I’m not sure how Dave first heard about Nobodys Bar on Bleecker Street. Nobodys was the all time classic rock and roll bar in NYC. Although it was the early seventies, the scene there was still oozing sixties exuberances. It was before Punk, before Disco, before New Wave, before aids, before drugs were bad for you. Now glitter Rock. The place was filled with rock and roll honeys and groupies, and players of all types, and all very entertaining. What kept the joint going were the regularly visiting rock gods. Along with their entourages of partiers, groupies, and “staff” they boisterously presided over this circus from the big tables in the back of the room. So we liked this place and we became regulars pretty quick. Dave quickly ingratiated ourselves into the scene. With Dave wearing his best Rod Stewart threads from the “Granny Takes a Trip” boutique, he made our presence known and we made the place our home base. Goodbye New Jersey. Sort of.

Nobodys was just one big room with a bar. Very democratic, no VIP rooms, anyone and everyone mingled freely. This was a perfect environment for Dave to operate in. We also happened to have a very good “fuel” supplier back in NJ, and the Nobodys’s Bar “up all night” crowd found our quality much better than the crap that they were getting from the locals. People would be waiting for us when we finally arrived from Jersey, usually sometime after 1am. The nights would just be getting started.

During the warm months the scene would famously spill out onto Bleecker Street. I remember sitting on a car outside Nobodys  one warm August night, all fueled up, watching the non stop parade of Village characters flitter by. I was 21 years old and ready for anything. Well almost anything. This older Jewish looking guy with a beard comes up and starts talking me up. He was just a bit too friendly for being a total stranger so I quickly guessed what his story was. We would usually tolerate the homos who would come sniffing around, for many times they were a good source for music connections or invites to cool parties. So this guy says something about Howl and asked me if I wanted to go howl with him or something. I didn’t of course but it wasn’t until later that I found out that it was the poet Allen Ginsberg, one of the last beatniks, an original Village People. He just recently passed on.

 That same night, about 4am just after last call, Robert Plant and Jimmy Page of Led Zepplin, who were holding court in the back of Nobodys, suddenly pour out onto the street with their entourage. Robert and Jimmy are hanging on the sidewalk, surveying which babes would be allowed to climb into their waiting limo. Everybody is having a great time soaking in the energy of the moment. Right outside was a street doowhop trio doing an acapella thing. Robert jumps into the middle of these guys, and joins them for a few verses of some Motown song. After a few minutes of this impromptu street concert, a bigger crowd gathers and spills into the street, traffic comes to a halt, horns start blowing, and finally a cop has to come and reluctantly break it up. Robert and Jimmy hop into their limo with their groupies and are gone. All this at four  in the morning. Nobodys. What a bar.