THE BEAT GOES ON
TOM WAITS: The Slime Who Came In From The Cold SAN FRANCISCO—A pointy, black shoe kicks the motel door open, and in lurches something even the cat would refuse to drag in. It’s Tom Waits, looking like a stubble-chinned stumble bum who just traded a pint of blood for a pint of muscatel down at the plasma center.
March 1, 1978