(photo Greg Allen 1987)
You taught me how to sing harmony. How to find the root, the third, the fifth. How to find the ninth tone in a guitar chord.
Crazy maybe; you willingly went along as tour manager of my bands first tour, in the dead of winter, in 1988. You and Waygone Rex got into a fight, almost really bad, back stage in a lousy club in Birmingham Alabama, the last gig of the tour. You said "that's it" you were going to take a Greyhound bus home, you went back to the hotel. Instead you got up the next morning took the terrible $1500 van in for an oil change and we drove back to Southern California our friendships still in tact.
When I was ready to leave home, leave my parents, you were a safe place to learn how to become a un-child. Maybe not an adult just yet, but not a child. I paid rent, got my first job and listened to your extensive record collection, on shelves made of boards and cement blocks
You were my friend and advisor when I needed to talk about guys and figure out where I fit in. One time you said, "what's with you?" I said I had a big wall (I was 22) and that if anyone wanted to get close they'd have to knock it down. You said, "okay I'm knocking it down". You really knew how to be my friend.
Our friend David Ruderman reminded me the other day, of the time we went with you in your old 1940s Ford truck, tooling down the freeway, on our way to a little gig at a steakhouse and the entire front wheel came off the axel. Thump! And then it, the wheel, rolling on ahead of us, passing in front of us, while we screeched and sparked to a halt, safely somehow, miraculously, on the shoulder of the freeway.
When I got married to Paul, you were our photographer. When our little 4 year old son had a birthday you were the train engineer that told tall tales of steam-engines and sang songs of railroad yards.
Everyone (Elizabeth Hummel, Veronica Boyer, Bart Mendoza) looking cool for your shutter snap, at the wedding..
Rick, the last time I saw you, in 2005 or 6, I was pretty much a mess with everything going on with Paul's health, as you remember he was still living at home. And raising a young child on my own. I wasn't much a friend to you and your sister these past 12 years. But I've always got you here, in my heart, and in my harmony, and those photographic memories. May your life now as a free spirit of energy take you to all the places you always wanted to go, the Holland Tunnel, Route 66, and beyond.
Rick Saxton passed away 2 weeks ago.
It is a little hazy for me, Cindy, but I think I remember Rick. He hosted an open mike at some place in San Diego, downtown...and I had met him previously through you at that time, around 1986. That was my debut, as a solo, and he was very gracious as the host. I still have the cassette of him introducing me. Sorry to hear he passed.
ReplyDeleteYes, Rick hosted the open mic at Drowsy Maggies for several years..Thanks Richard for the kind thoughts..
DeleteI just now (March 25, 2015) learned of Rick's passing. he was my first musical friend in San Diego when I landed there in 1986. I had hoped to talk and play music with him again. I well remember Rick's stint at hosting the open mic at Drowsy Maggie's.
DeleteRick was a rare person: friendly, humorous, gutsy, and loved music. I met him at the greenery in pacific beach long ago, subsequently played in a small group with him. it was fun. Not many like him. Selfless, open, humorous, generous of spirit, simply wanting to put his music out there, but not at the expense of anyone else. I will miss him..
DeleteI haven't seen or heard of/from Rick in ages, but I remember him well, and I remember a great guy. I remember those long, quick strides of his, and how, if we were walking along, me desperately trying to keep up, he'd stop and ask ME to slow it down a bit. Dude. I'm both made happy by memories of him and greatly saddened by his death.
ReplyDeleteThere are some people that are like comfort food for the soul, like hot chocolate with cinnamon, like blankets to wrap up in on a windy beach. Rick was one of these people, and you captured that beautifully in your tribute, Cindy. Thank you. I miss him and feel his prescence at the same time. His esscence embodies 'hope springs eternal'... Peace, sister. Love, David C.
ReplyDeleteThis is sad news...I can't remember where I met Rick, yet I remember spending time laughing with him, and how he encouraged me as a young musician, and how he would come to my shows always with a smile on his face. Thank you for writing about him and the cool photos! xo
ReplyDeleteRick and I spent countless nights photographing art and traveling to shows ,he will always be my good friend and I will always be there for him if we ever meet again.
ReplyDeleteArik ,Rue Michelle antiques
Cindy I was wondering if this is the Rick I knew who was also my ex-room mate around 1970 in San Diego, he was working of KPRI radio, have not seen him since then, If it was, my condolences.
ReplyDeleteI don't know if that was this Rick Saxton. Probably not since I think he was an Army medic at Vietnam at the time. But I didn't meet him until the late 70s
DeleteSorry to hear this news, but thanks for posting it. Rick was a good friend back in the 70's. A wellspring of enthusiasm about all things. Yep I sold him a truck which I had received in exchange for a motorcycle I was pushing along the road at the time. Always ready with a laugh, despite the circumstances, which there often were. Generous of spirit, a rare soul who could hit the 5th every time, will be sorely missed.
ReplyDeleteI knew Rick and his sister Lois and her children and their mom when they lived in west LA in the 70s. I also met you back then. Very nice man sorry to hear of his passing.
ReplyDeleteI knew Rick and his sister Lois and her children and their mom when they lived in west LA in the 70s. I also met you back then. Very nice man sorry to hear of his passing.
ReplyDelete