Memories of the sweetest-smelling shops around

There are lots of temptations in the display case at Southern Sweets Bakery, located on Rio Circle in a Decatur warehouse district. (Bill King)

My Mom was a great scratch baker, but we did get the occasional bakery treat when I was growing up — especially if we begged enough as we were walking by the shop!

To this day, I think bakeries are the best-smelling places around. I find that magical combination of spicy ginger, sweet cookies and cakes, and the warm, yeasty smell of baking bread positively intoxicating, and I’m not alone.

My friend Dan Pelletier looks back fondly on his first visits to Henri’s Bakery & Deli in Buckhead. “The smell on entering was worth the trip, regardless of what I purchased,” he said.

However, for those of us who grew up in Athens or attended the University of Georgia, A&A Bakery, located downtown for decades, was, as Frazier Moore put it: “the best-smelling spot on God’s green earth. … Like many or most stores in the 1950s and early 1960s, it was not equipped with AC. So, in good weather the screened front door and open windows and ceiling fans within made sure the heavenly bouquet spread far and wide.”

The A&A Bakery in downtown Athens served several generations of local residents and University of Georgia students. (Hargrett Library)

Nancy Garner Cerrato agreed: “You could smell the bakery long before you walked in the door.” And, added Susan Marie Booth Beck, “I can still smell the delicious fragrances wafting through the air as you walked down Lumpkin Street past the bank and on toward the bakery. If you weren’t hungry before going past that area, you were as soon as the aromas hit your senses! What a fond memory of growing up in Athens, Georgia, in the ’50s and ’60s!”

 “Just walking into the smell made us all happy,” Brenda McKinnon Horton said.

At certain hours, Athens probably had the best-smelling downtown around, because, in addition to A&A, there was the Benson’s Bakery plant, where they made sliced sandwich loaves sold in local grocery stores.

Roslyn Marlow Wise worked at the nearby Athens Newspapers office and got off work around 9 p.m. “I remember walking out of the newspaper building and being wrapped in the heavenly aroma of bread baking at Bensons,” she said.

(Benson’s went out of the bread business decades ago, but it still makes fruitcakes and other treats in a plant in Bogart, a little town near Athens. “You can always tell when Benson’s is running the cinnamon roll line,” said Steven Brown, and Wayne Turner said you also can smell Benson’s cakes baking, “especially around Christmas time.”)

A&A Bakery makes a cake delivery to a 1983 gathering at the University of Georgia athletic practice fields. (Tom McConnell)

Lee Catoe’s grandparents were the owners of A&A, and he worked there from around 1973 until 1987. “Early in the morning,” he recalled, “if you walked outside in downtown Athens (I mean before sunrise), the air smelled like fresh baked goods. … That stillness of the morning filled with that smell will never leave me.”

Sweet memories involving bakeries, especially from childhood, seem to be common. I posted a couple of queries about favorite bakeries in social media groups and received nearly 500 responses.

For me, the earliest bakery memories are from A&A, which originally stood for Arnold and Abney. (I was told we somehow were related to one of those families through my paternal grandmother.) A&A was founded in 1897 and finally closed on New Year’s Eve 1990.

By the time I was around, the bakery was owned by the Stone family, which ran it for nearly 50 years, and the first doughnuts I ever had were some of their glazed beauties that Dad used to bring home — left over from the break room at the C&S Bank branch he managed. In fact, many businesses in town, especially those in the downtown area, bought doughnuts, pastries and other treats at A&A for their employees’ coffee breaks.

“Oh, I have sweet memories of the A&A Bakery!” said Reginald Whitehead. “They had the most mouthwatering doughnuts! My favorite was the glazed, lemon-filled doughnuts. In the ’50s I would leave the Georgia Theatre, where my mother worked the ticket and concession booth, and get doughnuts. The owners were the nicest people, and their doughnuts were always fresh. They are the very reason why I love glazed doughnuts with lemon filling to this very day!”

Richard Garnett remembers he and his father getting up very early “and we would drive down to A&A and get hot doughnuts and bread. We would eat those hot doughnuts and they would literally melt in your mouth. They used lard back then. We would take home some to my ma and sister. Everybody screams about Krispy Kreme now, but they are nothing compared to fresh A&As.”

Sonny Catoe was one of the family members who helped run A&A Bakery. (A&A advertisement)

Boys playing sports at the YMCA nearby would walk over and get a treat afterward, retired Atlanta sportscaster Bill Hartman recalled. Day-old doughnuts were sold for a penny each and Louis Bailey remembers getting a bag of them. “A lot of pastry for very little money.”

While A&A’s doughnuts were extremely popular, so was just about everything else the bakery made. Many families that attended church in the vicinity of downtown Athens swung by A&A after services on Sunday mornings to pick up some treats, and it wasn’t uncommon for kids to skip out on Sunday school to sneak over there.

Charles Myers, whose father was the minister at First United Methodist, recalled he “used to dash over there between Sunday school and church to spend my tithing money on a bag full of cinnamon doughnuts. I’d sit in the farthest corner of the church balcony and gobble them down while my father preached.”

Quinton Jackson remembers that, after waiting in the cold to see the Burney-Harris High School band in the Athens Christmas parade, “my dad would buy us glazed doughnuts and cinnamon buns to take home.”

A&A was popular at UGA, too. My wife Leslie remembers going there for brownies after she started at the university, and A&A cheese straws were a sorority and fraternity mainstay. Michael Simpson remembers stopping by on his way to class for the “best cinnamon roll I ever tasted. Often the rolls were still warm. Delicious beyond belief.”

And Ann Tillman Carswell said girls in her dorm “would make a last-minute dash to A&A, raincoats over our pajamas, for a snack, usually making it back to the dorm, beating curfew, by a couple of minutes. I loved their corn muffins!”

Even after we had graduated, when we were back in town visiting my family, Leslie and I would drop by A&A for some of their delicious, fragrant gingerbread men. As Annette Feather recalled, “Nobody could bake gingerbread men like they could. My daughter knew she had done something extra special when I would bring them home to her.”

Larry Friedman said that when he was at UGA in the mid-’70s, A&A’s gingerbread “was my weakness. Every Friday, following my last class, I would stop in for some and tote them up the hill to Russell Hall.”

And Sis Budd Bettress recalled that, as a child, “I loved the gingerbread men — had to immediately bite off a leg, so they wouldn’t run away!”

Many young girls in Athens received doll cakes from A&A Bakery for their birthdays. (Cami Fowler)

A&A also was the local go-to spot for those needing cakes for birthdays. Many a little girl in Athens was feted with A&A’s legendary doll cakes, which featured a real doll in the middle, with the cake and icing shaped and decorated to look like a hoop-skirted ball gown. Helen Barrett Penter thinks they were called Jenni Doll cakes. All the girls in her family got them. Cami Fowler got one for her birthday in 1978. “I have remembered it all this time,” she said. Added Peggy Thrasher Law, who also got a doll cake: “It is such a sweet memory!”

It wasn’t just little girls who got A&A birthday cakes, though. Linda Melton Jones remembers that when she was celebrating her 21st birthday at GiGi’s, an Italian restaurant in Athens, “the waitress was a friend and she called A&A Bakery for a birthday cake and then sent a taxi cab to get it.”

A lot of kids also got “number” birthday cakes from A&A, which were shaped like the numeral for the celebrant’s age, and cakes with UGA football decorations were popular with little boys. Heart-shaped cakes were made for Valentine’s Day.

A&A also did a huge business in wedding cakes for a few generations of Athens brides. Melissa Vickers, whose grandfather, Robbie Lee Stone, ran A&A, remembered him baking her own wedding cake, “decorated by my grandmother, whose icing roses were like I’ve never seen before or since.”

A&A baked the cake celebrating the 150th anniversary of the UGA Alumni Society (Georgia Alumni Record)

The bakery also did special occasion cakes, such as the five-tiered masterpiece (complete with the famous arch on top) that they baked for the UGA Alumni Society’s 150th birthday in 1984. “My Dad and I worked on that,” Lee Catoe recalled.

Added Vickers: “That UGA birthday cake was a feat of engineering. I remember Sonny (Papa’s son-in-law) sweating bullets about it. That much cake weighs a ton, so there had to be structural supports embedded in all the lower layers. Just trying to get it delivered was a nightmare. I don’t remember if they finished putting it together on-site or not. I’m guessing at least the candles were added.”

And Vickers, who helped make gingerbread men during the summer and on Christmas break when she was growing up, recalled that her grandfather “made cakes that appeared in one of Kenny Rogers’ ‘Gambler’ movies. … There’s a scene that a cake gets thrown at somebody or somebody falls into it. A&A had to make three absolutely identical cakes for multiple shots and retakes!”

Besides cakes, A&A was known for its chocolate and lemon chess pies, Boston cream pies, cheese Danish, frosted cake squares, chocolate eclairs, French coconut pies, sweet potato pies, honey buns, German chocolate bars, Chinese drops (like a wedding cookie), fudgies (similar to brownie bites), red and green sugar holiday cookies (the red were Santas and the green were Christmas trees), lady fingers, cream horns, petits fours and long johns (a long doughnut topped with caramel or cake icing).

Vanessa Briscoe Hay, of the well-known Athens band Pylon, said she “loved the Hello Dolly bars and gingerbread men.” (The former were caramelized bars containing graham cracker, pecans, chocolate morsels and flaked coconut.)

When Kathy Hardeman was a student teacher, she took a class on a field trip to A&A. “We saw them make lady fingers,” she said. “Tons of butter went into each one!”

Ironically, a notable feature of A&A was a large set of grocery scales up front, where customers frequently weighed themselves before loading up. Ken O’Barr, whose father worked at A&A, recalled one time when he was about 5 years old, “I went in with my mom and we took turns getting on the stand-up grocery scale to weigh ourselves. My mom weighed 100 pounds. When that scale went all the way to 100, I absolutely freaked out and ran all over the store telling everyone, “My mom weighs 100 pounds!” because I thought that was outrageous. The customers got a good laugh.”

The downtown bakery wasn’t just about sweets, either. “The main thing I remember about A&A,” Suzanne Carter said, “was salt-rising bread. My grandmother and our entire family absolutely loved it. It made delicious toast with butter and jam — the perfect combination of slightly salty bread with the sweetness of the jelly.” Several other people also mentioned the salt-rising bread.

In addition, A&A made the extra-large buns for the huge Mother Burger at Herbie’s, an all-night Athens restaurant.

The scent of Benson’s Bakery making its sandwich loaves used to fill downtown Athens. (Benson’s Bakery)

A&A owner Stone had gotten his start at age 10 as a delivery boy on a horse-drawn wagon for Benson’s, where he eventually became vice president and bread foreman. After he bought A&A, he ran it for four decades until he had a stroke and had to retire in 1981, when his daughter and son-in-law, Sonny and Priscilla Stone Catoe, took it over.

Vickers said her grandfather, whom she called Papa, “managed to keep the bakery up and running even during sugar rationing days during WWII. Not sure how he managed, but he was smart enough and creative enough to work around any rationing limitations.”

And, she remembered, “Papa used to love to go visit other bakeries when he’d go out of town. I went with him on a few of those visits. He’d sample the bread and chat with the owners. He could identify what was in the bread — and what was lacking.”

Her cousin, Debra Stone Storey Davis, added that their grandfather “was always looking for any improvements he could make to his doughnuts.”

Vickers’ favorites were A&A’s doughnuts (“kinda like Krispy Kremes, but those pale in comparison”) and the brownies. But, she said, “I also loved to get the cake scraps that the icers would trim off the edges and off the top to create flat surfaces. I’d get those and add my own squirts of icing from the tubes they used to decorate with.”

Everyone pitched in at the family business. “I learned to make icing roses for cakes as a child, sitting on a tall stool next to my grandmother,” Debra Davis recalled.

Closer to where I grew up, in Athens’ Five Points district, another bakery, Stone’s Ideal, was run by Herschel Stone, brother of A&A’s Robbie Lee Stone.

Stone’s Ideal Bakery was located in the house at left in its later years, but before that was where Avid Bookshop now is located.

Betz Lowery Tillitski remembers her favorites there were lady locks (pastry shells filled with cream filling, also known as cream horns), while her sister preferred their chocolate bonbons.

Several others agreed with her. Nita Woods Walls Norton thought Stone’s had the “best cream horns ever.”

And Glenda Greenhaw, who lived one house up from the bakery on Lumpkin Street, remembered that, at Halloween, “they gave doughnuts to trick-or-treaters. Their cinnamon buns were the best I have ever had. They had raisins in them.”

Several people also mentioned the Five Points bakery’s butter crisp rolls, which Leon Galis said “were to die for. Considering how many I ate (the butter-soaked bottoms first), it’s a wonder I’m still alive.”

Stone’s closed around the end of 1964, but, Tillitski said, “I never forgot that tiny, warm and inviting shop.”

When Stone’s closed, my brothers and I were very sad, but then some signs went up in the window announcing a grand opening for a new bakery. We talked Mom into sending me to get a treat for dessert. When I got there, the door was locked, so I knocked, and someone who looked like a sleepy college student answered. He asked me what I wanted. I told him I was there for the bakery. He smirked and said, “That was a joke.” It had turned into a student apartment. I wasn’t amused.

A few years later, Beechwood Bakery opened in the Athens shopping center of the same name. It also was known for its cream horns, but my main memory of it is from my freshman year at UGA, when I was delivering the local morning paper in the adjacent neighborhood. I had a flat tire and didn’t have a jack, so I hiked back to the bakery, which was the only place open at that early hour. They let me call Dad for help.

I always thought of that, years later, when Dunkin ran TV ads about its employees rising before the sun, with the tag line “Time to make the doughnuts!”

Walter Muendlein ran the much loved Black Forest Bakery in Athens. (Ursula Tolbert)

After I had graduated from UGA, I started dating Leslie, who still had a couple of quarters to go, so I spent a lot of time in Athens, even though I lived and worked in Atlanta. A couple of blocks from Leslie’s apartment, I spotted a new German bakery called Black Forest that had opened in a former gas station in the Normaltown area, across the street from the U.S. Navy Supply Corps School (now UGA’s health sciences campus). I remember us going there — the first time I ever had pralines!

But what the bakery really was known for was the cake that shared its name, as well as its apple fritters, apricot coffee cake, cheese Danish, cookies with red and green sprinkles on the edge, elephant ears and cinnamon sugar doughnuts on Saturday mornings. The latter was a particular favorite of Jack Bauerle, now UGA’s retired swimming coach.

And, recalled Nancy Bunker Bowen, “at Christmas, Black Forest made stollen just like my grandmother’s.” Similarly, Amy Green said that when Aldi gets its German specialties in for the holidays, her mind “wanders back” to Black Forest Bakery.

T. Patton Biddle, who used to stop by the shop while walking to work, was charmed by the family’s German accents. “I always left there with a warm feeling in my heart and another in my belly.”

Ingrid Muendlein Moody, daughter of Walter Muendlein, who ran Black Forest, thinks it was the best bakery in town. But, she added, “I’m not going to lie. My dad made a yellow cake, and A&A made a white cake.” She preferred latter, “because it was so sweet.”

Black Forest holds a special place in Ursula Muendlein Tolbert’s heart, too. She is Walter’s middle daughter and, she said, “I was by his side, helping run the bakery until I graduated from UGA in 1992.” She added: “It’s impressive that my dad, who turned 90 in March, still enjoys baking at home occasionally.”

Black Forest eventually moved just a few doors down the street and was in business there until the early 2000s, when it was replaced by another bakery called Ike and Jane’s (also gone now).

Many Atlantans have fond memories of the Rich’s Bakeshop and its coconut cake. (Charlotte B. Teagle/AJC)

Once Leslie and I had married and settled in Decatur, we frequented the bakery in the nearby Rich’s department store at the old North DeKalb Mall, for birthday cakes and the like. Recalled our friend Mark Gunter: “They had the best chocolate-covered doughnuts and chocolate-covered, cream-filled eclairs. And their German chocolate cakes, too. And their coconut cake!” After Rich’s closed in 2005, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution responded to reader requests by publishing the recipe for that coconut cake.

Rodney Owen said he thought the Rich’s shops “were the best bakery in Atlanta during the 1970s.”

Among the baked delights available from Alon’s are (clockwise from top) a chocolate croissant, a classic croissant, a cheese Danish and a kouign-amann. (Bill King)

Sometimes, for lunch, I’d go by Le Gourmet bakery in the Peachtree Battle shopping center, because they had great sandwiches. I remember one day, in the early 1990s, I stood in line there behind pitcher Tom Glavine of the Braves, then one of the biggest stars in baseball. I was impressed that, while he was making up his mind, he allowed other customers to go in front of him.

For a few years in the late 1990s and early 2000s, there was a Cookies & Company Cafe in downtown Athens, known for its soft cinnamon toast cookies and its blueberry muffins. The kids and I sometimes patronized it on trips to see my parents.

Southern Sweets’ old fashion chocolate cake is vegan; the frosting is made with a nondairy whipped topping. (Bill King)

About 15 years ago, we discovered Southern Sweets, which is located in a warehouse district near Decatur. That bakery’s old fashion chocolate cake (which actually turns out to be vegan!) has graced quite a few family birthday celebrations, and its cinnamon-spiced rustic apple pie, made with Granny Smiths, is sublime. They make a great grilled cheese sandwich, too.

Also, Leslie and our daughter Olivia are longtime fans of Alon’s in Atlanta’s Morningside area. When Olivia recently was visiting from North Carolina, they stopped by Alon’s and brought home a bag full of treats, including croissants, shokolina cake (a brownie topped with chocolate mousse and a disc of dark chocolate, dark and milk chocolate cream dollops and hazelnut chocolate crumble), a tiramisu torte and a kouign-amann (a sweet pastry made with multiple layers of laminated dough).

Various types of bread, including the French country loaf (seen here) are the specialty at Independent Baking Co. in Athens. (Bill King)

And on a recent visit to my hometown, I stopped by Independent Baking Co. in Five Points, known primarily for its breads and pastries. The bakery uses all organic flours for its breads, and it mills much of its own flour in-house using two stone mills. I brought back several varieties of bread, including a fantastic French country loaf that was especially good toasted.

Independent Baking Co., known for its breads, is located in Athens’ Five Points area. (Bill King)

Meanwhile, back around the holidays, Leslie had ordered some chocolate chunk cookies for a visit by our son Bill and his family. Our granddaughter Nora wasn’t yet 3 years old at the time, and we gave her half of one of the treats. It was her very first chocolate cookie (mostly, she’d had vanilla wafers). She was eating it when Jenny, her mom, said to her, “You’re eating your cookie!” Nora corrected her: “Chocolate cookie.”

I think next time they visit us, we’re going to have to go to a bakery and let Nora make some sweet childhood memories of her own.

Bill King

Thanks to all my friends who shared their bakery memories, plus all those folks on social media. Also, a special thank-you to Justin Kau of the Athens Regional Library Heritage Room, Jason Hasty of Hargrett Library and Richard M. Wiles of Branch Properties for their research assistance.

On the Southern Music Beat

From Memphis to Macon, Nashville to Athens, Atlanta to Tuskegee

As many of you know, I spent a good portion of my career covering entertainment, and during that time I was fortunate enough to interview many talented performers, including three Beatles (George, Paul and Ringo), a bunch of movie and TV stars and just about a generation’s worth of the top performers in various popular music genres.

I have told many of the Beatles-related stories in Beatlefan magazine through the years.

But I have a lot of other tales from my years on the entertainment beat. Some of the stories about Southern music stars I interviewed (ranging from rock and new wave to r&b, country, gospel, and some who defy categorization) will show up in a book I’m writing that should be out later this year.

The subjects will include such names as Elvis, the Allman Brothers, Charlie Daniels, R.E.M., the B-52’s, Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, Roy Orbison, Jimmy Buffett, Kenny Rogers, Doug Clark and the Hot Nuts, the Swingin’ Medallions, Joe South, the Tams, the Commodores, James Brown, Isaac Hayes, Lionel Richie, B.B. King, Dolly Parton, Larry Gatlin, Tammy Wynette, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Chet Atkins, Kris Kristofferson, Tanya Tucker, the Oak Ridge Boys, Delbert McClinton, Randall Bramblett, Amy Grant, the Brains and many more.

The Beatles even make a few cameo appearances in it, too!

Anyone interested in receiving word when it’s ready and available for order can email me at goodypress@mindspring.com. Put “BOOK” in the subject line.

Bill King

Pretty Vacant: The Night I Covered the Sex Pistols’ U.S. Debut in Atlanta

Johnny Rotten of The Sex Pistols during their concert at the Great Southeast Music Hall on January 5, 1978. (Louie Favorite/Atlanta Journal Constitution)

You don’t often get the opportunity to be a part of rock ’n’ roll history, but I did just that 45 years ago tonight, on Jan. 5, 1978.

That was the evening that the Sex Pistols, the much-hyped British shooting star of the then-nascent punk rock movement, made their U.S. debut at the Great Southeast Music Hall in Atlanta.

Having made a media sensation back home cursing on television and sneering at the queen in their best-known song, the band was known primarily for being deliberately provocative, and for such antics as spitting on audience members.

The best-known Pistols were spike-haired lead singer Johnny Rotten (nee John Lydon) and skeletal bassist Sid Vicious (who, not surprisingly, would suffer a fatal overdose a little more than a year after that Atlanta show).

They arrived in the ATL as a bona fide media sensation, and a host of local and national broadcast and print reporters were on hand to chronicle the event. My story about the concert ran on the front page of The Atlanta Constitution the next morning. I also covered the show for Billboard, the Chicago Daily News (which ceased publication two months later) and one of the London papers, whose name escapes me.

The Sex Pistols’ album, which I picked as the worst of 1977.

Leading up to that night, I had picked the Pistols’ album, “Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols,” as the worst of 1977 in my Weekend Music Awards, published a couple of weeks earlier in the Saturday Journal-Constitution combo.

My worst-album nod for the Pistols drew the attention of Robert Christgau, pop music critic of the Village Voice in New York City, who called me up to question my musical taste.

In his report on the Atlanta show for the Voice, Christgau cited me as part of the “imperiously ignorant media” on hand for the Pistols’ debut. (A year later, I named the Pistols’ Atlanta show as the worst concert of the year in my 1978 awards column, but I didn’t hear from Christgau.)

My wife Leslie accompanied me to the show, and she remembers it as a rather “weird” scene as we stood in line on a very chilly night. The Music Hall was located in a strip shopping center called Broadview Plaza (now Lindbergh Plaza) that was dominated by a Winn-Dixie grocery store. The crowd lined up along the storefronts included a few punks (who immediately drew the interest of the TV crews), but largely consisted of typical Atlanta clubgoers, in attendance because they were curious about the band, and the Pistols opening their tour in Atlanta seemed to be a big deal.

I found out years later, that, before the show, the Pistols had been taken to the nearby Victoria Station restaurant for dinner, where Music Hall bartender Doreen Cochran recalled them occupying a back room.

Atlantan Lynn Stroud was along for that dinner and later sent me a brief account. She and her girlfriend Paula had been hanging out with Doreen at the Music Hall and a Warner Bros. Records rep asked them to accompany the band to dinner.

Sid Vicious (left) and Steve Jones of the Sex Pistols before their concert in Atlanta. (Louie Favorite/AJC)

“Of course, we were up for the adventure,” she said, “since we were curious about this group and all the hype they were causing by coming to the U.S. What a trip that night was! I have told the story numerous times of how, when we were all walking into the Victoria Station restaurant, when the door opened there was a couple with their young daughter with them trying to exit the restaurant, and they literally dropped backwards and the dad put his arm out in front of their daughter (in a protective response) upon the sight of this motley crew that was coming toward them. …

“We did have a private room. The entire time, Sid acted like a child, throwing mashed potatoes around and being unruly. He had some real issues, as we all know. Johnny was a completely different person off-stage and off-camera while we were there. He was quite polite and normal, but when we [returned to] the Music Hall …  and he saw all the reporters and news cameras, of course, he turned on his act and spat at the camera.”

Stroud ended up taking guitarist Steve Jones and drummer Paul Cook, the “normal” members of the band, out to an Atlanta club after the show and played pool with Jones, while a friend of hers accompanied Vicious back to the band’s hotel, where the punk rocker destroyed the room (which the record company folks had locked him into).

The show itself was quite an event. The local group Cruise-O-Matic, a mostly-oldies band with attitude that played what member Jonny Hibbert describes as “britpop, hick pop, and early r&b,” did an opening set before the Pistols came on. In his Village Voice report, Christgau dubbed them “the Shitheads.”

Hibbert, who got to interact with the Pistols backstage, remembers “how insane and over-hyped it all was, probably because they had Sex and Pistols in their name.”

Drummer Paul Cook was one of the two “normal” Pistols. (Louie Favorite/AJC)

He thought Jones and Cook were “great guys,” and that “Sid was already on his way out. How he played that gig is a testament to his life-force. I was very sorry to see his predictable demise.”

Hibbert also noted that, “although our band made light of [the Pistols’] pose, which aggravated the punk poseurs of our town, we sounded great!”

One of the things Cruise-O-Matic did that aggravated the punks was bring on Atlanta musical satirist Darryl Rhoades of Hahavishnu Orchestra fame.

Christgau, who didn’t know anything about Rhoades, described him as “an exceptionally hirsute person wearing a ‘Kill Me’ T-shirt and carrying a large papier-mâché safety pin.”

“I was brought up to sing ‘Boot in Your Face,’ a song that I had performed in the Hahavishnu Orchestra satirizing the Ramones,” Rhoades recalled recently, “but it seemed apropos for that night.”

He was not impressed by the Pistols, who were assembled by British manager Malcolm McLaren to promote his London clothing store, known as Sex.

The Sex Pistols onstage at the Great Southeast Music Hall. (Louie Favorite/AJC)

“The guitarist, Steve Jones, was decent, as was their drummer, Paul Cook, but Sid was zombie before it was cool and Lydon didn’t move me,” Rhoades said. “I wasn’t moved, but the kids dug ’em. I saw them then as I do now, just another version of the Monkees. It felt like a manufactured product. Anger on plastic.”

Without his approval, a portion of Rhoades’ performance that night later was included in the punk-rock documentary film “D.O.A.: A Right of Passage.” Finally, after objecting to the clip being included in a Blu-ray release of the film, Rhoades received a payment about three years ago.

“I also ended up in the National Examiner,” Rhoades said. The tabloid ran a picture of him “wearing a shirt that I sprayed ‘Kill Me’ on and the caption under the picture said, ‘Punk bearing message on shirt that most true music fans would like to fulfill.’ Now, that I’m proud of.”

As for the Pistols’ performance, you can read my assessment in my original report, reprinted below, but basically I thought it mostly was talentless noise, though the band was not quite as terrible as I had expected. I described them as “musically mediocre,” and Christgau took that as some sort of triumph for the Pistols, winding up his piece by saying: “Not everyone hoping to be shown the light left with eyes shining, but there is universal agreement that the Pistols expanded their core of fans; even Bill King, apparently nervous enough to essay a serious hatchet job, allowed as how they were mediocre.”

The logic of that comment escaped me then and now, but I was amused that the self-dubbed “dean of American rock critics” mentioned me twice in his report, which was one more mention than Sid Vicious got.

I do recall that, at one point, I left my seat during the Pistols’ performance and retreated to the lobby, where legendary Atlanta concert promoter Alex Cooley, who was a part-owner of the venue, was sitting. I asked Alex what he thought of the Pistols, and he just shook his head, expressing bewilderment that some people considered this music.

Nine days later, the Sex Pistols broke up, following the end of their brief U.S. tour in San Francisco.

Johnny Rotten singing to the crowd during the Sex Pistols’ first American concert, in Atlanta. (Louie Favorite/AJC)

Here’s how I summed up the band’s time in Atlanta on the front page of the Constitution …

Yes, there actually are people in Atlanta willing to stick safety pins through their cheeks.

True, there weren’t many of them, but safety pins and other trappings of punk rock were in evidence at the Great Southeast Music Hall Thursday night, when the Sex Pistols, Britain’s most notorious punk band, made its American debut.

For the most part, though, the crowd that witnessed the Pistols’ show looked pretty much like the average Atlanta concert crowd. Only a handful of the “faithful” went the full punk route, adorning themselves with torn clothing, chains, leather jackets and the spiky punk hairdo popularized by the lead singer of the Sex Pistols, Johnny Rotten.

The crowd seemed to be made up more of curiosity seekers than true Sex Pistols fans. “I’d say about 99.4 percent of them are just curious,” said local promoter Alex Cooley, a part-owner of the Music Hall. “There are a few scene makers here with safety pins through their nipples and things like that, but most of them just want to see what it’s all about. It’s an older crowd, mostly.”

Promoter Alex Cooley, before the start of the Sex Pistols’ show at the Great Southeast Music Hall. (Louie Favorite/AJC)

One group of young men sitting near the stage confessed that they were not real fans of the Sex Pistols. “We’re just general audience,” one of them said. They did say, though, that they were familiar with the group’s album, “Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols.”

“It’s all right,” one of them said. “It was better than I expected.”

Another member of the crowd said that he liked some of the group’s songs, “but some of it is just noise to me.”

One of the “punks” in attendance, a sullen young man who said his name was Karl Korrupt, said, however, that he had come to see the Sex Pistols “because I’m a fan, and for the violence, man.” Asked if he had put a safety pin through his cheek in honor of the group’s arrival in Atlanta, he sneered and said, “Man, it’s been in there about six months.”

The Pistols were not as awful as I expected, but were musically mediore. (Louie Favorite/AJC)

Fans or not, the audience awaited the group with anticipation. “The show might not be incredible, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Atlantan Chuck Cooper.

For something that had grown into a full-blown international media event, the Pistols’ show proved to be somewhat anti-climactic.

But, while the punk rock band was not as good as its fans would have you believe, it was not all that terrible, either.

It’s just that, after all of the media hype that preceded their appearance here, it was a bit of a letdown to see just how musically mediocre Rotten, Sid Vicious, Steve Jones and Paul Cook actually were.

The 500-seat capacity Music Hall was packed to overflowing for the show, with people even sitting in the aisles. Many more were turned away.

The line of people waiting to get into the show started in front of the Music Hall in Broadview Plaza at about 4 p.m. Thursday afternoon — five hours before the concert began.

Sex Pistols front man Johnny Rotten. (Louie Favorite/AJC)

The event was well-covered by the media, with some 40 television and print reporters in attendance, including representatives from several British newspapers. The television cameras were especially in evidence as they sought to film the more picturesque members of the crowd — such as a pair of lavishly made-up drag queens.

The band finally took the stage for its 45-minute show at about 10:30 p.m., as Rotten greeted the Atlanta audience by saying, “My name’s John, and this is the Sex Pistols.”

The crowd rose to its feet with the opening strains of the band’s most famous song, “God Save the Queen,” and remained standing for the rest of the show. However, those closest to the stage seemed to be more into the group’s performance, jumping up and down and shaking their fists, with those in the back standing mainly so they could see the wild-eyed Rotten dancing about the stage.

The show was repetitious, but, all in all, most people seemed to get a kick out of it.

“That was great — I got kissed and spat on and all kinds of things,” summed up a young lady, who spent the evening in front of the stage.