34 Years of Life Without Stevie Ray Vaughan

How did I end up here? Blogging! What a funny thing to do with one's life and time. Does anyone even know what I do when I say that? Lol!

The short and obvious answer is, “I ended up here because Stevie Ray Vaughan died.” If he were here, I’m sure I would be living in Dallas, journaling about the journey, writing and running his fan club newsletter, and possibly getting ready for the release of his biography because that WAS my dream! If he were still with us, he'd turn 70 this year. Can you imagine what his story would sound like today?

It crushes me to think what the world lost that day. I never did meet him, but I almost got to shake his hand. He used it to wave the cops back from coming for me and my friend, whose shoulders I was sitting on to reach up to him. We returned behind the line and stayed for the rest of the show.

The way I see it, if he were here, he'd still be with the same band. I’d also guess he'd hang out with his brother, Jimmie Vaughan. I believe he'd be chilling with Eric Clapton and Bonnie Raitt in a studio, doing some final shows with Buddy Guy, touring some with The Rolling Stones, and killing it with Joe Bonamassa and Kenny Wayne Shepherd. What's funny about that "what if" vision is that each of them has their own SRV story, and I am sure they all miss him, like crazy too.

Here is mine. Before graduating from Union County College with an associate degree in communications, I had to log hours as an intern somewhere. I went to the board to look for a place daily for a week, and nothing appealed to me. Now we were getting down to the final hours; I was in the middle of a move; it was the holiday season of 1993, and I was studying for finals. I was in the new house, unpacking my things, when I found the draft letter I wrote and sent to SRV on April 17, 1990. It was an old-fashioned fan letter written on paper with a blue pen. I sat there on the floor of my new bedroom and cried my eyes out, just like I did the day he died. Tears from that day still stain the copy I kept.

I also found a copy of an old Aquarian Weekly with SRV on the cover in the same box. Now, it's days later, on Wednesday night, I have most of my finals wrapped up, but I still have no idea of an internship. That night, I went to the old house to grab a load but stopped at O'Johnnies in Clark, NJ, to see if The East Coast Rocker was out, and low and behold, it was with The Rolling Stones on the cover. I bought two copies, brought one to school the next day, put it on my professor's desk, and asked if she could set up my internship with them.

She called the newspaper and set up an interview for mid-January. My first day at the newspaper in Montclair, NJ, was Friday, February 4, 1994. I went in for the day to meet the staff. By the end of March, I was being paid for my travel expenses, and by the beginning of April, my editor and direct boss, Keith Lyle, had fallen ill. I had been helping him with his weekly column, "Bea Flatte." It covered the local cover bands on the scene. When he had to step out, he asked me to take over the column, and I ran with it and drove my new editor absolutely crazy! LOL!

Robert Makin (I called him Bob) was the newspaper's Editor-In-Chief and is now my direct boss. My copy maddened him. After a couple of weeks of this, he called me in for a meeting. It was rough. He told me I was too wordy and said I could lay off the adjectives. He explained phasings and gave me a book on correctly punctuating my news articles. I still fail at that! Soon after the first confrontation, he learned I was interning for my associate degree, not my bachelor's, as he thought. Once he knew that, he took me under his wing and taught me more than any institution. I remain grateful for his dedication to my ambition and still thank him for the lessons he shared with me.

Each week, I would search for gigs and talk about bands and bars in the area. Sound familiar? On one particular Sunday in April, I woke up, loaded six SRV discs into the multi-disc player, and opened the newspaper to seek out events. I noted that my favorite bar, The Stanhope House, was hosting its first annual blues event, featuring seven acts, including local and nationally known ones. I called my brother and told him, "Hey, there's a blues fest in Stanhope. Want to meet me up there?" My party of four gathered, and I told the people at the door that I was a writer for the Aquarian Weekly and wondered if my friends and I could hang out. Ed and Maureen welcomed us openly without collecting the ticket charge for me or my friends.

Upon entry, I went to work, spoke with the owner, Ed, and asked him many questions about buying the house and running a bar. The last question I asked was, "Who are you most excited about being on this bill today?" He said, "There are so many great players here today, Tracey, but I had this kid in earlier in the month, and let me tell you, he killed it. Young Gun, I can't wait to see him again. If you like that heavy Texas guitar blues, you'll love him. He's from PA."

Now, I am at the bar ordering drinks and ask the bartender who he wants to see that day. He says, "Ed had some young dude in here a couple of weeks ago; I want to see him. Young Gun, I think he plays third." Okay, two recommendations in two minutes were of interest to me. We are on the second act of the day, and I ask the man standing next to me, "Who do you want to see most? He tells me about this great guitar player he saw ten days prior and ends with, "Young Gun."

Not liking the suspense, I now head to the lobby to speak with co-owner Maureen, who is working the door. I cross the threshold and trip into the room as I lock eyes with this boyish man leaning against his off-white guitar in the lobby. He took my breath away. It's the only time that ever happened to me. He wore a pale blue button-down that matched his eyes, a guitar jacket with fringe, and a golden brown long-haired mullet. I almost land on Maureen when I enter the vestibule and say, "Everyone keeps mentioning this 'Young Gun;' who is he?" "Oh, Teddy," she exclaimed loudly, "He just got here." She looks around the room, zeros in on the one watching me trip into the room to ask about him, and points, "He's right over there!" I immediately broke out into a sweat.

Composing myself, I get it together enough in the ten strides it takes to reach the slinger and introduce myself to this Young Gun. Meeting Ted Wiegopolski on Sunday, April 17, 1994, would be a pivotal day in my life and his. After our brief meeting and quick conversation, he took the stage, during which we exchanged digits and details. He had two shows that day and was the third act on the first bill. When I tell you, it was like Stevie sat on my shoulder and said, "How about this guy? Huh?" It was unreal. I think I left my body for a minute that day. He moved me so much that I left the festival soon after his set ended to go home and write about him. On my way home, SRV came on the radio for a block party weekend. I would put it together years later that I met Ted on the same day I wrote Stevie that letter four years later. It gives me chills when I think about it. I could hardly wait to talk to him. I called him early the next day because he said it was his day off, and he woke up to take my call. I couldn't believe how buzzed I was by his music.

It was the first and only time it filled that void of losing SRV. It thrilled me. I felt like jumping for joy. If I were honest, I'd tell you we fell in love and rocked each other's worlds, but we never admitted it to ourselves or the world. That led to a very twisted and complex story that played out each week for more than 11 years and played a big hand in my leaving the area to move to North Carolina.

I fell in love with Ted and walked beside him as a promoter, manager, and lover for 11-plus years. I found opportunities to record for his band and even interrupted a session because I was not fond of the contract terms. When we met in 1994, he was 21, and I was 25. We were both newly invested in living our dreams and somehow, our stories and love for the music offered by SRV connected us to a bond that will never be denied. When we met, he was touring the East Coast and Canada, billed as Young Gun and The Santa Fe Blues Band. He worked for a booking shark, who played bass and managed his band. Hooter was also well-known for taking advantage of artists.

During our years together, I was fueled by passion. That is why I pitched a fit when the paper let me go. As far as they were concerned, I was an intern, and my internship was over. As far as I was concerned, I was a staff member being paid for my efforts. I never wanted it to end. So, when it did, I spent days on the phone, contacting all the bands and clubs I covered and telling them I was no longer with the paper. I asked everyone to write the paper and ask for me back.

It must have worked because I got to meet the publisher. The week following our meeting, my editor called and asked me to come back and offered a Blues Column that we called "Boogie and Blues." I was just an ambitious writer serving an internship that would be a paid gig before it ended. I wrote for The Aquarian Weekly and East Coast Rocker, weekly publications found on newsstands each week, created by James Rensenbrink, the founder of Arts Weekly, Inc. This man was my hero in many ways, and I feel blessed to have worked with and written for him for four solid years.

I was offered my blues column for the paper the week of Stevie Ray's Birthday, which I mentioned out loud at the meeting. We called it "Boogie and Blues." It was published for three years. In 1997, we added a local version of the column and called it “Backyard Boogie n Blues.

I am grateful that my efforts got me invited into his office, if only once, for an interesting conversation about my life and music. He had a kind heart, mellow disposition, the curiosity of a cat, and was a tough old soul. He started his publication the year I was born and said he saw something in me and invested in it. This thrilled me, as he is responsible for my desire to write about live music as often as I do. From 1994 to 1998, I learned much about writing professionally and covering live music under his staff.

What a blessing it all was! Working with such an observant and professional staff that saw my desires and helped me develop new dreams. Those days still mark some of the greatest highlights of my life. It would lead me down roads I never thought I'd see. Most meaningful was the opportunity to write a Tribute to Stevie Ray and Jimi Hendrix. An article that would end up in Craig Hopkins’ detailed and resourceful book, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Day After Day, Night After Night His final years 1983-1990.

I did many things in those early years as a writer. After meeting Ted, I was so inspired to help bands. I started a side gig and the business of doing press kits and band promotions. Before long, I was writing for the paper, making press kits for bands I met along the way, and handling the promotion of Ted's band. Since 2000, he has been billed as Teddy Young & The Aces. I left in 2005 to move here and took a little break from music.

It was lots of fun stuff, all the time. I booked the Holmes Brothers for a benefit show and was offered a job writing a promo newsletter for Lee Frankel to promote his new club, Crossroads, in Garwood, NJ. They opened in 1996 and still serve a menu of cajan food and live music seven nights a week under Frankel’s direction.

I was invited to sit down with Buddy Guy at his hotel in NYC for a 45-minute interview and photo op. I was on the guest list to watch a show and have a meet-and-greet interview with legendary guitarist B.B. King at a high school gym in Denville, NJ. I was invited to sit with Rufus Thomas at another hotel in NYC and interview him about his appearance on the Conan O'Brien Show. He was in town because he was scheduled to sing his biggest hit, "Walking The Dog." Later that evening, at the studio, O'Brien would come up the aisle and dance with me. I became friends with festival organizer Michael Cloeren, who gave me full access to the Pocono Blues Festival for four Summers. It was there that I hung out with legends. I also became friends with Popa Chubby and Jeff Healey. Life was great! There was nothing I hated about it.

I interviewed Kenny Wayne Shepherd about his debut release, Ledbetter Heights, the week before I met Buddy Guy. When we spoke, he was 18 and had just kicked the man who inspired him in his guitar craft off the charts. The album had been climbing the blues charts since it was released in September 1995. The week I interviewed him in March of 1996, he took the place of Epic Records' 1995 release of "Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble Greatest Hits" as Number One. If it was not for SRV, would we even know KWS today? He told me the well-known story of his father placing him on SRV's amp on the stage during sound check during our interview. He was seven years old and has been playing guitar ever since. When I asked how he was handling the business of life as a chart-topper, he confessed he rarely had enough time to pee anymore, which provoked me to ask, "Would you like me to hold while you take a minute?" We laughed and talked more about Stevie Ray's music and his own.

Though all those moments are unforgettable, as are many unmentioned ones, none compare to the day Bob Makin asked if I would write a cover story about SRV and Jimi Hendrix five and 25 years after their deaths. It was April 1995 when he asked me. The issue would be published the week SRV died in 1995. The publication was Issue 786 and published August 23-30, 1995. Working on that article sharpened my interviewing skills for life. I spoke with quite a few heavy hitters for that piece. I got to talk to Robert Cray, Jeff Healey, Kim Simmonds, Charlie Sexton, Popa Chubby, Guitar Shorty and others for the article. I shied away from reaching out to his brother and his band. It was tough enough to talk to distant friends. I was very emotional during every interview. I think it is because they brought me into the world where Stevie existed. It was hard asking questions about such a massive loss without being emotional.

If the truth be told, I regret not contacting Jimmie Vaughan for that article. I wish I had been more courageous. I opted out because I was a fan of his as well and did not want to upset him by talking about the loss of his brother. As a fan of both brothers, I knew August 27 was a rough and tough day for the older Vaughan brother. Many don't realize it, but Stevie died on the same day as his father, four years later. At the time of my article, Vaughan's death remained a mystery, and his family was fighting a wrongful death lawsuit, which was finally settled that year. When I wrote my piece about him, the exact reason for the crash was still unknown. Ultimately, Vaughan's Family Attorney proved it was a pilot error. Jeff Brown failed to gain sufficient altitude due to the foggy conditions and slammed into the side of a mountain at the Alpine Valley Resort. That crash also claimed the lives of Bobby Brooks, Eric Clapton's agent, Nigel Browne, Eric Clapton's bodyguard, and Colin Smythe, Eric's assistant tour manager.

The other reason I didn't muster the courage to talk to Jimmie was that I could not ask him if he was supposed to take that seat on the helicopter. It was rumored early that Jimmie and his wife were on the flight with Stevie. Thankfully, that was untrue, but the nightmare was still absolute for everyone. It was reported that Jimmie gave up his seat to his younger brother, who was anxious to return to Chicago. Again, I couldn't delve into that and keep my composure, so I avoided the opportunity. It was also reported that Stevie and the band went down, which was not the case.

Interestingly enough, on August 27, 1995, I would attend a show in Camden, NJ. It was a stellar bill that included Jimmie Vaughan, Etta James, and BB King. After Vaughan's show, I headed backstage and gave him a few copies of my cover article. I told him I was still sorry about his brother's loss and handed him my article. He graciously took the article and thanked me. Trembling, I returned to the show and didn't think much about it after that, until 2014 when I bought Hopkins's book and saw my article listed in it! Page 293!

After Stevie's death, his band was left in shock and struggled to deal with the aftereffects of suddenly losing their boss. Everything good and true in life was over for the band. They had arguably played the best show of their career when their lives were reduced to rubble hours later. I would watch them continue in music with other projects. I enjoyed covering a couple of those as a blues reporter. Bassist Tommy Shannon and Drummer Chris Layton formed Arc Angels after SRV's death with Charlie Sexton and Doyle Bramhall II. The famed rhythm section also formed Storyville, a blues rock outfit that came together at a jam at Antone's in Austin, TX. A venue that SRV put on the map is in the capital city. I had an opportunity to review Storyville's 1996 release, "A Piece of Your Soul," and see the band at Irving Plaza in NYC. I never spoke with the band; I just did what I did. I listened, watched, and wrote about it. That band also included vocalist Malford Milligan, David Grisson, and David Lee Holt on guitars.

Chris Layton joined Kenny Wayne Shepherd in 2006, where he remains the famed drummer for his popular touring band. Tommy Shannon has retired from music but is still well respected and considered essential in blues music history. Keyboard player, Reese Wynans moved to Nashville after Vaughan’s death and was a major sessions player. In recent years, he joined Joe Banamassa’s all-star band. In 2019, he released a solo album featuring many famed stringers, including Joe, Kenny Wayne, and Josh Smith.

As for me, the girl who never got to write his fanzine...I still miss him and thank him for helping me love music as much as I do.

It was just a four-page letter discussing everything I knew about him, mentioning notes on most of his famous career and asking questions about his early years leading up to his success. It was a four-page letter that also spelled out who I was and my dreams. I explained that I first heard of him in a blurb in The Rolling Stones Fan newsletter Beggars Banquet. I wanted to create a similar product for SRV and DT and their fans and log the journey for his biography. I told him he had a great message to share. I was 21. I was not even in school to become anything yet because I was working for my father, but after writing that letter, I was laid off and opted to try college.

I returned to school for a degree in communications the year he died. I was a part of my school's first graduating class with a degree of its kind. A tiger of a teacher headed the communications program, Professor Susan Stock. I loved her because she fought to change the dynamics of a literary arts degree. She helped me reclaim those dreams that died with Stevie. Not quite a year after his death, I got married. After the wedding, we hopped in the limo at the church in Cranford, NJ, to roll up to the reception. Just as we hit the Garden State Parkway, Pride and Joy came on the radio. Since then, I have believed that Stevie has remained with me in a soul-to-soul way.

On this day 34 years ago, so many of my dreams died. I have done math for years, only to discover it’s been this long. It’s still mind-boggling to me that he is gone. His death hit me hard, in some ways, as no other has. No, I am not his biggest fan, nor would I try to claim to be. I just loved him for what he did to my soul. He awakened dreams in me. That aside, his loss impacted many in the music world. I remember right where I was when I heard the news. I was sitting on the couch in my fiances' house, brushing my hair at about 8:00 AM. It was long enough to turn it upside down. I was wearing my new Stevie Ray shirt, brushing my hair upside down, and looking at his face when Kurt Loder came on with the breaking news on MTV.

I last saw him in July 1990 at the Garden State Arts Center. It was my seventh and final time seeing him. It was a very crazy night for the guitar star, and it proved to be a lesson learned for me. I contemplated walking to the buses to wait for Vaughan that night but talked myself out. I still remember the conversation I had with myself. I reasoned that I should wait to approach him if he had not read my letter yet. In my mind, I was going to work for that man. Craig Hopkins did a fine job after my dream was derailed with his death. And I am grateful that my small piece made the book.

In my letter, I told Stevie I learned about him after The Rolling Stones hired him for a party for their new label, Rolling Stones Records. The event was held at a club in NYC in 1982. I only knew about it because I subscribed to a Rolling Stones fanzine that covered the party. I told Vaughan in my letter that it was my dream to document his career for fans in much the same way that Bill German, another one of my journalist heroes. He created Beggars Banquet and covered news for the Rolling Stones and their fans.

Stevie died before I ever got a reply to my letter, but I honestly believe he found me the night I found that letter in November 1993. I have felt his presence in my life since and still mourn his passing. I feel blessed to have seen him live seven times, and many of the shows were at the Pier in NYC, which was general admission seating. This would mark the first time I worked my way up to the stage to watch a concert stageside. Today, I still prefer to stand up close to the stage side to watch the players. I miss Stevie Ray Vaughan every day! He is the man who turned me on my ear at 15 and made me inspired me to do what I do more than even the boys I take my name from; however, I have to ask, if I did not love the Stones so much, would I have ever found Stevie? No one can say for sure, but life without him is not the same, not for anyone who loved or knew him. And not for me, just a girl robbed of meeting him. Next year will mark as much time with him on earth as he is in heaven. It’s really hard to believe.

When I die, I want my ashes to be placed in Dallas and Austin. I want to stay where he started because he changed my life by inspiring dreams that I chased!

Here is an interesting fact about my article Crossroads... on the day I proofread the final draft, news broke that Jerry Garcia had died. I was on the final sentence when that news came over the radio. I reread the article, looking for a place to include the news, but opted out. That said, just this week, I spoke with Vince Tricarico, singer and guitarist of Thankfully Departed. I sent him a list of questions about the band and how they got started. Later this week, we return to the local music news with more on them and their tribute to the man who died the day I submitted my article on the life of SRV and Jimi Hendrix. Thank you for reading!

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