“The Sex Pistols have been in town two days, and they haven’t thrown up on anyone yet.”

That was the beginning of a Chronicle story in January 1978 on the notorious British punk rock band, and a recent trip to the newspaper’s archive turned up photos taken during that interview and the outrageous concert at the Winterland that followed.

The Sex Pistols took the United Kingdom, and the music world, by storm in the late 1970s, spitting expletives on live television, shocking audiences at their shows and climbing to No. 1 on the British charts with the caustic “God Save the Queen,” despite it being banned on all major radio stations.

The pomp and propaganda was orchestrated by manager Malcolm McLaren and embodied by lead singer Johnny Rotten, and the result was sky-high record sales and sold-out venues, including the Winterland, which hosted the largest audience on the band’s U.S. tour.

Chronicle reporter Steve Rubenstein — the scribe responsible for the story’s “lead” above — interviewed guitarist Steve Jones and drummer Paul Cook the day before the Jan. 14, 1978, show.

Jones tried to explain away the group’s notoriety: “You must swear, surely, just because we did it on the telly, the papers make a big deal.”

The story went on: “The Pistols insisted that they don’t really vomit and blow their noses on stage without a hanky, and only spit at their fans when their fans spit on them first.”

Cook said: “If people are coming to the concert to see us puke up on stage, tell ’em, ‘Go f— off.’”

“Write that down” he said, removing the drumstick from his pants and pointing it at the reporter’s notebook.

The day after the interview, The Chronicle’s John Wasserman described the raucous crowd by the stage: “The crowd in front was so tightly packed that if one itched, 80 scratched. They swayed back and forth like a multi-directional tide, like a herd of dominoes heading for a cliff.”

Chronicle photographer Terry Schmitt added, “It was a weird night with a lot of safety pins in lips and the like.”

One of the Winterland highlights was Rotten inciting a hail of spit and thrown objects from the capacity crowd of 4,500 by sneering and yelling: “I could get rich this way. Any more presents?”

Promoter Bill Graham in 1988 remembered the occasion clearly, and dearly: “One of the most glaring (memories) is Johnny Rotten defying the public to throw more nuts and bolts and pantyhose and shoes onstage,” he said. “I always found it beyond belief that he was able to stand onstage and never so much as twitch. That’s awesome to me.”

Back at the show, Rotten introduced the band’s encore, saying, “You’ll get one number and one number only ’cause I’m a lazy bastard.” As the song ended, Rotten addressed the audience directly: “Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?” He then dropped the microphone and walked offstage.

What a showman.

Chronicle rock critic Joel Selvin didn’t focus solely on the theatrics in his review. “Intense publicity sold out Winterland, but ultimately the fate of the band rests with their music,” he wrote. “On those grounds, the Pistols accounted for themselves admirably, turning out a tight, tidy, hour-long blitz of hard, driving rock.”

This would be their last performance together until a reunion show in 1996, nearly two decades after guitarist Sid Vicious died of a heroin overdose.

Cook, interviewed by Selvin in 1996, summed up the Pistols, without a note of nostalgia: “We never finished the Pistols business, really. ... It all just ended in chaos and hatred.”

Bill Van Niekerken is the library director of The San Francisco Chronicle, where he has worked since 1985. In his weekly column, From the Archive, he explores the depths of The Chronicle’s vast photography archive in search of interesting historical tales related to the city by the bay.