All contents Copyright 2006-2011 by Tim Opper
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HOW I SPENT MY SUMMER VACATION WITH THE
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Part 2: "Go, Johnny, Go, Go, Go!"
In contrast to Dee Dee’s much more subdued inscription, Johnny’s marker gives him a larger-
than-life (literally) presence on the grounds. His roughly eight-foot-tall monument features him bent
backwards slightly, in his spread-legged stage stance, playing a stringless Mosrite guitar (his signature
instrument). Cast in bronze, the figure is shown from just above the knees upward, and is affixed to a
black stone base about four to five feet tall. Besides stating the more familiar name of “JOHNNY
RAMONE,” the plaque on the front of the pedestal gives the basic information about him: birth name
(BORN-JOHN CUMMINGS), as well as what he did (LEGENDARY GUITARIST FOR THE
RAMONES), followed by birth and death dates (BORN-OCT. 8, 1948; DIED-SEP. 15, 2004), before
presenting a quote from the man himself (“IF A MAN CAN TELL IF HE’S BEEN SUCCESSFUL IN
HIS LIFE BY HAVING GREAT FRIENDS, THEN I HAVE BEEN VERY SUCCESSFUL.”). Displayed
in the bottom-right corner of the plaque is a replica of Johnny’s signature inscribed in a rectangle of
metal raised slightly from the surrounding surface.
Then, those same friends to whom
Johnny’s quote alluded proceed to give their
final send-offs, carved in stone. Eddie Vedder,
Rob Zombie, Linda Ramone (aka Linda
Cummings, Johnny’s wife), Lisa Marie Presley,
Vincent Gallo, and John Frusciante are all
represented in mourning quotes presented on
the remaining three sides of the monument’s
base.
Apparently, Johnny’s fellow rock stars
and Hollywood friends paid for the monument
for him, so they must have felt that having their
feelings for him added on wouldn’t hurt too
much. Johnny had been part of the planning for
the statue, so I’m sure he okayed the notion of
his friends paying further tribute to him in
granite.
I guess it ultimately isn’t too outrageous
for them to do that, anyway, since it’s an eight-
foot-tall monument to a rock star. Adding even
a hint of self-promotion to something already so
over-the-top is like multiplying one by one: the
result is the same.
Eddie and I posed for pictures with the
monument, and I took some shots of it from all

Johnny Ramone's cenotaph.
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four sides, plus a close-up of the inscription, for good measure. A few teenage Ramones fans came
up to the statue and began to pose for shots as well. They were a couple of girls, and a boy who was
decked out in a slick pompadour and the trademark Ramones uniform: a black leather jacket and blue
jeans with a big, ripped hole in one knee. I heard the boy speaking a little bit of Spanish (and not
much English, if any), so I envisioned that he and his group of friends had travelled up from Mexico
or South America just for this event. But just as likely only from East L.A.
their fifties came up to admire
the statue. I thought they
might be there for the
evening’s meet-and-greets,
since one of them said he used
to always listen to the
Ramones back in the day. It
turns out that they were just
passing through, going from
cemetery to cemetery to look
for celebrity graves. But they
didn’t take any pictures—just
admired and went on their
way.
finished with our photos just
before the two groups had
arrived, so we mentioned that Dee Dee’s grave was just a little further along the road. The leather-
jacketed punk rock poster boy in our midst grew excited at the prospect. “Dee Dee?” he said, his
voice rising. So Eddie and I became tour guides, leading the way for the kids. They were very much in
awe of the fact that they were visiting the grave of rock and roll royalty, and seemed quite respectful
as they posed for more pictures in the shade of Dee Dee’s cedar tree.
Eddie and I went off after that to get a bite to eat and walk around town. It turned out that we
could both afford McDonald’s.
During our excursion I took another handful of pictures of Walk of Fame stars, including
Lucille Ball’s TV star (I’ll bet you didn’t know that she has more than one), Jack Benny’s TV star (I
found his radio star later that night), and Patsy Cline’s. Plus, Eddie took a picture of me crouching
down at the star of Dracula himself, Bela Lugosi, which is strangely placed on a slope at the corner of
a sidewalk.

Then we went to shop at Amoeba
Records on Sunset at North Cahuenga. I had
already been in Amoeba when I was on my own
earlier that morning, looking for a DVD copy of
the 2004 documentary End of the Century: The
Story of the Ramones. I have a copy already, but
in my rush to leave home the previous afternoon,
I’d forgotten to pack it with my other
collectibles. I found one at Amoeba and hid it so
it would be there for me later if I decided to
re-buy it, although I hate having to re-buy things.
It was still there when Eddie and I hit the
music DVD section, and since he didn’t have
much to get signed, I offered to let him buy it
for himself. I didn’t feel too bad about that, since
the poor kid had never gotten to see the
Ramones play live. (I was lucky enough to have
seen the Joey-Johnny-Marky-C.J. lineup play
twice: once in Berkeley in 1992, and once in San
Jose in 1996—the fourth to the last concert they
ever played together.)
I expressed hope that maybe—just
maybe—they had another copy in stock, and just
as I said that, I glanced down at the under stock
area just below the product bin, and there was
one right up front. I grabbed it.
At Bela Lugosi's star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
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Back at the cemetery, we wandered a little bit and found the large, walk-in cage full of
peacocks which cemeteries sometimes allow to roam the grounds. Then at about five o’clock, we
started back to the gate, so we could find out more details about the event and to see if anyone was
lining up yet. As we got near the gate, one of the guards made sure to point out that they’d be closing
the gates to regular visitors at six p.m.
There were, in fact, about six people grouped just outside the door-sized part of the gate, even
though it was still open. Clearly, they were Ramones fans. A man from England was there with what
I presumed was his wife and preteen son. The father was decked out in a Hatebreed t-shirt, the
mother in a Slayer shirt, and the boy was representing well in a Ramones logo shirt and a pair of
Johnny Ramone Vans shoes. The first of another trio was a very pretty but slightly sad-eyed Hispanic
girl named Leslie, who had black, shoulder-length, shaggy hair almost exactly like Joey Ramone’s in
the late 1970s. She completed the homage by sporting a black t-shirt featuring the cover of the
Ramones album, a pair of formfitting black pegged jeans, and a black leather jacket. She was with her
uncle, who was a hilarious guy (think: funny Hell’s Angel). Without mercy, he verbally assaulted the
third member of the group, his friend who was equally witty and wisecracking. (Example: the uncle
kept referring to his friend as “Joe Dirt,” and even “Joe Dirté,” since he closely resembled David
Spade’s character in the movie of the same name, plus glasses.) The two men bantering back and
forth kept everyone in stitches while we waited for the guards to close down and then reopen the
cemetery.
How I Spent My Summer Vacation With The Ramones Copyright 2008 by Tim Opper.