene Simmons fan, Ragu wore a cape and attached milk crates to both of his shoes so he could stomp around like a demon. It was awesome.
Their set was basically a lot of noise climaxing with Martin walking up and shoving people as hard as he could over the benches we'd set up for people to sit. The floor was concrete, so there were some great landings to be seen. Even the bikers Robert had brought over from My Shrink were afraid of him. Martin made every punk singer that came after him look like a pussy, which most of them are, btw :-)
The following recollections were sent by the lovely and charming » Frank Agnew. Thank you Frank!
Someone (I think John Sosie) grossing out on Omlit as he admitted to eating out his recently deceased dog and Robert stating with real emotion... "BUT SHE WAS MY WIFE!"
Theresa and Kirby Jones b-day party at the Black Hole in Feb 1980. Clem Cadidlehopper (Stuart Barnes) standing in the bedroom doorway next to Omlit cutting off his pubic hair with scissors, rolling it up and tacking it on to the bedroom wall. Omlit not to be outdone (he was on several hits of acid) made Clem piss in a cup. He then took six of Kirby's birth control pills and washed it down with Clem's piss.
Sparky McCracken running into Omlit on the bus in his later years and asking what he was doing. Omlit was going grocery shopping. Sparky peaked at the shopping list in Omlit's hand and all that was on it was "Fish".
For Rikk's 19th birthday, Omlit as a gift gave him a check for 7 cents and his entire Black Oak Arkansas record collection.
I have to add here that this was as close to love as I've ever heard for Robert - He worshipped BOA and once had a 'Jim Dandy Day' where he only talked like Jim Dandy for 24 hours. Godhead.
Robert massaging himself with a wet goats head, courtesy of a Mexican meat market. More enticing than any Playboy, ever.
The Omlits opening for the great Naughty Women in a basement in Riverside. Drummer Roseanne is covered in cow blood, proving Death Metal bands are freakin' pussy's.
Robert next to the lovely Cathy Stevens at a Mechanics house party.
Robert with biker Carl, moments before 'Night Boxing' where Carl almost knocked Robert unconscious with 10 ounce Reyes gloves.
