Howie Pyro DJing at the Mudd Club, 1978


In loving memory of the great Howie Pyro. I met Howie over a rumor he had an incredible collection of Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren punk clothing. It was legendary in the East Village, as some of the pieces came directly from his friend Johnny Thunders and others were gifted to Howie by Sid Vicious's mom. Howie was famously with Sid the night he died. Howie made me go to all his shows and DJ gigs to "talk" about the clothes for months. Eventually, he invited me over to his apartment to see the clothes, and our friendship was cemented.
After long talks about many things, Howie sold me the clothes. A few years later, he would guide me through the most extensive Westwood & Mclaren punk clothing show ever exhibited. No censorship. That will probably never happen again. Museums from all over the world contacted us wanting to show the exhibition, but when they saw the clothes, they politely told us they could not show "that kind of material." A few decades later, still hanging out at Howie's and talking about the clothes, we found a misplaced 1979 letter from Sid's mom gifting Howie the clothes and thanking him for helping her. Opening and reading the letter was a surreal moment but somehow normal because that was life with Howie.

We both moved from NY to LA around the same time and continued to work together. At one point, Howie was the rare book buyer for Resurrection. Long before Idea books or any of that, there was Howie. At another point, he was our house DJ creating Resurrection Radio, where he curated playlists for our clients from his epic record collection. They are still online. I will re-post some of my favorites as the best way to get a feel for Howie is through his music. We worked on the Porno collection together, and he led me through the world of homo-erotic graphics and vintage souvenir t-shirts from gay bars. I think we did that exhibition around 2014.

So many people have contributed to the magic of Resurrection, but no one ever waved a wand over it like Howie Pyro. Being the coolest kid on earth is not easy, and very few have the integrity and stomach for it, not to mention loads of photogenic teen beauty. Honestly, that level of teenage perfection is a cautionary tale at best. But I have always loved those kids the most. They are not the richest and usually not the most famous, but they are the true innovators of what we call culture and somehow put it all together without a blueprint. Putting themselves on the line so we can safely figure out who we are and who we want to be. In other words, cool personified. I love you, Howie Pyro.