New York in the mid-seventies was a filthy, beautiful disaster. It was a place where you could be a superstar on Tuesday and starving on Friday. In the middle of this chaos, Lou Reed—the man who basically invented "cool" with the Velvet Underground—found himself at Club 82, a legendary drag bar in Greenwich Village. He was coming off the massive success of "Walk on the Wild Side," but he was also a mess.
Then he met Rachel Humphreys.
Most people know Lou Reed as the cranky, leather-clad "Godfather of Punk." They don't know about the three years he spent living in a quiet apartment with a transgender woman who managed his tours, did his hair, and became the beating heart of his most vulnerable music. Their relationship wasn't a PR stunt. It wasn't a "phase." Honestly, it was probably the most stable Lou ever was during his drug-fueled decade.
But then, as quickly as she appeared, she was gone.
Who Was Rachel Humphreys?
Rachel wasn't just a "muse," which is a word people use when they want to ignore a woman’s actual personality. She was a Mexican-American trans woman from New Jersey (or Philly, depending on which biographer you trust) who had a "streetwise" vibe that Lou—a middle-class kid from Long Island—desperately envied.
She went by many names: Ricky, Richard, Rachel. In the liner notes of Sally Can’t Dance, she’s jokingly credited as "René de la Bush." If you look at the back cover of that album, you’ll see her reflection in Lou’s sunglasses. That’s her. She was always there, just out of the frame or hidden in the credits.
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They were a real couple. They lived at the Gramercy Park Hotel. They eventually got an apartment on East 52nd Street. They even had two dachshunds named Duke and Baron. Think about that for a second: the guy who wrote "Heroin" walking two tiny dogs in Midtown while his girlfriend, a trans woman in 1975, managed his bank accounts. It’s a side of Lou Reed and Rachel Humphreys that doesn't fit the "tough guy" rock star narrative.
Life on the Road
Rachel didn't just sit at home. She was Lou’s road manager in 1976. She handled the money. She dealt with the roadies. By all accounts, she was tough as nails.
- She did Lou's hair and makeup for his glam-rock performances.
- She protected him from the "vultures" of the industry.
- They often wore each other's clothes, blurring the lines of gender in a way that was decades ahead of its time.
The Music She Inspired (and the Heartbreak)
If you want to hear what their relationship sounded like, listen to the end of the song "Coney Island Baby." Lou literally shouts her out: "I'd like to send this one out to Lou and Rachel, and all the kids at P.S. 192." It’s one of the few times Lou Reed sounds genuinely happy.
But things got complicated. By 1977, the "honeymoon" was over. Rachel wanted to undergo gender reassignment surgery. For some reason, Lou—the guy who literally wrote the anthem for trans visibility—was against it. He reportedly told her, "I love you because of the way you are." Whether that was out of genuine affection or a selfish desire to keep her as he knew her, it created a massive rift.
Street Hassle: The Requiem
The 11-minute masterpiece "Street Hassle" is basically a funeral for their relationship. Biographer Anthony DeCurtis calls it a "requiem." It’s dark, it’s ugly, and it features a guest appearance by Bruce Springsteen. By the time the album was released in 1978, Rachel was out of the picture.
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Lou had met Sylvia Morales, who would become his next wife. He stopped talking about Rachel. He "went straight" in the eyes of the media. It’s kinda heartbreaking how quickly he erased her from his public life.
The Tragic End on Hart Island
For years, nobody knew what happened to Rachel Humphreys. She vanished. It wasn't until researchers like Aidan Levy and projects like The Hart Island Project started digging that the truth came out.
Rachel died on January 30, 1990. She was only 37.
She died at St. Clare’s Hospital in Manhattan, which was a primary center for treating AIDS patients at the time. Because she died with no money and no family to claim her, she was buried in a mass grave on Hart Island.
That’s the "Potter’s Field" of New York—a place where over a million people are buried in unmarked trenches. The woman who inspired some of the greatest rock songs of the 20th century is currently lying in a trench in the Bronx, forgotten by the man who claimed to love her.
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Why Their Story Still Matters
You’ve got to understand how radical this was. In the 70s, "Walk on the Wild Side" was a hit, but it was treated like a freak show by the mainstream press. Lou and Rachel lived their lives out in the open. They went to CBGB. They went to parties with Andy Warhol and Alice Cooper. They didn't hide.
What we can learn from their relationship:
- Visibility isn't protection. Even though they were "out," Rachel still faced immense struggles once the protection of Lou’s fame was gone.
- Art is personal. Lou's best work happened when he stopped trying to be a "rock star" and started writing about his life with Rachel.
- History is easily erased. If it weren't for dedicated biographers, Rachel would be a footnote.
It’s easy to romanticize the "wild side," but for Rachel, the wild side was just her life. She wasn't a character in a song; she was a woman trying to survive in a city that didn't have a place for her.
If you're a fan of Lou Reed's music, you owe it to yourself to listen to Coney Island Baby again. Listen to the way he says her name at the end. It’s the sound of a man who found a home, even if he didn't know how to keep it.
Next Steps for Music Historians and Fans:
If you want to dig deeper into this era, I recommend reading "Lou Reed: A Life" by Anthony DeCurtis. It provides the most nuanced look at their domestic life. You should also check out the Hart Island Project website. They’ve done incredible work documenting the lives of those buried in New York’s public cemetery, ensuring that people like Rachel Humphreys aren't just names in a ledger, but recognized as the influential figures they actually were.