Arturo Vega was the most optimistic, jubilant and fun pal anyone could wish for. If it wasn’t for Artie, Joey Ramone and I would’ve starved to death in those early days. He used to give us each a buck fifty so we could each buy a quart of beer and a pack of cigarettes. Joey smoked Winstons; I smoked Marlboros, at 75 cents a pack. The quart of beer was also 75 cents. Which makes a buck fifty. I used to sit in awe and watch Joey and Dee Dee write those first Ramones songs by the windows of Artie’s loft with a two-string guitar. Everyone said it was a three-string guitar, but I never saw that third string. When things were at their worst, which was quite often, Arturo would laugh and say, “Happy, happy, happy,” like some twisted mantra until everyone was in a good mood again. If you wanted to get in a good mood, you hung out at Arturo’s. I miss him every day.