Sad times like this really place trivialities and material aspirations 'n' grasps of everyday life where they belong - below that of one's personal interactions with family and friends. I consider myself very fortunate to have met Billy and Miriam. I'd be hard pressed to find anyone else so selfless and kind to both friends and strangers. Once Billy got to know you, he'd always greet you with "Hey Man" (well, if you are a guy!) and related banter. Me, being a record geek / anal retentive type (as I'm often insulted, lol), our convo always veered to the latest record gossip. Billy was probably the leading champion when he found out I was working on a book via Greg Shaw. He'd always ask me, "How's the book going?" whenever we ran into one another at a record show, or in the NYC area at some rock & roll wingding. I think he had TeenBeat Mayhem for all of 5 minutes before he fired off an e-mail to tell me he was diggin' it and to ask when the update was gonna be ready.
I first met Billy and Miriam nearly 30 years ago, via a now lost rock & roll fanatic / local bar hangout pal named Larry. Larry eventually moved closer to NYC and invited the gang (our garage band) to an all day (and all thru the night) party held at his new digs. He told us that he invited the A-Bones to play, and that's the first time I met both Billy and Miriam - and a lot of other NYC folks who made the trek up to Larry's place. Later that night, the A-Bones set up in the living room to play a couple sets. There were a LOT of people by that time hanging 'round inside and outside the house.
Near the end of the first set, Billy announced they were gonna play nothing but slow songs until people coughed up $$$ for the hat being passed around - it wasn't for the band, it was to repay Larry as he had to make several runs to replenish food and booze. The A-Bones started to play some tune like "Sleepwalk" and Lars, the sax player, announced he was going outside for a beer break. Billy came up to me and Sal (Iggy) our singer, and told us to round up the other guys quick before Lars came back. Billy wanted us to replace the rest of the A-Bones so that when Lars walked back in, we (The Double Naught Spys) would be playing the same song. Billy guaranteed us that Lars would totally freak out. Well, we messed it all up because (1) we were all pretty wasted by then; (2) we misunderstood Billy's order to play the same song the A-bones were playing (we were ready to count off and play one of our own songs) when Lars was walking back in and (3) our rhythm guitar player was so trashed he fell out the first floor window (leaning back, sitting on the sill, he broke the window and fell backward). Billy just shook his head and said, "You guys really ARE Double Naughts."
Billy's sense of humor had no equal - he could deliver the most hilarious zingers in 2 seconds. Uncanny. Some of the funniest shenanigans I've heard about came from Billy. Although there was one time I made him laugh so hard he was doubled over. I had gotten him and Miriam hooked on Bob Evans' homemade salad dressing. As Bob's was my always go-to eat / dine place in Allentown whenever the 45rpm show was goin' on, I convinced a few of the show regulars to join me, and to my surprise, they liked the food & always went with me after the first visit. Billy always bought out the inventory of salad dressing for take home, as there are no Bob Evans restaurants in our area. One recent year, I was late getting to A-town and missed the Friday pre-show day wheeling and dealing. Billy told me we'd all go for breakfast tomorrow (the Saturday morning of the record show). I had no idea that Bob's had recently closed up operation. But the gang knew and didn't tell me.
We all piled into Billy's van and headed down the road to Bob Evans. As he turned into the parking lot, Billy said that it looks like we are too early, are you sure the place opens at 6? I was already dreaming of my breakfast, fighting off pangs of hunger, so I bolted out of the van as soon as he parked it, then walked briskly to the door and pulled on the handle. I kept pulling, but the door wouldn't open. I peered in the window area and then realized something was amiss. The thought of having to eat breakfast at McDonalds (my pal from north of Boston never had a problem eating an egg mcmuffin daily - no way for me) or at the godawful diner the record guys camped out at broke my spirit.
I yelled out at the top of my lungs "Noooooo! This can't be! Dammit!!!! Where am I going to eat now???" I heard loud, uproarious laughter and turned to see the gang standing in the parking lot, Billy bent forward, laughing his ass off at my misfortune. After that day, he never failed to mention to me that it was one of the funniest things he'd ever seen, me banging on the door. He said I reminded him of the character Burt Lancaster played in the '60s film, "The Swimmer". At the end of the movie, Lancaster is banging on the door, in vain, distraught, turning the doornob iback and forth. No one was inside to answer it because the home was vacant.
Thanks for the friendship, and the laffs, Billy. Hope to see you again, when the time comes.