UNFINISHED DOCUMENTARY, KINGDOMS OF THE RADIO | 1995
It’s ScherMERhorn, just like it sounds. Dutch, actually. My father always claimed that we could trace our family roots back to the people that settled New Amsterdam. I don’t know about that, though. All I can tell you is that sweet, sweet tulip money was all spent by the time I showed up.
Yea, it’s crazy, when you start telling stories about “back in the day,” it often sounds like there was only a dozen people in the City. Obviously, that wasn’t the case, but for some reason, I happened to be smack in the middle of this story. Just lucky, I guess.
I was living with a couple of friends in this tiny flat in the Mission. Karoline and I knew each other from school. She ended up playing quite the provocateur later on. I was putting myself through the nursing program by dancing in the clubs over on Broadway. I don’t remember what she was studying, business, probably. Monkey business, it turned out.
I actually got her the job over at the record company. Well, introduced her, at least. The guy that ran that mess, this guy named “Z,” used to come into the club to commiserate with his mob buddies. It’s easy to get a man’s attention when you are shaking your ass in his face for tips. Don’t get me wrong, it was a decent gig. You have to put it in context. Carol had revolutionized the club scene by going topless almost a decade previously. It was just a matter of time before we freed the kitties, if you know what I mean.
As a nurse, I was very comfortable about the human body, I mean, we are all naked underneath our clothes, right?
Román Leão 
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