1990 I walked into CBGB's by accident. I was just looking to dry off from the rain. I had no idea that the people inside would profoundly change my life. I ended up skipping college and learned everything I needed to know how to survive in the city. I devoured books and music and life. I wanted to work. I was on my way to becoming a famous actress and then... well the bartending job was going to hold me over-temporarily of course. I'll never forget my fist impression of Hilly Kristal. He stood like a giant standing in the doorway and he said "ok you can work here but what's your name?"
Things just happened that way. It didn't matter that I was 19. I had rent to pay. So I served beer and learned to make pizza sold shirts and then hosted my own nights at the 313 Gallery. Hilly gave everyone so much space to grow to be creative.
I worked at Cb's for three years. I worked with Ronnie from the shirts he was the sound guy and Liz who ran the gallery and Joe with the dreads, Jai and Michalene and of course babyfaced Brenden. Dana (the son of the king of Punk rock) would argue with me about film and philosophy and politics. We were always in a heated debate. Hilly had great art shows with photographers like Bob Gruen and Godlis and Stephanie Chernoski. Everyone came by for the openings. I was there at the right place at the right time. In the morning I would be serving tea to Robert Frank and in the evening Alan Ginsburg would come by with his camera wanting to document everything. I remember Leggs McNeill always flirting and Handsome Dick asking how old I was and Joey Ramone being so quiet and ordering tea with lemon and watching Patti Smith recite her poetry and stage diving after too many shots. The crowd would keep me afloat. For three years my feet didn't hit the floor. I loved that place. Every dirty corner of it. The club was not just the bands it was the people who worked there. I loved the cat Max who watched over the 313 Gallery and yes I loved the music. The music is what kept us there and Hilly was the dad who made sure we weren't getting into too much trouble.

We all shared some laughs. I could write a book about the bands I saw. I lived it. We all did. To the rockers the punks, the skins, the hells angels, the drag queens, the groupies, the poets it was home. I remember Hilly taking his dog home for the night that meant I'd have to lock up. I'd have the drug addicts help me pull the heavy gates down. He trusted me. I'll never forget that.He was my boss, He was a friend. A mentor. A fatherfigure. Patron saint of the Bowery. He always remain in my memories, my heart and the stories I tell. RIP Tia Bonacore