Meeting My Life-Changing Music-Related Best Friends

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2021
Images from the Internet unless indicated

Meeting My Life-Changing Music-Related Best Friends

We all have friends who have changed the course of our lives and are considered family. Some have one or two, but I have been lucky to meet and keep many over the years. This is only a partial list, and considers people I have known for over 25 years, so if you are not on it, it does not mean that you are unappreciated. I have edited it for space. This list is alphabetical, not in any kind of ranking order.

 

Alan Abramowitz aged 15, the year we met (pic: Larry)

Alan Abramowitz
Alan is generally known for two things: being the creator/producer of the ground-breaking cable access show, “Videowave,” which was in its heights from the early 1980 until the mid-1990s (though it still comes out on occasion), and for pretty consistently being late. I met Alan in the summer of 1970, when we were both 15 years old. It was a three-week-long sleepaway camp (H.E.S.: Hebrew Educational Society). On the first day, I picked out my bunk, the top of a bunk bed, and was lying on it when he came over and asked, pointing to the lower half, “Can I sleep here?” I said yes, and we’ve been friends since. Though we had a bit of a rocky start (we annoyed each other), we found our way, especially after we found out we were cousins (his great aunt was one of my paternal grandfather’s four or five wives). He lived about three miles from me in Sheepshead Bay and then Gravesend, and we would bike back and forth. We helped introduce each other to different kinds of music and film. That’s part of what led him to the path of producing music-related “Videowave” (segments of which can be found on YouTube). I worked for him in various positions over the years as photographer, videographer, and floor manager (the guy who was the middleman between the control room and the talent). Through him I met a lot of amazing people, as well. We have had a lot of adventures.

Mary Anne Cassata

Mary Anne Cassata
Mary Anne is an extremely well-known rock writer, with numerous books on the arts, including about Cher, Elton John, and Jim Carrey. She was also head editor of a number of teen-related newsstand magazines that ended up as posters on teenagers’ walls. If I remember correctly, we met by phone, and she started writing for my magazine, FFanzeen in the 1980s. Considering she was a professional writer and willingly wrote for me when I paid no one (I did not have ads so it was not making money, much like this blog), which went a long way in us quickly becoming friends. We hung out quite a bit and I even drove her up to Batavia, NY, once, to meet up with some people, while on my way to Buffalo,. On the other hand, she got me in to not only see the Animals play in 1986, but got me backstage after the show to talk to Chas Chandler (d. 1996) about Slade and interview Eric Burden, took me along to a special USO show where I got to meet Stephen Stills and members of many of the big mainstream bands of the day, and hang out with Cheap Trick, got me into a press conference with Gary Glitter in his first US tour at the Limelight in 1984, and we went to see the Teen Idols Tour (Bobby Sherman, Davy Jones [d. 2012] and Peter Noone) in Westbury, NY, in 1998. Over the years, I also wrote for her publications a few times, such as one on Graceland for an Elvis mag. She was the first person with whom I ever Skyped.

 

Dennis Concepcion with The Steinettes (pic: RBF)

Dennis Concepcion
Sitting in an auditorium-style class in Queens College in 1976, I happened to mention Simon and Garfunkel to the person next to me before the class. After it was over, the person sitting in front of me turned around, and started to talk about S&G. When we had to leave the room because the next class was about to start, we headed over to the school’s cafeteria for coffee, and we talked for about three or four hours. We became good friends and I joined his clique of phenomenal people (including Mark, Ray, Alice, Suzy, and Richie Shapiro, who became the drummer for Steve Forbert for a while and The Glands – he wrote their infamous “Mutants on Motorcycles”). Even beyond college where we saw each other nearly every school day, we would hang out up at his parent’s apartment near Riverside Drive (his dad was a US Department [USAID] official with assignments in Vietnam during the 1960s and Mauretania in the late ‘70s). I learned a lot a bout photography from Dennis. In 1978, he decided to attend an Expos game and talked me into going up to Montreal with him. It was during this trip that I met the woman whom I would end up marrying. Dennis moved to Queens, where I’d occasionally stay with my Canadian beau when she came to visit, then to Brooklyn for a number of years, and then recently to Alabama of all places, to work – very happily – at the US Space and Rocket Center.

Nancy Foster on the right, Molly Victor on the left

Nancy Foster (aka Nancy Neon)
When I started publishing FFanzeen in 1977, I had heard about this amazingly cool person who ran a fanzine out of Greensboro, NC from various people. I’d wanted to talk to her, but didn’t have a copy of her ‘zine, so I let it go, figuring perhaps at some point… In 1979, I got a letter from Nancy, the very person herself, saying she was coming to NYC via bus, and we could meet at the Port Authority. We connected instantly, even taking pictures at a photobooth to mark the occasion (I kept one scroll of 4 images, which I still have, and she the other). When she shortly moved to New York, we attended so many shows together, me picking her up in her Times Square hotel (net to the New York Times), and we’d travel down to mostly Max’s, often to see the Heartbreakers, among others. With her amazing music knowledge, she also started writing for me: her interview with Walter Lure was the last thing that happened in the back room at Max’s – they closed the door behind her. Nancy also became an insider to the Johnny Thunders crowd. In the early 1980s, she moved back down to North Carolina for a while, and when she was ready to return, I drove down there to bring her back. I stayed a week in her parents’ house (our relationship has always been a close brother-sister), seeing the sights and bands (at Fridays) down there, meeting people like Lynn Blakey (who would go on to Let’s Active), Molly, and the Tucker brothers. When she came back, she became active in the new garage movement, and while I followed it, too, we kind of lost each other due to our busy lives. When she eventually moved to Boston, ironically, we found each other in part due to the Internet, and we’ve been close as fleas ever since. Once again, she is writing for me, this time for my blog. It’s good to have my sister from another mother back in my life.
 

Bernie Kugel (far right)
and his then-band, Mystic Eyes (pic: RBF)

Bernie Kugel
In Buffalo, among other places, Bernie is a musical cult idol, springing especially from bands like The Good and Mystic Eyes. But he grew up in Brooklyn, walking distance from me, when we met in high school. It was hate at first sight, until we realized we both like comic books. We really bonded when we took an English class together led by Phil Seuling, who opened up the very first comic book store (four short blocks from my house) and helped create the Comic Con. Bernie had the largest record collection I’d ever seen (a miniscule amount compared to now), and I would go over his house and listen. And learn. One day he said, as we were sitting around, “I’m thinking of learning the guitar. Do you know anyone who teaches it?” I did, and told him; that didn’t work out, but it also made Bernie more determined. He moved to Buffalo for college, but we did not lose track of each other, and I’d go and visit him and his girlfriend – now wife (I was best man at his wedding) – Dawn (aka Tink) and met Buffalo’s royalty, like the Davison brothers, music promoter Bruce Moser and his wife (Tink’s sister) Mary, Mad Louie, Dee Pop who would join the Bush Tetras, Yod, Davey, Shelley, and Play It Again Sam’s/Home of the Hits. We’d also occasionally drive over to Irondequoit, a suburb of Rochester, to hang out with Greg Prevost, vox of the Chesterfield Kings at the HOG (House of Guitars). Bernie is responsible for one of the major turning points in my life, by introducing me to CBGB. We went there (me, reluctantly at first) in spring of 1975 and saw Talking Heads (their very first show) opening for the Ramones with all of a dozen people in the audience. After that, we’d go there often, along with other places like Max’s, and come home as the sun was rising, stopping off for some White Castle on 86 Street and Stillwell Avenue (now a PetCo) before heading home. Bernie has always been one of my closest and dearest, and remains so to this day.

 

Julia Masi

Julia Masi
I believe I met Julia through either Alan, or my then-managing editor, Stacy Mantel. She lived in Bay Ridge, and she started writing for me. In fact, she probably wrote more articles in FFanzeen than anyone else, including myself. Eventually, when Stacy moved on, Julia became the replacement managing editor. We went to a lot of shows. Julia had an easy laugh, a very wry sense of humor, and she was quite brilliant (she now has multiple degrees). She also worked on Alan Abramowitz’s “Videowave” show as an interviewer and host. One of my favorite things about picking her up for a night on the town was getting to hang with her very Italian parents. The first time we went out to see a show, I was sitting at the tiny dinner table in the tiny kitchen, and her father – a really big, intimidating man who made a killer cheesecake), put a glass with some liquor in it and said, “You want to take my daughter out, you have to drink this.” I looked up at him and said, “Frank, I’m 110 pounds; if I drink that, I will not be safe to drive and you would not want to put your daughter into a car with me. I like you and her too much to take that risk, so I respectfully decline.” He looked at me sternly, and then laughed, turned, and yelled to the next room, “Julia, Robert’s okay with me.” Apparently, I was the first one to say no. Julia is a pleasure to talk to, and now she’s an educator and on some charitable and arts boards, such as the Met Museum of Art. I have a standing invite for lunch on the roof, and at some point when I’m back in New York, I’ll take her up on it.

Walter Ocner and Sandra Bossert

Walter Ocner
In the 1980s, I got a phone call from a teenage fan from central Queens. He had picked up an issue of FFanzeen and wanted to come see the FFanzeen office. Sure, Walter, come on over. He came to my apartment in Brooklyn via a two-hour subway ride, and I took him into my messy bedroom. “This is it!” He was in shock, expecting to see an office, rather than the fact that I would sit on my bed and type out the articles and do the layout while watching television commercials (my joke was that I was a “commercial” artist). Despite that and our age difference, we became friendly, and eventually really good pals. He would come over about once a month, and I would make him compilation tapes. Before playing the Dictators’ Go Girl Crazy, I said to him, “You probably may not like this when you first hear it, but give it a chance.” He didn’t, but persisted, and now the ‘Tators are one of his favorite bands. Another time, he was sitting on my bed and I was sitting on the floor leaning against my shelving unit full of LPs. He said, “Have you ever heard of this band called Love? I hear their records are hard to find and expensive.” I reached behind me and pulled out three of them in near-mint condition, and said, “These?” His jaw dropped. “I got them for a dollar each.” He was in shock. Eventually, he started buying his own albums and became a major collector and seller. He will often somewhat jokingly say to me, “It’s all your fault. You ruined my life!” I smile and say, “You’re welcome.” Walter has become like a little brother to me over the years, and I still enjoy our conversations about music and life. Also, I am a fan of his wife, Sandra, and some day maybe I’ll get to meet their adorably cute pooch, Mimi.

 

Joe Viglione (pic: Rich Parsons)

Joe Viglione
Joe Vig and I became acquainted via mail, the connection made by my fanzine and his, Varulven. Joe is well known in the Boston area as a performer over the years (bands such as The Count, the Auguste Phenomenon, Dimension 10, and others). We would talk on the phone, but due to long distance charges, our correspondence was mainly snail mail. He always addressed the letters amusingly, by adding extra “F”s to FFanzeen or my last name or put my name as Robert Mary Francos. Always cracked me up. In May of 1981, he invited me up to his house on Dragon Ct (the perfect place for someone known as The Count) so I drove up to Woburn for the long weekend. After that, I went up there every May and September long weekends until 1985 (when I became otherwise occupied). I slept on the couch and went into Boston to attend performances, some of which he was performing, such as at the Rat, or shows he set up like at the Paradise, and sometimes just by myself with some newfound friends, like the great Kenne Highland, Donna Lethal, and I saw many sets with amazing rock photographer, Rocco Cippolone, who would eventually start his own fanzine, BANG!. While in Woburn, I got to hang out at Joe’s kitchen with his friend, famed producer Jimmy Miller. That was a blast. Often I would take up my VCR and tape hours of V66 (which became the HSN), a local channel that often played local and independent music videos, sort of a cooler MTV. When Joe eventually moved to Medford, MA, I visited there a few times in the 1990s and 2000s. Now, Joe has his own podcast, still plays music, and produces others’, and releases some amazing CD collections.