You ever have one of those encounters with someone that lasts only a few minutes, but stays with you a lifetime?
I have.
It was the day I met Buddy Love, the nom de cool of the late Mark Roberts. It was January 28th 1984, my nineteenth birthday, and I was, where I often was, stage-side at one of the many great rock n roll performances around town in those days. Buddy’s band was My Sin, I was too young to have seen him with Buddy Love and The Tearjerkers, by the time I got on board the Tearjerkers were fronted by future SpongeBob voice actor Tom Kenny.
I had seen My Sin a bunch of times in the couple of years prior to my fateful conversation with the band’s magnetic frontman. My Sin to me was the epitome of modern rock or new wave music. I loved them. Now back in those days, kiddies, people at shows would dance. Yes Dance, not mosh, although there were bands for that, not simply sway in place in front of the stage, we would literally dance, I sure did, and even if the show was sparsely attended, I didn’t care, I got upfront and shook my shit.
And at the show on my nineteenth birthday at the Jabberwocky club on the Syracuse University campus, I met Buddy Love.
During the set break Buddy made a point to come up to me and introduce himself. “Hi, I’m Frank Lloyd Wright” he said with his usual wit, and I responded something like “I’m a big fan of your buildings”.
He said he had noticed I had been a lots of shows and he appreciated my being there. As a gangly, unsure, socially awkward teenager to have the attention of someone you held in such high esteem, someone with this kind of aloof coolness factor was a lot.
He asked me if I had any requests and I asked for the Roxy Music cover they would do from time to time, “Editions of You” but he told me their drummer, a drum machine had forgotten it.
That show was, I think the last ever My Sin performance, and I never saw Buddy again, he moved west to continue his career in academia.
It was a very brief encounter, but it spoke volumes about so much, to me anyway. My impression was that Buddy was one of those guys who would come off as super cool but if we were going to have a party, EVERYONE will be involved. There is no such thing as an outsider. As I got to know more people who knew Buddy I realized my impression was spot on. He was a genuinely nice guy. Sure later in life he was vexed by various ailments and bitter life disappointments, the things that break all of our hearts.
Years later I wrote about My Sin and Buddy in this very blog, this was maybe five years ago and word of my essay made it to Buddy himself, who took the time to e-mail me in gratitude for the great memories of a really fun time in all of our lives. We exchanged email from time to time. He told me he liked what I was doing in my blog and was super interested in my fiction, words I wrote that to this day sit in fits and starts.
He sent me all of his books.
And he told me “keep writing, you sir, are a writer”
Which is about as kind a gesture as I can think of.
I met the guy once, 41 years ago, and I wish I had told him the lessons he has taught me just by his attention and encouragement were so valuable to me, but I am one poor correspondent.
Now Buddy is gone.
The Jabberwocky is gone, hell the building it was in is about to be torn down I hear.
The memories remain, the music is still out there, the books are still out there.
I have not been in the man’s company for four decades, and still, I will miss him.
Happy Birthday Buddy, you made a difference while you were here.
Leave a Reply