XL Music

Punk community steps up to help singer Jack Control

By Joe Gross
AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF
Thursday, February 09, 2006

Five days after a knife entered his chest while he tried to end a fight, five days after people saw him put his own thumb in the wound to stop the jet of blood from pouring onto the pavement, five days after Brackenridge Hospital surgeons worked right next to his heart — Jack Conrow, singer of the Austin hard-core band World Burns to Death, head of Mind Control Records and a well-known figure in the punk scene, said the single toughest sentence I've ever heard: "I checked myself out of the ICU last night."

This is one hard — if exhausted — dude.

According to an eyewitnesses, the night of Jan. 29 started out fine. There was a punk show at Sound on Sound, the record store on East North Loop. J Church, Army of Jesus and Storm the Tower played.

A large chunk of Austin's punk community was there, and another show started later that night at the Parlor, the beloved bar/pizza joint a few doors down. A nice evening.

Except around 10:30 p.m., some guys nobody on the scene really knew all that well, some "hobo punks," "trainhoppers" or "crusties," as were called by eyewitnesses, started to get rowdy. Sound on Sound Records owner Jason "Jug" Costanzo says he urged them to move along, which they did, taking their rowdiness down the street.

Except one came back. According to witnesses, a guy named "Bingo" kicked in the Parlor's glass door, shattering it. He tried to knock out some car windows and the windows of other businesses on that block.

Jasmine Mayberry, whose family owns the Parlor, ran outside with a friend. A brawl broke out, and Conrow, 33, also known as Jack Control, ran up to help Mayberry, who was outnumbered. Witnesses say the fight lasted less than a minute, but in the end, Conrow was bleeding, a deep knife wound in his chest.

"Blood was coming out like a garden hose," Conrow said Sunday. (He left a lot on the pavement.)

It's disconcerting to see this man, a force of nature on stage, walking very slowly, looking pale in front of his South Austin house. He'll be unable to work for at least three months and might need more surgery to drain fluid from his chest. Oh, and then there's constant, searing pain. And his lack of health insurance.

But the nice thing about near death experiences is the "near" part.

"The fact that's I'm here talking to you outweighs the negativity of the actual event, honestly" Conrow says.

James Lucas Alexander, aka "Bingo," 35, was arrested on the scene and charged with attempted murder, a second-degree felony. He is currently in jail on $50,000 bail.

Alexander's attorney, Marc Ranc, said it was too early in the process to discuss a defense. "I have not spoken to the D.A., but it's my understanding there was a fight and a lot of things going on. I have a lot of work to do before we're going to defend the case. I've spoken with my client, but I'm in the early stages of gathering information."

Serious violence at punk shows is something associated with times past. What year is this, 1986 or 2006?

"It's funny that you mention that," Conrow says. "I see a lot of parallels between these guys and the antipathy toward Nazi skinheads at shows in the '80s. Punks let them in, make excuses for their behavior and let them ruin it. I hope that changes."

As Mayberry says, "This is the sort of thing that makes all street kids look bad. The other crusties didn't seem to care when Bingo was arrested."

Here's the really cool part: The international punk community responded exactly the way one might hope.

Thanks to e-mail and Internet mailing lists, word about Conrow raced around the world in hours. Reports of his medical bills, now in the high five figures, and Conrow's lack of medical insurance were noted.

Tonight's benefit show at Emo's was foregone conclusion. Timmy Hefner, 24, Conrow's former housemate and a linchpin of Austin's scene, served as a contact point, setting up a PayPal account for donations. Soon, word of benefit shows across the U.S. reached Hefner. Shows have sprung up in Philadelphia; Minneapolis; Portland, Ore.; Memphis, Tenn.; Norman, Okla.; and Stockholm, Sweden.

Hefner doesn't sound surprised by the outpouring of support. "Jack's been involved in this scene for almost 20 years," he says. "People owe him."

But Conrow is surprised. He says he decided to leave the hospital when he found out about the benefits and donations, so as not to rack up a bill he will likely be paying off for a very long time. "You get cynical about punk after a while, wonder who your friends are. I got home and saw all this support. . . . All I could do was cry."