Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

I need to go back to the days of Newman for this story. Remember that the other three guys in the band had gone to high school together. It was a private high school in Richmond, so everyone who went was part of this incredibly tight network of friends, “the Old Skool”, they called themselves. I would eventually become an honorary inductee. Well, a year prior to this story, one high ranking member of the the Old Skool (so high ranking, in fact, that he was dubbed, “the Dean”) was involved in a fiery car wreck that he didn’t escape. It was traumatic to the Old Skool. I had only met the Dean a few times in passing at parties, but I knew a majority of the rest of them very well. And they were all miserable for the first couple of months. Eventually it blew over and life went on.

One year later, I was living with Shafty in a house with a basement studio where Newman practiced. People had gathered at our house earlier that day to talk about and remember the fallen Dean. The saddest guy there was probably “Bobs”. He had lived with the Dean at the time of his accident. I knew Bobs fairly well, having been in the same Boy Scouts Troop. I ran into him around town a lot, and knew him to be a great guy. I listened as everyone told stories of Dean and his greatness. Bobs was in almost all of them. Well, the day went on and eventually, everyone went their own way, as Newman, the band, had a show to play that night.

We played our regular Wednesday night gig and Shafty and I came home to an urgent message from one of our Old Skool buddies. “Guys, it’s Lenuck. Call me whenever you get in.” You could hear it in his voice, something was wrong.

We soon found out that Bobs was dead.

It was 2:30 AM, but within minutes our house began to fill up with our friends. Everyone needed a place to congregate and hug and cry and console one another and vent and ask “why?” and “what the f*@k?” a lot.

The exact details leading up to his death are sketchy at best, and really inconsequential. We do know that it was the impact of his head on the side of the bathtub that resulted in his death. It didn’t matter how, but the fact that it was almost exactly one year after the death of Bobs’ best friend, the Dean, he followed suit. It was unbearable. No one knew exactly how to feel or what to say. For the most part, we sat in silence passing around joints a bottle of bourbon until the sun came up.

A few months later, we decided that we needed to memorialize these two guys somehow. A park bench was erected on the 5^th hole of Bob’s favorite Frisbee golf course in Richmond, but that just wasn’t enough. So, we decided to put on a benefit concert. They were both huge music fans, with tons of musician friends. The idea was perfect. It was agreed that the Friday after Thanksgiving would be the best date, as many people would be coming home from the holidays, and would be able to attend. Several groups agreed to play, all friends of the Old Skool. The last of which was a conglomeration of all the musicians in the Old Skool, called “the Hole 5 All-Stars”. We dubbed the event “the Bobs and Dean Show”. We invited all the friends, families, and friends of families of both Bobs and Dean. Special songs were written for the occasion. It was exactly what everyone needed, a gathering of friendships to celebrate the lives of our past bretheren. It was beautiful.

Everyone enjoyed themselves so much, that it has become an annual event. The music changes a little bit every year, but the theme stays the same. This event has raised over $6000 dollars that has all been donated to a music scholarship program at the Collegiate School of the Arts in the names of Bobs and Dean. The tradition will continue. However, you’ll have to go to Richmond to see it. Then you, too, can sing along to possibly the greatest song ever…

“One more round, for Bobs, my son.

One more round for Dean.

Rise up, Rise up, till you’ve had enough.

And drink with me.”

Popularity: 26% [?]