Old School hardcore punk, punk, 80s punk, American Hardcore, Black Flag, Henry Rollins, Bad Brains, fresno punk, punk rock chix, punk chicks, fresno skins, mohawks, mohawk, hardcore, fresno skinheads, fchc, fch, clovis punks, mojo, capital punishment, harsh reality, steve daniels, koc, 1980's punk, old school, old school punk, sad boyz, dale stewart, punk story.com, punk story, central california, dead kennedys, burning bob, burning bob and the big boys

 


The Fresno Scene was a happening place to be in the 80's.
The raw tension, nervous excitement, and pure adrenaline that came with being a punk rock kid 20 years ago was real and unadulterated. Back then we made our own studded belts, one stud at a time. We went down to the local military surplus outlet and bought indivual bullets to have bullet belts. We couldnt go down to the Hot Topic and get the right mainstream punk look.

These images represent all that the punk scene was in the 80's: Bands, brotherhood and family, violence, beer-guzzling teens, mohawks, mini-skirts and lots of leather. As a historian I cannot reinterpret the 80's scene to fit into modern socially accepted and politically correct viewpoints. For instance, you might balk at the section "Skins" and ask why they are given their own gallery. Whether you like it or not, Skinheads were a part of the punk rock experience in the 1980's. Back in the day skins and punks co-mingled in Fresno in a way that has been lost in today's scene. The 1990's would witness a rift in the two scenes as bad blood came bewteen long-held friendships. Two distinct Skinheads scenes would also emerge in the 90's: OI skins that revolved around the band Boot Party and a Nazi contingent that were far less punk rock and more like bald Klansmen.

The 80's! Teachers hated us, cops messed with us and our parents cried and prayed for us.
And the Violence! I personally got into a fist fight with the whole Fresno High Marching band, was stunned by Police officers outside of a gig, hit in the head with a crow bar by homeboys, beat with a bat by a biker named Buffalo and stabbed by some stoners. That Buffalo dude beat me half to death, broke my arm and left me in agony in a gutter like a worm after a good rain. Hah. It was a dangerous time to be a punk.
This Website will be a tribute to all my old friends - some are dead, some are in prison or have already served time, some are still strung out and some are just hard working family people now.
Most of us never graduated, I didn't - so here's your yearbook.

If you were in the scene during this time, this is your story. If you have flyers, pictures, ticket stubs or a story you want to tell. please send me an email mypunkstory@hotmail.com

\