Sly, aka John Simon Ritchie, Sid
Vicious 5/10/57 - 2/21/79
Sly
was born May 10th, 1957. He was born in England, and spent his teen years in
London. A high-school dropout, at a young age he was recruited by Malcolm
McLaren to join a band that McLaren had created to exploit the disaffected youth
of London. That band was called the 'Sex Pistols', named in part after McLaren's
boutique, 'Sex.'
Sly
was approximately 19 when the Pistols made it to the very top of the music
industry in 1977 with songs like 'Anarchy in the U.K.' and 'God Save the Queen',
which made number one on the charts despite being censored (The Billboard chart
had a blank spot at Number One). The Sex Pistols were a smartly packaged group
representing rebellion and anarchy, even as they were basically about making
money. Sid, however, was no act: cruel, nasty, self-destructive, he personified
that which the Sex Pistols purported to represent.
Sid
& Nancy:
Raised in southern England by his mother, Anne Beverley, now 63, a troubled
single mother who had her own history of heroin use, Sid was lonelier offstage
than his bad-boy persona suggested. "Deep down he was a shy person,"
wrote photographer Dennis Morris in a pictorial history of the band, 1991's
Never Mind the Bollocks. "I think he was frightened of the audiences. . . .
Sometimes he showed no emotion at all." At 16, after his first few
one-night stands, says Beverley, Sid told her, "Mum, I don't know what
people see in sex. I don't get anything out of it."
The
daughter of an upper-middle-class Philadelphia businessman, Nancy had problems
"almost since birth," says her mother, Deborah Spungen. "She was
volatile." An emotionally disturbed high school grad, she abused drugs and
repeatedly attempted suicide. But when she met the 19-year-old John Simon
Ritchie in 1977 at a friend's London flat, she could hardly be described as
aimless. "Nancy came to England with the express wish, much like a groupie,
to bed a Sex Pistol," says Pamela Rooke, a buddy of Sid's who was working
at a punk clothing shop on London's trendy Kings Road at the time. "And in
a way, Sid was easy meat."
Nancy,
who had worked as a prostitute in London, figured out how to turn him on. They
moved into Rooke's flat, not far from Buckingham Palace, sharing a mattress on
the dining room floor. "Everybody wanted to be with Sid, but unfortunately
he came with Nancy," says Rooke, now a veterinary nurse on the southern
coast of England. "She was unbelievably thick-skinned, one of the most
unlikable people I've met. Everybody could see through her--except Sid."
The
two were archetypally codependent. "Sid didn't have any normal, ordinary
relationships, and I think the sex part overtook him," says Rooke. "I
always saw him as being the child to Nancy as mum. She was one of those doting
people, and he had never had that in his life." Predictably, Nancy's
overbearing presence soon led to friction with the band. Lead singer John Lydon
(then billed as Johnny Rotten) "would plead with him to get rid of her, but
to Sid she was like a crutch," writes Morris. "When they were together
he was like a kitten, but without her he would go crazy." In time, says
Nils Stevenson, the Sex Pistols' tour manager, Sid came to "dislike
everything-- except heroin and Nancy." Things came to a head in 1978, on
the Pistols' only major tour. Throughout the American concert dates, Sid
"was erratic," according to Morris. "No one knew why. It seemed
he missed Nancy. Sometimes he wouldn't eat at all. He'd drink heavy and take
lots of drugs." Fed up, John flew back to Britain halfway through the tour.
Nancy joined Sid in New YorkCity.
After
the couple moved into the Chelsea Hotel in August, their relationship took an
even stormier turn. "There was a violent episode four days before she
died," says Deborah Spungen. "She said he'd been hitting her. I spent
the next days worrying. And then she didn't call. And never called again."
On
the morning of Oct. 12, responding to a report of a domestic dispute, police
entered their Chelsea Hotel room and found Spungen, clad in blood-soaked bra and
panties, crumpled under the bathroom sink, dead of a single, deep stab wound to
her abdomen. Sid, in a drugged haze, was charged with her murder and released on
$50,000 bail. In several telephone calls to Deborah Spungen after his arrest,
Sid "never said he was sorry," she recalls. "He never said
anything about it happening at all." Ten days later, Sid attempted suicide,
slashing the full length of his forearm with a knife and reportedly screaming,
"I want to be with my Nancy! I want to be left alone!"
After
Nancy's death, Beverley flew to Manhattan to be with her son who, despite a
stint in rehab, was still nursing his drug habit. On Feb. 1, 1979, fearful that
he would be arrested in a drug buy on the street, she bought a supply of heroin
for him, and was with him in the Greenwich Village apartment of a friend that
night while he injected it. Afterward, "I swear to God he appeared to have
a pink aura around his whole body," she remembers. The next morning, when
she brought him a cup of tea, "he was lying there quite peacefully. I shook
him until I realized he was very cold and very dead."
Late
one night, a few dayslater, Beverley climbed the wall to a cemetery outside
Philadelphia and, against the wishes of the Spungen family, scattered her son's
ashes in the snow over Nancy's grave. Although authorities never officially
determined whether Sid's death was by accident or design, Anne Beverley has
little doubt. As evidence, she offers the worn piece of paper on which Sid
scrawled a poem, simply titled "Nancy," to his departed love:
"You were my little baby girl/And I knew all your fears/Such joy to hold
you in my arms/And kiss away your tears/But now you're gone/There's only
pain/And nothing I can do/And I don't want to live this life/If I can't live for
you."