December 21–28, 1995

feature

The Heart Of Rock and Roll

Remembering Carol Schutzbank, 1961-1995.

By Margit Detweiler

I keep reaching for the phone.

This is silly, I think, I'll just call Carol — the woman with all the names and numbers, who's always ready to help with a tip, a name she's networked, a musical insight.

But the woman who supported the Philadelphia music scene more than just about anyone, who worked harder than just about anyone — whether it was as an editor, writer, promoter, manager, salesperson or friend — can'tbe reached.

On Tuesday at 10:15a.m., Carol Schutzbank died in Thomas Jefferson University hospital, friends and family by her side. She was 34.

On Feb. 14, 1995, Valentine's Day, Carol had suffered a massive heart attack, the result of a rare blood-clotting disorder called anti-phospholipid syndrome. Last weekend, after almost a year of complications that included a heart transplant in October, she fell into a coma. On Tuesday, when it had become clear that she would not regain consciousness, she was taken off life support systems.

In some ways, even though she was a non-smoking, non-drinking vegetarian, it wasn't surprising that it was Carol's heart that gave out. She worked her heart hard.

Sure, the curly-haired redhead was feisty, or "tenacious," as her friend, WMMR DJ Elise Brown, describes her — she got what she wanted. But she was also one of the kindest, most thoughtful people you could meet. In the music industry, says her friend, music publicist Sherri Bonghi, that's saying a lot.

"Anybody who knew Carol personally knew she was a real caretaker at heart," says Brown. "When I was going through some stress about getting a new job at WMMR, Carol sent me cards, and a mug with herbal tea bags in it. She did this with all she was going through?"

Carol, who grew up in an Orthodox Jewish family in Morrisville, NJ, spent her early years in the Philly scene as a punk rocker and a Temple journalism student. She played keyboards and sang in the band Initial Attack, booked bands at the KennelClub, worked at Pulsations, managed bands like Scram, Ruin and the Electric Love Muffin.

"She was a major punk rocker, big time," says Bonghi. "That's why a lot of people knew her. And she was very good to musicians."

Carol was driven by her vision that the world recognize Philadelphia as a music "scene." In 1989, she and partner Karen McVicker co-founded an organization called Earwig — described in a City Paper cover story as "a music resource organization dedicated to the support and perpetuation of progressive and aggressive music in Philadelphia."

"Carol was the networking queen," says Bonghi. "She'd flip open her book and say this is the person to talk to."

"Organization was her middle name," says her father Merrill Schutzbank. "I think that if God needed her that badly, she's probably already up there organizing his papers."

I first met Carol when she was with Earwig and I was an editorial assistant at City Paper in 1989. But the things I remember most about Carol, even though we dealt with each other professionally over the years, are more personal.

I remember her spicy perfume — Paloma Picasso; her perfect, elegant handwriting from the many personal and thank-you notes she sent; and the way she spoke — her melodious tone and perfect pronunciation.

"She had the most beautiful voice ever, ever, ever," says Brown.

I remember spending a few hours hanging out with her in the airport in Austin Texas, waiting for our plane back from the South By Southwest Music Conference while she gave me sound advice on a particular boy. Beyond professional relationships, Carol always had time to talk with you as a friend.

She was also one of the people who inspired me to shed some weight and get healthy, after telling me one night at the Chestnut Cabaret her story of losing over 50 pounds ten years ago after changing her diet and getting a personal trainer. As Elise Brown says, "Carol really knew how to take care of herself and others. She knew how nutrition, the psyche and the body worked together."

But she wasn't averse to cheating once in a while.

"We'd walk through the city from her apartment to Pink Rose Pastry and pig out and walk back to her apartment... Her favorite meal was the beans and rice at American Diner. When she first got out of hospital she had to have it. But it was the first time anyone had seen her since her heart attack," Bonghi laughs, "so she didn't even get to eat her meal."

Carol wrote about music for numerous publications in both the Philadelphia and national marketand was senior editor at the internationally distributed magazine B-Side.

One of her more recent projects was the Delaware Valley Music Poll Awards, which she co-founded with Bonghi and the Trocadero's Dave Simons four years ago.

This year, Carol worked tirelessly from both her hospital bed at Temple and home to make sure the show happened. Sandy Garcia, friend and B-Side founder, says that Carol was inspired by David Wildman, the manager of the Kennel Club who died from cancer several years ago.

"He was her mentor," says Garcia. "The one who got her involved with music promotion in Philadelphia. His memory pushed her to continue."

"She was feisty as all hell," laughs Brown. "We got in this big fight because she didn't want G. Love and Special Sauce to play at the awards. She said, 'Their Geffen bio says they're from Boston. He's not playing.' We fought for two hours over that."

"Her biggest disappointment was that she wasn't able to be at the awards," says Merrill Schutzbank. "She had a beautiful dress we bought her. She wanted to wear it at least once... She'll be wearing it Friday."

The last time I spoke with Carol, she had set up an interview for me, from her hospital bed, with Krist Novoselic, former bass player with Nirvana who spoke at the Delaware Valley Music Awards on behalf of the anti-censorship group JAMPAC. Carol believed firmly in freedom of musical expression; her good connections had brought famed rock critic Dave Marsh to the DVMPA awards last year to speak on censorship.

On the phone, Carol told me to keep my fingers crossed that she could make the ceremony — she'd told me of her new dress and planned to wear a bit of black lace over her required face mask.

"And you know, when I get out of here, we've got to go hang out and talk," she told me.

"Absolutely," I said.

I'll miss her very much.

Memorial services for Carol Schutzbank will be held Friday at 12 Noon at the Brothers of Israel Synagogue in Trenton.

In lieu of flowers, the Schutzbank family prefers you offer a donation to the Carol L Schutzbank Memorial Fund c/o Heart Failure/Heart Transfer Unit; Temple University Hospital, Parkinson pavilion #319, Phila. PA 19140.