by Maureen Palli, Hainesport, New Jersey

I was ten-years-old when Patti Smith released her debut album and at least twenty-five years went by before I finally discovered her music. In November, 2005, I was lucky enough to be at a record store where Patti was singing and sharing stories about her life. She spoke of her childhood, music career and life with her family and did it with humor, followed by grace, topped off with wisdom. It was an evening I’ll never forget.

As Patti and her band descended the stairs onto a small stage at Tower Records in New York City’s Greenwich Village, she pulled out a vintage camera and snapped a photo of the audience. After peeling back the Polaroid paper, Patti took a quick look and declared, “That’s a sorry ass bunch of people!”

The in-store event was in celebration of the 30th anniversary Legacy Edition of Patti’s debut record Horses. She stood in front of a giant album-cover photo of her 28 year-old-self and said, “These are my fellas,” introducing Tony Shanahan on keyboard, guitarist Lenny Kaye, and drummer Jay Dee Daugherty on acoustic guitar. The band started with “Rodondo Beach,” a song about an argument Patti had with her sister Linda and they continued with an audience request for “Kimberly,” a song about another sister.

During songs, Patti snapped photos of her band and more photos of the crowd. Between songs, she asked the audience for questions. Someone asked about recording Horses. Patti quipped, “After 30 years, you think I can really remember that?” When asked if she thought she’d still be here, she replied, “Well, I thought I would perhaps be here on the planet, but up here hawkin’ it? No!”

She spoke of recording Horses on 8th Street at Jimi Hendrix’s Electric Lady Studios and reminisced about being too shy to go inside the party celebrating the opening of the studio. Sitting outside on the steps, she had the good fortune to meet Hendrix as he was leaving the studio on his way to the Isle of Wight Festival. He shared with Patti his vision of the studio becoming a place for musicians from all over the world to play together and find a common thread. Sadly, Hendrix died before returning to New York and Electric Lady Studios. “I felt we were very privileged to record there,” Patti said as she told the audience about recording “Redondo Beach” at four in the morning (because that was the only studio time available) and mixing the record by hand; using faders for nine poems she had written for “Land.”

Lenny Kaye whispered a song suggestion in Patti’s ear and she moaned, “That’s so hard!” She opted to fulfill an audience request for “Wing” before taking Lenny’s suggestion, performing “Free Money” and transforming the small acoustic gathering into an all-out rock show. The crowd cheered wildly and Patti turned her head towards Lenny. She was actually blushing over the audience enthusiasm! Patti wasn’t a musician when she met Lenny Kaye; she was a poet. After reading an article Lenny had published in Jazz and Pop called “The Best of A Cappella,” Patti called him to say how much she liked it. Lenny invited her to visit him at the record store where he was working at that time and they became friends. Patti told the crowd, “I had to do a poetry reading at St. Marks Church and it was my first reading, so I wanted to do something special. My good friend, Sam Sheppard suggested I ask someone to play guitar while I read the poems, so I called Lenny and he came over.” Patti joked, “I’ve been regretting it ever since!”

“Did you ever beat up Irish boys in New Jersey?” a guy in the audience shouted. After laughing along with the crowd, Patti said, “I’m searching my mind and I will tell you the translation of that.” She told us about a childhood “gang” she formed with her siblings when they were living in Germantown (Philadelphia). Patti was the oldest and the leader, her brother Todd was the knight and her sister was the nurse. A member of an older, rival “gang” was beating up Todd one day, so Patti found a piece of sharp slate on the ground and drawing in all her concentration, hurled the slate at the kid slicing off his vaccination scab. It started bleeding and the boy “hauled ass home,” crying. Years later, after her brother died, Patti found that story on his computer. Todd had added the touching postscript: “I was the knight in King Patti’s army.”

Someone in the audience asked about her time in Michigan. Patti, who took a long hiatus from performing to raise two children with her late husband, musician Fred “Sonic” Smith, said, “It was perhaps the happiest time of my life and I look upon it with great joy and some sorrow.” They lived a quiet, happy, private life in a small fishing village outside Detroit. Patti wrote her poetry and Fred taught her to play guitar. Sadly, Fred died of heart failure in November, 1994. Todd’s death followed only one month later.

Before her performance came to an end, Patti made sure to mention how proud she is to be part of Legacy. Patti said, “My daughter Jessie and I were looking at all the Legacy Records and we put ours next to Pearl and The Clash and the Jeff Buckley one and all of them, they’re really nice. But I was looking at the Pearl record and our record and it’s just amazing.” She explained, “I can remember being in The Chelsea Hotel when Janis Joplin was staying there and getting ready to do that record. I was lucky enough to hear her working on those songs. I heard Kris Kristofferson play ‘Bobby Magee’ for her and she joined in and said, ‘I’m gonna do that tune, man!’ And she did.”

Patti was working at a book store and moonlighting as a poet at night, while watching everyone getting ready for the record. Patti said, “It never, never, ever crossed my mind that the time would come that we would have a record on the same label, sitting beside Janis’ record.”

Then Patti shared some life lessons: “You never know what’s gonna happen in life. So never give up. There’s always gonna be rough stuff around the corner. I can guarantee that ‘cause I’ve been around long enough to tell you that life is gonna give you a lot of rough things. You’re gonna suffer loss and illness and sorrow and things are gonna get fucked up. But also, many beautiful things will happen; exciting things. You’ll see great things and you just have to let yourself be open for everything. ‘Cause if you’re not open to the bad stuff, you’re not gonna notice the good stuff. It will all happen, I guarantee it.”

“One last little tune,” Patti said and sang “Gloria,” ending the evening the way Horses began: “Three cords merged with the power of word.”