Remembering Rick D

I am going to write some ponderous shit here that Rick would hate. But I am going to do it anyway because I am punk rock and I do not give a fuck.

Having the strength to maintain absolute generosity in the face the extreme selfishness of this world somehow goes against nature; and people probably die early because of complications arising from their generosity. If that is true, I am grateful for having known, worked with and fought alongside of Rick.

Something is gnawing at me though. Why is it that Philadelphia punk scene leaders have such a short life expectancy?

Eddie “Hacksaw” Richards
Carol Schutzbank
Lee Paris
David Wildmann
And now, Rick Dobrowolski

All at one time or another anchored the Philadelphia music scene.
All were both street and book smart.
All shared a common generosity of spirit.
All had been seasoned by the scene, but their spirits were not corrupted by it.
All had managed my band, Ruin at different stages of its incarnation.
All now no longer have - as Dennis used to say, “Philly streets under the feet.”

I do not know what all this means - or if it means anything at all. Meaning seems somehow beside the point. Here is what I do know.

One day in 1984, Paul, our drummer and I were doing a guest spot on WKDU. These kids kept calling in and requesting songs. I talked to one of them for a while between songs. He said his name was Dave and they had a band somewhere out in Bucks County. I do not remember the name of their band. I remember that when I asked him how old they were, he replied, “13.” They were Ruin fans. Paul and I went out to visit them in their parents’ basement where they rehearsed. Their singer was this big, husky kid. His name was Rick. He seemed older than the others, and more streetwise. They sounded like shit, but their energy was pure punk – innocent, yet understanding that something was terribly amiss with life as they had experienced it so far. We advised them that the only way to get good is to play in front of people - as many as possible and as often as possible. Paul and I suggested that they open for us at the Kennel Club the following week when we headlined there.

They arrived nervous, a little awkward and yet, completely compelling because of their age. When a 13 year old plays punk rock, it is usually with a level of commitment not often found in other age groups. They brought their parents who took pictures of them shredding. Rick fronted them and was hooked. I even remember girls paying attention to him.

Fast Forward 11 years

I started getting emails from the guys in Ruin, talking about the possibility of reissuing a CD of our vinyl stuff and playing a few gigs. CC’ed on these emails was a “Rick Blackhole.” I had not seen Rick since 1987. I had been living in a parallel universe for a while. After Ruin initially broke up in 1987, I did not listen to music - let alone pick up an instrument - for about 5 years. I thought that I had to become mature or something. So here we were, back remixing our music, and preparing to play a reunion gig. Our reunion was instigated and engineered by Rick.

I remember the night before we played the first of three reunion shows he promoted. We were rehearsing for the first time with everyone (Paul had flown in from California). Rick stood there in the Warehouse, the studio where we had recorded our second album eons ago, leaning on the back of his heels, head slightly tilted upward, smiling a Cheshire cat grin and waiting to slam his head down in time for the next chord of one of our old songs that he had known since adolescence.

While we did not always see eye to eye in business, there is some strange symmetry with Rick and me. I was the doorman at his entry point into adulthood, and he was the doorman at my re-entry - years later - back into that peculiar type of punk rock innocence, which I am trying to hold on to this time around. I will be eternally grateful to him for that.

Cordy

I just found out about this tragedy. Rick was a driving force in Philly. I'll never forget the chances he gave to so many - Splendorbin, Mariner 9, Emory Swank, Stinking Lizaveta, and so many more. Upstairs at Nick's during the mid-90s was fantastic, and Rick was an inspiration behind the original PhillyMusic.com. He will be missed by many.

I will always remember the love between us. The day we moved into our house, the night you proposed to me a Bob & Barb's, and the the night you sang to me at Tritone. We had a unique love that will never die. You will always hold a special place in my heart forever. I miss you like crazy babe.