Wedged between the Bowery homeless shelter and the failing Amato Opera House stands CBGBs, the concert venue where the punk craze of the 1970’s started. It was here that The Ramones, Blondie and The Talking Heads first gained the recognition that launched their successful careers. The entrepreneur behind this historical rock club is Hilly Kristal, a music lover who still sits behind a cluttered desk in the front office of CBGBs every day, waiting for the next big act to walk through his doors.

Hilly Kristal grew up on a farm in Central Jersey, where he studied violin and operatic voice. As a young man, he pursued his infatuation with music by writing his own original pieces and performing live. His folk music caught the attention of club owners around the city, which eventually landed him a spot singing at Radio City with The Rockettes. During Hilly’s performing years, he worked in clubs around New York, gaining experience in management and production. Hilly’s first job in management was at The Village Vanguard, a jazz venue on Seventh Avenue. Through this job, he came into contact with Gilbert Marketing. The marketing firm hired Hilly to produce “The Ford Caravan of Music,” a college concert tour designed to promote the new Mustang to a younger audience. Kristal secured artists like Herbie Mann, Roger Miller and Nina Simone. Through this project, Hilly met Ron Delsener, and together they established the Central Park Music Festival, which was sponsored by Rheingold beer and Dr. Pepper.

With the money he made from previous jobs, Hilly was ready to establish his first restaurant and bar. He leased a 2,500 square foot space for $3000/year on 9th Street. This venture started as a partnership with Tom Plafkin, a catholic priest with an interest in the nightlife industry. Plafkin had money earned from the church, and was excited by the idea of a musical showcase. Hilly remembers applying for his first liquor license with Plafkin. “The priest showed up in all his robes, and the clerk just looked at us like we were nuts.”

The two men cut their startup costs by doing most of the renovation on their own. Rather than hiring a painter, they painted the room themselves. “Hilly’s on 9th” opened in 1966, and was a restaurant, bar, improvisational comedy stage and music showcase. A large part of Hilly’s revenue came from pool tables, jukeboxes and cigarette dispensers. The cigarette companies would pay Hilly 50% of the dispensers’ revenue in exchange for its placement. The club was developing an audience. One of its main attractions was Bette Midler, who often stopped by to perform. Many people went to hear their favorite Beaches star sing her songs in an intimate setting.

Despite the large draw, the cash flow wasn’t very reliable. Financially, the venture was a rollercoaster, with income flows constantly shifting. As a result of back rent, debt built up. Plafkin was unhappy with the financial downturns of the business and eventually sold his share of the business to Hilly. At this point, Hilly, now a sole proprietor, was over his head in debt. To make ends meet, he began driving a beer truck on the side for extra money. His side job eventually made him enough money to climb out of debt.

Hilly started noticing a new culture emerging in the lower east side of New York. The area’s low rent led to an emergence of artists and galleries. Artists like Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein became media icons, and brought the attention of the mainstream to this area. Hilly saw this as a business opportunity, as he believed a cultural revolution was in the works. He wanted to create a bar for artists to network and exhibit their work. Hilly found a space on Bleeker and Bowery for $600 a month, inexpensive even at the time. He was able to pay most of the rent with money he made from his restaurant, but started driving a cab during his free time to make some extra startup capital. He didn’t bother going to banks for a loan, as he knew there was little chance that they would approve one. Hilly cut his personal expenses by setting up a bed for himself in the back, and using that as his home.

In December of 1973, “Hilly’s on Bowery” opened its doors for the first time. To Hilly’s disappointment, his first customers were not artists, but rather “Bowery bums” looking to get drunk. The bar was located under a “flophouse,” or a cheap hotel called The Palace. The place was poorly maintained, and its nasty smells would ooze into Hilly’s bar.

With “Hilly’s on 9th” teetering on the break-even point, Hilly would not let his Bowery venture fail. After a skiing accident that limited his mobility, he decided to close down his bar on 9th Street and focus on the Bowery project. He decided to add live music as the hook to bring a more refined group of people to his bar. With scrap wood he found on the streets, he built the venue’s first stage. There was no money left over for a sound system, so musicians were instructed to bring their own. Hilly gave the place a new name. CBGB: OMFUG. Hilly’s original intention for the club is hidden in the venues’ name, which is an anagram for Country Blue Grass Blues: Other Music for Uplifting Gormandizers. He had intended for the venue to be a place where devout music fans could listen to blues and country music, genres that Hilly believed were on the rise. That is not what happened.

For a short time, most of the artists Hilly booked at CBGBs were jazz and folk bands, but they never attracted a large crowd. A rock band called Television approached Hilly looking for a place to play; he agreed to it. Television’s first performance was horrible, and brought in a very small crowd. Hilly vowed that the venue would only host jazz and folk musicians from then on, but Television asked for another shot, and promised that they would bring a great band with them. With little left to lose, Hilly booked them for another night. This time, they brought The Ramones, a band that sounded worse than Television. The band had no solid set list, fought on stage, and dropped their equipment throughout their set. Hilly was not impressed, but saw that the crowd was enjoying the on-stage antics.

Hilly let some time go before he booked the two bands again. When they came back, he noticed their improvement. This time, both bands sounded more cohesive, as if they had worked hard to produce the gritty sounds that would make them so influential. Hilly also noticed that many of the music venues in the area that catered to all ages had closed down. There was no place for the next generation of musicians to perform, and no place for the next generation of music lovers to discover new music. Hilly began booking bands that sounded like The Ramones. The lead singer of Television, Tom Verlaine, brought in Patti Smith. Hilly loved what he heard, and booked her band as a resident. The band played twice a night, four nights a week, for seven weeks. Local celebrities like artist Andy Warhol and singer Lou Reed visited the venue to hear Smith. After one of the fifty-six performances, Clive Davis, the owner of Arista Records, came to the club and signed Patti as soon as she walked off stage. The seven weeks of Patti Smith were very exciting for the club, but the crowd she brought in did not return when she stopped performing. The lull after the success of Smith’s band discouraged Hilly, but he was determined to recreate it with more bands.

Hilly found a major opportunity to promote his club in July of 1974. The Newport Jazz and Folk festival, which attracted thousands of music aficionados from all over the world, was coming to New York City. Hilly knew that this was the time to make CBGB’s presence known, and established “A Festival of the Top 40 Rock Bands,” which would run during the folk festival. He scrounged up the money left over after Patti Smith’s success, and took out multi-page advertisements in a number of publications, including the Village Voice, which served as a guidebook for the larger festival. Hilly’s investment worked. The press loved what was happening at CBGBs. The venue was written up in local and national music and nightlife magazines, and became known as a breeding ground for new musicians. The festival gave The Ramones the recognition they needed to get signed by Sire Records. As the band became an international hit, they stayed true to their roots, and continued to play sold-out shows at CBGBs. Other bands like Blondie and The Talking Heads followed this same formula. These major acts that stayed loyal to CBGBs brought in revenue that Hilly Kristal never dreamed of. His entrepreneurial ups and downs were finally paying off.

The late 70’s and early 80’s were great times for CBGBs. People would come from all over the world to be part of the punk culture that emerged from this small venue. Part of the club’s appeal was the clever branding that Hilly had created. The CBGB: OMFUG logo on the club’s awning became famous, appearing in the background of many band photos. Hilly noticed that his establishment had become a landmark in the punk world, and believed he could capitalize on the fame of the club’s logo. He started selling black T-Shirts that boasted the club’s name in white letters. The shirt became a fashion statement, and soon enough, CBGB had walking billboards all over the world. This helped promote the club, making it a tourist hotspot. The Ramones also used this method of branding with their punk white house seal logo.

Today, Hilly Kristal’s club is a fading symbol for a fading culture. The mainstream media has frowned on punk, and has flooded the airwaves with other types of music. Not many people come to CBGBs anymore, which means less revenue for the club. Hilly, now in his seventies, does not want to stop working. He is fighting to keep CBGBs alive, and has already looked at new spaces on Manhattan’s upper west side, Las Vegas and Los Angeles. Hilly Kristal’s perseverance is indicative of his undying entrepreneurial spirit.

You will be missed.