DISGRACELAND - Sid Vicious: Love Kills... Even a Mother's Love?

Episode Date: February 20, 2018

It has long been believed that punk rock icon Sid Vicious died of a heroin overdose. That is true. However, new evidence suggests that his overly affectionate and increasingly dependent mum gave him a fatal hotshot in a final, maternal act of mercy. Listen to find out why.To see the full list of contributors, see the show notes at www.disgracelandpod.com.Who are the most disgraceful couples in music history? Let Jake know at 617-906-6638, [e-mail], or on socials @disgracelandpod.This episode was originally published on February 20, 2018.To listen to Disgraceland ad free and get access to a monthly exclusive episode, weekly bonus content and more, become a Disgraceland All Access member at disgracelandpod.com/membership.Sign up for our newsletter and get the inside dirt on events, merch and other awesomeness - GET THE NEWSLETTERFollow Jake and DISGRACELAND:InstagramYouTubeX (formerly Twitter) Facebook Fan GroupTikTok To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is exactly right. Double Elvis. When a group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist, they take matters into their own hands. I vowed. I will be his last target. He is not going to get away with this. He's going to get what he deserves. We always say that trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends.

Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that.

David O'Yellowo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Dennis Leary, Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things, Tana Monsu, Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Just like great shoes, great books take you places. Through unforgettable love stories and into conversations with characters you'll never forget.

I think any good romance, it gives me this feeling of like, like butterflies. I'm Danielle Robay, and this is bookmarked by Reese's Book Club from Hello Sunshine and IHeart Podcast, where we dive into the stories that shape us on the page and off. Each week I'm joined by authors, celebs, book talk stars, and more for conversations that will make you laugh, cry, and add way too many books to your TBR pile. Listen to bookmarked by Reese's Book Club on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast. Brought to you by Cotton. of our lives.

Disgrace Land is a production of Double Elvis. The stories about Sid Vicious from the Sex Pistols are hard to believe. He had a loving mom who regularly injected him with drugs. He was the bass player and the most infamous punk band in the world, yet he couldn't play bass. He stabbed a woman in her belly, left her to bleed out on the floor of the infamous Chelsea Hotel to die in front of him. and that woman was the love of his life. Sid Vicious was born John Simon Ritchie

to an out-of-work, single, hippie mom, who used her son as both a drug mule and a source of affection. As a result, Sid grew up into an insecure, attention-starved, drug-dependent punk, incapable of having normal relationships with women, and utterly inept at dealing with life's traumas. He was also a full-blown drug addict. He would inject whatever drugs you put in front of him.

Heroin, speed, coke, crushed up tranquilizers. It didn't matter. Sid would shoot it. All of it. He had no governor. No sense of enough being enough. But despite all of this, his band, the sex pistols, made great music. The music you heard at the top of the show, that wasn't great music.

That was a preset loop from my Melotron called Jazz Fox Piano MK2. I played you that loop because I can't afford the license for Le Freak by Sheek. And why would I play you that specific slice of velvet rope disco cheese could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on February 1st, 1979. And that was the day that Sid Vicious' mom bailed him out of Rikers Island Prison, kicking into motion what would become the last day of the young rock star's life. Did he overdose, commit suicide, or was it something more nefarious, like a fatal hot shot delivered from his mom?

On this episode, Jazz Fox Piano, Itty Biddy Drug Meals, Velvet Rope Cheese, Sid Vicious, and Hot Shots. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is disgraceling. The sign says you are now enticed. during Rikers Island, New York City prison complex. But it might as well say, you are going to die from dope sickness. Because that's what was going through Sid Vicious's mind as he was bust into the infamous prison.

Sentenced for violating his parole after eight foggy weeks of freedom, a court trial was hanging over his head. And from all accounts, he wasn't even sure if he was guilty or not. The charge, murdering the love of his life, Nancy Spungeon. As a new prisoner to Rikers, you're stored in a cramped holding cell with the other new arrivals. It makes no difference if you're black or white or gangster or a suit, whether you're

a dope fiend or mentally ill. You get no special treatment, not even if you're a rock star. The holding cell is stuffed with inmates and there is zero privacy. There are two long benches, but not long enough for all of the inmates to sit. The other option is the disgusting floor. A sticky mix of dirt, blood, spit, piss, cigarette ash, and feces. The smell is overwhelming. It's all of that mixed with the odor of a thousand third world nation bazaars. If you're lucky, the screws sort you out in a couple hours, and you're out of that hellhole

and off to fresh horrors, like the open dorm you'll be living in until you make bail or go to trial. This is a different kind of hell. And this is where Sid would work out his dope sickness, in open, sweating it out next to 64 other inmates. No partitions, just a cot without barriers to fend off the hustlers and the rapists. Prison is no place for the pretty. And despite the thousand-yard junkie stare, the acne and the butch haircut, Sid vicious, with his high cheekbones and lanky demeanor, was indeed pretty and famous, a tough burden to carry in Rikers

where rape is as certain as the shitty food. But being raped wasn't the worst of Sid's problems. No access to heroin was higher on the oh shit list. Sid needed to get out and fast. But that was 1979, before Sid's fall from grace. When those who knew Sid Vicious speak of his downfall. They usually point to one of two women,

his girlfriend, Nancy Spongin, or his mom, Anne Beverly. Nancy was more maternal than a girlfriend should be, and Anne was more affectionately dependent than a mother should be. His sex pistols bandmate, Johnny Rotten, said that Sid was, quote, fucked from the beginning.

Johnny was right. Sid was suspected of killing one of these women, and the other woman is suspected of killing him. But Sid loved them both, and love kills. Left to raise Sid on her own after his dad split, Anne Beverly became a registered heroin addict. She took up the habit in order to obtain free housing for her and her son from the UK's welfare system.

To make ends meet, she would deal on the side and wasn't averse to getting her young son in on the action. sticking a brick of hash down Sid's pants to sneak through customs after a trip to Abiza. And on Sid's sweet 16, she gave him a little bag of smack and a couple of needles. Johnny Rotten was right. Sid never had a chance. And if Anne Beverly's horrible maternal influence on young Sid Vicious wasn't enough, by his 20th birthday, Nancy Spungent would be bulleting down the double barrel of dependency and affection straight towards Sid, who is dead set in her crosshairs.

Nancy Spungeon was the alpha dog of 70s groupies. She was an American heat-seeking missile of a woman who kept time with members of Arrowsmith and the Ramones. Her only ambition? To live fast and fuck rock stars. Sid was Plan C. Plan B was Sex Pistols' front man Johnny Rotten, who wasn't interested. and plan A was Jerry Nolan from the New York Dolls.

So in early March of 1977, a few days after her 19th birthday, Nancy arrived in London, hot on the heels of Jerry Nolan. But Nolan, smartly, gave her the slip. Nancy wasn't one to waste an opportunity. England's newest hitmakers, the sex pistols, were making waves in the clubs and on the charts.

Nancy, rejected by Nolan and Johnny Rod. and quickly moved on to the pistol's newly minted bassist, Sid Vicious. A decision she based on his looks, his attitude, and his punk rock cred, not his talent. Sid was hired into the sex pistols for the exact same reasons, for everything but his bass chops. By any measure of musicianship, he could barely play his instrument. Nancy didn't care. He was tabloid famous and punk rock skinny. Sid and Nancy hit it off immediately.

They had a lot in common. She was needy. He was vulnerable. His rock star status aside, Sid was fragile, damaged no doubt by being brought up by a needy junkie mom who introduced him to drug culture at a super young age. That fragility remained in Sid's young adulthood when he met Nancy. Despite the caricatures they would become,

it's important to remember that the couple of people really loved one another. Sure, Sid was punk as fuck on and offstage, but given a choice, he'd rather sit around in his underwear with Nancy, eat Cheerios, get high, and watch cartoons. And Nancy, for her part, train wrecked that she was, really did care for Sid. She looked after him, making sure he didn't shoot too much dope. She minded his career the best she could, and in general couldn't stand being away from him. But both craved attention and both had a taste for violence. Violence aimed at both themselves and others.

Cutting themselves out of boredom and quick to enter into public spats physically, usually for show rather than for any real slight. And the drugs made it all the more intense. Sid and Nancy are often cast as a punk rock version of Romeo and Juliet. Star-acrossed lovers. living fast in leather, dying young, and leaving behind good-looking corpses. But were only one of Shakespeare's archetypal lovers willfully ingested poison that one time, Sid and Nancy spent years pumping themselves full of chemicals that should have killed them time and time again.

Nancy began shooting up while still in high school, and though Sid had flirted with the stuff before we met her, thanks to dear old mom, from the moment they began their relationship, to the bloodied end 19 months later. Smack was the glue, though many forces would try to pull them apart. But through it all, Nancy loved Sid, and Sid loved Nancy.

And love, love kills. There's two golden rules that any man should live by. Rule one, never mess with a country girl. You play stupid games, you get stupid prizes. And rule two, never mess with her friends either. We always say that trust your girlfriends. I'm Anna Sinfield, and in this new season of the girlfriends, Oh my God, this is the same man.

A group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist. I felt like I got hit by a truck. I thought, how could this happen to me? The cops didn't seem to care, so they take matters into their own hands. I said, oh, hell no. I vowed I will be his last target. He's going to get what he deserves. Listen to the girlfriends.

Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When, like, young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always,

can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. Dennis Leary. I wake up and I'm hitting him in the head. with a water bomb. And Bruce Jenner is on the aisle in a karate stance, like he's about to attack me, like,

making karate noises. And his entire, the Kardashians family over there, everybody's going, and the air marshal is trying to grab my arms and screaming. And I immediately know that I've been a sleepwalk. David O'Yello. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships,

or religion, or sex, or addiction, or you just go straight for the guts. Guy Branham. So anyway, Nicole Kidman broke up with Keith Thurban. Being half of a country couple was always a hat she was going to wear, not like a life she was going to lead. Oh, interesting. I like that. Did you practice that on your way over? Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things. Santa Mujo, Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcast, or wherever you get your Podcasts. Remember when you'd walk into your local video rental place and there were always those two

employees behind the counter arguing about movies? Well, that's us. I'm Millie de Cherico. And I'm Casey O'Brien. And now we're arguing about movies on our podcast, Dear Movies I Love You from the Exactly Right Network. Can I say something about the Criterion Clause? Go ahead, dude.

They're letting too many people in there. Okay. That's another film grape I got two. Sadly, that rental place doesn't exist anymore. It's probably a store that sells running shoes. Or an ice cream shop with an extra pee and an E at the end. So consider us your slacker movie clerks in podcast form. I would like to establish a timeline of the moment you figured out who Channing Tatum was.

Every Tuesday, we dig into the movies we can't stop obsessing over it. From hidden gems to big screen favorites. New episodes drop every week on the exactly right network. Listen to Dear Movies I Love You on the Iheart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Sid's friend, Motorhead Frontman, Lemme Kielmeister said of Sid's relationship with Nancy, after Nancy got a hold of him, he was over.

Others thought the same. Sex Pistols manager, Malcolm McLaren, felt so strongly about it that he tried unsuccessfully to have Nancy run over with a car. He also tried to kidnap her and put her on a plane back to New York. One of the chief reasons he sent the pistols on tour to America in 1978 was to get Sid away from Nancy and away from heroin. While on tour and without a regular dope supply from his junkie girlfriend, Sid, during a moment of desperation, carved Gimme a Fix on his chest with a knife.

Beyond the self-inflicted cutting, the tour was a mess. The sex pistols, a band with day glow hair. and funny accents, who spit on their audience, and played a loud, fast, and obnoxious new form of rock and roll called punk, went over like a bomb in clubs across the American South. Chaos ensued, and they made headlines everywhere. The pressure of it all was too much,

so the sex pistols quickly disbanded. And Sid high-tailed it back to London to be with Nancy, where they were able to devote all of their energy and all of the money Sid made on the world. road to finding and doing heroin. Sid's solo career was now a priority, second to shooting dope, but still a priority. So in a drug-induced flash of inspiration, it was decided Nancy would be Sid's manager. There's a lot of footage of the couple during this time, sitting around in their underwear,

nodding off, making out. As artist-manager relationships go, it's highly unusual. But for a couple of full-blown junkies, it's standard fare. But Sid didn't lack for female attention. His mom was always around. She'd come by their flat delivering care packages of ju-jubes and syringes. As mother-son relationships go, this too was highly unusual. But again, for full-blown junkies, standard fare. However, London was becoming a drag.

Maybe it was the lack of excitement now that the pistols were. broken up. Maybe it was the junkie who turned up dead on their apartment floor, or maybe, from Nancy's perspective, it was the smothering presence of Sid's overly affectionate and increasingly dependent mum. Whatever the reason, Sid's solo career needed tending to, and the state seemed like the place to be. Sid and Nancy took off from Manhattan, the west side. To be precise, the Chelsea Hotel. In 1978, the Chelsea Hotel was already legend. It's where Andy Warhol shot Chelsea Girls. Bob Dylan wrote much of blonde-on blonde event. Leonard Cohen wrote Chelsea Hotel No. 2 about the time he ran into Janice Joplin in the elevator and woke up in bed with her. It's where Sam Shepard

convinced Patty Smith he was single and a drummer in a punk band so that she would sleep with him. Chelsea Guitars was down the block. Mothers was across the street. Lou Reed lived around the corner, and Max's Kansas City was just a short cab ride away. Yeah, for Sid and Nancy in 1978, the Chelsea Hotel was the place to be. Plus, the Chelsea's first floor was the junkies floor.

That's where Sid and Nancy lived in room 100, and that's where Nancy Spungent would die. Heroin could be procured easily. Getting ahead in the music industry is tough stuff. And getting ahead in the music industry with a two-gram-a-day habit and a motel tan is brutal. So having a dependable supply nearby was clutch. Nancy quickly began to make strides managing Cid.

By September of 78, she had a string of high-paying East Coast gigs lined up at three to four grand a pop. His solo band was hot shit. Mick Jones from The Clash was on guitar, and the New York Doll's rhythm section was enlisted, which meant Nancy's former obsession, Jerry Nolan would be along for the ride.

Sid didn't mind, though. He and Nancy had a different kind of love by now. It was post-sexual, more maternal than on fuego. Jealousy didn't enter into the equation. Sex was boring. Heroin was God. Music was a means to an end. Cash for much-needed dope.

Jerry Nolan could come along. What did Sid care? At the end of the night, he'd be the one nodded out at Nancy's side no matter what. The gigs paid off. Nancy was flush, but scoring heroin was getting harder. Finding good dope in New York wasn't always easy. Sometimes, you had a head uptown into a more dangerous, less-known territory and deal with really sketchy addicts along the way.

I mean, what could you do? You couldn't complain to your regular dealer that his shit was, well, shit. You were likely to get cut. It was better to bite your tongue and take your business elsewhere. Nancy loved Sid. The last thing she wanted was for him to get stabbed, scoring dope. So on October 10, 1978, she bought him a Jaguar K-11 knife for protection. It had a five-inch blade that would end up in her stomach within a number of hours.

We'll be right back after this word, word, word. There's two golden rules that any man should live by. Rule one, never mess with a country girl. You play stupid games, you get stupid prizes. And rule two, never mess with her friends either. We always say that, trust your girlfriends. I'm Anna Sinfield, and in this new season of the girlfriends, Oh my God, this is the same man.

A group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist. I felt like I got hit by a truck. I thought, how could this happen to me? The cops didn't seem to care. So they take matters into their own hands. I said, oh, hell no. I vowed I will be his last target. He's going to get what he deserves.

Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When, like, young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever.

My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. Dennis Leary. I wake up and I'm hitting him in the head with a water bomb. And Bruce Jenner is on the aisle in a karate stance like he's about to attack me. Like making karate noises. And his entire the Kardashian family over there, everybody's going,

and the air marshal is trying to grab my arms and screaming. I immediately know that I've been at sleepwalk. David O'Yellow. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Guy Branham. So anyway, Nicole Kidman broke up with Keith Thurban. Being half of a country couple was always a hat she was going to wear, not like a life she was going to lead. Oh, interesting.

I like that. Did you practice that on your way over? Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things. Tena Monsu. Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Remember when you'd walk into your local video rental place and there were always those two employees behind the counter arguing about movies? Well, that's us. I'm Millie de Cherico. And I'm Casey O'Brien. And now we're arguing about movies on our podcast Dear Movies I Love You from the Exactly Right Network.

Can I say something about the Criterion Clause? Go ahead, dude. They're letting too many people in there. Okay, that's another film, Gripe I got two. Sadly, that rental place doesn't exist anymore. It's probably a store that sells running shoes. Or an ice cream shop with an extra P and an E at the end. So consider us your slacker movie clerks in podcast form.

I would like to establish a timeline of the moment you figured out who Channing Taitan was. Every Tuesday, we dig into the movies we can't stop obsessing over, from hidden gems to big screen favorites. New episodes drop every week on the exactly right network. Listen to Dear Movies I Love You on the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. There was no dramatic precursor to Nancy's murder, relatively speaking anyways. There was no fight, no breakdown, nothing hinting at premeditation. Sid and Nancy were in love. Their own version of love for sure, but love nonetheless. And they needed each other, like a needle needs a spoon.

With Nancy minding Sid's career, there was at least some sort of professional horizon to look out onto after waking up from dope binges. And despite the current state of available heroin, Mr. and Mrs. Two Stone to Fuck were at the time settled into their own routine, their own version of domestic bliss. So, like any other normal couple in the throes of love, they decided to throw a party in the room at the Chelsea,

except Sid and Nancy weren't a normal couple, and this was the Chelsea Hotel. Friends shuffled in and out. The main point of their presence was so Nancy could score drugs. She and Sid were hurting, and on the verge of dope sickness. Nancy had called everyone looking for smack. No dice. The best she could do was convince her friend Rocket's,

red glare to come by with some synthetic morphine. The scene was dark. Unable to score dope, Sid had downed 32 and alls and couldn't move. Nancy kept the guests coming in, friends with drugs to spare and a few dealers. But nobody had any smack. The party broke up. Sid roamed the halls looking for a fix. Nothing.

Back to the room. He and Nancy were alone. The pain was all consuming. The pills and booze added a hand. haze but did little to numb the hurt. Sid felt it the worst. They tried soothing each other. On their bed, they were a tangled, junky mess, in each other's arms, taking turns moaning in agony, and in between barely audible mumbles, Sid faded in and out of consciousness. Their death pact was on their minds, the one where they'd promised to kill themselves if the other

had died, so they could be buried next to each other in their leather jackets, jeans, and motorcycle boots. The pact would always come up in moments like these. When the pain got to be too much, Sid sweated out, mumbling incoherently. Nancy jabbered on and on. They should have gone Uptown earlier to score when they had the chance.

And where the fuck was Rocket's red glare with those pills? Jerry Nolan always had dope. This was somehow all that cunt Malcolm McLaren's fault. She wouldn't shut up. Words, words. more words. Sid came too. They lie face to face, still twisted up in pain. Sid was shirtless. Give me a fix scarred across his chest. Black jeans, half-inch bike chain locked around his neck. There was the pain again, and there was his knife. He'd had it in his pocket or in his hand,

ever since Nancy had given it to him the day before. She was Jones and hard now, sweating and just her black panties bra near naked, talking non-stop, she would not shut up. Kill me now. Give me a fix. Sleep forever. Sid couldn't think straight. Words, just words. More words. Sid did his best, but he understood little beyond the pain. Deep, agonizing pain. Nancy was pissed. More words. Sid didn't understand. The tangle turned to a tussle. There was the night. Life, pain, sharp pain, no more words. Silence. When Sid Vicious awoke, he found the love of his life, Nancy Spungent, dead on their bathroom floor.

Her body crammed between the toilet and the sink in an upright position. Blood covered her knees and legs. Her knees perpetually scarred, though, were not the source of the blood. It was the single stab wound in her abdomen, just below her belly button, from the five-inch blade of Sid's knife. I stabbed her, but I didn't mean to kill her, he told police at one point. I loved her, but she treated me like shit. That sounds like a lot of smack. The truth is that love kills.

You are now exiting Rikers Island Prison Complex is what the sign says. But what you see is a sign that says you are now about to get high as fuck. Because you just made bail. Your mom and your friend Peter Kodick are waiting for you. They've arranged it so the first order of business is getting you stoned. Then there will be a party for you. And tomorrow, you've got to get around to seeing that famous lawyer, F. Lee Bailey, that Mick Jagger has been secretly and generously paying for.

Mick Jagger. Shit. That's what Sid Vicious was likely thinking on the first day of February, 1979, when he left Rikers Island prison, the first day of the rest of his life, that would only last roughly. another 18 hours. In prison for seven weeks, Sid straightened out. Sobriety cleans the mind.

And with clarity, the ghost of Nancy Kamakki. Sid was still reeling from the uncertainty of whether or not he did or didn't kill the love of his life. Imagine that. You wake up, dazed from horse tranquilizers, and your girlfriend, your soulmate, your best friend, your business manager, Hell, let's be real.

The only woman who truly mothered you is lying dead on the floor. And you don't think you killed her. I mean, why would you? Depended on her. You needed her. You loved her. When you were upset, you'd nurse at her breast. She'd call you baby boy, and you'd call her mama.

Her death and your confusion haunted you. Did you do it? Did you kill her? How could you do it? How could you do it? killer. Though you often said you'd happily die with her, that stuff about the death pact that the two of you had was mostly nonsense, right? Something you talked about when the dope sickness got to be too painful. Wasn't it? Or was it? With Nancy on his mind, Sid was eager to reunite with the other

love of his life, his main squeeze, heroin. The party was small but spirited. His new girlfriend, Michelle Robinson was hosting some friends at her apartment in the village. Peter Kodick, Jerry Only from the misfits, some others, and Sid's mom, who was busy fixing one off for Sid, his first shot of heroin after seven weeks of detox and rikers. Hold up. Let's take a minute to understand what's going on here. You're a mother, your son was just let out of prison, he's about to go on trial for murdering his girlfriend.

He's a heroin addict. The only good thing going for him right now is the fact that him being jailed for the last seven weeks he has kicked his heroin habit. It's out of his system. But you being mom of the year think for some reason that it's a good idea to immediately give him heroin. The fuck was Anne Beverly, Sid's mom thinking. Sid didn't care. This wasn't unusual for the relationship. She'd been the worst of influences since he was in short pants,

But now her shitty parenting wasn't the problem. Her shitty dope was. It was bunk. Sid injected it, but nothing. He was furious. Peter Kodick was dispatched to hit the streets to find real dope. Mom fell. Kodick scored and his dope did the trick. Sid nearly OD'd. It was strong stuff. His friends revived him, but the party died out. Dope addicts know that the first hit after detox can be fatal. The trick is injecting the perfect amount, balancing enough to get high, but not enough to shock your system to death. That's what happened when Sid booted up that first time out of prison. Too much dope, too much good dope, to be exact. He wanted more but was too high to shoot himself up. He asked his girlfriend to do it, but uh-uh, she'd seen enough of this junkie Harry Carrey. So Sid's mom, Anne Beverly, entered the apartment bedrocky.

room where her son was sprawled out in need of a fix sometime in the early morning hours of February 2nd, 1979. For Sid, the heroin numbed the pain. The pain of missing Nancy. The pain of not knowing whether or not he killed her. The pain was all consuming. Kill me now. He needed more. He was too fucked up to inject himself. And that's why mom was there. So much pain. Lying alone. Lying alone. in a strange bed, thinking of Nancy. Is she there? Was she dead? Was this all a dream? Were they back at the Chelsea? What was happening? Was he gone already? Where was he going? In and out of consciousness. There, then gone, then back, with the pain, give me a fix. He felt warm hands on his arms, affectionately tying him off and rooting around for a vein. Were they his mother's

hands or Nancy's. Either way, it was a touch he'd grown to depend on. Then, maybe this dope would do the trick. Maybe it would do what the slitting at the wrists and attempt to jump out the window couldn't do, end the pain. He was drifting. This dope was so heavy. Nancy was definitely there with him now. Or was it mom? It had to be Nancy. She was always there when the pain got to be too much. holding Sid's head to her bosom, rocking him back and forth, gently, speaking to him softly. Words, baby boy, mama, just words, pain, drifting pain, and then sleep forever. Sid was dead. The official cause of death?

Heroin overdose. The unofficial cause of death? Suicide by heroin. The rumored cause of death? Sid's mom gave him a hot shot. Why? It was a maternal act of mercy. In 1996, before her own deadly overdose,

Anne Beverly supposedly confessed to journalist Alan Parker that she had indeed given her son, his final dose of heroin. And accounts from that night aligned with that confession. Anne Beverly was a lifelong experienced heroin addict, who knew exactly how much dope it would take to kill a person, who'd been clean for seven weeks. There is no way she couldn't have known.

But why exactly? Sid, beating the rap from murdering Nancy, was a long shot. Rikers, with its rapists and real punks, terrified Sid. So did Nancy's ghost. Doing 20-plus years was unimaginable for the fragile rock star. He was suicidal. So his mom finally did what a mom is supposed to do. She may not have been able to sufficiently take care of her son while he was alive.

But in one final act, she took care of her child the only way she knew how. Because she loved Sid and love. Love kills. I'm Jake Brennan. And this is Disgraceland. Thanks for checking out this episode. Hope you guys dug it. Apple podcast listeners, make sure you have automatic downloads turned on so you don't miss any episodes.

All right? This week's question of the week, it is which celebrity couple from rock and roll history is the worst, the most disgraceful, and why? I want to know. Hit me up and your answer might get played on the after party episode coming to your feed right after this episode. You know the drill. I'm at 617-90666-6638. Leave me a voicemail. Send me a text and you can reach me at Discraceland Pod as well on InstagramX and Facebook.

Leave a review for the show on Apple Podcast or Spotify and win some free merch. All right. Here comes some credits. Disgraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page at disgracelandpod.com. If you're listening as a Disgraceland All Access member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it. And if not, you can become a member right now by going to disgracelandpod.com slash membership.

Members can listen to every episode of Disgraceland ad-free. Plus, you'll get one brand new exclusive episode every month. Weekly unscripted bonus episodes, special audio collections, and early access to merchandise and events. Visit disgracelandpod.com slash membership for details. Rate and review the show and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, and Facebook at DisgracelandPod. And on YouTube at YouTube.com slash at DisgracelandPod, rock a roller. When a group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific connoissell. artist. They take matters into their own hands. I vowed. I will be his last target. He is not going to get

away with this. He's going to get what he deserves. We always say that trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast. This season on Dear Chelsea with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia clerk. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. David O'Yelloo.

I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Dennis Leary, Gaten Moderato from Stranger Things. Tena Monsu. Camilla Morone. Carrie Kenny Silver and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app,

Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Movies can make you feel, make you dream. Sometimes they even make you appreciate architecture. Is there anybody who's been hotter in a doorway than Elizabeth Taylor? That's the kind of analysis you'll find every week on Dear Movies I Love You,

the new podcast from the Exactly Right Network. Every Tuesday, we break down the films we're crushing on, from blockbusters to deep cuts. Listen to Dear Movies I Love You on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.