Interview

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Billy Name, né William Linich, was one of Andy Warhol's most crucial co-conspirators. He painted the first Factory silver, helped name it "the Factory," introduced Andy to many of his superstars, assisted on the films and the art and took many of the most famous Factory photos. One day he went into his darkroom and didn't come out for a year. And then he left. In many ways he was the soul of the Factory scene at its most vital, and that soul lives on today in a most vibrant, articulate, and lovely fellow.

GLENN O'BRIEN: How did you meet Andy?

BILLY NAME: I was a waiter at Serendipity 3 on the Upper East Side, which was the very chic part of Manhattan at that time, and Andy was a customer. He would come in the evenings as a friend of the owner, Stephen Bruce. Andy even did some of his first book exhibits there-the books that were signed by his mother. He was a successful commercial artist and was doing the I. Miller shoe ads. He wasn't known as a painter yet. He said, "Hi, Billy" to me and I said "Hi, Andy." Nothing special happened other than that nice friendship.

GO: And then?

BN: Nothing happened until 1959. I was 19 then, working at the restaurant just to make money. But I was living on the Lower East Side and started to do theatrical lighting design for the Judson Dance Theater. One day Ray Johnson, the collage artist who was my mentor at the time, took me to the Brooklyn Academy of Music to see a show. Ray met Andy there. They were like artist pals. Andy and I recognized each other. I started hanging out with Andy up at his house on Lexington Avenue. We'd go to movies or art openings. I was sort of like Andy's boyfriend. And while I was the lighting designer at the Judson, I also sometimes trimmed people's hair. I did it at my apartment on 5th Street in Alphabet City, where I had covered the whole place with aluminum foil and sprayed everything with silver-aluminum spray paint. The whole apartment was silver. Ray brought Andy over one night to one of my haircutting salons, and Andy said how so spectacularly brilliant the place looked. He said, "Wow. Oh, Billy, I just got a new loft space. Would you come and do this to my new loft?" This is how the 47th Street Silver Factory began. The original place was really dreary, crumbling concrete with no lighting fixtures or outlets and Andy was doing his silk screening up by the front windows, which faced 47th Street. I decided I would do it.