Johnny D, Johnny Thunders & Captain Jack

Punk rock music was instrumental to my youth. Discovering albums like Black Flag's Damaged with my cousin Johnny D in his bedroom on an old Realistic record player in Newport, RI gave me joy and happiness and provided something to be excited about. While I grew up in Waltham, Massachusetts, I spent many summers, weekends, and school vacations staying at the Davis house in Newport and hanging out with my cousin Johnny D, a local legend in the hardcore scene.

Johnny D knew everyone and everyone liked him. I was shy by contrast and simply enjoyed tagging along and being part of, at least by proxy, their music scene. Newport had a music scene of its own that did not exist in Waltham. By attending shows in Providence (Living Room, Lupo's Heartbreak Hotel) and Boston (The Channel, Paradise, The Rat etc.) with the Newport kids, we all eventually met some of the tight-nit Boston crew and became friends with them. Many of us have reconnected decades later via the magic of social media.

Johnny D's Dad, the late John P. Davis Jr., who recently passed, was a Navy officer and quite strict. The strict code of conduct at the Davis house caused Johnny D to rebel and he found a home in punk rock music. For me, it was less about rebellion and more about the love of the music itself and knowing there were other kids like me looking for a place to fit in.

I would often tape the Boston hardcore shows (The Hardcore Hour and Faster Than You) and bring those TDK tapes down to Newport when I would visit and this allowed the Newport kids to discover more bands. It was a pipeline of music and what one could term as file sharing in its infancy. Johnny D got me into punk rock and let me write some of the lyrics for his band Positive Outlook. And I still love that music to this day.

An avid Yankees fan living in Red Sox laden Rhode Island, Uncle Jack always walked his own path and relished playing the role of contrarian. He was strict yet kind and wise from the Navy and the life experience it had given him. While soft spoken, Jack could tell a story and keep your attention. He seemed to know everyone in Newport and they all seemed to know him and adore him. That personality and likability was transferred to his gregarious son, Johnny D, my cousin and passport into Newport's music scene.

Johnny D and I were able to get into the famed Harrikens nightclub in Newport around 1982 when we were teenagers to see the legendary (and late) Johnny Thunders. We saw the opening band (Big World) and few Thunders numbers and then suddenly Captain Jack Davis was there in the pit and he was not there to see the punk rock legend. He must have somehow got wind of the show.

Johnny D pleaded with his dad to let us stay. Johnny's other friends scattered because they did not want to get caught with us in the Captain's methodical sweep of the punk rock premises. Johnny D tried to explain the significance of Johnny Thunders but Uncle Jack was having none of it. The Naval officer seized John by his ear and me by my shirt sleeve and dragged us out of Harrikens. He then marched us out of the club, past Doo Wop Records (where we discovered Thunders and countless other bands), and up the steeply inclined Bull Street, all to the way giant house of eight kids on Mt. Vernon Street - the Davis home.

During the short walk, which felt like an eternity, Uncle Jack lectured me for being a willing accomplice and gave his namesake an earful, and a requisite ear tugging. Years later, the three of us, in pioneering punk rock spirit and with a wink and a nod to Minor Threat, would 'look back and laugh' at the whole ordeal and realize what a great story and memory it made. And when you think about it, life is really about making memories -- everything else dissipates over time.

While I was in college in the late 80s, my parents moved from Waltham to Newport and have called that city home ever since. I got to spend some quality time with Captain Jack shortly before his final repose in April of 2017. I wish him the best in his next journey. I am not angry that he marched out of that show because his heart was in the right place. It's forever cemented a memory in our shared punk rock lexicon.

RIP Captain Jack Davis and Johnny Thunders! Thanks to you both for the memories.