Becky Barton


I knew it would happen. It did. I make a stupid declaration about not documenting punk rock anymore. Then a precious face shows up from my youthful rebellion.

Donna Rhia is a original Germs member. A Los Angeles punk band that made their history. She was their first drummer and was foundational support for the forming of the band.


Becky aka Donna Rhia is one of the first women who pulled me into punk rock. A friendly, silly, fun, ruthless gal who walked the original trail of the early Los Angeles punk scene knowing all the original punks. She was an open door and I walked in.

The things we did together were not always about punk rock. There were fun and creative alternative adventures. She was happy to be with me and I learned about being social in a crazy way and a friendship way too.

She invited me to join her at The Renaissance Pleasure Faire in Agoura. We made confetti eggs to sell at a booth, but I enjoyed walking around screaming,

“Cascarones for sale, three for a dollar.”

Dressed up in Renaissance clothing and running around with her seemed so natural and unassuming. As awkward as I was, she never was pretentious or scolding.

I am leading up to one of our best moments at the fair that day. It was not a big giant festival as they are today either. Everything was quaint and magical.

It is one of my favorite stores to tell.

Dyan Diamond and Kim Fowley were walking by us. I did not know them, but Becky did. She was so unassuming with her underground punk knowledge and carried it with her as a special shawl of wonder to me. I was happy to share that shawl too.

“Holly, I dare you to go and smash an egg on Kim’s and then Dylan’s head, then we can hide and watch behind this log.”

I took on the dare. I smashed two eggs on their heads. Colorful confetti was everywhere!

I ran back and there was Becky rolling on the ground, laughing in the leaves where I soon joined her. It is one of those jokers’ moments.

How many more times did I inspire to this type of punk humor? Oh yes, all the time.

Kim and Dyan looked like cartoon characters. Dyan with her tight leopard skin pants and Kim with smoke popping out of his head. Looking around with bulging eyes,

“Who did that, fuckers.”

This is what she taught me as she pulled me in to the world of punk rock. We were both going through changes and met for a fleeting time as she disappeared from the punk scene and where I was pulled deeper in. The curse of punk rock. No matter how I try it will not let me go.

The astounding characters I met. She is one.

On the edge, in the middle and even now from the beginning.

This is a song that we sang, like others, as we raced down the road in her car. Wasn’t it so personal then… well we were sure feeling it. I told her,

“I don’t think I will make it to 21….”

Funny how some friends show up and you find each other again and others just are gone.


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