It's rare we get a chance to go back to those youthful moments that help form who we become and the people that shared those times with us. Steve was given one of those rare and precious chances. And while I had heard these stories from him before, I love reading this version of those stories. Because they had changed, just as he had.
I'm glad he got that rare chance to revisit his past. I'm glad he knew I was his biggest fan. I'm glad he got to play with the band again. I'm glad to have shared the journey with him.
"Life will fuck with your head but life will give you chances at redemption right until the glorious end."- Stephen DeRose
August 3, 2009
In 1981, when I was 18 years old, the United States had a population of 229 million people, and there was a 5.8% chance that you would be a victim of a violent crime. The median household income in 1981 was a little over $19,000.00 per year while unemployment sat at 7.9%. As the year started, a first class postage stamp cost 15 cents but by year’s end that number would jump to 17 cents. In 1981 the Oakland Raiders defeated the Philadelphia Eagles 21 – 10 in the Super Bowl, and the Los Angeles Dodgers defeated the New York Yankees 4 – 2 in the World Series. The Boston Celtics ruled the NBA while the New York Islanders were in the midst of their dynasty. In 1981 the record of the year was “Sailing” by Christopher Cross, while the best picture was awarded to “Ordinary People”. A new form of television entertainment debuted in 1981 called “Music Television” or “MTV” which played videos: recorded visual performances that sometimes went along with the lyrics of the song. In 1981 Sandra Day O’Connor became the first woman to be nominated to, and subsequently serve on the Supreme Court of the United States. IBM introduced its PC in 1981 which ran an operating system called DOS, written by a small Seattle based Software Company called Microsoft. In 1981, AIDS, which would become the scourge of a generation, was first identified. In 1981 Ronald Wilson Reagan was sworn in as the 40th president of the US and if you were 18 years old in 1981 that prospect scared the shit out of you.
In 1981, with their world and the music of their generation making less and less sense, a group of NYU pre-med students got together with some of their friends and formed a band dedicated to the music of the 1960s. For one seemingly endless summer, Arnold and the Cherubs from Commack New York met, practiced, drank, and reasonably replicated the music of The Doors, Steppenwolf, and The Animals amongst others. The band featured the amazing Lenny Stote on bass, guitar, keyboards, pretty much anything that made a musical sound, and lead vocals. Mark Garobedian, from Commack by way of the Chemistry lab at NYU was the drummer extraordinaire. Tim Salenger, a lanky rich kid who seemed to be able to channel Ray Manzarak, played a genuine Farfisa Organ attached to a rotating Leslie speaker set. On rhythm guitar, piano and vocals was Rich Perez, a brilliant musician, vocalist and songwriter who loved (in order) The Beatles, chicks, beer, and tacos. Rounding out the group on lead guitar and vocals was a stocky foul mouth from Long Island City, NY named Steve DeRose, who sang and played a Montoya Les Paul copy through an Electro-Harmonix Muff Fuzz and a Sun amp. I was poor and from the streets. My band mates were not.
The spring and summer of 1981 was my time. I so desperately wanted out of Long Island City and I so much wanted to be a musician. I saw the band from Commack as a gateway into the world I wanted to be a part of. Every week I would travel out to “the island” (as we city folk called Nassau and Suffolk counties) and lived my dream: we were a really good rock band. We had girls hanging with us. We’d go to the clubs in Huntington as a band, and drink and socialize as a band. We’d watch other bands play: I remember a night at club called The Salty Dog watching a favorite band called Kivetski, who billed themselves as “New York’s Number One Sixties Band”. Mark Garobedian and I were up front when the lead singer reached down and shook our hands. Mark repaid this kind gesture with a two handed stroking maneuver extending from his crotch. I extended my hands, palms up and pointing in the general direction of Mark’s gesture as if to say “Look at the size of THIS”. Kivetski was the band we modeled ourselves on: we were “New York’s Number Two Sixties Band”.
We were all 18 and 19 years old and life hadn’t fucked with our heads quite yet. I still believed that I could be a rock star; I was still so innocent and naive. The Cherubs gave me the first glimpse of the lifestyle, and I’m not talking about sex or drugs or even money. I’m talking about being part of something. We grew together, and the band became the fulcrum of our shared experience. When we showed up at a bar or club, it was us, we, Arnold and the Cherubs, and the bars of Huntington New York were ours. And when one of us had an idea… One night, after several hours of drinking at Huntington’s “Artful Dodger”, Lenny Stote stood up all wild eyed and suggested “Hey, you want to go see Billy Joel’s house?” This seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea, so we all piled into Lenny’s car, and all I can tell you about that car was it was really small. We were five young drunk adults crammed into a car that could uncomfortably seat four, and we were headed down the back roads of the northern shore of Long Island at some ungodly speed. Lenny was barely making the curves, and Mark was on my lap in the back seat and we were screaming. Wait, let me explain that. Mark was on my lap because there were two others crammed into the back seat with us, and we were screaming because we honestly thought we were about to die. The funny thing is I wasn’t really afraid, but I wanted to make sure my soul was at peace so I decided to tell Mark that I loved him. Or rather, screamed it at the top of my lungs. Mark screamed back “I love you too!”
Souls in order? Check.
When we got to Billy Joel’s house we stood in awe staring at... an 8 to 10 foot wall. Somewhere on the other side was a house and we conjectured who Billy might have in there with him (the names Joni Mitchell and Carly Simon were tossed around. Hey, it was 1981). It was then I noticed that Rich Perez was a few feet to my right peeing on Billy Joel’s wall. I glanced away from Rich, where about 30 feet down wind stood Lenny Stote, peeing on the far left end of the wall. Surprisingly I quickly over came my personal pee shyness, took a position to the left of Rich and began making a giant “S” on my section. Tim and Mark quickly figured out what was happening and filled the gap between where I stood and where Lenny was finishing up. And this became the night that Arnold and the Cherubs, my band, pissed on Billy Joel’s wall.
The summer of 1981 was the first time I truly fell in love. I met Linda Michos in the spring at NYU, and at age 22 from East Meadow New York she was everything I wanted in a girlfriend: funny, beautiful, suburban, and blessed with the singing voice of an angel. Oh, I should mention that she was completely uninterested in dating me, and by dating I mean... well, you figure it out. She once had a relationship with Mark’s brother Michael, and was involved with a guy who really didn’t seem all that interested in her. But none of that should have mattered because I was involved with someone who I had been dating for over a year. Lin and I hung out together at school, a lot, and became close friends. When my girlfriend left to spend the summer in France and Lin’s boyfriend left her to move out west, we grew closer still. Although we saw each other every weekend, we never grew closer than a stolen kiss once after the sunset at Jones Beach (queue the song “One Summer Night” here).
The band practiced throughout the summer and by the end of August we were ready to gig. We set up an audition at Genie’s Pub, a bar that was located in a strip mall on Jericho Turnpike, and took the stage to play 5 songs. I remember several things about that day. First, the pub had a real sound system and we never sounded better. We also had never played through a real sound system. Go figure. Second, I had caught a cold and was not in good voice. When we played “Hang on Sloopy”, and I got to the second line “…and everybody yeah tries to put my Sloopy down”, my voice totally cracked on “everybody”. Third, Linda wasn’t there much to my dismay. My one shot to use my status as a rock star to impress her was gone, but I was sure there would be others. Fourth, from the stage I was flirting with some of the girls in the audience when it occurred to me that (a) they probably have boyfriends, (b) their boyfriends might be the jealous type like I was, and (c) this bar is pretty nasty: I’ll probably lose. After that I stuck to my playlist. The audition was a success and the pub wanted to hire us, but it was nearly September and although I wasn’t aware of it, the season was changing before my eyes.
In September of 1981, Lenny Stote’s father passed away unexpectedly. Lenny, the most talent musician I have ever played with, could no longer devote his time to the band. He was heading to the State University of New York in Fredonia, just outside of Buffalo. A few weeks after Lenny’s dad died, Rich Perez’s father passed away. Rich was devastated. Mark Garobedian was transferring to Colgate University and would no longer be across from me in Chemistry lab at NYU. I said goodbye to my drummer, who I knew someday would be a terrific doctor. Tim Salenger was Mark’s friend and I don’t remember what happened with him. I imagine Tim went back to Northern Jersey, to his life and school, and continued on his path to surely become something great. And sometime around the first week of September, just a few days before my 19th birthday Linda Michos told me she was heading west to reconnect with her boyfriend. For the first time in my life I understood what heartbreak was. We decided to have one official date before she left, so I put on these ridiculous white shoes that belonged to my brother Vinnie and took her to see Kansas play at the Palladium Theater in New York City. It was her first concert ever. Afterwards we went to the Burger King on Queens Blvd, next to the Golden-Q Billiard Emporium, and had dinner in my dad’s blue Chevy Malibu. Lin took her sneakers off and put her feet up on the dashboard, and we laughed as her feet fogged up a little section of the windshield. I drove her home to East Meadow, and for the second time in our relationship we stole one last kiss, this time in a schoolyard playground around the corner from her house. And then Linda was gone. Several days later on my birthday I waited for a phone call that never came. My mom, who was always more perceptive than I ever gave her credit for, came up to me at one point and whispered “You didn’t get what you wanted for your birthday, did you?” 19 would be the last birthday party my parents ever threw for me.
I stayed friends with Rich Perez for a while, and we gigged together as a duet, but I was terribly jealous of him. Rich was such a good songwriter, and such a good singer, and he was so handsome: Rich had girls lining up to be with him. I let my jealousy ruin our friendship. I wish I could find him and tell him how sorry I am about that, and how brilliant I thought he was. I’ve looked for Rich online, but there are so many Richard Perez’s out there. I have yet to find him.
Tim Salenger disappeared from my life too. I remember hanging out at Tim’s place in New Jersey, swimming in his in-ground swimming pool, and listening to this new band he and his friends were into called U-2. I remember thinking “this is the first new band I’ve heard that I like”. You know that night at the “Salty Dog” that I wrote about earlier? Later that evening I overheard Tim say to Mark “Watching these guys play makes me realize how good Steve is”. I never told anyone that story, but I’ll tell you now that it made my night and then some. Tim was a good guy and although we were never close, I wish I could tell him how much I appreciated him letting me into his world for that brief summer.
Lenny Stote in about every way was the most amazing musician I have known. He was brilliant and over the top funny. Once at a restaurant called “Chicago’s”, the band sat drinking much beer and eating much deep dish pizza when Lenny noticed that someone’s (I think Tim’s) beer mug was a little low. In a booming medieval voice, he boldly announced “NO EMPTY GLASSES AT LENNY’S TABLE”, and proceeded to pound his fist on said table. This percussive downward blow sent two full pitchers of beer skyward, soaking the four other band members and several tables around us, and Lenny sat there smiling, admiring what he had done. A few weeks ago I found a Lenny Stote on FaceBook and sent him a private message, but I never received a reply. I always wanted to be close friends with Lenny, but I’m not sure he knew that. I miss Lenny, and wish I could thank him as well and tell him what the summer of 1981 with the band meant to me. Really, I think I’d just like to have one more beer at Lenny’s table.
Linda Michos returned to New York after things didn’t go so well out west with her boyfriend. She called one afternoon to tell me she was home and I was so happy. We got together that weekend, and for the next year and a half dated as friends. But Lin never fell in love with me, and I never fell out of love with her. There were no more stolen kisses to be had. One evening as we sat outside her home in my father’s blue Malibu, I told her I couldn’t see her any more. It just hurt too damn much. We both cried, and then Lin was gone for good. For me, it was the first time I had walked away from someone I didn’t want to walk away from, and that was when I learned no matter how much you love someone it doesn’t matter one bit. You can’t make somebody feel something that they don’t. That changed me, and not in a good way: life had finally fucked with my head. Twenty seven years have passed since that night, and the feelings I had for Linda are a part of a distant memory and no longer of any relevance. But if I ever met Lin again, I’d say to her “You know, I got two good songs out of you!” It was a private joke we had between us and I’ll bet you she’d still remember that.
I guess by now you’re probably wondering why I’ve written this. About a year ago I was searching online for my old band mates when I found Dr. Mark Garobedian who had a Pediatric practice in South Hampton, NY. If you knew Mark you’d know that he was built to be a Pediatrician. I was so happy that he had made it. But two weeks ago I decided to search again, and this time I found something new about Mark: his practice was now located in Mechanicsville, VA which is about 20 minutes from where I live. I was flabbergasted. There was a number listed, and the next day I called my old drummer. Within 20 minutes he returned my call and we laughed and talked and we couldn’t believe that 28 years later we were living about 10 miles from each other: Mark had moved his family to Virginia earlier this year and he seemed genuinely ecstatic to hear from me. About the third thing he said to me was “That band had potential!” I couldn’t agree more. But the best part? About five minutes into the conversation Mark asked “Do you still play?” and I said “just for my family and myself”. So Mark goes “Well, I know this guitarist up near DC and we should get together and play” and since we spoke, every time I hear a song on the radio all I am thinking is “We could play that”.
It’s interesting to look back at those days from the perspective of time. Time can be a great teacher if you choose to be its student. I’ve always remembered the days after the summer of 1981 as the time when I dropped out of college, began drinking, and lived a lie that I never really spoke of until after the passing of my Mother. Now, I see those days as great formative years, almost cliché in most respects: the story of a teenager, his rock and roll band, and a summer love that ended as most do: with a goodbye. Today, I am married to the most perfect woman imaginable. She is bright and beautiful, and has fulfilled me in every way. And my wife, who knew Dave Matthews and once upon a time shoved him into the water fountain on the downtown mall in Charlottesville, says I am the best guitarist she’s ever heard. My dreams of being a rock star are fulfilled as well: I get to be a rock star for my audience of one, usually when she comes out of the shower and she’s putting her makeup on.
It’s easy to get caught up in one’s past. I hear that this happens all the time to guys my age. Usually they go out, get a hot young girl and a convertible and that takes care of it. So what am I supposed to do? I already have a hot young wife and a convertible. The trick is not to get caught up in your past, the trick is to see where you’ve been, look at where you are, and imagine where you want to be. And that never changes, no matter what age you are. I love where I am and how I got here, and I can’t wait to carry on this wondrous adventure, now no longer alone, with the woman of my dreams.
One night very soon Mark and I are planning to get together to (as he put it) “…eat some pasta, drink some Chianti and laugh our asses off”. I can’t tell you how excited I am to see him. I miss my old friends, all of them, who shepherded me through the 18th and 19th years of my life. And although it seemed so chaotic and traumatic back when, now through the looking glass of time and perspective those days seem so wonderfully ordinary. And one day soon don’t be surprised if my drummer and I are playing somewhere at a bar or street corner near you. We were supposed to revolutionize rock and roll, you know? Life will fuck with your head but life will give you chances at redemption right until the glorious end.
Or am I being naive?
