The end of Eric’s, 1980

I fought the law, and the law won

Thanks to Les Mouzer for the photo.

Liverpool’s legendary Eric’s club closed on 14th March 1980. A lot of us felt we’d lost our spiritual home.

Here’s the story from my memoir, and below it the piece I wrote for the Melody Maker.

“We were going for the last bus, with heavy hearts, when the police vans appeared. Two of them, screeching across the car park where the Cavern used to be. We were expecting things to end, but no-one knew it would end like that.

There had been rumours that Eric’s might not get its licence renewed, and the creditors were moving in. I didn’t even know what creditors were, but I knew it was bad. The owners decided they would have to close down. It all happened within a few weeks. I phoned Ian Birch at the Melody Maker to tell him what had happened, and I couldn’t stop crying.

The date was set for the closing gig at Eric’s: Siouxsie and the Banshees would be playing. The penultimate gig would be the Psychedelic Furs, supported by Pete Wylie's band Wah! Heat. It was Friday 14th March 1980 and everyone was there, just in case.

Wah! Heat played and Pete announced: “We’re the last local band to play Eric’s.” I tried not to believe it. The Psychedelic Furs played, their sombre music fitting the mood. Afterwards, there was a weight in the air. I felt like crying but the mood was too dark for that. I didn’t want to be there any more.

Ten minutes before the last bus was due, the club was raided.

The next morning, word got around that there was going to be a protest march. 250 people turned up. Who needs social media? Stories went around too: people had been searched, drugs had been planted, people had been arrested for, well, resisting arrest. The police didn’t have a good reputation in Liverpool. By now we’d stopped being sad and were angry. The club was going to close anyway, so what was it about? Revenge for being different?

Popular legend has it that the police closed down Eric's. It was closing anyway, so why they chose to raid the club is a mystery. There was a huge backlash, as people's mothers wrote letters to the Liverpool Echo to complain. They pointed out that there was never any trouble at Eric’s, that appreciating live music wasn’t a crime, and that perhaps the police might have had better things to do with their time than alienating the younger generation.

There was another march a week later. The club’s owners observed that if everyone who went had been to Eric’s more often they wouldn’t have needed to close. The photos show there are hundreds of us, and some look as if they're having fun. I wasn’t. My heart was broken.”

Photo © David G Bailey

Eric's: An Undignified Death

PENNY KILEY on the demise of Liverpool Eric's — the city's rock 'n' roll heart.

Melody Maker, 29 March 1980

IT'S BEEN a slow, painful, undignified death. Two weeks ago Eric's end was just a rumour. Now it's gone, without even a proper farewell, leaving an empty space. Can any of those responsible understand how much the club meant?

Eric's was necessary: Of course, you can still see groups in Liverpool, though now it's a choice between youth club groups and Top Of The Pops groups, with nothing in between. But the loss goes further than wondering what to do on Saturday nights.

Eric's was the rock 'n' roll heart of the city, a living centre in a world where all other entertainment is shallow and plastic. Eric's reached the parts other clubs didn't even know existed.

You could enter Eric's and feel at home, whatever you looked like. It was a place to escape, belong, to be yourself. And it was the nearest you could get to putting a location on rock 'n' roll.

Rook 'n' roll was a welcoming noise that met you as you descended the stairs to the club. It was standing halfway between the bar and the stage, one ear taking in the classics of yesterday from a juke box that educated and entertained, the other the classics of tomorrow.

It was movement and heat and noise, like the first time I saw the Clash on that stage. It was anyone getting up there and playing. Like Jayne, bald and screaming in the early days of Big In Japan. It's nothing to do with Top Of The Pops, or The Old Grey Whistle Test, or records on the radio, or two hours sitting watching a "show" at Liverpool Empire.

Pictures of Eric's: the most glorious gig of this year, Lux Interior, clad only in a pair of red underpants, falling through the audience and onto the ground while the rest of the Cramps just keep on playing. Then up again, wrenching light fittings from the ceiling, pulling down handfuls of roof until I thought there'd be no club left to close down. What a way to go...

Everyone played best at Eric's. "If I gave marks out of ten for towns, then Liverpool would get 13," said Lux Interior.

Another picture: the saddest gig of the year. The last night, but nobody knows it yet. Everyone's here, just in case. Friends, rivals, cliques, incipient stars who first began on that stage. "God save Eric's" scrawled on a table. Wah Heat announce, "We're the last Liverpool band to play Eric's," and we try not to believe it. The Psychedelic Furs play, their sombre music fitting the mood.

Cut to two police vans screeching across the empty car park that was once the Cavern. Magnificent irony.

Cut to inside the club. While people are being searched and generally degraded, Wah Heat play 'I Fought The Law'.

Last picture. A day later. It would have been the 54th birthday of Jimmy Kelly, the Liverpool man who died in police custody. Mathew Street looks depressing, the daylight illuminating brick walls and empty spaces. Outside the club, spiky uniforms gather, waiting to begin the protest march. An old man stands muttering: he fought the war for us. Police everywhere, surrounding us, making us the criminals.

But the march is a moment of glory, a statement. The citizens of Liverpool don't like the sight. They'd like to sweep us under the carpet, but they've taken the carpet away.

Whatever happens now, something's lost forever. We can only hope that with every ending comes a beginning. Or just think of the new graffiti outside the club: "The spirit lives on."

Of course I’ve still got it.

The aftermath

Thanks to Les Mouzer for digging out these photos.

Who needs social media?

These were doing the rounds after the last night at Eric’s.

Edit:

The last two items are from my personal archive. This article from Challenge magazine was written by Joe McKechnie, who sent it to me after reading this newsletter.