North to Alaska with Larry Allen

By Uncle Tim Heitkotter

It was quite by mistake that I met Larry Allen, a man that I’ve wanted to meet for quite some time. I remember writing a letter to Larry after I saw the huge stainless-steel-and-neon tattoo machine they had built as a sign in front of their tattoo shop, Anchorage Tattoo, in Anchorage, Alaska. The photo was in a magazine article I had read about eight or ten years ago. Having been from a sign-making background, myself, I was quite impressed. It had been several years since I had written that letter and it was never acknowledged. I shrugged it off and hoped I would meet him at one of the many tattoo shows I do every year.

About a year and a half ago, I had an unexpected visit from my old pal, Lyle Tuttle, here on Kauai. We spent the day at the shop and, the next day, I shuttled Lyle around to various places, visiting friends and taking in the sights. After spending the night, we awoke to coffee and light conversation. Lyle suggested I come with him to visit an old friend of his, that night. “Anybody I know?” I asked “Yeah,” said Lyle. “A guy named Larry Allen.”

Well, of course, I had to join them for dinner, and we’ve been friends ever since. We take regular rides on our motorcycles on the island and, occasionally, I stop by for an evening of “puu-puus” and “talking story.” Larry and his wife Joanie keep a beautiful winter home there, in Wailua, as the Alaskan winters can be quite annoying, let alone downright brutal. Anchorage Tattoo has an outstanding crew that keeps things running smoothly in their absence.

Larry started tattooing at his home in Dickinson, North Dakota around the age of twelve. After learning how to four-inch bloody dagger with “Death and Love” written above and below the design, he hand-poked it on his own upper left arm, and his Mom never found out about it, for four years, until his sister ratted on him. Lyle Tuttle gave Larry his first professional tattoo at the age of sixteen. “Lyle had just opened up and had only been there a couple of months,” he remembers. “That was about 1960. It was a small room about ten foot square with two sheets of flash, a sheet of panthers and a sheet of Marine bulldog heads. Lyle came out from behind a green curtain and said, “Waddaya want?” I said,” I want a tattoo,” and I pointed to the bulldogs. He says, “Your arm is too skinny,” and gave me a panther head, to cover up my dagger. I had never seen flash sheets before and didn’t know what they were.” By 1967 Larry had moved to Alaska and collected a dragon tattoo from Don Nolan, when Don’s shop was located on the infamous Fourth Avenue (which was known, in those days, for it’s never ending string of bars, furriers and questionable joints).

While Larry was playing with his band in Long Beach, California, he visited Leroy Minugh’s and Bert Grimm’s shops on The Pike. “Leroy would always lock the door, when he had a customer. When he had no one in the shop, he hung a tattoo machine outside above the door and, when someone would walk by, he would hit a switch and the machine would buzz, enticing them to come in. Bob Shaw Sr. had that trick for years.” Larry had some old tattoos that he wanted covered up, and the Long Beach shops wouldn’t do it. They referred him to Cliff Raven, in Hollywood, who was known for doing that kind of work. Cliff had just bought the Sunset Blvd. shop, from Lyle Tuttle, and was quickly amassing ink-hungry clientele. It was Cliff Raven who impressed Larry so much that a rapport began that led to Larry paying Cliff to re-teach him to tattoo. “Cliff Raven was the only one, at that time, who would draw large-scale work right on you, using some ink and a toothpick. By the time he was ready to tattoo, you were already sore from the toothpick scratching your skin for an hour,” Larry told me. He would fly down to L.A., for a week at a time, and learn needle making, machine tuning and the like, from Cliff, but, it wasn’t until he met up with “The Dutchman” (John Vant Hullenaar), in British Columbia, that Larry really began to learn the trade. Larry lived with The Dutchman and worked with another tattoo artist named Vinny Rocca, back in the 1980s, doing two-week guest spots.

“The Dutchman taught me how to do things, like how to really see what I was drawing. He taught me the minor details about layering the backgrounds, to create more depth. He would have me drawing things like horse nostrils, all night. I learned how to make magnums, when I was used to using eight rounds and then the ink REALLY flew in,” Larry told me. “I came away a totally different artist. I always knew how to draw, but the Dutchman taught me how to look and to see things I never saw before. I met Paul Jeffries at one of the conventions and, because the Dutchman worked with him and rode motorcycles, we connected and have been friends ever since. I’ve always admired Paul’s work.”

Before Larry hooked up with the Dutchman, his association with Cliff Raven opened up the door for his entry amongst heavy hitters like Bob Shaw and Bill Col. Todd, down at the Pike. By then, Larry’s mechanical know-how had allowed him to design machines that would hit softer and do less damage to the skin by softening the rear spring. This thrilled Bob, and they began an instant bond of sharing knowledge that, normally, was kept very secret, in those days. “Bob Shaw sold me about eight machines that I still use to this day,” he says. When Larry began tattooing professionally, it was actually in his tiny ten-by-ten loft, at the log cabin. “I actually had sheets of flash and all the stuff you needed, in a regular shop. Eventually, my wife got tired of all those strangers coming in and out of the house I had just built, so I opened up here on Silverado St., and that lasted from 1975 to 1986. They would bring all their dogs and friends and kids to the house, and my wife didn’t want to babysit them. Some of them were real trashy characters, in those days. It was a real hassle. Don’t ever tattoo out of your house!”

Two shops later, Anchorage Tattoo sits proudly on Benson Blvd. and has been there since 1988. The shop made the bulk of it’s profits from the oil pipeline workers and peripheral workers created by the gigantic endeavor. The original Anchorage Tattoo opened in 1975, and Larry juggled both occupations until, in 1989, he decided to quit playing music full time and pursue his tattooing career. “In the old days, I would work at the shop tattooing from eleven to six, then play in the band from nine till five, in the morning. This went on, for eighteen years,” explained Larry. “We played at the Gold Rush Hotel for eleven years.” Obviously, Larry Allen’s real love is music but he has so many other interests, like painting signs. He’s damned good at it, too! A look at his shop will show you just HOW skilled he really is. Most of the signage there is hand painted by Larry himself. There is a magnificent eagle holding a tall ship, ropes and banners supported by two koi and some “finger waves” proudly announcing their services, next to the entranceway. All hand painted.

One step into the shop and you are immediately immersed in a real, honest to God tattoo shop. Six super clean stations and a small showroom with a minimum of flash all garnished by raw wood reminiscent of the old pioneer days. The impressive list of artists available at Anchorage Tattoo includes Larry’s daughter, Jennifer “Miss Jen,” his son James Allen, “Miss Judy,” Mason Pillion, Kirk Tapley and Rodney Cochran (the drummer). They all make this tattoo family shop run like a real business. After all, Dad is usually not far away.

Larry’s other loves include a 1954 Chevy pickup that he’s owned since 1968. It’s been completely restored to the point that brain surgery could be performed under the hood. One could lick the transmission and it would probably taste like ice cream. Alongside that sits a 1975 450 SL convertible, also completely restored. The aforementioned motorcycles also sparkle with showroom gleam. Everything Larry Allen does is with utmost precision and a deep-rooted love for all things mechanical. Whether it’s a tattoo or an old flintlock rifle, an antique musical instrument, a wagon for his many grandchildren or his incredibly inventive log cabin-style home, it’s beautiful and it’s perfect. This is what I didn’t expect to see, when I finally got to meet this guy, but what a surprise he turned out to be.

Back on Kauai, it doesn’t surprise me that Larry is active in the local Community Symphonic Band where he plays the Baritone Horn that he’s been playing since the 4th grade. They practice every Thursday night at Lihue High School in preparation for the Christmas and spring concerts. While there on the island, he mostly works on his house and just got finished building another next to it on the seven acres he owns. Of course, his house includes a music room. In between, he and his wife, Joanie find time to surf in the morning and go for a ride in the afternoon.

In the evening an occasional guest drops by for a special treat from Joanie’s kitchen. A beautiful view of the Pacific Ocean rests lazily downhill like a misty teal blue carpet, not far from their front deck. When Larry isn’t working on his own house he’s often off to help one of his friends on theirs.

He has so many friends, you can ask Larry who does Afghani Clay shingle roofing and he knows the guy who does it AND he owes Larry a favor! Larry also knows just about every notable musician on the islands as he’s probably played with them over the last forty years. He holds regular jam sessions at his winter home. His generosity knows no bounds, either. “I’ve given away more horns than I own, to kids, in the last thirty years,” he affirmed.

People like Larry Allen are the true role models in this business. He’s been very smart with money and has built an absolutely wonderful life for himself. He doesn’t have “Love Thy Neighbor” tattooed on his face nor does he have a “Rock Star” attitude. Larry is gentile and unassuming in his nature yet runs his business with the iron-handed precision of the seasoned professional that he is. He loves his ever-expanding family with pride and joy. He plays his instruments like he twists the throttle on his motorcycles, hard and loud. Larry’s values reflect a deep-rooted, reverence for everything and everybody, while maintaining respect for who he is. This dude is definitely old school. Larry Allen is my friend and the best I can do to repay his kindness and respect for me is to write this tribute to him. Thank you Larry and Joanie, from the bottom of my heart.

Faithful servant to the trade,
Uncle Tim Heitkotter