All of us at The Friends thank each and every one of our renewing members and all of our new members for your support.  Your membership donations helped raise the matching fund which qualifies us for a New Jersey Historical Commission grant to expand The Bruce Springsteen Special Collection.  Because of you, the application has been submitted, and we’re hoping for good news when  notifications are made in May.

Item number 15,000 is a German issue of Rolling Stone published in May 2001, containing a significant review of the Live In New York City double CD.  The donation reached the Collection by special delivery of the most personal nature:  Astrid Ewen of Billerbeck, Germany, a town of approximately 12,000 people in the district of Coesfeld in North Rhine-Westphalia, hand carried the issue from Germany and presented it during a visit to the Collection while in New Jersey for the 12th annual Light of Day shows.

A frequent donor to the Collection, Astrid told us she found the Rolling Stone issue on eBay after reviewing the “wanted items” list posted on the Collection website.  “This Rolling Stone was right there,” she said, “getting ready to be purchased for the Collection.”  So she bought it, and we’re thankful that she did.  While some critics elsewhere found the 19-song CDs to be mildly uninspiring, Rolling Stone praised it for its revelations and gave the release three-and-a-half stars for documenting “a great band still burning to outdo itself.”

In her small German village, Astrid may be the only serious Springsteen fan, but come tour time, you’re as likely to find her on the road as you are in the bank where she is employed.   She saw her first show on July 12th, 1988 in Frankfurt, and since then, has had wonderful experiences on two continents.

In 2009, for instance, she went to Dublin for the shows at RDS on July 11 and July 12.  Those dates are the birthdays of her sons — Gereon turned 15 on the 11th and Raphael was 18 on the 12th — and they attended the shows with her.  On both days, Astrid and her boys spent time with Clarence Clemons.  “That was very, very emotional to me. And my sons really were impressed.”

For another, Astrid was in the right place at the right time recently to see Bruce Springsteen during the video shoot on the streets of Asbury Park.  Always prepared, she had her Born To Run poster with her, which Bruce autographed — laying the poster out on the hood of his car.

Astrid’s visit to Monmouth University, to see the Special Collection, was also a memorable event.  “It is completely different seeing it than thinking about how it might look like.  I was really overwhelmed seeing all those boxes. And soooo happy.  Happy, that there is someone who takes care for all these things. Every little piece is valuable.”

This is a slightly revised version of the eulogy I delivered for Clarence at his memorial. I’d like to thank all our fans and friends who have comforted us over the past difficult weeks.FOR THE BIG MAN

I’ve been sitting here listening to everyone talk about Clarence and staring at that photo of the two of us right there.   It’s a picture of Scooter and The Big Man, people who we were sometimes.  As you can see in this particular photo, Clarence is admiring his muscles and I’m pretending to be nonchalant while leaning upon him.  I leaned on Clarence a lot; I made a career out of it in some ways.

Those of us who shared Clarence’s life, shared with him his love and his confusion. Though “C” mellowed with age, he was always a wild and unpredictable ride.  Today I see his sons Nicky, Chuck, Christopher and Jarod sitting here and I see in them the reflection of a lot of C’s qualities.  I see his light, his darkness, his sweetness, his roughness, his gentleness, his anger, his brilliance, his handsomeness, and his goodness.  But, as you boys know your pop was a not a day at the beach.  “C” lived a life where he did what he wanted to do and he let the chips, human and otherwise, fall where they may.  Like a lot of us your pop was capable of great magic and also of making quite an amazing mess.  This was just the nature of your daddy and my beautiful friend.  Clarence’s unconditional love, which was very real, came with a lot of conditions.  Your pop was a major project and always a work in progress.   “C” never approached anything linearly, life never proceeded in a straight line. He never went  A… B…. C…. D.  It was always A… J…. C…. Z… Q… I….!  That was the way Clarence lived and made his way through the world.  I know that can lead to a lot of confusion and hurt, but your father also carried a lot of love with him, and I know he loved each of you very very dearly.

It took a village to take care of Clarence Clemons.  Tina, I’m so glad you’re here.  Thank you for taking care of my friend, for loving him.  Victoria, you’ve been a loving, kind and caring wife to Clarence and you made a huge difference in his life at a time when the going was not always easy.  To all of “C’s” vast support network, names too numerous to mention, you know who you are and we thank you.  Your rewards await you at the pearly gates.  My pal was a tough act but he brought things into your life that were unique and when he turned on that love light, it illuminated your world.  I was lucky enough to stand in that light for almost 40 years, near Clarence’s heart, in the Temple of Soul.

So a little bit of history: from the early days when Clarence and I traveled together, we’d pull up to the evening’s lodgings and within minutes “C” would transform his room into a world of his own.  Out came the colored scarves to be draped over the lamps, the scented candles, the incense, the patchouli oil, the herbs, the music, the day would be banished, entertainment would come and go, and Clarence the Shaman would reign and work his magic, night after night.  Clarence’s ability to enjoy Clarence was incredible.  By 69, he’d had a good run, because he’d already lived about 10 lives, 690 years in the life of an average man.  Every night, in every place, the magic came flying out of C’s suitcase.  As soon as success allowed, his dressing room would take on the same trappings as his hotel room until a visit there was like a trip to a sovereign nation that had just struck huge oil reserves.  “C” always knew how to live.  Long before Prince was out of his diapers, an air of raunchy mysticism ruled in the Big Man’s world.  I’d wander in from my dressing room, which contained several fine couches and some athletic lockers, and wonder what I was doing wrong! Somewhere along the way all of this was christened the Temple of Soul; and “C” presided smilingly over its secrets, and its pleasures.  Being allowed admittance to the Temple’s wonders was a lovely thing.

As a young child my son Sam became enchanted with the Big Man… no surprise.  To a child Clarence was a towering fairy tale figure, out of some very exotic storybook.  He was a dreadlocked giant, with great hands and a deep mellifluous voice sugared with kindness and regard.  And… to Sammy, who was just a little white boy, he was deeply and mysteriously black.  In Sammy’s eyes, “C” must have appeared as all of the African continent, shot through with American cool, rolled into one welcoming and loving figure.  So… Sammy decided to pass on my work shirts and became fascinated by Clarence’s suits and his royal robes.  He declined a seat in dad’s van and opted for “C’s” stretch limousine, sitting by his side on the slow cruise to the show.  He decided dinner in front of the hometown locker just wouldn’t do, and he’d saunter up the hall and disappear into the Temple of Soul.

Of course, also enchanted was Sam’s dad, from the first time I saw my pal striding out of the shadows of a half empty bar in Asbury Park, a path opening up before him; here comes my brother, here comes my sax man, my inspiration, my partner, my lifelong friend.  Standing next to Clarence was like standing next to the baddest ass on the planet.  You were proud, you were strong, you were excited and laughing with what might happen, with what together, you might be able to do.  You felt like no matter what the day or the night brought, nothing was going to touch you.   Clarence could be fragile but he also emanated power and safety,  and in some funny way we became each other’s protectors; I think perhaps I protected “C” from a world where it still wasn’t so easy to be big and black.  Racism was ever present and over the years together, we saw it.  Clarence’s celebrity and size did not make him immune.  I think perhaps “C” protected me from a world where it wasn’t always so easy to be an insecure, weird and skinny white boy either.  But, standing together we were badass, on any given night, on our turf, some of the baddest asses on the planet.  We were united, we were strong, we were righteous, we were unmovable, we were funny, we were corny as hell and as serious as death itself.  And we were coming to your town to shake you and to wake you up.  Together, we told an older, richer story about the possibilities of friendship that transcended those I’d written in my songs and in my music.  Clarence carried it in his heart.  It was a story where the Scooter and the Big Man not only busted the city in half, but we kicked ass and remade the city, shaping it into the kind of place where our friendship would not be such an anomaly.  And that… that’s what I’m gonna miss.  The chance to renew that vow and double down on that story on a nightly basis, because that is something, that is the thing that we did together… the two of us.  Clarence was big, and he made me feel, and think, and love, and dream big.  How big was the Big Man?  Too fucking big to die.  And that’s just the facts.  You can put it on his grave stone, you can tattoo it over your heart.  Accept it… it’s the New World.

Clarence doesn’t leave the E Street Band when he dies.  He leaves when we die.

So, I’ll miss my friend, his sax, the force of nature his sound was, his glory, his foolishness, his accomplishments, his face, his hands, his humor, his skin, his noise, his confusion, his power, his peace.  But his love and his story, the story that he gave me, that he whispered in my ear, that he allowed me to tell… and that he gave to you… is gonna carry on.  I’m no mystic, but the undertow, the mystery and power of Clarence and my friendship leads me to believe we must have stood together in other, older times, along other rivers, in other cities, in other fields, doing our modest version of god’s work… work that’s still unfinished.  So I won’t say goodbye to my brother, I’ll simply say, see you in the next life, further on up the road, where we will once again pick up that work, and get it done.

Big Man, thank you for your kindness, your strength, your dedication, your work, your story.  Thanks for the miracle… and for letting a little white boy slip through the side door of the Temple of Soul.

SO LADIES AND GENTLEMAN… ALWAYS LAST, BUT NEVER LEAST.  LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE MASTER OF DISASTER, the BIG KAHUNA, the MAN WITH A PHD IN SAXUAL HEALING, the DUKE OF PADUCAH, the KING OF THE WORLD, LOOK OUT OBAMA! THE NEXT BLACK PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES EVEN THOUGH HE’S DEAD… YOU WISH YOU COULD BE LIKE HIM BUT YOU CAN’T!   LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE BIGGEST MAN YOU’VE EVER SEEN!… GIVE ME A C-L-A-R-E-N-C-E.  WHAT’S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT’S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT’S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! … amen.

I’m gonna leave you today with a quote from the Big Man himself, which he shared on the plane ride home from Buffalo, the last show of the last tour.  As we celebrated in the front cabin congratulating one another and telling tales of the many epic shows, rocking nights and good times we’d shared, “C” sat quietly, taking it all in, then he raised his glass, smiled and said to all gathered, “This could be the start of something big.”

Love you, “C”.

The latest manifestation of this trend is Bruce Springsteen And The American Soul, Essays on the Songs and Influence of a Cultural Icon (2011, McFarland & Company). Edited by David Garrett Izzo, these 26 essays are career spanning, and can perhaps best be summarized as ‘Springsteen: Growin’ Up, Growing Older: A Road Map for the Long Walk Home’, title of the culminating piece by Melanie Henwood from the UK.

“The saxophone was a conduit for his spirit… and that spirit was a colossus. Far beyond the boardwalks of Asbury Park, those big notes will keep echoing.”

—Tris McCall
The Star-Ledger

“Clarence lived a wonderful life. He carried within him a love of people that made them love him. He created a wondrous and extended family. He loved the saxophone, loved our fans and gave everything he had every night he stepped on stage. His loss is immeasurable and we are honored and thankful to have known him and had the opportunity to stand beside him for nearly forty years. He was my great friend, my partner, and with Clarence at my side, my band and I were able to tell a story far deeper than those simply contained in our music. His life, his memory, and his love will live on in that story and in our band.”

— Bruce Springsteen

What there is is Pegasus 1973, the yearbook of Christian Brothers Academy, a Catholic high school 13 miles northeast of Freehold. Carl Beams, a founding member of The Friends of the Bruce Springsteen Special Collection, had seen Springsteen early on with the Castiles and Steel Mill, but the 1973 Christian Brothers Academy was his first E Street Band show. For years, he searched for the yearbook, and finally found it recently at the Collingswood Auction and Flea Market in Farmingdale. For $5.00. Only to see another copy offered days later on eBay for $1,500.

Page 135 contains four E Street photos (but regrettably, no details of the concert.) Beams recalls walking into the gym, where there were no seats. “Kids were sitting in little circles of friends on the floor. The stage was maybe 10 or 20 feet away. Greetings was out, but I didn’t have a copy, so I hadn’t heard any of the songs yet and didn’t know what I was in store for.”

When the band took the stage, “something happened in that gym and no one was sitting for very long. Everyone was on their feet jumping with the music. He talked to the audience a lot, about one of his songs being played on the radio, and gave a special intro to ‘Growin’ Up’. He really acted out, using his hands, staring into space, seeing something that I didn’t see, reaching out to touch whatever it was out there.”

Thanks to Beams, Pegasus 1973 is now publicly accessible in the Bruce Springsteen Special Collection.

Addendum:
After reading Carl Beams’ recollections, a second member of the audience — Jim Kling, who was then a student at Point Pleasant Borough High School — shared memories of his own:

“In the spring of 1973 I was involved with a group from our high school class to select a band for our junior prom.  We were told one of the prospective bands [Satan's Jury] would be playing at a concert at Christian Brothers Academy (CBA) as a warm-up band for another group who had just released their first album a few months prior.  All I knew at the time was a guy named Bruce Springsteen was the leader of the band.  We went to the concert with the agreement that if we liked the band playing after the band we were scouting for our prom, we might hang around for a few songs.

“The venue was at the CBA gym – as  I recall, there were no seats set up so all of us just sat on the floor.  There were what looked like about two hundred people there, and after the first few songs from Bruce and the band we decided this was worth staying for – it was about 8:30 p.m.by then.  We were a little confused about who was really playing, because some of the speakers and boxes had “Steel Mill Band” stenciled on them.  Perhaps this Springsteen band had bailed out and a last minute replacement had been brought in?

“The intensity of the music just got better and better as the night rocked on, and we were amazed at how much energy the band had.  If these guys stayed with it, maybe some day they would make it to the ‘big time!’.  The songs just kept coming, and before we knew it the time was past midnight.  Several of us had curfews we had to honor, and we were also running out of steam from all the dancing  we had been doing.  As we walked to our car parked outside of the gym, we could still hear the band rocking away.  By now, the band had played for nearly four hours without a break and for all we knew they might have still been playing by the time we got home.  Needless to say, we told all of our friends about the unbelievable show we had witnessed and very few thought a show of that length was possible.  Later I would read about similar performances from the band reported out by people from magazines like Rolling Stone and Newsweek, and that would bring back fresh images from that amazing night at CBA!”