A sailor's life

THE LEGEND OF TATTOER JERRY COLLINS

Long Before Norman “Sailor Jerry” Collins arrived on Honolulu Hotel Street and revolutionized tattooing, the man himself was forged in the blood and sweat of America at the turn of the century.  A world-worn roughneck with a fascination for Eastern philosophy and art, he chased adventure from the California foothills to the gangster-run streets of Chicago and across the wide open China sea to Asia before settling in the remote Hawai’ian Islands.  Then, from his tiny tattoo shop in Honolulu’s gritty Chinatown, he shaped and cussed it all into a pure, American folk art that redefined tattooing forever.

Long Before Norman “Sailor Jerry” Collins arrived on Honolulu Hotel Street and revolutionized tattooing, the man himself was forged in the blood and sweat of America at the turn of the century.  A world-worn roughneck with a fascination for Eastern philosophy and art, he chased adventure from the California foothills to the gangster-run streets of Chicago and across the wide open China sea to Asia before settling in the remote Hawai’ian Islands.  Then, from his tiny tattoo shop in Honolulu’s gritty Chinatown, he shaped and cussed it all into a pure, American folk art that redefined tattooing forever. Unoriginality was unforgivable.  Copycats, rip off artists and “scratch bums” were the sworn enemy.  If you disagreed, you were wrong.  And good luck changing the old man’s mind.  Stubbornness was the core of the Sailor Jerry legend: Although born Norman Keith Collins on January 14, 1911, his father nicknamed him “Jerry” after the family’s unruly mule.  The nickname and the stubbornness stuck.

Tattoo artists in Chicago at the time worked mostly out of mafia-run arcades on State Street, paying their gangster bosses for the space they rented.  Artists operated out of small cubicles, often competing for business with other tattooers in the same arcade.  Jerry spent some time working with Thomas while learning the intricacies of tattooing.  Many of his clients arrived from the Great Lakes Naval Training Academy forty miles north of Chicago, and in 1928, influenced by his sailor clientele and the lure of adventure on the open seas, Jerry enlisted in the Navy.

Jerry’s time at sea became the overwhelming influence on his life.  He relished the camaraderie of the Navy, and the old sea-faring traditions of sailors became subjects he celebrated in his work until his death.  More importantly, the Navy took Jerry across the Pacific to China and Japan, a journey that spread his lifelong interest in Asian art and culture and then deposited him in Hawai’i in the early 1930s.  The tropical islands felt custom-made for Jerry.  The constant flow of sailors through Hawai’ian ports kept Jerry connected to his beloved Navy while the Honolulu’s bustling Chinatown fed his fascination with Asian culture.  Jerry decided to call Hawai’i his home.

The idyllic days of tattooing at sugar plantations wouldn’t last.  The Japanese bombed Hawai’i’s Pearl Harbor in 1941 and forced and U.S. to enter World War II.  The Pearl Harbor bombing deeply affected Jerry as a Hawai’ian resident, fierce patriot and former Navy member.  He immediately attempted to reenlist in the Navy but was denied by the medical board because of a heart condition.  Determined to contribute to the war effort, Jerry signed up for the merchant marines and according to lore, spent WWII navigating supply ships through treacherous Japanese waters where he survived having three ships shot out from beneath him.

Between stints at sea, Jerry worked the arcades and eventually opened Tom & Jerry’s tattoo shop on Hotel Street with Tom, a Chinese tattoo artist.  To make extra money, the duo operated a photo booth where sailors could have their photo taken with a hula girl, played by Tom’s wife.  According to local lore, when Jerry arrived home at the end of WWII he found the shop abandoned and the front door unlocked.  Tom was gone.

In 1960, he was persuaded to open 1033 Smith Street with Bob Palm, a California tattooer who had recently relocated to Hawai’i.  Bob eventually left Hawai’i at the behest of the U.S. military due to several “immoral allegations.”  Jerry took over the shop, at first partnering with legendary tattoo artist Johnnie Walker, and continued laying down tattoos and the law.  At well over six feet tall and cantankerous as hell, Jerry took very little guff from rowdy sailors and mouthy customers who wandered into his shop.

Jerry loved antagonizing the local competition by feeding them bogus tips about tattoo machines or providing them with sabotaged drawings.  One local tattooer, operating on phony advice from Jerry, placed three drops of urine in his ink pots to brighten the red.  Competition fueled Jerry.  To spite his local nemesis Lou Normand, Jerry worked with chemists to develop the first purple ink.  He also took an electronics course to help him further fine-tune his tattoo machines.  The old man always stayed one step ahead.

Somehow through the punch-ups and pranks this became Jerry’s most prolific period.  He credited his renewed focus to “Gray Beard,” a hokey painting of an old Asian man he picked up in Chinatown and hung over his desk, claiming the bearded sage gave him guidance.  Armed with his trusty advisor, Jerry built a body of work more influential than any in tattoo history.  His clean designs featured bold lines and balanced colors and he paired them with sharp slogans and unmistakable symbolism.  It was Jerry’s subversive way of furthering his philosophical beliefs.  As a vehement conservative, he hated the wild radicalism of the Sixties that was reshaping America and poured his frustration into his work, using American flags, bald eagles, battleships and phrases such as “Born Free, Live Free, Die Free” to get his point across.  It was love-it-or-leave-it in blood and ink.

Information taken from: http://www.inkedmag.com/articles/sailors-life/