Thanks for coming everybody. We haven’t had a burial or any service for our dear departed friend Steve, so I’m hoping this couple of hours will serve as such since we’re not yet ready to participate in a full memorial; that’s ahead of us in the city in September and will be the true celebration of his life.
I’ve spent some time thinking about what Steve brought to the table of life, not what he took from it, and what I personally knew of him and this is what I came up with.
Steve had what I would call a resonant personality, he was very charming and memorable: his friends were far and wide, and he made a point of keeping in touch, didn’t let his friendships lag. Anyone on facebook has seen the effect of this in the many diverse tributes that came from all over the place. He had a natural talent as a connector and collaborator, he liked to put things into motion, be a creative activist.
He was a lifelong songwriter: prolific and continuous, he worked on his music almost till the day he died. When I first knew him in the 80’s and 90’s he was this super handsome punk and roots rocker: I knew of the Suicide Commandos, I saw Beat Rodeo, started playing with him on and off, then more often as time went by. He always had a very firm vision of what he was trying to achieve in his music. His persistence was admirable.
At the same time he was then working as a barman: Some of us remember those legendary Sunday night sessions drinking margaritas for tips at Bandito’s restaurant in the Village. The Monday morning hangovers were spectacular. He kept bar for many years and always told me all it led to was painful feet and an achy back. He also made his own mix tapes to play at work. I still have these on my phone, listen to them all the time and will continue to do so as long my hearing holds up. And the tunes on those playlists are as diverse as his encyclopedic knowledge of music. That’s what you’re listening to now.
He was also a long-time teacher. He worked in rough neighborhoods in Queens and the Bronx, and was loved and appreciated. I particularly remember when he released his previous album and we did a show at the Colony, and a family came up all the way from the Bronx with their kid because they were so grateful for the positive influence he had on him.
We all know Steve was a lover: he essentially had six wives, one girlfriend and the love of his life, Kendel; dear Kendel who was his loyal sidekick for so many years. I think he was someone who needed to be in love. I never knew him without a partner.
He was a great father and grandfather: he raised a beautiful daughter. The heritage he carried with him was both as a Son of Minnesota and of Norway. He came through the Lower East Side, kept his clubhouse down there and then had his cottage up here in the country, which was all of our’s dream at the time, but rarely achieved. He managed it.
Steve was, as we know, opinionated, self-reliant, stubborn, and a follower of habits and routines: he loved a good bath, a shot of bourbon (or two), a walk or run up Platte Clove, a dip in the swimming hole, a western omelet for breakfast at the diner; these things were constants for him, unchanging.
Other things I’ll briefly touch upon. He was a librarian, much loved there, a picker up of public trash on his walks, a giver of blood, a clothing stylist: his preferred look was what I call midwestern durable, built to last; and who can ever forget the startling sight of a sarong paired with a plaid shirt. These are the little things I will remember along with, of course, his prodigious musical output.
I’ve not lost a friend so close and of such long standing till now. There were years when we didn’t see each other often, doing our own things, but we were always in touch, checking in, comparing notes, and the music making was a constant through the years. I think I played on all his solo albums, many gigs and was happy that he kept trusting me with that. And finally for the last nine years or so we were neighbors again as we had been all those years ago on Ludlow Street.
He was at heart a creative soul, with a need to express his thoughts and feelings and be in love, with music, with a partner, with life. His spirit will live on in my memory as long as I am on the planet. The same is true of all of us. Bless you, Steve, rock on, old mate.