I could hear him a mile away. Blaring The Rolling Stones. As my 8-year-old self would be sitting on the school yard bench waiting for him to pick me up. Late of course, after he had slept in from a double the day before. Probably hungover. Eh, anyway there he is to pick me up after an hour and a half of waiting. I was mad at first, but it wore off quickly. He was apologetic of course, but dog beat tired. He changed the station to WFNX and there the alternative music flowed, and flipped on his shades and did a donut in the parking lot.
It was then that I knew my dad was the coolest guy around. My dad has told me countless stories of his upbringing, being the youngest of six kids, smoking a cigarette in second grade. Hitchhiking at five years old. The stories he would tell wouldn’t be believable in this time period. Seemed like a tall tale. Something they wish they had done. Nope my dad actually did it.
No regards of any responsibility. He was a wild man. Hair half way down his back. Mechanic that could touch up any car. Cigarette half way hanging out of his mouth. The epitome of cool. Well for then anyway. He has told me so many times to never be like him, and to learn from what he did wrong. To be honest I wish I had witnessed all that he has told me because that is bad ass. Growing up in North Weymouth, Massachusetts isn’t easy, neither is being the youngest, so you know he had a chip on his shoulder. Fighting and being the toughest guy around, he taught me all he knows on defending my self.
“Marty Pendleton was the king of sneeking into concerts,” One friend of the family told me. My dad would also self admit being the king of sneeking into concerts. Seeing The Rolling Stones, Lou Reed, The Ramones, The Kinks and The Clash a dozen times, and many more artists.
Boston Garden, the garden of the 70’s and 80’s was his territory. His domain and he knew each little section, not to mention many other venues around Boston. Now a days forget it, no way in hell are you going to sneak in like that with a camera in seemingly every crevice of the god damn world. The stories, the lighting desks on fire and the fightings, the loose cannon attitude with unfiltered friends. Unimaginable this time period. Marty Pendleton aka Party Mendleton they called him, was “Mr. Party all the time”.
I always feel like I am interviewing a legend when he goes and talks about these things. And I wish so badly that I had photos of these moments to share because it is all incredible. The storis are endless.
Nowadays he takes it easy, but still delves into the music of that time period, and the alternative side, the indie music and Boston sports. The stories have him sounding like a living legend. And there is no doubt that he is, if I didn’t come into his life he would truly know that he wouldn’t be living. In his words to me “You’re the whole reason why I am alive, and the whole reason for me to smarten up.” Those words give so much appreciation to him, and glad that I was a savior to his lifestyle. Living in New Hampshire now you can’t quite expect there to be the same actions he once had in Weymouth, but he sure likes to talk about them. While he takes another drag from his cigarette, and a sip from his coffee. What a boss.