Walk down the city streets and you begin to notice something: It’s pretty damn dull. Same trendy H&M duds, same coiffed locks, same washed-out zombie stare. That’s a shame since NYC was the epicenter of a vibrant counterculture for decades, a throbbing network of folk who just didn’t fit in. Feel like a misfit? Welcome to New York, where you could do whatever and be whomever you wanted. But no more. That’s why we began to ask: Where are all the freaks?
Without getting too nostalgic for a bohemian subculture that so many fetishize and too many whine about, it’s clear that the spirit of bold experimentation has somehow withered (we have the slew of documentaries, memoirs and lectures to prove it). Sure, you’ll see plenty a pink dye-job or a pierced and tattooed gal hanging around the East Village, but it’s no longer rebellion—it’s mainstream. Being a queer kid with a wig or a chick with a pierced tongue and tats is no longer enough; you may get a few furtive glances, but you can’t rightfully be called a freak.
We’re using the term “freak” loosely, of course, to define a certain iconoclastic person who’s not just nutty or different, talented or strange but is truly driven to be a certain way (no matter how odd) in order to transgress societal boundaries and show us an alternative solution to living. Call them Super Freaks: those who stick it out, despite criticism and financial or physical hardship, relying on their own vision to get them by.
We recently attended a “Coffeehouse Chronicles” lecture with Tony Zanetta at La MaMa E.T.C., the East Village institution that was once the hub of experimental theater, that celebrated Andy Warhol’s play Pork, which opened 36 years ago at La MaMa. It seemed like a perfect place to hear how it once was. After all, Zanetta spent the 1970s acting in plays by Andy, toured with Ziggy Stardust and performed in Play-House of the Ridiculous shows. In the ’80s, he directed and collaborated with Cherry Vanilla, Penny Arcade and Annie Sprinkle. For the lecture, he was joined on the stage by Leee Black Childers, another essential character of NYC’s underground scene, a photographer who was also an assistant at The Factory, and worked with Bowie, Iggy Pop, Debbie Harry and others. These were real live habitués of the fabled Max’s Kansas City. They knew freaks!
The crowd didn’t disappoint: A stooped woman dressed all in black with black shades greeted Childers (who was dressed in a coat that looked like it was made from pink and purple yak hair). Warhol “Superstar” Taylor Mead arrived late with the assistance of a cane. Agosto Machado, who’s appeared in many underground theater productions, handed out programs and gleefully exclaimed, “There’s young people here!”
Zanetta, now dressed in a sensible blazer, explained the role La MaMa once played in validating the freaks’ lifestyles: “You came here and you were an artist, no longer a street person or a drag queen. You felt like you were making a real contribution, you were a real person.” He launched into a story that teemed with glitter, glam and important names—Jack Smith, Warhol, John Vaccaro, Jackie Curtis—and dropped clues as to why this scene once thrived but now seems so unattainable.
First, the drugs. When questioned later, Zanetta explained how they propelled so many: “We were very optimistic; we were on a drug journey. We were taking mescalin, acid, marijuana, all steps towards enlightenment. It was away from alcohol, away from our parents. We were into expanding our minds and becoming better people.” But freaks didn’t live by drugs alone; they also depended on public assistance, handouts of food and cheap rents. Everyone seemed to have a story about living in squalor with 12 roommates and just loving it. Of course, the drugs made it more bearable, but the glitter, wigs and costumes transformed it into something fabulous. The biggest change? “Now people come to NYC to make money. It’s a financial capital, not the cultural capital of the world. Even when someone’s Off-Off Broadway they’re looking to move on to something bigger and better.”
And that glitter doesn’t seem to have the same transgressive power. “In 1967, three drag queens and I wore glitter,” Penny Arcade told us recently. “Now, my eight-year-old niece wears glitter.”
Although it appears that the need for freaks—those anomalies who successfully rebel against conventions and teach us all something about the power of living creatively—seems to have waned, small pockets of vitality persist.
Last Thursday, the Delancey Lounge in the Lower East Side was alive with glitter, makeup and plenty of free-spirited attitude for the weekly Unisex Salon organized by party promoter James Coppola. Drag queens Epiphany and Acid Betty acted out a prom scene a la Carrie, while a little person named Trina Rose danced on the bar. The crowd included Justin Bond, Bridget Everett and other cabaret regulars. It didn’t have that same frenetic energy that old timers wax on about (everyone was a little too respectful), and all the “freaks” seemed to be for hire, but the spirit remained.
Nevertheless, Reverend Jen Miller still feels like an outsider as she refuses to submit to society’s pressure to conform.
She recently told us, “I’m independent; I’m nobody’s wife, husband or mother. Freakism: it’s not how you look, but it’s your vision, living your own truth.”
So, to honor all they do to show us an unconventional approach to city living, here’s our list of some of our favorite New York freaks, living and legend. Sure, we’ve missed a few, so if you have a story or a character you’d like to remember, please let us know (email editorial@nypress.com) and we’ll continue to get our freak on.
