Originally Posted by David
Thank you for posting about this, Michele. My memory is jumping around pretty wildly. Steve was affable, generous with time and knowledge, and a profound dog lover. He was also a musician’s musician — he knew the history of rock, blues, and other genres, he knew instruments, he knew biographies, and he knew catalogue like nobody else. Whenever you had a disagreement with Steve about which track appeared on which B-side, not only was he always right, but he let you have your pride and convinced you that you were “almost” right except for that pesky little aside that “you were probably thinking of instead.”
I started chatting with Chili (I always hated that nickname and told him so) in 1994. He was in Southern CA and I was in Northern CA, itching to move back down here. He bugged me over and over, “If you move down here, you need to join my band.” Sure enough, when I moved down here and got resettled, I had to pack up my Korg X5, stand, and 40-watt practice amp and haul everything over to his longtime friend’s garage every Thursday or Friday night for months to practice with one of his groups (he always had half a dozen groups going at once and, quite frankly, I don’t know where he found the time to hold his day job for the City of Long Beach). Those were great times, and he insisted (I did not want to) that the band practice “Dreams” and “Say You Love Me” and several other Mac songs. He was a great guitarist, natch, and he played these warhorses his way, and it rocked. He used to nag me, “You need to get rid of that practice amp and get a full size,” and he dragged me to Guitar Center and Sam Ash a bunch of times to shop. Now THAT was fun, hanging out in a music store with Steve as he test-drove guitars, keyboards, basses, and drum kits, and schooled all the employees there.
He invited me to his and Susie’s wedding at their home, along with some other ledgies I had never met in person, and we all had a lovely afternoon. They were sharing self-penned vows and cracking jokes. Those two didn’t worry about starchy solemnity. Relax and party!
Steve the dog lover (as am I) called me in tears when his Rottweiler, Rudy, died still somewhat young. Rudy was such a good boy and loved his dad.
Oddly enough, Steve and I never managed to see a Fleetwood show together — either one of us bowed out or was with another group of pals — but we sometimes tried to arrange to meet each other before or after a show. I had so many wonderful times with Steve that his death is shocking me. My condolences to his family, his pooch, his friends, and the FM fan community. He was one in a million.
|