The History of Strangle Disco
This is the story of the massacre at the Café Beethoven, Christopher Street, New York, NY (above the PATH station) on the 23rd of August 1975, and its unexpected
repercussions.
A story about how 16 people lost their lives in a single hour, and how the survivors found courage, spirit and soul through a new form of music. A story of strength and overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles. A story about how the music took hold, inspired, grew and evolved all over the world.
A story told through interviews with the survivors and others influenced by the magic that followed in the wake of the tragedy.
This is the story of Strangle Disco.
What was Café Beethoven like before that terrible August night?
Nancy Rost:
The Café Beethoven was a meeting place for songwriters, mainly. We had a house band which played a mix of old classics, new hits and songs written by our regulars. There was some real talent in the area at that time, and they all came to the Café. I’d had a recording studio built down in the old wine cellar, where we could go and record our stuff when we had it ready.
Charlie Cheney: We had this songwriter’s club. Every Wednesday, without fail, we’d all go to the café and play our new stuff for each other. Maybe record some of it or teach some of it to the band, y’know. It was a vibrant, living music scene, and lots of great stuff was happening there. We had people like Christopher, Burr, Robert, Hoot, Tim, Glenn, Dan, Citizen Six, John and James, Nancy.. great, talented people.
Tell us about the night of the massacre.
Nancy Rost :
The circus was in Madison, of course. Had been for a few days. They’d pitched the tent not far from here, so for the last couple of nights we’d had all kinds of weirdos in here. They ran up some pretty huge tabs and never got a chance to pay because of… you know. It was an experience. We had sword swallowers chugging beer like you’ve never seen it and competing with each other, too. One of them managed to down an entire gallon in like a second.
Charlie Cheney: I remember the “lion tamer”. I don't know who he was. Probably a circus wanna-be tag-along or something sad like that. He definitely wasn't a lion tamer, that's for sure (laughs) He was always trying to get off with the girls in the café by telling the most outrageous lies about what he had done.
Burr Settles:
I remember that lion tamer dude too. The night before.. the night,
y’know? He was hammered and grabbed onto the mirror ball over the dance floor like a drunk cowboy hanging from a chandelier. I don’t know how he kept his hands from slipping off. Maybe he was (…) something with the circus after all.
Dan Wallbank:
Oh yeah, the “lion tamer”. What a jerk.
Tim Wille:
There was this one awesome guy from the circus who came into Café Beethoven. He was a lion tamer and he’d done stuff you just wouldn’t believe! He’d caught a Bengal tiger with his bare hands in Africa, and he’d like ripped the head off a lioness in India and thrown it at the other lions and they were like ‘aaah he’s too scary for us lions’ and he’d (…..) anyway, there were a lot of cool people from the circus but the lion tamer was the way coolest.
Charlie Cheney: Of course, the guy we all noticed from the second he walked into the café was the strongman. Marcel was his name, and he was just huge. He wore a long green sweater which was about the same size as the circus tent he came from (laughs), was bald as a coot, but compensated with a gigantic wiry, black beard. He was easily twice the size of me. Easily. I remember him coming in and
saying – in that characteristic way of his – “I just found a new place in town”.
Burr Settles:
Marcel walked in on the first night and started heckling the band. Now, usually the band can handle hecklers, but when a guy that size starts going at you, you listen. And you really, really tried not to laugh. It was hard, but you had to, man.
Nancy Rost:
The thing about Marcel was that he was huge and had a beard like he was halfway done eating a bear, but he had this squeaky, falsetto voice and a Swedish accent that made him sound like Little Pippi Longstockings or something if you closed your eyes. Imagine the guy like that shouting you down when you’re trying to play. I mean, talk about rough!
Tim Wille:
You know, everyone keeps saying that the guy was just huge. I don’t remember him being that big. Nah. He was just a fat guy with a beard and a girly voice.
Christopher Short: The bassist was this guy called Burbank Willis, great guy, solid as a rock. Marcel just kept going at him like crazy, shouting at him that he was no good. It got to the point where he was getting red in the face and his crazy girlish voice was reaching a shrieking crescendo that kinda sounded like mic feedback. That’s when he just went up on stage and grabbed the bass.
Dan Wallbank:
Seeing that huge guy get up on stage was just the strangest thing I ever saw. He had to duck under the stage lighting, and when he took the bassist’s bass, the thing looked like a mandolin in his hands. He alone took up like half the stage. I couldn’t even see Jürgen (the drummer – ed.) anymore.
Christopher Short: Burbank was pretty pissed about that, but he didn’t dare say a word. As it happened, as soon as Marcel started playing that bass, nobody said anything anymore.
Nancy Rost:
It was beautiful. I’ve never heard anything like it before.
Burr Settles:
Before Marcel squeezed himself up unto our stage, I thought of the electric bass as just another instrument. He starts playing, and I realize that it can be a gateway into Heaven itself.
Charlie Cheney: His fat fingers (…) you wouldn’t think they could even fit between the frets, but he was working the magic up there. He could reach from a low F to the 12th fret on the G-string without moving his hand, that was the size of him. But that kind of reach meant that he played the most fantastic, melodious bass I have ever heard of my life.
Nancy Rost:
It was haunting. Pure emotion. The bass was making noises you’d never heard in your life. Lamenting, beautiful, howling tones; complex harmonies, wonderful, simple melodies picked from the stars. Everyone at Café Beethoven was just transfixed.
Tim Wille:
So, anyway, this big moron goes up on stage and starts playing this fruity garbage (…) took it right out of the hands of the bass player right in the middle of “The Hustle”. I mean, are you serious? Dahm circus freaks. The lion tamer would have kicked that big dude’s ass from here to Milwaukee if he hadn’t had a bit too much to drink. (…) it wouldn’t have been so bad, but he came back the next night and did it again!
Burr Settles:
Marcel returned the next night, and of course, we handed over the bass guitar straight away. He played it again, the same beautiful, improvised music that almost dripped of repressed emotion and longing. It could have been the most wonderful night of my life, if someone hadn’t shouted out…
Charlie Cheney: Yeah, Tim shouted out something like “God dammit, play some disco!”.
Nancy Rost:
Yeah, that was Tim. That shout turned the evening on its head, I can tell you. I remember every second of what happened after that.
Dan Wallbank:
Yeah, jeez. Tim.
Citizen Six:
(…) until that jerk Tim shouted “play some disco!” at him, and he just went completely crazy.
Christopher Short: Tim’s comment set Marcel off on a rampage of violence and rage. What happened next was like something out of a war movie. It was a regular battle. Everyone against Marcel.
Tim Wille:
so anyway, some stupid son of a bitch shouts out to the big guy “hey, how about some disco, huh?” and I’m like “hey, man, you need to respect him” but it’s too late. The big guy goes purple with rage almost instantly, squeaks “DISCO??!” in that funny voice of his (…) he swung off the guitar and crashed it right into the face of the real bassist in one move.
Becca, niece of Sister Wilma:
My Aunt Wilma was there that night - this was before she took the vows and moved to Africa to become a missionary. She does not frighten easily, but she still doesn't really like to talk about what happened next.
Nancy Rost:
It was terrible. Burbank was decapitated with his own bass. I often wake up screaming after dreaming about seeing his head sail serenely through the air with a surprised expression.
Christopher Short: Jürgen Thorngarden, the drummer, was next. Marcel grabbed him by the neck between his index finger and thumb and lifted him clean of the ground.
I remember him screaming “DISCO??!” again as he squeezed the life out of him.
Meanwhile, of course, people were clamouring to get through the exit. It was impossible (…) the slender doorframe couldn’t handle the huge mass of people and got clogged almost instantly.
Charlie Cheney: Marcel stepped off the stage, red-eyed and furious, and started grabbing people indiscriminately by the neck and strangling them, one or two at a time. Some incredible songwriters died that night. People who could have really been someone. Robert Assagioli. Hoot Grey. Glenn Gibson. People who could have made millions happy, dropping like flies.
Nancy Rost:
Charlie Cheney was the one who really fought. He put himself in harm’s way and really gave Marcel a fight for his money. It would have been a lot worse than it eventually was, if it hadn’t been for Charlie. All I did was call 911.
Charlie Cheney: He reached for me, but Nancy, dear sweet Nancy, saved me at the last minute by throwing a bottle of Famous Grouse at his head, thus distracting him. He could have gone for her. She put her life at risk to save mine.
Christopher Short: As I say, it was like a war movie. Burr and Dan fought like wild bears against him, man. Old friends were suddenly taking bullets for each other. Nancy and Charlie. John White and James Kendrew tried to save each other and bought it together. And Citizen Six cracked a barstool on Marcel’s back and got him to let go of my neck. See? You can actually still see where he grabbed me.
Tim Wille: I was fighting and helping as much as I could. Only there weren’t many people to help underneath a big pile of coats in the ladies’ cloakroom.
Nancy Rost:
The police came, finally, and took Marcel down. It took six gunshots at point-blank range just to get him to buckle his knees, but in the end, he fell with a sickening thud on top of the corpses he had left behind. The paramedics weren’t able to save a single one of those poor souls he’d had his hands on.
Charlie Cheney:
There was blood on the walls, on the floor, on the mirror ball… bodieslittering the place, yellow tape getting rolled out...
Dan Wallbank:
The Café Beethoven had turned into a scene from a nightmare in a matter of fifteen minutes from start to end. I remember coming back there the next morning, just to see if it had really happened, and seeing the police tape and the broken glass… the body outlines.. and I thought that we’d never get our café back again.
Christopher Short: The next Wednesday, you know, when we used to meet up for that songwriter’s club thing? I guess we were all surprised to see all the others. I know I only came down there to close the book on that chapter of my life. But there they all were, Charlie, Nancy, Citizen Six, Burr, Dan, even Tim were down there.
Nancy Rost:
That moment when I realized that we’d all honoured our agreement and returned, despite what had happened, was a magical moment. We didn’t know what we were going to do, but we knew that something was going to happen. Something.
Burr Settles:
I arrived at the same time as Charlie and we decided to stand around and see if anyone else came. They all did. All the surviving songwriters. Only… we didn’t know what to do.
Tim Wille:
Somebody suggested that we burn the Café down to the ground and started again. I mean, insurance money an’ all, not bad, but in the end, we decided on something else. That the next song any one of us would write would have to be the song that put the massacre into perspective.
Nancy Rost:
It was Burr’s idea to agree that we would not write another song until we’d written something to get closure on the terrible events. Tim’s idea to burn the club down was enticing at first – even to me – but we agreed to use our songwriting skills to complete the circle.
Christopher Short: So, we all went home and tried to work a song out that helped us deal with the terrible events. I know that I was stuck. Burbank was gone, lots of people were gone, and I was having a really impossible time coming to terms with it. I guess I just waited for someone else to come up with it.
Citizen Six:
We all kept our part of the bargain. The next Wednesday came, and we all met up, and nobody had written anything. We were all still trying to get this darn song written, the song that would let us work again. (…) A song that encapsulated the situation and would let us move on.
Dan Wallbank:
A week passed, and no-one had anything. But the next Wednesday, a note was on the door of the Café. It just said “Press Play”. Was there a song waiting for us in the studio?
Christopher Short: I hated having to go back in the café, and walking across the body lines made it even harder. I gritted my teeth and headed for the recording room.
Burr Settles:
Just going back into the café brought it all back, and the studio seemed like a sanctuary when I got in there. A tape was lined up in the machine, and there was another note there with the same message: “Press play”. We all looked at each other (…) in the end, Nancy reached out and did it.
Nancy Rost:
It was a huge thing for me to make myself press that play button. I remember my hand trembling like a leaf.
Citizen Six:
The music started playing, and we all immediately looked at Charlie. This was his song, it was obvious to us all as soon as it started. He looked back at us with a strange expression, I couldn’t quite place it.
Charlie Cheney: When Nancy played the song, my belly went in a knot. How are they going to take this, how are they going to take this, I thought. It was terrifying.
Burr Settles:
The song was nothing like I had expected. I was working on something, but it was focusing on the emotions and trauma of the situation. Charlie’s song, on the other hand, was simply stating the facts.
Dan Wallbank:
I’ll never forget it. It was just perfect.
Nancy Rost:
It was like an impressionist painting in sound. It was simply telling the story in simple little images, about the circus folk in the café, about Marcel’s line about finding a new place in town (…) the final two lines about the suggestion to burn down the café made it so obvious to me that it would have been the wrong thing to do. Not the wrong thing, an absurd, pointless thing. Here we had the way forward. I remember the lyrics quite clearly:
Shake. Shake it now yeah.
Break. Break it down yeah.
Gymnastics, acrobatics, juggling clowns
Daredevil lion tamers flying around
I just found a new place in town
Big cats and elephants, horses and birds
Knife throwing magic shows, swallowing swords
Beethoven's Howlingly Melodious
New Bass Guitar 'n' Strangle Disco
Bake. Bake it
Brown yeah.
Rake. Rake the ground yeah.
Christopher Short: What got me was how upbeat it was. If it was anything, it was disco music. I mean, disco music, of all things! I remember feeling uplifted, happy, cleansed by it all. This, I thought, this is the way to look at it. And of course, we got the line. The line.
Citizen Six:
The line: “Beethoven’s Howlingly Melodious New Bass Guitar ‘n’ Strangle Disco” told it like it was. It didn’t require us to cry along with it or wear our feelings on our sleeves. It required us to close the book and move on. Look on it with new eyes.
Nancy Rost: “Beethoven’s Howlingly Melodious New Bass Guitar ‘n’ Strangle Disco” -- the title – became our “Sergeant Pepper”. It was our catharsis, and it inspired the hell out of us. It made us write many more songs with this title, and in the end, of course, brought us to the genre we all know and love today.
spinhead:
That evening, when I had pulled the Packard to the curb to drop Marcel at what he always called 'Café Bay', the Eagles' "Disco Strangler" was on the radio. If I'd had a Handel on how it would affect him, I wouldn't have stopped. Now, I can never go Bach; Haydn is my only option.
Strangle disco: I am your father . . .
. . . and your nemesis . . .
Burr Settles:
Anyway, we went on this way for quite a while, just us meeting on Wednesdays, writing songs to make sense of things. Eventually, we realized that this music could really help other people, too. It was like therapy.
Tim Wille:
I felt really badly about what had happened. After all, it was my comment that made Marcel snap and led to that night.
I suggested that we should work together to rebuild the club. We could play our songs there, and use it to share the story. In some small way, we could make sure tragedies like this don't happen again.
Charlie Cheney
So now we had a dream: a venue where we could share this music, this story. I didn't know how it could work though. Were we ready to re-open Club Beethoven?
Nancy Rost:
As you all know by now, by the end of that Wednesday, we had decided it would be best to re-open. It took a lot of work, and it went slowly, because it brought back so many painful memories for us all. A few years later, though, we were open for business!
Christopher Short:
The reaction we got was amazing! Within the first week, the place was packed. Soon, we started hearing people on the streets saying things like, "Dig that strangle disco!" Our music had a genre name!
Phil Norman, son of murder victim John Paul Norman:
I was just a kid at the time, and losing my dad to that circus freak was really hard on my family. My mom is still bitter that they re-opened the club at all, let alone so soon after it happened. As a teenager, I would listen to strangle disco just to piss off my mom, but now that I'm a songwriter, like my father before me, I realize that Café Beethoven and the songwriter community around it is a way to connect to my dad. I think my dad would have loved strangle disco, you know, if he hadn't been strangled and all. I wrote a song about his death and how much I miss him.
Citizen Six:
After a while, a few of our regulars started asking us, "How do you do that?" Soon, we decided it was time to share the secrets of strangle disco with the world!
Dan Wallbank:
We started holding strangle disco songwriting workshops: small at first, but soon they grew. Some amazing songs were born those days. Soon, it was time to take strangle disco in a whole new direction.
Paul Turrell:
(Mutters something about Genesis.)
spinhead:
It wasn't many days before I discovered the role Tim Wille had played in Marcel's discomfiture. I was drawn, against my will, to this crowd of misfits who'd been drawn themselves by a tragedy no one could have foreseen.
Disco horrified me; always had, but once I had kids, I felt compelled to understand what I was warning them against, so, in the name of research, I started spending my Friday nights at Café Bay.
Little did I know, Marcel's long arm would reach out to me even as I struggled to quash this pseudo-post-apocalyptic-non-music.
Or maybe it was Nancy Rost's arm; I'd been drinking and it was hard to tell.
But the music - the music, there's where the real danger was. (That, and the Irish whiskey.)
...
Henrietta Torkelton
I was at Perkin's one morning writing anagrams on a napkin when a bunch of sleep-deprived-looking people piled into the booth behind me and were singing a bunch of different melodies at once -- Beethoven, Bee Gees, Ted Nugent .... I didn't even consider myself a songwriter at that point, but something came over me and I mixed them on my PowerBook and created my first Strangle Disco tune.
Allison Cheney
Charlie still has flashbacks sometimes. For Christmas I bought him a snow-blower, and he just went grey in the eyes. It reminded him of the Cafe Beethoven, I guess, back when piles of snow seemed so innocent, you know?
Natalie Settles:
Most of the time it's okay, but every February Burr still gets chills.
Jen Distad:
Natalie wasn't there at the time, of course. She met Burr much later, and pretty soon she was spreading strangle disco fever like it was the influenza funk. She's always had talent, but that exhibit at the Smithsonian? Those reflections in the shards of sparkling glass? I'll never forget those images. I think she really revolutionized the perception of strangle disco with that one.
Alfred Dickens
I wish Mr. Wille would move on already. I'm running out of jam.
Jacob Friedman, age 3
"Beethoven's Howlingly Melodious Bass Guitar 'n' Strangle Disco" is an anagram of "Wow, those could all be lines in the same song. A very disturbing song."! Let's see what else we can spell! Aunt Nancy! Aunt Nancy! Hey, are you okay?
Jenna:
I still remember the first time I walked into that club. Friends had been talking about this great place their parents told them about. Now, of course I thought that was totally weird, but, on a dare, I walked in. And I was blown away!
By the end of that night, I was hooked on the sound. It was the greatest thing I'd ever heard!
About a month later, I heard about a Strangle Disco songwriting workshop they were holding. I didn't know if I could do it, but I wanted to try, so I went. It was really different for me being there, I guess, because most of the people there had something to do with that night, but I didn't. I just really liked the sound, and in fact I still didn't really know much about what had happened.
But it was okay. By the end of that day, I had the beginnings of my first Strangle Disco song, which was also the first Strangle Disco love song. I was stoked!