Tales Of A RATT (5 page)

Aunt Ann and Uncle Ron, after getting into the RATT catering, 1984 Billy Squier RATT Tour.

Real Dad – Charles Blotzer – age 17.

Bar full of Blotzers, imagine that!

Me and nephew Cris – dancing under cover tour, 1987.

Mom’s mom and dad.

Bobby and Carol baby pics.

Ronny, Carol, Bobby, 1964.

The first guy I played music with, Harold Hawthorne. We lived in same apartment building, 1974.

Harold and Me in 2003.

Me, Jeni, and Pete, 1985.

Stepdad Pete and Mom Lois 2003.

Loved playing arcade games – Asteroids was my favorite.

Another of my good friends during this time of turmoil and self-expression was Tom Farnsworth. I met Tom in the 6th grade, at the aforementioned Sam Levy Elementary.

Tom was a good cat. Likeable. He wasn't Drew, but I enjoyed hanging out with him. He gave me another excuse to be out of the house, especially since Pete had taken to punishing me by cutting my hair. My hair was very important to me. It was my look. So, when he would get piss drunk and take it out on me, my hair was always a casualty. The more I could stay out of the house, the less chance I had of looking like a cancer patient.

So, Tom was a good alternative. But, it was Tom's brother, Lee, who had a much more influential impact on my life. Especially for my tendency to self-medicate.

Lee sold weed. Actually, that doesn't do it justice. Lee sold a shitload of weed.

One of the first times I saw Lee, he had an entire pound brick of pot laid out and ready to cut up. He was a generous guy, and introduced his brother's thirteen-year-old friend to the truly lofty feelings enjoyed by inhaling the smoke from a burning Cannabis Sativa plant!

I don't remember much about that day. Lee got Tom and I soooooo stoned. All I remember was just lying under the bed, out of my mind. When I came out of it, I was as hungry as I've ever been in my life. I biked home as quickly as I could, put on Black Sabbath's Paranoid album, and ate twelve pieces of cinnamon toast.

That was my first introduction to weed. Black Sabbath and cinnamon toast will always hold a place close to my heart. And, Lee Farnsworth showed me a wonderful way to supplement my income when I was a little older, and a starving musician who didn't want a day job.

For years, I served as a middleman. Someone would come to me and ask for a load of pot. It started as a quarter pound, then a half. Before long, it was one or two pounds at a pop. I would run a couple of houses down the street, broker the deal with Lee, and then make a quick $500 or so.

Through this, I was able to supplement my passions. Music, concerts, chicks and all the things that go along with that.

Hey, it was the seventies. Consequences weren't a real consideration. Remember?

When I was thirteen, two things happened of great significance. The first involved Pete.

Pete was a stocky guy who had hands like canned hams. He worked at a bar; he drank like an Irishman; and he fought like a Scot. It really didn't matter who with, but my Mum and I were prime targets.

Now, despite my personal actions and life experiences, I'm really not a fighter. Well, not physically, anyway. So, when Pete would occasionally get crapulous, he would simply beat my ass.

One instance, in particular, when I was 15 or so, I came crawling into the house around four in the morning, as polluted as I've ever been. Pete and Mum were asleep.