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| rbadac in his girlish youth courtesy of Suzy Roach | |
Johnny Eatman
Obituary Notices, followed by
Remembrances & Farewells
continued from The "rbadac" memorial page
Obituary notices:
BODY OF MAN FOUND IN CENTRAL GARDENS APARTMENT. Police are investigating the death of a man whose body was found Friday morning in a Central Gardens garage apartment. The man's name had not been released by police Friday afternoon. His body & the body of a cat were found in the apartment in the rear of 1953 Peabody.
— Memphis Commercial Appeal -12/21/00
CAUSE OF MAN'S DEATH UNKNOWN. Police are awaiting the results of a medical examiner's report to tell them what killed a man found dead Friday in a garage apartment at the rear of a Midtown home. The man was found in late morning inside the building at 1953 Peabody. There was no sign of forced entry & no obvious signs of foul play, said Major Mike Quinn, homicide bureau commander. Police had not notifived the victim's family of his death & had not released his name. Tests were conducted at the scene to check carbon monoxide levels.
— Memphis Commercial Appeal -12/30/00
MIDTOWN MAN DIED OF NATURAL CAUSES. A 46-year-old man found dead inside his Midtown home died of natural causes, police said. John R. Eatman was found inside a garage apartment in the rear of 1953 Peabody. Eatman's cat was also found dead. The Medical Examiner's Office ruled the death natural, police said Saturday.
— Memphis Commercial Appeal -12/31/00
JOHN ROGER "JOHNNY SINGER" EATMAN, 46, artist, musician & author,
died Friday at his home. The cause of death had not been determined pending an autopsy. Services will be at 3 p.m. Thursday at Canale Funeral Chapel. He leaves a sister, Brenda E. Duck of Cordova, & a brother, Eugene H. Eatman of Hardy, Ark. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that any memorials be made to Friends of the Library."
— Memphis Commercial Appeal -1/3/01
A MUSICAL MEMORIAL for performer Johnny Singer (Nightshift, Johnny Singer & the Hi-Lites, Professor Elixir's Southern Troubadours) will be held 3 p.m. Sunday at Murphy's Bar & Grill, 1589 Madison.
— Memphis Commercial Appeal -1/5/01
SAD PASSINGS. A musical memorial will be held 3 p.m. Sunday at Murphy's Bar & Grill for local performer Johnny Singer, who died Dec 29. He was 46. Mr. Singer (John Roger Eatman) had played in several bands, mostly from the late '70s through the '80s, inclluding Nightshift & Johnn Singer & the Hi-Lites. He made a record in 1981, "Sick of Driving," that longtime friend Alisa Botto remembers as being "full of perfect little angry, lovelord pop gems." Saxophonist Jim Spake, who played with Mr. Singer in the Hi-Lites, says the musician, a "reluctant rock star," was uncommon for an entertainer: "He was one of the only people I ever played with that played his own great original songs, but had the guts to cover artists he respected like Costello, Springsteen, the Clash, Graham Parker & a virtually unknown John Hiatt." Mr. Singer also wrote on the Web under the alias "rbadac."
— Memphis Commercial Appeal -1/6/01
Remembrances:
Jim Rockhill sends a poem:
After all Jessica, Rob Suggs, John Pelan, John Brower & so many others have written, this may seem trivial, & I apologize if I seem to make light of a matter that has left me shaken for days. While writing it, I could not separate johnny's sense of humor from his insight & regret that he is not here to rib me for it.
rbadac at my back
A shadow stands winking
There on the stair.
Trembling & blinking
I stare at the air.
A book laid aside, page
Spread where I'd read,
Now brightens, its meaning
Grown clear in my head.
Past old books with torn or rotten
Binding, finding
Them with spine withdrawn
I watch books I'd long forgotten
Borne by he I thought was gone.
Not gone our friend, the radical
Bibliophile -
Merely on sabbatical,
Reading the while.
-Jim
"Notes toward a Remembrance" from William Allison:
My earliest memories of the "rbadac experience" would date from around '95-96. I was still using my AOL training wheels at that time, though I was right on the verge of joining up with my current ISP. There were two AOL message boards that I frequented (though I seldom posted): the HPL board & the Classic Ghost Story board.
I had developed an interest in the "classics" from reading HPL's Supernatural Horror in Litearature & had obtained all of the mandatory Dover volumes that were in print plus some other items in an attempt at having a decent core collection. But most of my reading continued to be modern material, mainly novels, with what short stories I read being of the Weird Tales school.
Looking in on the AOL board I found a lively dialog going on between three individuals: Rowdy Rod (apparently the board's founder), Biddler (Rob Suggs), & Cadabr. The talk ranged far & wide over the field, & went in tone from erudite to hilarious. It was here that I first heard of an obscure publishing house that was actually bringing old ghost volumes back into print — Ash-Tree Press.
While all three seemed well versed in the standards, Cadabr always seemed to go a bit deeper into the esoteric material, & made quite an impression on me. It was one of those deals where you catch yourself saying "Yikes! This guy's good..."
After never-ending busy signals drove me from AOL to my current ISP, I eventually ran into Cadabr again, or it certainly seemed like him (and the "rbadac" was a giveaway), on the Horrornet message boards. It became clear within a couple of postings that this was indeed the same fellow. But the Horrornet boards were subject to technical issues from time to time, & there was also a concern about finding a permanent place to "meet", as web sites often come & go. So the idea of the newsgroup was raised, discussed, & the group was created (which is a story in itself).
After the group was created, building a readership was a prime concern, & I felt getting someone like rbadac aboard was vital to the group surviving. I knew that he accessed the Internet via his local library, & had to figure out a way to work with that. I did some research, found it was possible, & in one of my postings on Horrornet mentioning the newsgroup, I documented the procedure. I didn't single rbadac out, as I didn't want to be perceived as trying to "steal" one of the leading lights of the Horrornet board, but I knew that he would read the post & that, bright as he was, he would arrive on the newsgroup.
Within a couple of days, sure enough, rbadac first appeared on alt.books.ghost-fiction, & the rest, as they say, is history. As Rob has said, often it seemed that rbadac carried the newsgroup forward single-handedly during quiet times; this of course is only one of the reasons I wanted rbadac on the group so badly.
One of the things rbadac had to do to use Deja.com to access the group was to set up a web-based email account, & it wasn't all that long before he & I exchanged our first emails, & I learned that he called himself "Johnny". I had become interested in AOL's "Instant Messenger" due to the availability of a Linux version & had set about trying to get Johnny, Rob, Bill B, JP, & some other folks involved. Johnny, due to his library method of access, again proved a challenge, but we found a way to get him on.
Some of my fondest memories of Johnny come from those Instant Messenger sessions. I'd get online about 8:30 PM, start up AIM (Instant Messenger) & usually about 8:40 or so he'd pop on, see me, & start up a rapid-fire conversation that I usually had quite a time keeping up with. On a couple of happy occasions we ended up with a three way discussion going with either Bill B or Rob. Rob & Johnny were after each other straight away — it was like putting two pitbulls in a phone booth. You could tell that they were old friends who loved to pick on each other. In more than one instance, Johnny & I would start typing the same response to something Rob said & Johnny would yell at me "CUT THAT OUT!" It happened enough to be eerie, & while it's said that "great minds think alike" I was nowhere near Johnny's league & if pressed would just say that I got lucky a couple of times. Nine o'clock would eventually come around & Johnny would say "Uh oh, here they come, I've got to go" & that would be it for that evening.
Others have mentioned Johnny's generosity in the form of unexpected boxes arriving in the mail. My experience with this happened after Johnny once rather casually asked in an email what some of my want list items were. I listed a couple of things in my response, to which Johnny replied with a single-line email saying "Heh heh, NOW I've got you." I wrote back & tried to get him to explain himself, to no avail. About a week later a box arrived in the mail with several of the items I had mentioned, plus a few other "fun" things thrown in as well. Not one to take a random act of kindness lying down, I set about my "retaliation". I didn't want to tip him off by asking what stuff he needed, so going from memory & knowing he liked Gerald Kersh, I assembled a box consisting of spare Kersh hardcovers from my shelves & a couple of nicely-priced (I'm afraid at this time I was also undergoing "hard times") Kersh items I found via the usual online sources. I sent off the box & waited. In just over a week I received an email from Johnny, saying "Awwwww, MAN !!!!". I wanted to respond back with a "NOW who has who wiseguy?", but he seemed so happy that I just let it go. I had the startings of another Kersh box in the works for him, though now he's got direct access to Kersh himself...
After my divorce I found myself thinking about picking up the bass guitar again (I'd started playing at ten years of age) after a lay-off of about nine years. Johnny's encouragement via email was the clincher. I haven't touched my bass since I heard "the news", but I'll soon pick it up again & learn some King Crimson songs (a mutual favorite) in his honor.
One of the specific "rbadacisms" one saw on the newsgroup was the "clang". The clang was taken from a ritual dance rbadac did whenever he scored a outstanding book find. The dance involved placing a metal pot over his head & beating it with a metal ladle while prancing about. What Bosco thought of this procedure can only be surmised. So whenever rbadac made mention of a new find he had made he also sounded a "clang!" This was later expanded to also include a "clink", which indicated a nice book found for a pittance, such as several Arkham House titles Johnny picked up for a dollar each.
I find the image of the fatal night haunting me — it seems so Victorian, like something out of Dickens or Gorey, with a man, a cat, a cold night, a bad heater. As some of Johnny's local friends have reported to Jessica, it was inflated into quite a mystery by the local media, with live TV coverage outside Johnny's apartment. "Mystery of a Man Found Dead With His Cat" does indeed sound more fitting for newspapers of 1900 rather than 2000. As I've become a bit more accustomed to the "new reality" of life without rbadac I've taken consolation that, while there is no "good" way to die, going to sleep with your trusty pet by your side, surrounded by shelves full of the literature you love, & not waking up doesn't seem too bad of a way to go. I also agree with Johnny's local friends that he would have enjoyed & had (is having) a laugh over the big mystery of it all.
Another image: Johnny walking up to St Peter, Bosco tucked under his left arm, & asking where in the heck he is. After St Peter gently explains what happened, Johnny exclaims "Holy Cow Pete, you've gotta be kidding me!" followed with laughter. I'm not sure if it happened that way, but I like the image just the same.
Yet another image: Johnny in the largest, fanciest room full of wingbacks imaginable, working his way from chair to chair & making comments like: "Robert, so what was the deal with the pocketful of tickets anyhow?" or "Hey Monty, would you read us a story?" & "Ambrose, my man, just what happened down in Mexico anyway?" I like this image because it means when I get there I'll have someone to show me around & make introductions.
I learned something that surprised me about Johnny in an email exchange. I was commenting on how I am a very slow writer & take what seems an eternity fussing over each paragraph of my newsgroup postings. Johnny said "Thank God I'm not the only one that spends hours working on my posts!" It's funny, because reading his posts I always received the impression that they leapt fully formed from his brow to the page or keyboard. Another funny thing is that every post I've written to the group has always been written with the sure knowledge that Johnny would be reading it, & I've often planted little cues in an effort to get a certain reaction out of him. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but it was always nice to know he'd be reading my posts either way, & having him as a reader made me work all the harder at doing a good post. Once he wrote "I love it when he talks like that" in response to something I'd written, & I felt as if it was my finest hour. Now, coming out of what must be my darkest hour, I've decided that I will continue to write with Johnny as part of the readership; in the hopes that he will continue to monitor the newsgroup via the earliest known form of wireless networking, & that his unseen presence will continue to foster the sort of high quality discussions he was always at the center of.
Johnny has left us in the physical sense, but in the spiritual sense he carries on within each of us. So no goodbyes rbadac, only "catch you later".
-Bill
from Bill Barnett
What more can be said about rbadac's virtual presence on alt.books.ghost-fiction? We all came to admire the breadth of his reading, the depth of his insight, his sly humor, his indefatigable postings which were often the sole activity on the ng (input-wise; they were always read), & the genuine human warmth which infused all his writing. He impressed me as someone I would like to know, to hang out with, to visit on that "someday" trip to Memphis. Since I can't come up with anything profound to say, I will offer up an anecdote as testimony to Johnny's wonderful generosity (apart from his extremely generous praise of my own lamentable stab at a "story!").
There was a too-brief period of time during which I would get home from work in time to catch rbadac or Bill Allison (or both if I was lucky) on Instant Messenger for a short chat (before the library closed & kicked out rbadac for the evening). Once rbadac offered up for trade his old copy of Nigel Kneale's collection Tomato Cain, having just upgraded to a better copy. I racked my brain to come up with some of my dupes; he settled for an ex-lib of Ramsey Campbell's Alone with the Horrors. In passing I mentioned that I'd seen Kneale's Quatermass & the Pit (as Five Million Years to Earth) about twenty years ago, it had scared the bejeesus out of me, & I'd never managed to see it again since. Well, he sent me the book & also included, as a surprise loan, his own VHS dub of Quatermass & the Pit, coupled with Lon Chaney in The Unholy Three.
When I finally got around to returning Johnny's tape to him, I lent him my copy of The Thirteenth Fontana Book of Great Ghost Stories so he could read Oliver Onions' "The Rocker." (I didn't think the spine would bear flattening on a photocopier.) He contacted me prior to returning it to ask if there was anything I wanted; I rattled off a wish list of films I'd been searching for in vain, hoping he might have a copy of one. As it turned out, he had copies of ALL of them, & dubbed them for me. He mailed me the package this past November 15, addressed to "Baleful Bill Barnett," including another unannounced bonus, an always-useful paperback of Madam Crowl's Ghost. I still have the box, & (sentamentalist that I am) will save the top of it with both our addresses written in his hand, as a memento to lay into the fine edition of his works that must certainly be forthcoming.
How fitting it would be if rbadac would simply ignore this latest inconvenience & continue his reading, writing, & posting. How sullen the realization that it can't really happen, after all. What pathetic gestures are these fictional, fanciful denials of the finality of death to which this newsgroup is devoted. What a terrible loss we have suffered.
-Bill
from Terri in Memphis:
In one review Johnny said:
"Being single has its advantages. I can take out the trash whenever I feel like it. No one fights me for the remote. My medicine cabinet isn't crammed full of girlie stuff. The seat stays up. Best of all, when I die no one will miss me very much, certainly not to the extent of somehow calling me back from Limbo to continue my hidebound existence for their benefit."
I was lucky to have known him. He was the best boss I ever had!
I remember when Johnny made the video for Mr. Suggs. I think in that video he saw the true fun Johnny. Johnny wasn't a very good driver to begin with but to drive down the road with a video camera up to one eye...it was so funny.
I started to write a long detailed letter on how much Johnny would be missed but when I tried to put into words how I remembered him — I laughed, smiled, giggled, cried & came up with nothing. He was the most unique person I've ever known. He was extremely smart, had a great personality & always smiled. I had not seen him in about 2 years, which I hate.
Johnny had many very close friends that will miss him everyday, contrary to his review.
-Terri
from Suzy Roach in Memphis:
John Eatman was my first boyfriend, back in 1976. We lived together for three years. He introduced me to H.P. Lovecraft back then, but I must say his interest in horror was only a small part of who he was. At that point, he was more interested in punk & new wave music. He was a great song writer & guiter player, & had a band that played around in Memphis a lot, with a big following. He wrote a few silly & ironic stories, but none with a supernatural bend. I still have some of these, & every now & then have loooked at them & admired how well constructed & thought out they were. Believe me, he could sit down at the dining table & knock out a story in the time it took me to make macoroni & cheese.
I feel like his obscurity was self imposed, for reasons we will never know. I have since married, & have two chidren. His legacy will live forever, because whenever I have a fight or am playing around with my kids, I make a face at them that John used to do. I draw my chin up close to my neck & contort my lips into a shape that look like I'm about to suck a giant lemon. This was John's attitude to the world, & I adopted as mine, too.
I am really happy that he found a place in cyberspace that could appreciate all that he was. Maybe not all. he was so much more.
-Suzy
from Robert Kunath
I am in a state of total shock. I've been away at the holidays, & just checked abg-f for the first time since leaving. I was not surprised to see all the references to rbadac, & indeed as I casually looked over the list of threads I wondered with some joyful anticipation what mischief rbadac was up to now. As I looked at the posts, I initially could not believe the news. But the reality has hit like a blow, & I am blinking back tears at the keyboard. I too am one of those who only knew rbadac through e-mail & his extraordinary posts. I corresponded with him occasionally, & his friendliness, courtesy, & erudition came through in every message. He was a tremendously gifted man: a fine writer, a judicious commentator, a sparkling wit, & a great gentleman.
It sounds a bit absurd to say I'll miss a man I never met, but since I'm weeping at the news of his death, it is clearly the case. Many thanks to those of you working to memorialize rbadac, & please keep us informed as to how we might help. And as for you, rbadac, many a glass will be lifted for you, & many a warm memory preserved. And at alt.books.ghost-fiction, if you seek his memorial, look around.
Hail & farewell, rbadac, John, Johnnie! You would always have been welcome at my house, & you still are.
-Robert
"A Quote for rbadac" also from Robert Kunath
Forgive me all. I am a sentimental sort, & I have been much affected by the death of rbadac. Contrasting the accounts of his difficult economic circumstances with his impeccably debonair messages, I found myself reminded strongly of "Cyrano de Bergerac," a play for which I have a guilty weakness. One portion in particular came to mind, from the end of the play, where Cyrano's friend Le Bret talks to the gloriously successful (but self-disgusted) Marshal de Guiche about the life Cyrano is leading:
Roxane: How is it with our friend?
Le Bret: Badly.
De Guiche: Indeed?
Roxane (to de Guiche): Oh, he exaggerates!
LB: Just as I said —
Loneliness, misery — I told him so! —
His satires make a host of enemies —
He attacks the false nobles, the false saints,
The false heroes, the false artists — in short,
Everyone!
Rox: But they fear that sword of his —
No one dare touch him!
De Guiche: H'm — that may be so.
LB: It is not violence I fear for him,
But solitude — poverty — old gray December,
Stealing on wolf's feet, with a wolf's green eyes,
Into his darkening room. Those bravoes yet
May strike our swordsman down! Every day now,
He draws his belt up one hole; his poor nose
Looks like old ivory; he has one coat
Left — his old black serge.
DG: That is nothing strange
In this world! No, you need not pity him overmuch.
LB (with a bitter smile): My lord Marshal!
DG: I say, do not
Pity him overmuch. He lives his life,
His own life, his own way — thought, word, and deed
Free!
(Brian Hooker translation)
I hope no one feels I am disrespectful to associate rbadac with a 19th century melodrama. But, for me, rbadac was Cyranesque: always debonair, always witty, always self-mocking, always his own man. Old gray December, damn him, got rbadac, but he lived his life, his own life, & he lived much of it in words of glorious style &0 panache. No, I shall not pity him overmuch — but I shall miss him overmuch
-Robert
from "almahu":
I've wearied of trying to write something worthy of being a tribute to rbadac. That's not gonna happen. But Robert Kunath's beautiful words make me glad that someone else was able to do it.
I only ever knew him as rbadac. I only ever knew him at all because he was the vital spark that made the Robert Aickman discussions come alive, & I had a webpage devoted to RA. When I emailed him asking for permission to include his posts in a compilation I was doing for the site, he said that was fine with him, but to be sure to find all the posts, because many people had contributed.
I would never have believed his name was John Eatman. He recently signed a story 'B. Travens', & I sent him an enthusiastic ( & foolish) email hinting/asking if he was actually going to come out with his real name. He didn't deign to reply to that, but if he had written & said, "Well, no, my name is Johnny Eatman," I'm sure I would have felt like saying, "Yeah, fine, wise guy, and my name is 'Bite me'".
rbadac recently wrote a continuation of an old story written by John Lennon. I wanted to send him an email thanking him for remembering, because I had once owned the book that old story came from. But I never sent that email. And now I have to say I have never been so affected by the death of someone I never actually met, as I was when John Lennon died, & now, unfortunately, rbadac.
I love the fact that he was self-educated, & he was always throwing out hints about how we could do the same. He will always be a shining example in my life of what to strive for. I feel like going back & reading everything he ever posted. But would that be merely morbid, & is a soul held back in any way if people on earth keep dwelling on the words one leaves behind? These are questions I have yet to resolve in my own mind.
johnny/rbadac had much to teach us about how to use our minds, how to delight in words, how to get so much more out of what we read. He was a mentor, a wayshower. But much more than that, there was something in what he wrote that made us all care so much for this person we never met.
Ah... Well...
I hope this goes some way toward saying "Thank you, rbadac", and "Fare thee well, johnny".
sadly,
almahu
Appreciations gleaned from the Ghost Fiction newsgroup:
from Simon Strantzas
I'm not really sure how to express my feelings here, & have been mulling it over ever since I read the news a few days ago. Like many, I've posted far too little here, but have been a firm spectre in the background. My introduction to the ghost story has been extremely recent in comparison to the regulars, & my mind has never bent towards the critical, but I think I can say without doubt that anything I've learned has come from this group, & even then almost exclusively from rbadac's posts. I never corresponded with him through e-mail or otherwise (in fact, I don't think we ever posted to the same thread), but his words carried the utmost weight with me. After reading his review of Bulgakov's "The Master & Margarita", I rushed out for my own copyä as I did with Jean Ray before him. I'm still a thrown by the news about someone I never met, probably because I just assumed he'd always be here. To think he'll never be backä
Again, I'm at a loss, as this disjointed rememberance shows. This place will never be the same without him.
-Simon
from Rob Suggs:
There's no blanket or shroud wide enough to cover true grief, but I know I've been soothed to some extent by the various expressions here and those I've received through e-mail. Who would have thought our group would come to a point of holding a micro-digital wake?
-Rob
from Jessica Salmonson
I spent the first couple days so worried about making sure his writings were not tossed into a dumpster that I hadn't really had time to think about the personal loss of this correspondent & friend. I am by nature crabby & obnoxious & when the occasional person sees through that barrier & perceives me as a good soul, that is something so eventful for me that it aches increasingly to realize someone who Actually Liked Me is no longer there to feed my sorry ego with affection & understanding. Today I am so deeply depressed & tearful, it's really only now sinking in emotionally, apart from what I first perceived as an emergency to make sure nothing got tossed out of his apartment that was important to all of us. It is just an awful crippling feeling. Putting up a memorial page seems such a trivial thing somehow, we are all helpless in the face of death, & an early unexpected death is all the more grimly discouraging.
-paghat the ratgirl
from J. Radcliffe, England
I cannot believe the news. This is a tragic & a terrible loss.
Goodbye Johnny, you & your postings will be greatly missed.
-JR
from John Brower
As I alluded to in my earlier message, this has been a year where I have lost a number of people who made a difference in my life (I count rbadac among those). This includes the murder of my fiancee in September.
Melanie Tem, who has written more than once about loss, prefaces her novel Black River with the following from "In Blackwater Woods" by Mary Oliver:
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
I suppose Johnny would prefer something humorous (well, there's my sig file). But I'm sure he can appreciate the importance of friendship, loyalty, trust & affection. There's not nearly enough of it in the world.
-John B.
from James Rogers
Hadn't visited the ng in several weeks. What awful news. His posts were witty & perceptive....charming in the best sense of the word.
-James
from Adam Walter
I'm so new to this group that I only got to see, in the past few months, a small sliver of who rbadac was. However, my wife just lost her grandmother, & I was at the family wake for her two weeks ago. After reading Bill Barnett's post, & Rob Sugg's deeply touching portrait of a friend he knew almost entirely by e-mail, I have to say both of these memorials have impressed me with their genuine emotion. And my natural skepticism toward the idea of electronic "communities" has changed drastically.
I do hope, however, that the ghost story is not a pathetic gesture or a denial. Literature can be an important buttress in these times. During the last few weeks, that line from the end of "Peter Pan" has come back to me again & again: "What if death were the greatest adventure?" Also, Rilke's little poem on the immortal soul from Das Stundenbuch:
I live my life in growing orbits
which move out over the things of the world.
Perhaps I can never achieve the last,
but that will be my attempt.
I am circling around God, around the ancient tower,
& I have been circling for a thousand years,
& I still don't know if I am a falcon, or a storm,
or a great song.
-Adam
from Duane Pesice
I'm also relatively new to this group, mostly lurking rather than posting ... the first thing I saw of rbadac's was a short story that didn't belong (in terms of the high quality) only on a newsgroup. I said so at the time ... & so it is good news that his literary endeavors will be preserved in some wise, though not good news that it is done because the man is no longer present. Have been away for a week, & was looking forward to more of the man's singular warmth & wit. But there is no justice. Farewell, rbadac.
-Duane
from the mysterious "Professor Nieman"
I knew rbadac almost exclusively from Violet Books' Weird Reviews, where he was an early & frequent contributor. Pretty recently I was discussing Russian literature with a Russian emigre friend of mine. I mentioned to him that all of the Russian literature I had read was from the 18th & 19th centuries, & that it would be nice to read something by a 20th-century Russian writer. He said that he would think about it, & come up with a recommendation for me. A day later, pleased with himself for having thought of it, he was telling me about Bulgakov's The Master & Margarita. Careful not to give away the plot, he told me that even today the fans of this work in Russia are legion. He said that there is a flat in Moscow where some Master-and-Margarita related event is staged each year. Sometimes hundreds of people show up hoping to cram themselves into the small flat, & the Militia has to throw up a cordon & turn people away. After thanking my friend for his recommendation, the first thing I did was to go to the Violet Books website, where I was pleased not only to find a copy in stock, but a review by rbadac, as well. Like my friend, rbadac was careful not to give away too much of the plot, & yet left me in no doubt that my friend had chosen perfectly, surely the sign of a skilled reviewer. Just knowing that there were people like rbadac out there in the world, made me feel a bit better about a world that it is difficult to feel good about. Today, like many others, I feel a bit worse.
from "blackfrancis"
I have been away from 'abgf' for some time now. I wish I had stayed away for good. What horrible news! Unbelievable.
I envy those of you who had close relationships with rbadac, even if it was only by cyberspace. I wish I was wise enough in all areas of weird fiction to have built my own connection with this obvously special man.
All I can say is that rbadac 'inspired' me. He made me read & (try to) write better. I cannot imagine what this group will be like without him. If he was there the thread was always more interesting, if it said "rbadac" aside the message I always clicked on it. Even if I was not even interested in the topic. What A Loss!
I commend the Ratgirl for her find beginning to a memorial.
"I read the news today, oh boy..."
-blackerfrancis, water on the eyes
"In a Perfect Friendship"
a quote from C. S. Lewis sent to us by Adam Walter
who thought it appropriate in memorializing rbadac:
"In a perfect Friendship this Appreciative love is, I think, often so great & so firmly based that each member of the circle feels, in his secret heart, humbled before the rest. Sometimes he wonders what he is doing there among his betters. He is lucky beyond desert to be in such company. Especially when the whole group is together; each bringing out all that is best, wisest, or funniest in all the others. Those are the golden sessions; when four or five of us after a hard day's walk have come to our inn; when our slippers are on, our feet spread out toward the blaze & our drinks are at our elbows; when the whole world, & something beyond the world, opens itself to our minds as we talk; & no one has any claim on or any responsibility for another, but all are freemen & equals as if we had first met an hour ago, while at the same time an Affection mellowed by the years enfolds us. Life — natural life — has no better gift to give. Who could have deserved it?"
-from C. S. Lewis's "The Four Loves" (1960)