Audio By Carbonatix
Yesterday we said goodbye to one of the family.
Tim “Temo” Watson (aka TMO, T-mo or Timo) was an essential part of the original ragtag gang of art punks and ditch skaters who had staked out mid-’80s Deep Ellum as the blank canvas where many of us would eventually leave our mark.
Last week he lost his life after a motorcycle accident in Austin.
Back in 1985, Watson’s sister Lauri lived in a tricked-out loft space above the backstage at Theatre Gallery on Commerce Street. T’s big sis was a professional gypsy who would juggle flaming bowling pins on the front sidewalk, and also made amazing belts out of leather and snakeskin. She would read our Tarot Cards and did naked yoga on the roof in the middle of the night. Lauri’s younger brother Temo was always there to look after her. He had this thing about protecting the people closest to him.The two of them were deeper than purple: courageous souls dedicated to a pure aspiration of experience. They regularly did the kinds of things that nobody else would do.
The guy was large and in charge; he lived for the concrete ditch. At Theatre Gallery, the Watsons were Our People.
Temo and I always had a bizarre, unexplainable relationship. We
would rarely speak using the traditional English language. Instead, he
and I would make odd faces at one another in passing. I’m not really
sure how it ever started, but that was always our thing. It was usually
a case of each of us trying to out-weird the other; twisting our faces
into contorted expressions, a competitive action/reaction dynamic. Of
course, I never really stood a chance. One second he could look like D.
Boon from the Minutemen, the next, he was channeling Curly from the
Three Stooges.
I couldn’t compete with that shit. Not with the animated mug this kid was sportin’.
Besides his gig as the bassist in local performance art/noise group
called Sofa Kingdom, T-Mo should have been an actor. He was a
presence. You never saw him dressed the same way twice. He had a
definitive sense of style; Tim was a punk rocker who could wear a pink
tie-dye shirt and a grass skirt and totally pull it off. I was never
surprised by anything he happened to be wearing. Any garment was
apparently an option.
Yesterday afternoon, his extended family got together and poured a
little love out on the curb for our brother. It was a standing-room-only affair; probably the most leather and tattoos I’ve ever seen
inside a church at one time. His two bass guitars were displayed just
outside the chapel doors, right next a photo collage of his many
exploits at the Clown Ramp and the Whip and Dip.
The following people wanted to chime in here as well. In honor of
the original Dallas longboarder, a brief roundtable discussion about
Tim Watson:
Robert Wilonsky (Unfair Park): “Tim Watson and I were a year apart
at Thomas Jefferson High School. His family lived two blocks over from
us. Tim was always the first one in on everything; whether it was Oi!,
reggae music, hardcore or whatever we happened to be into at the time.
It was Temo who introduced me to Jodie Foster’s Army. In the same way
that George Gimarc’s Rock and Roll Alternative turned me on to New Wave
music, Tim was the one who introduced me to hardcore punk rock.”
Brad Albers: “We would spend our days and nights shredding the Whip
and Dip. If it wasn’t happening there, we would go on to the Clown Ramp,
or maybe the Panchos all-you-can-eat-buffet that was right by his
parent’s house. We started skating together as kids and it never
stopped–[we were] the kings of the all-night sessions in parking garages all
over Dallas. We would shred until the security caught up with us and
then on to the next spot. T-mo was the fastest guy I have ever seen on
a longboard.”
David Mabry (Homespun Remedies/End Over End): “I first met Tmo
during the Theatre Gallery days, in the summer of 1985. I can honestly
say he was one of the funniest, most creative and loving people I have
ever met. When I say that ‘the world has just lost one of the true blue
good guys’, that is not just exaggeration or hyperbole; we will all
feel this for years to come. I can still see him riding up on whatever
mode of transportation, be it skateboard, Vespa, bike or motorcycle;
just smiling that Tmo smile. Cheers to Tim Watson.”
Jim Heath (Rev. Horton Heat): “I got to hang around Temo and his
sister Laurie at Theatre Gallery and they were always very nice to me.
I wrote the song “Love Whip” because of these crazy beaded leather
belts that Lauri used to make. She called them ‘Love Whips’ and I
always thought it was a great song title.”
Jenny Monesson Loza (friend): “Theater Gallery was a small group of
friends who all knew each other, but eventually the crowd expanded. One
night Three on a Hill was playing, and some guy that I had never seen
before was using the surging crowd movement as an opportunity to get
too close to me. The crowd was so tightly packed there wasn’t much I
could do about it. Suddenly, TMO appeared between songs, then leaned
into him and said, ‘You don’t want to be that close to my sister now,
do you?’ The guy looked ready to fight until he got a full glimpse of
who was speaking to him, and then he backed off. Tmo politely suggested
that it was perhaps past this fellow’s bedtime and he should hurry
along home. After he left, I got a patented Big TMO Hug and the night
went on. Just like that. It was nothing, and everything. Because once
you were TMO’s friend, you really WERE family. He remained as close as
a brother to me right up until now. Nothing will ever change that.”
Steve Shein (Theatre Gallery/Arcadia Theatre): “I’m sorry to say
that I hadn’t heard about what happened to TMO. This is just terrible
news. I do remember that Tim had a great attitude about life. He always
had a great smile. There were many times that TMO came to me at Theatre
Gallery pleading the cause of one of his many friends: ‘Dude, my
friends only got five bucks. If you let him in, we’ll help clean up and
shit.’ True to his word, after the show TMO would be there bagging up
trash. It was very much a punk ethic thing. I’m so sorry to learn of
his passing. Since I couldn’t be there to attend his memorial, please
give Lauri and his family my condolences.”
Johnny McNabb: “Such a lovely guy. He landed on me at a Mentors show
while stage diving and cut half of my finger off. I still have the
scar. It was a wild night, like so many others. I hadn’t seen him in a
long time, but every time I ran into him he was so great. I remember
him singing ‘Golden Shower Power’ at the top his lungs quite often.
Being at that show with Tmo kind of made it. He really loved The
Mentors.”
Bob Scanlon (Friend): “T-Mo was the first complete stranger I ever
met in Deep Ellum. It was my first visit ever to The Twilight Room.
After bypassing the bar because I wasn’t old enough to be in a club in
the first place, I walked up the stairs where some unknown punk band
was playing. The only person upstairs was T-Mo. There he was marching
around in circles lifting one arm up, then the other, slam dancing all
alone. He was pretty crazy-scary looking to me at that moment and I was
a bit intimidated by the whole scene. After the song was over, T-Mo
stopped dancing immediately and started walking straight at me. He gets
right up in my face and pulls a warm can of beer out of his pocket at
said something like ‘Here, you some of want this?’ I have never
forgotten that, and never will.”
Thor Johnson (Sofa Kingdom): “In ’92, we had a late night show
scheduled on Halloween at Dunebuggy HeadQuarters. Tmo came down in the
afternoon to our practice space at the Mitchell Building, and said that we
could play a show for the Scorpions MC Halloween party at Flagpole Hill
in the earlier part of the evening, and then still make our gig at
Dunebuggy. We thought that would be weird and fun–the Scorpions were
paying, too–so we decided to do it even though it meant an extra
hassle of moving shit around town between shows. Tmo was dressed as a
medieval executioner with a big hooded cowl robe and an executioner’s
axe that had a handle that was as tall as he was. He looked pretty
scary, actually. One of our songs included a fake guitar being smashed,
and unfortunately I mistakenly smashed a small hole in the stage at the
Scorpions party. The Scorpions pulled the plug and then Tmo somehow
saved us from getting our ass kicked by this angry motorcycle gang.
Then we went to our show at Dunebuggy HQ and it was awesome; everyone
was tripping and there was day glow shit everywhere! Tmo is such a
rock-steady player and a personality of the highest caliber and I feel
honored to have had the opportunity to play with him. We did so much
awesome music, not just in public but just playing and freaking out at
the Mitchell Building.”
Johnny McNabb: “For me, it was more about raging with Tmo. Lots of
us were at that Twilite Room show, and I remember at the time that
(club owner) Charlie Gilder had put a few 4×8 sheets of ply in front of
the stage. Anyway, we were circle thrashing and Tmo went up, and I had
learned to get out of the way when he dove. I miscalculated and pushed
forward to the stage and grabbed the 4X8, he came down; a direct hit on
all 90 lbs. of me–and the edge of the 4×8 cut me up pretty good. He
gave me a bit of his T-shirt and told me to not be a pussy. I remember
thinking it was all pretty radical at the time.”
Brad Albers: “There was his old beater Vespa that he rode
everywhere; once even to Turner Falls, Oklahoma (on the I-35 service
road the whole way!). T-Mo came up to me one night at the Orbit Room,
back in the days when I rode a Motto Guzzi and said ‘Hey Brad! Come
check this out…’ Well, now he had his Big Wheels–a sweet California
2! After that, there was a many a night just cruising. I stepped up to
a BMW motorcycle and so did he. We were always moving to same
direction.”
Lydia Russell Albers: “He used a ‘yard stick’ skateboard as a
regular skateboard for a while, because of his size; I saw him skate
that thing on ramps and ditches. It was nuts. Whenever I see a
longboard, even my own, I think of him. For me, personally, T-mo has
simply always been there. I first met him at the Clown Ramp back in
1983. Used to see him there and also at Whip-n-Dip. That was when
Twilite Room was “the” place to go. Lots of punk rock goodness. T-mo
was always out and about, seemingly at every show that I went to. He
knew everyone and everyone knew him; and, to know him was TRULY to love
him.”
Stace Maples: “My favorite story is the one about his first driver’s
license. He showed up at the DMV with a 1.5 ft blue mohawk, did the
deal and got his pic taken. Weeks later, when his license arrived in
the mail, the words “Valid Without Photo” were in the place of his mug
shot. He loved that ID, and I loved that story. I’m really bummed about
his passing. He’s one of those guys from the old days that I just NEVER
heard a cross word about, and always made wherever he was more fun.”
Jim Heath: “I was shocked one time driving down Abrams near Belmont.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a car slam into some poor guy on a
motorcycle. I thought for sure that he got the worst of it. But almost
as soon as he landed, up comes the guy on the motorcycle, fighting mad.
It was Temo! I pulled over and stayed a little while to make sure that
he was OK. I wasn’t much use as an eyewitness because I didn’t see
whose fault it was, but I’m pretty sure that the car ran the light.
Anyway, Temo was a big strong kid who has cheated death before. I’m sad
to hear that he’s gone now.”
Jason Cohen (Forbidden Books): “My favorite memories of Tim were
hanging out at Forbidden Books, back when it was also a coffee house
around 1993. Tmo would come and spend many hours hanging and playing
bones. The guy loved dominoes. He would drink tall strong coffee and we
would just chill. I can only imagine that it was the closest thing to
hanging out under a tree with Buddha thousands of years ago!”
Lydia Russell Albers: “T-mo was a beautiful soul. Someone so
generous in spirit; he was goodness and grace wrapped up in a big
smile. I do believe everything happens for a reason. We were saying how
great he was and how it all sounds cliched, but all we have to say
about him being so great is really true. We talked on and on about
T-mo, and it hit me that if there is a reason for him to have to go, if there is a reason for his dying–a lesson per say–I think it must
be to remind us to show the love you feel for others, to take no one
for granted. Tell your friends and family that you love them because
you can never know when the opportunity to do so will be yanked away
from you. Life is not fair. Neither is death.”
…
Yesterday would have been Tim Watson’s 42nd birthday. Friends and
family flew in from all over the country to remember the extraordinary
trajectory of his life experience. His enormous circle of friends were
well represented: among the many familiar faces were skater Craig
Johnson, painter Cabe Booth, photographer Mouse Ramone, Theatre Gallery
employees Perla Doherty and David “Dude” Adriance, Loco Gringos drummer
Don Foote, David Mabry and Barry Boyd (from Homespun Remedies), DJ EZ
Eddie D, and former Snatch Lizard lead singer Jeff Boley.
I saw faces in the crowd that I haven’t seen since the mid-’80s.
There were references to the many years spent putting over 200,000
miles on his BMW motorcycle. The specter of a 360 lb. man leaning back
on a longboard brought smiles to all of our faces. We laughed out loud
at the idea of Temo’s propensity to wear women’s clothing on special
occasions. Some broke down in tears while relating simple stories about
hanging out with him just last week.
Death is abrupt like that. You don’t plan for it when you’re in a state of perpetual motion like he was.
One of his friends talked about a road trip they once made across
country in a pick-up truck. Tim had walked into a gas station,
purchased a cinnamon roll, then placed it on the dashboard. After a
while, his friend reached over to grab the roll and eat it. Temo placed
his hand on top of his friend’s hand, then said, “No way, dude! That
bun is our only hope if we get pulled over.”
He was already planning ahead about how he was gonna bribe a cop with a cinnamon roll.
Always thinking ahead.
Keep us in the rearview mirror, kid.
