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A Punkhouse in the Deep South: The Oral History of 309
Radical subcultures in an unlikely place
Told in personal interviews, this is the collective story of a punk community in an unlikely town and region, a hub of radical counterculture that drew artists and musicians from throughout the conservative South and earned national renown.
The house at 309 6th Avenue has long been a crossroads for punk rock, activism, veganism, and queer culture in Pensacola, a quiet Gulf Coast city at the border of Florida and Alabama. In this book, residents of 309 narrate the colorful and often comical details of communal life in the crowded and dilapidated house over its 30-year existence. Terry Johnson, Ryan “Rymodee” Modee, Gloria Diaz, Skott Cowgill, and others tell of playing in bands including This Bike Is a Pipe Bomb, operating local businesses such as End of the Line Cafe, forming feminist support groups, and creating zines and art.
Each voice adds to the picture of a lively community that worked together to provide for their own needs while making a positive, lasting impact on their surrounding area. Together, these participants show that punk is more than music and teenage rebellion. It is about alternatives to standard narratives of living, acceptance for the marginalized in a rapidly changing world, and building a sense of family from the ground up.
Including photos by Cynthia Connolly and Mike Brodie, A Punkhouse in the Deep South illuminates many individual lives and creative endeavors that found a home and thrived in one of the oldest continuously inhabited punkhouses in the United States.
Told in personal interviews, this is the collective story of a punk community in an unlikely town and region, a hub of radical counterculture that drew artists and musicians from throughout the conservative South and earned national renown.
The house at 309 6th Avenue has long been a crossroads for punk rock, activism, veganism, and queer culture in Pensacola, a quiet Gulf Coast city at the border of Florida and Alabama. In this book, residents of 309 narrate the colorful and often comical details of communal life in the crowded and dilapidated house over its 30-year existence. Terry Johnson, Ryan “Rymodee” Modee, Gloria Diaz, Skott Cowgill, and others tell of playing in bands including This Bike Is a Pipe Bomb, operating local businesses such as End of the Line Cafe, forming feminist support groups, and creating zines and art.
Each voice adds to the picture of a lively community that worked together to provide for their own needs while making a positive, lasting impact on their surrounding area. Together, these participants show that punk is more than music and teenage rebellion. It is about alternatives to standard narratives of living, acceptance for the marginalized in a rapidly changing world, and building a sense of family from the ground up.
Including photos by Cynthia Connolly and Mike Brodie, A Punkhouse in the Deep South illuminates many individual lives and creative endeavors that found a home and thrived in one of the oldest continuously inhabited punkhouses in the United States.
152 pages, Kindle Edition
Published September 20, 2021
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About the author
Aaron Cometbus
47 books165 followersAaron Elliott, better known as Aaron Cometbus, is a drummer, lyricist, self-described "punk anthropologist" and author of Cometbus, a seminal punk rock zine.
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Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
October 20, 2021
I'm not just giving this 5 stars because one of my friends is the co-editor (Scott Satterwhite -- and I have also had the pleasure of meeting Aaron Cometbus 3 times; he's very kind and I hope I see him more), I'm giving it 5 stars because it's a trailblazing read in a not-so-often-thoroughly-discussed topic: the DIY world, the ethos of punk, and the roots of solidarity in the Deep South among freedom fighters for liberation, even in the smallest of places (Pensacola, Fla).
My only criticism of this book? It isn't longer. This was one of those books where I sat down and read it in 2-3 days; even at 150 pages, it was a fast read. I wanted to know more. I wanted to see more. Having been inside the 309 house myself, only after the renovations, the images painted for me by the interviewees of what the house looked like 25 years ago, what it looked like at its peak, and even in times of decline, put me right in the living room, or in the kitchen, or on the steps, or the one bathroom downstairs with the beautiful clawfoot tub.
I have only ever known the late-stage-capitalism/late-stage Afghanistan war Pensacola; I didn't witness my friends be slowly desensitized or burned out by the war; my friends and I grew up desensitized and burned out by the war. This book, through its captivating interviews with past residents and the one current resident (many of whom I'm fortunate enough to consider friends and comrades), shines a light on the effects of the illegal Afghanistan and Iraq Wars and its effects on small town activist and organizers, on how the left as a whole began to feel hopeless and how even in times of hopelessness, victory of the people can still be fought for.
Reading about the vegan potluck dinners, everybody learning how to cook in the communal kitchen space, zine-making parties, group bike rides, poetry nights, punk shows, an anarchist soccer league -- this sounds incredibly fun, even if I am a Marxist, not an anarchist ;) -- and how this all grew to become a left-wing bookstore, 2 very successful vegan cafes in Pensacola, one of which became a legendary punk rock/DIY musician venue, some major underground punk bands (This Bike is a Pipe Bomb was born out of 309), and bonds unbroken by those who who lived in 309 21 years ago, who still come to protests today (this shows more of a "we still have work to do" view, but I digress), really make this book something special.
One thing I really like about this book is that the interviewees don't hold any punches -- there are cheers and praise of 309, but there is criticism, critiques, sometimes a call out here and there -- there is skepticism of 309 going from a legendary punk house to its current status as a Pensacola punk museum, even from former residents. Many of them say the same thing though: "Maybe I'm wrong." Maybe they are and maybe they aren't. But this isn't a book where everyone is a "yes" person; this is a book of contradiction and complex history (that's bit redundant, isn't it?), where everyone all says the same thing -- that would make it a boring read; 150 pages of the same thing. This isn't that, though. Some people interviewed have completely moved on from 309 and its current status as a Pensacola landmark, and they are okay with that, and we should be okay with that, because even through even the most intense doubts of those interviewed here, the interviews end with an admiration for what this punkhouse was and is.
My personal opinion? I like 309 becoming a landmark because it is a small but noble crusade against the gentrification that plagues downtown Pensacola. Just around the corner from 309, old homes have been bulldozed to build incredibly ugly condos that none of us can afford. It's creeping in; I know maybe 2 or 3 people who can afford to live downtown now, and I use "afford" as loosely as I can. Maybe this decision to save 309 will spark a larger battle against the terrors of gentrification and the erasure of working class solidarity, be it through the punk culture, or any other group fighting the evils of capitalism.
My only criticism of this book? It isn't longer. This was one of those books where I sat down and read it in 2-3 days; even at 150 pages, it was a fast read. I wanted to know more. I wanted to see more. Having been inside the 309 house myself, only after the renovations, the images painted for me by the interviewees of what the house looked like 25 years ago, what it looked like at its peak, and even in times of decline, put me right in the living room, or in the kitchen, or on the steps, or the one bathroom downstairs with the beautiful clawfoot tub.
I have only ever known the late-stage-capitalism/late-stage Afghanistan war Pensacola; I didn't witness my friends be slowly desensitized or burned out by the war; my friends and I grew up desensitized and burned out by the war. This book, through its captivating interviews with past residents and the one current resident (many of whom I'm fortunate enough to consider friends and comrades), shines a light on the effects of the illegal Afghanistan and Iraq Wars and its effects on small town activist and organizers, on how the left as a whole began to feel hopeless and how even in times of hopelessness, victory of the people can still be fought for.
Reading about the vegan potluck dinners, everybody learning how to cook in the communal kitchen space, zine-making parties, group bike rides, poetry nights, punk shows, an anarchist soccer league -- this sounds incredibly fun, even if I am a Marxist, not an anarchist ;) -- and how this all grew to become a left-wing bookstore, 2 very successful vegan cafes in Pensacola, one of which became a legendary punk rock/DIY musician venue, some major underground punk bands (This Bike is a Pipe Bomb was born out of 309), and bonds unbroken by those who who lived in 309 21 years ago, who still come to protests today (this shows more of a "we still have work to do" view, but I digress), really make this book something special.
One thing I really like about this book is that the interviewees don't hold any punches -- there are cheers and praise of 309, but there is criticism, critiques, sometimes a call out here and there -- there is skepticism of 309 going from a legendary punk house to its current status as a Pensacola punk museum, even from former residents. Many of them say the same thing though: "Maybe I'm wrong." Maybe they are and maybe they aren't. But this isn't a book where everyone is a "yes" person; this is a book of contradiction and complex history (that's bit redundant, isn't it?), where everyone all says the same thing -- that would make it a boring read; 150 pages of the same thing. This isn't that, though. Some people interviewed have completely moved on from 309 and its current status as a Pensacola landmark, and they are okay with that, and we should be okay with that, because even through even the most intense doubts of those interviewed here, the interviews end with an admiration for what this punkhouse was and is.
My personal opinion? I like 309 becoming a landmark because it is a small but noble crusade against the gentrification that plagues downtown Pensacola. Just around the corner from 309, old homes have been bulldozed to build incredibly ugly condos that none of us can afford. It's creeping in; I know maybe 2 or 3 people who can afford to live downtown now, and I use "afford" as loosely as I can. Maybe this decision to save 309 will spark a larger battle against the terrors of gentrification and the erasure of working class solidarity, be it through the punk culture, or any other group fighting the evils of capitalism.
January 1, 2022
The lives of the inhabitants of the 309 punkhouse are brought to life in this collection of interviews, which are alternatingly insightful, funny, mundane, and biting but always authentic and even hopeful. This slim book chronicles the largely overlooked radical counterculture of a Southern town as punks forged community in a sweltering climate.
January 24, 2022
I picked this up when the authors traveled through town and gave a talk on it at the record store here. I enjoyed learning more about the punk scene in Pensacola after hearing some of their stories, different perspectives on what 309 and punk in general was to the people interviewed, about the music and activism and artistic expression happening in the house, and the differing views on what should happen going forward with it. This will probably be a more meaningful read to the people coming up in that area during the time discussed, but I still got a sense of nostalgia while reading about local shows, pop up community gatherings, and zine writing from a deep South perspective. I'm interested to see what the house evolves into as an artist residency, recording studio, and museum.
March 29, 2023
This was the quickest read ever! Just a quick interview if a few folks working on this project and telling stories about their past living in the same house. I had no idea that “punkhouses” were even a thing and it was so fun to learn about the activism that took place in this punk community. The stories were honest and real and it was a very interesting and engaging interview read and not too overwhelming to learn about everyone/this community at all. Excellent job to the students!
October 12, 2024
This is a fantastic oral history; it does a great job of not only of telling the story of 309, but also of presenting a decent perspective on punk, and what being punk means to people.
October 1, 2024
I recently reconnected with my old punk friends from New Orleans. We had all been in a post-punk band back in the early 1990s. I believe I was 17 when we formed the band. We got to talking about the New Orleans punk scene and Skott Cowgill’s name came up. He was from Pensacola, but his bands Headless Marines and later Woodenhorse came to play in New Orleans a lot. This book came up and I decided to get it from the library. Other than Skott, I also knew of Aaron Cometbus, being a regular reader of the Cometbus zine over the years. I’m not exactly sure why Aaron and Scott Satterwhite are credited as authors since the book is a collection of interviews that were conducted as part of an oral history project by a class at the University of West Florida. I suppose they wrote the Introduction and both Aaron and Scott are interviewed in the book. I never spent any time in Pensacola, so I didn’t have any direct connection with the 309 house, but I had friends who lived in a punkhouse of sorts, and I lived with my fair share of roommates with at least one of them active in the punk scene. The book is a quick read since it’s a series of interviews. The interviews do seem to be organized in a chronological order according to the time in which various inhabitants lived in the house. The time frame seems to be around the late 90s through the 2000s. By that point in my life, I was in grad school working on my Ph.D. and becoming a university professor. Interestingly, two of the former residents of 309 (and current board members of the museum—the house is becoming a museum of the Pensacola punk subculture) are now university professors. The thing I found most interesting across all of the interviews is the near universal transition that all the former residents of 309 made to their subsequent lives, usually in pursuit of careers and sometimes families. Punks grow up, too, it seems. Reconnecting with my punk friends from back in the day recently also reflected this as we related what we’d been up to in the intervening 30 years. Living in a punkhouse gets old. And too often the punk subculture glorifies poverty. Eventually people get tired of that day to day. The 309 house seemed to be more politically active than the scene I was in, which mostly revolved around music. But I remember my roommate going through this period of nightly wheatpasting, stickering, and other acts of political graffiti. That same friend now spends all his time focused on his career and his family and children. My favorite interview in the book is with Donald Yeo. He has the most punk attitude of all the interviewees and seems the most critically reflective of his time at 309, the punk scene, and the DIY-ethos. The irony is the punk scene, despite its anti-authoritarian stance, often develops a strong normative pressure to conform to particular ways of thinking and being. I don’t think that’s too surprising since that seems to be a familiar consequence of leftist politics. If I had to complain about the layout of the book, I feel like the interviewers should have been identified for each interview they conducted. They are only credited in an acknowledgements page at the end, so you don’t know who conducted which interview. Given that the interviews include a fair degree of their voices since they ask many follow-up questions, that seems like an oversight.
July 29, 2023
It is remarkable how long you can live in a city and still learn new things about it.
November 30, 2023
i didn’t read it but slay satterwhite
November 26, 2024
This book was fantastic! I’ve lived in punk houses before and this really spoke to my experience and I learned so much about 309 and Pensacola!
February 10, 2024
An interesting collection of interviews from people who lived at various times in a long-running punk house in Pensacola Florida. It's pretty inspiring and a reminder of what the DIY attitudes were in those long ago days before everyone carried the internet around in their pocket.
From what I assume reading the introduction, these are a series of interviews done by undergraduate students as part of an oral history assignment. This leads to the confusing aspect that Aaron Cometbus is listed as the primary author, but he's just one of many people interviewed in the book, and probably possibly the person with the most objective view of the 309 house, but also the person least actively involved in the house (he lived next door, and may have stayed briefly at the house on his travels, but doesn't seem like he was ever one of it's occupants). But then again I probably wouldn't have gotten the book if his name wasn't on the cover, even if I knew that there was an interview with him inside. This then opens up a question about marketing, the market, consumerism, capitalism, and all kinds of other things, but honestly I'm glad he was listed as the primary author so I did in fact notice and read this book. It might be the only 'real' published book (as opposed to 'real' self-published books), that hit upon the way that I had viewed punk 'back in the day' as a doorway to trying to do your own thing and not as some sub-culture dominated by music, fashion and a set of arbitrary rules of what is and isn't punk.
From what I assume reading the introduction, these are a series of interviews done by undergraduate students as part of an oral history assignment. This leads to the confusing aspect that Aaron Cometbus is listed as the primary author, but he's just one of many people interviewed in the book, and probably possibly the person with the most objective view of the 309 house, but also the person least actively involved in the house (he lived next door, and may have stayed briefly at the house on his travels, but doesn't seem like he was ever one of it's occupants). But then again I probably wouldn't have gotten the book if his name wasn't on the cover, even if I knew that there was an interview with him inside. This then opens up a question about marketing, the market, consumerism, capitalism, and all kinds of other things, but honestly I'm glad he was listed as the primary author so I did in fact notice and read this book. It might be the only 'real' published book (as opposed to 'real' self-published books), that hit upon the way that I had viewed punk 'back in the day' as a doorway to trying to do your own thing and not as some sub-culture dominated by music, fashion and a set of arbitrary rules of what is and isn't punk.
December 11, 2022
I picked up this book at FEST in Gainesville, Florida, after meeting some of the 309 folks at their flea market booth. I was interested in the idea of what exactly a punkhouse is, plus what kind of scene existed around this house in Florida. This book was incredibly interesting for many reasons, namely hearing the stories of DIY punks talk about how they built their scene in an unlikely town, and also how they tried to build a better community of folks who learned and took care of each other. After reading this book, that stuck with me the most -- how the heart of this house and what happened there was really about taking care of everyone in a community, based on the ethos of what it means to be punk. I expected this to be more about the music, but it wasn't, and I'm glad. I felt inspired by this book and will be thinking hard for a while about the often simple things they did to create and grow a community.
January 28, 2025
A pretty fun read of first hand accounts living in the 309 house, arguably the oldest “punk house” in the south. Since it was about my hometown scene, I thoroughly enjoyed reading the stories from people I’ve met in real life. It was a page turner for me but I think readers without the personal connection would find it to just be okay
December 9, 2021
The story of a punk community that not only existed, but thrived, in Pensacola, Florida. Told in interviews with former residents, it details the important place this occupied for the community, and the art, music, zines, protests, and gathering places it provided.
July 3, 2022
The structure where each chapter was another person telling their story hindered the narrative. It felt like we were starting from the beginning each time. A different style of presentation would have made this a stronger book
October 30, 2021
I enjoyed this collection of interviews, centered around a Pensacola punkhouse, on what community means.
Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews