The Party

I was depressed, and I was starting to feel suicidal. Not in a real way, like I was in imminent danger of killing myself, but I was starting to understand how people got to that point. It was spring 1989, and I realized I needed to be around people who knew me, loved me, and would help me find my balance again. I made the decision to return to Oregon. Things were so difficult in San Francisco.

I was barely making any money, I had not developed any close relationships as I had hoped, and honestly, I wasn't so sure I was cut out for big city life. Sure, I had seen a ton of amazing shows, bands that I never would have gotten to see if I still lived in Corvallis. But I wasn't so sure that was worth the trade off anymore. About the time I decided to move back to Oregon, Blacklist Mailorder was getting ready to celebrate their 1 year anniversary with a party, but they were having trouble finding someplace to hold the party. I volunteered my house. It was certainly big enough for a party, and I didn't have any room mates I had to worry about bothering.

So plans were made, and word went out. It was supposed to be a private, Blacklist Volunteers only, BOB, and bring munchies. It must have been May 1989, because I only lasted in SF for 9 months the first time. Ruth Schwarts showed up, and a number of other volunteers, people I had seen at the warehouse and chatted with, but didn't really know well. Harry came too. It was fun, probably about 15 people in all. I really enjoyed myself for the first time since I had moved to the city. People chatting, drinking beer, eating chips and dip, listening to music, just hanging out.

Around 11 pm there was a knock on the door. I opened it and Billy Joe and Mike from Green Day were there, saying they had heard there was a party and could they come in. The band had just released their first 7" "1000 hours" on Lookout Records, and Blacklist was selling it. I had seen the band play several times at Gilman Street (and had seen them when they were still calling themselves Sweet Children), so I knew who they were. I told them it was a private party, and they were not welcome and sent them on their way. I have to laugh about this now, but at the time, I didn't want anyone I didn't know in my apartment. After all, all the furnishings weren't mine, and I didn't want to risk the classic party "take over" one sees so often in the movies. I didn't know the SF scene, and just wanted to keep things small.

They were bummed, but left without a fight. I went back to the party, which was getting pretty raucous by this point as more alcohol was consumed and the music was turned up. The party lasted until about 1 am, when everyone slowly started heading out. When everyone was gone, except Harry, I surveyed the damage. The house was filled with garbage and empty beer bottles. It was gonna take me some time to clean it up, and of course, no one there at the party had offered to help. Harry was so sweet, he offered to come back in the morning to help me clean up, so I just left the mess, and after Harry went home, I crashed. It was fun, but I was glad it was over. I was leaving for Oregon in two days, and I couldn't wait to go home.