What could be said about the venerable club on the Bowery that hasn’t been said before? It paved way for punk rock by insisting that bands play their own material; it was a refuge for the disenfranchised, the forgotten, and the lonely; it was a dump, a shit hole, but it was ours collectively, it was our shit hole. Hilly gave us that, even if it wasn’t meant to last.

Less than a year after the house that Hilly built passed on to the great unknown, so did its proprietor, Hilly Kristal. Kristal died yesterday a fighter, fighting a losing fight to save the club that he loved so much, and eventually fighting lung cancer.

I first met Kristal some time ago during a particularly cold New York winter. Broke, and without a job, I answered a help wanted add for work at CBGB. Desperate for money and equally excited for the opportunity to work at CBGB, I ran down to the small club at 315 Bowery only to be turned around by Kristal, “Come back next week and we’ll see.”

Short, simple, gruff, and to the point, “Come back next week.” I did come back, three consecutive weeks until I was hired. For the better part of two years, before leaving New York, I had the great privilege of being Kristal’s assistant; which basically equated to opening the club, watching CNN and Regis and Kelly, and sharing stories with Kristal until mid-afternoon before we went home.

Kristal, born on a small Southern Jersey farm, moved to New York to pursue a career as a folk and bluegrass singer. Clad in denim overalls and slicked, greased hair, he played around the West Village folk scene for a number of years before settling into a job as manager of the Village Vanguard.

If his career had ended at the eclipse of the folk scene, Kristal may have remained a New York legend. While managing the Vanguard, he was responsible for bringing the Newport Folk and Jazz Festival to New York’s Central Park, hung out with future rock luminaries such as Dylan, and worked as the tour manager for Peter, Paul, and Mary at the height of the Folkways set.

But of course his life and career didn’t end when Dylan went electric. Tired of the Vanguard, Kristal opened a small bar in the West Village simply called “Hilly’s.” Before long he had moved to a small location on the Bowery and opened “Hilly’s on the Bowery.”

Kristal opened the club while it was only $600/month to rent and had visions of showcasing country, bluegrass and blues bands, eventually changing the name to “C.B.G.B.” or Country Bluegrass and Blues, the O.M.F.U.G. was added later.

We all know the history of the now vacant venue, and for many it's hard to separate the man from the club. Kristal, always ambitious, had other bars; CB’s on 14th St., and of course the Gallery; managed other bands: The Dead Boys, The Shirts; but remained rooted in the fact that with CB’s he was giving something to people who needed anything. Until recently, when stars who have never even been on the same block as the club began wearing their T-shirts, CB’s was a passion of love, and if you ask him, a little irritation as well, barley breaking even, always in disrepair, home.

So what's going on with Kristal's former haunt these days? It's been gutted in spite of that, the space will rent for around $200 per square foot â€" a far cry from what it rented for 34 years ago. So far there have been inquiries from art galleries, retail shops and high end companies, but no takers. As for the former tenant, there were talks of reopening the venue in another (lower rent) city, but will Kristal's death mean that CBGB is officially gone, too?  Only time will tell. But for me CBGB is dead. â€" Timothy Radar