Tag: Upper Darby

Patti Smith has been associated with New York for her entire public life.

In 1971, her first poetry and music performance was at St. Mark’s Church in-the-Bowery with Lenny Kaye on the guitar. Along with the Ramones, Talking Heads, Television, and Blondie, she was a vital force in the mid-1970s CBGB music scene.

And in 1975, she recorded Horses at Electric Lady Studios. That galvanic debut album made her an instant punk rock and feminist hero. On Saturday, she’ll celebrate its 50th anniversary at the Met Philly, with a band that includes Kaye, drummer Jay Dee Daugherty, bassist Tony Shanahan, and her son Jackson Smith on guitar.

“People think of me as a New Yorker,” Smith said, in an interview with The Inquirer from her home in New York.

“Well, I’ve lived in New York. But I was pretty much formed by the time I got to New York. The places that helped form me were Philadelphia and rural South Jersey.”

At the Met, Smith and her band will perform Horses in its entirety, starting with the take on Van Morrison’s “Gloria” that introduced her as a brash, provocative artist with one of the most memorable opening lines in rock and roll history: “Jesus died for somebody’s sins … but not mine.”

Two days after that Met show, she’ll be at Marian Anderson Hall to promote her new memoir, Bread of Angels, accompanied by her son on guitar and daughter, Jesse Paris Smith, on piano.

“It’s going to be a special night, because I hardly ever get to play with my son and daughter,” said Smith, who turns 79 on Dec. 30. “So I’m really, really happy about that, bringing my kids to Philadelphia.”

Bread of Angels, unlike her 2010 National Book Award-winning Just Kids, doesn’t zero in on a particular episode in the storied career of the enduring punk icon.

Instead, Bread takes the full measure of her life. It begins in Chicago where she was born before her parents moved back to Philadelphia while she was a toddler, and turns on a late-in-life DNA revelation that shakes up her conception of her own identity.

“I didn’t plan to do this book,“ Smith said. “Truthfully, it came to me in a dream.”

In her dream, she had written a book telling the story of her life in four sections. She wore a white dress, just as she does on the cover of Bread of Angels, in a 1979 photo taken by Robert Mapplethorpe.

“It was so specific, this dream, that it sort of haunted me. And I felt like it was a sign that perhaps it was a book I should write. …. It took quite a while.”

Bread of Angels is “a love letter to certain places.”

“Philadelphia when I was young,” she said. “I love Philly. And then down in rural South Jersey, and the places in Michigan I lived with my husband.”

That’s the late Fred “Sonic” Smith, the former MC5 guitarist who died in 1994 at 46.

Summaries of Smith’s life typically cite that she lived in Germantown before moving first to Pitman and then Deptford Heights in South Jersey, before moving to New York in 1967.

But Smith’s childhood was actually much more peripatetic.

“I think we moved nine times while we were in Philly,” she recalled, including stops in Upper Darby and South Philadelphia.

“My mother had three of us in rapid succession,” said Smith. It was after the war, and a lot of the rooming houses we stayed in absolutely didn’t allow infants, so my mother was always hiding the pregnancy or hiding the baby. And then we’d get found out and have to move again.”

Her coming of age Philadelphia stories in the book evoke a happy, lower middle class childhood.

Living in a converted soldier’s barracks in Germantown she calls “the Patch,” she once beat all the boys and girls in a running race, but tripped and landed on a piece of glass, leaving blood rushing down her face. She was treated at Children’s Hospital, and rode a bicycle for the first time the following week.

“I left the perimeter of the Patch, pedaled up toward Wayne Avenue,” she writes. “I was six and half years old with seven stitches, and for that one hour, on that two-wheeler, I was a champion.”

On her seventh birthday, her mother, who then worked at the Strawbridge & Clothier department store at Eighth and Market, took her to Leary’s, the Center City bookshop that closed in 1968.

“Oh my gosh it was a wonderful bookshop,” she said. “On your birthday, you had to show your birth certificate and pay $1, and you could fill your shopping bag.”

Her bag, she said, was filled “with some very good books that I still own.”

A copy each of Pinocchio, The Little Lame Prince, an Uncle Wiggily book.

As a Jersey teenager in the early 1960s, she had a crush on a South Philly boy named Butchy Magic. She once got stung by a hornet outside a dance, she writes in the book, and he looked deep into her eyes and pulled the stinger out from her neck.

“This is what the writer craves,” she writes. “A sudden shaft of brightness containing the vibration of a particular moment … Butchy Magic’s fingers extracting the stinger. The unsullied memory of unpremeditated gestures of kindness. These are the bread of angels.”

As in the book, Philadelphia loomed large over Smith’s childhood, well after the family moved to Gloucester County.

“It was our big city. It was where I discovered rock and roll,” she said.

She bought her first Bob Dylan records at Woolworth’s in Center City.

She discovered art when her father Grant and mother Beverly took her and her younger siblings Linda, Kimberly, and Todd to the Philadelphia Museum of Art (now Philadelphia Art Museum). There, she fell for Pablo Picasso, John Singer Sargent, and Amedeo Modigliani.

“Culturally, it was the city that helped form me,” she said.

A new expanded edition of Horses, Smith’s most beloved album, was released this fall.

“It amazes me that half a century has gone by and people are still greatly interested in the material,” she said. “It’s a culmination of a period in my life.”

In 2012, when Smith and her sister Linda took DNA tests, Smith had already begun writing Bread of Angels. The result of the test was a shock: Grant Smith was not her biological father.

Her birth was actually the result of a relationship between Beverly Smith and a handsome Jewish pilot named Sidney who had returned to Philadelphia from World War II.

At the time, Beverly Smith was working as a waitress, hat check girl, and sometimes singer at Philly clubs like the Midway Musical Bar on 15th and Sansom.

“It was completely unexpected,” Smith said. “My mother was a great oral storyteller, but none of her stories gave any indication that I was fathered by a different man. … She certainly kept that a secret from everyone.”

Of the emotions Smith felt, one was “some sorrow,” she said. “Because I loved and admired my father. I felt sad because I didn’t have his blood. But I modeled myself after him so much. All of those things remain.”

She stopped work on Bread of Angels for two years.

“I didn’t know how to deal with it. Is this book false? Do I have to rewrite everything? And then I realized I didn’t have to rewrite anything. My father is still my father. But you can also show gratitude to the man who conceived with my mother. Who gave me life. So I figured it out. I have two fathers.”

Her mother, father, and biological father had all died by the time she learned the news of her parentage.

Some of Smith’s self-confidence — evident in the way she spells out “G-L-O-R-I-A!” — “might have come from the biological father I never knew,” she said. “He was a pilot. When he was young, he had this tough job. I’ve met a few people who knew him. They said he was very kind and good-hearted. He loved art, he loved to travel. He had not a conceited, but a self-confident air.

“I’ve always had that, and wondered where it came from,” she said. “I’ve always possessed that kind of self-confidence. I’ve never had trouble going on stage. So I think I have to salute my blood father, right?”

In Bread of Angels, Smith recalls her early life in Philly, and writes: “I did not want to grow up. I wanted to be free to roam, to construct room by room the architecture of my own world.”

Seven decades later, she’s still doing that, as she continues to create and perform for adoring audiences around the world.

“I have stayed in contact with my 10-year-old self, always,” she said. “I still carry around the girl that had her dog, and slept in the forest, and read [her] books, and got in trouble, and didn’t want to grow up.”

She turns 80 next year.

“My hair is gray to platinum. I understand my age. I’ve had my children, and have gone through a lot of different things. But I still know where my 10-year-old self is. I still know how to find her.”

Patti Smith and Her Band perform “Horses” on its 50th anniversary at the Met Philly, 858 N. Broad St. at 8 p.m. Saturday, themetphilly.com.

“Patti Smith: Songs & Stories” at Marian Anderson Hall, 300 S. Broad St., at 7 p.m. Monday, ensembleartsphilly.org