Coda to a Lost Friend
I’ve been meaning to write something cheerful, for the season and all. It’s just been slow going for my creative side lately, that’s all. But I’ve got a couple of ideas banging around in my noggin, and I’ll have to get a-typing here shortly.
Unfortunately, today needs to be a different type of post. You see, I got some rather stunning news early this morning from a friend of mine. It turns out that an old pal of ours from way back when recently died. Only Derik did it the hard way – by jumping off Seattle’s Aurora Bridge. Yikes.
Derik and I were good buddies from 1982 – 1985. We worked at Seattle’s Variety Club Haunted House together; he ran the actors, and my friend Bill and I ran security. We spent many nights in that dusty old warehouse building the annual haunted house, which by 1985 managed to attract over 50,000 people. Derik, Bill, and I would sit around for hours just talking or laughing over dumb jokes. We’d go down to the Godfather’s Pizza on the waterfront in Seattle and sit there over a deep dish Combo until the managers would throw us out at closing.
He loved Ghostbusters, and we spent hours talking about the special effects in the movie and how it was done. He also gave Bill and I a bad time for being Styx fans, and constantly mocked “Mr. Roboto”. In return, we gave him crap about David Bowie and Bruce Springsteen.
During the summer we built walls and safety rails together, and I helped him build the cement barriers that kept his “flooded” room flooded with 6 inches of water throughout the run of the house. In all of the years of haunted house fun, it turned out to be one of the greatest effects we ever pulled off. When it came time to run the haunted house during its annual two-week opening, Derik was the one who gave the fire extinguisher lesson to everyone, showing you how to make Mr. Extinguisher sneeze by pulling the pin and squeezing his neck.
It was one of the greatest times in my life, those haunted house days. I was 16 when I first went to volunteer there, and was almost 21 when we all wrapped it up and went our separate ways. I learned a lot about people – and myself, and I really came to understand what I wanted to be “when I grew up”. I adopted a lot of my mannerisms from watching how Derik interacted with people, because everyone seemed love him and look up to him. Even today I find myself going out of my way to thank people, even for the smallest task or favor, because that’s how Derik did it.
One of Bill and my favorite memories from Derik came from a message he left on my answering machine back in 1985 – I’d just bought my first answering machine, and of course being the 19 year old smart aleck that I was, also bought one of those dumb cassette tapes of bad celebrity impersonators to use as the outgoing message. Well, Derik’s reply back to the machine made Bill and I laugh for years to come: “Hey man, what the fuck you doin’, not being home?” I guess you had to be there, but it’s still funny to us…
After we all gave up the haunted house gig (in favor for jobs that actually paid) I only saw Derik a few more times. We talked at one point around 1990 about getting the old gang back together to do the haunted house again, but the window for that opportunity was fully closed by that point. We’d all grown up and moved on – the haunted house days of our teens would have to be a good memory, and that’s all.
So this morning I find myself thinking back to those days 25 years ago – I was just a punky kid, with no job, a borrowed car, a boom box, and a tool belt that consisted of nothing more than an old hammer from my Dad, a bunch of nails, a beat-up tape measure, and my mag flashlight, in case the rats came out to see what we were doing. I’ll always remember Derik for his charm and his kindness to everyone, and his uncanny ability to make everyone like him, even if they couldn’t tell you why.
He was a showman, all right.
I’m happy with the way my life has turned out since those haunted house days – I have a wonderful wife, a great career as a writer, a nice house, two obnoxious cats, a daughter that I’m proud of, and a granddaughter who makes me smile every time I think of her. A guy couldn’t ask for more than that.
But I’ll always remember those late teen years with fond memories and a deep sense of personal achievement. It really was the pivot point in my life, when I stopped being a kid and became an even bigger kid. And just like Bill and John and Chuck and Pam and Mike and Cleve and Bergy, Derik was part of that, like it or not.
Jumping off the Aurora Bridge in Seattle is something of a cliché – it’s the equivalent of jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. Knowing Derik, I would’ve thought he would’ve found a more creative way. But I really didn’t know him for the last 25 years, so I can’t say what was going through his mind at the end. The Derik I knew was full of life, and was one of the happiest people around. Just goes to show how people change, I suppose.
So goodbye, Derik – I’m sorry that you’re gone, and I’m really sorry you ended it like that. I hope you were able to find the peace you wanted in the end.
I'll be sure to teach the Lovely Mrs. G. how to play "Sneaky Creepy" one of these days, in your honor. It's the least I can do. :)
Unfortunately, today needs to be a different type of post. You see, I got some rather stunning news early this morning from a friend of mine. It turns out that an old pal of ours from way back when recently died. Only Derik did it the hard way – by jumping off Seattle’s Aurora Bridge. Yikes.
Derik and I were good buddies from 1982 – 1985. We worked at Seattle’s Variety Club Haunted House together; he ran the actors, and my friend Bill and I ran security. We spent many nights in that dusty old warehouse building the annual haunted house, which by 1985 managed to attract over 50,000 people. Derik, Bill, and I would sit around for hours just talking or laughing over dumb jokes. We’d go down to the Godfather’s Pizza on the waterfront in Seattle and sit there over a deep dish Combo until the managers would throw us out at closing.
He loved Ghostbusters, and we spent hours talking about the special effects in the movie and how it was done. He also gave Bill and I a bad time for being Styx fans, and constantly mocked “Mr. Roboto”. In return, we gave him crap about David Bowie and Bruce Springsteen.
During the summer we built walls and safety rails together, and I helped him build the cement barriers that kept his “flooded” room flooded with 6 inches of water throughout the run of the house. In all of the years of haunted house fun, it turned out to be one of the greatest effects we ever pulled off. When it came time to run the haunted house during its annual two-week opening, Derik was the one who gave the fire extinguisher lesson to everyone, showing you how to make Mr. Extinguisher sneeze by pulling the pin and squeezing his neck.
It was one of the greatest times in my life, those haunted house days. I was 16 when I first went to volunteer there, and was almost 21 when we all wrapped it up and went our separate ways. I learned a lot about people – and myself, and I really came to understand what I wanted to be “when I grew up”. I adopted a lot of my mannerisms from watching how Derik interacted with people, because everyone seemed love him and look up to him. Even today I find myself going out of my way to thank people, even for the smallest task or favor, because that’s how Derik did it.
One of Bill and my favorite memories from Derik came from a message he left on my answering machine back in 1985 – I’d just bought my first answering machine, and of course being the 19 year old smart aleck that I was, also bought one of those dumb cassette tapes of bad celebrity impersonators to use as the outgoing message. Well, Derik’s reply back to the machine made Bill and I laugh for years to come: “Hey man, what the fuck you doin’, not being home?” I guess you had to be there, but it’s still funny to us…
After we all gave up the haunted house gig (in favor for jobs that actually paid) I only saw Derik a few more times. We talked at one point around 1990 about getting the old gang back together to do the haunted house again, but the window for that opportunity was fully closed by that point. We’d all grown up and moved on – the haunted house days of our teens would have to be a good memory, and that’s all.
So this morning I find myself thinking back to those days 25 years ago – I was just a punky kid, with no job, a borrowed car, a boom box, and a tool belt that consisted of nothing more than an old hammer from my Dad, a bunch of nails, a beat-up tape measure, and my mag flashlight, in case the rats came out to see what we were doing. I’ll always remember Derik for his charm and his kindness to everyone, and his uncanny ability to make everyone like him, even if they couldn’t tell you why.
He was a showman, all right.
I’m happy with the way my life has turned out since those haunted house days – I have a wonderful wife, a great career as a writer, a nice house, two obnoxious cats, a daughter that I’m proud of, and a granddaughter who makes me smile every time I think of her. A guy couldn’t ask for more than that.
But I’ll always remember those late teen years with fond memories and a deep sense of personal achievement. It really was the pivot point in my life, when I stopped being a kid and became an even bigger kid. And just like Bill and John and Chuck and Pam and Mike and Cleve and Bergy, Derik was part of that, like it or not.
Jumping off the Aurora Bridge in Seattle is something of a cliché – it’s the equivalent of jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. Knowing Derik, I would’ve thought he would’ve found a more creative way. But I really didn’t know him for the last 25 years, so I can’t say what was going through his mind at the end. The Derik I knew was full of life, and was one of the happiest people around. Just goes to show how people change, I suppose.
So goodbye, Derik – I’m sorry that you’re gone, and I’m really sorry you ended it like that. I hope you were able to find the peace you wanted in the end.
I'll be sure to teach the Lovely Mrs. G. how to play "Sneaky Creepy" one of these days, in your honor. It's the least I can do. :)
posted by Tommy G at
7:15 AM
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