from Larry Bruner, <Larry@Folknet.org>

John Bassette

rest in peace

What do I know about John Richard Bassette Jr.?

He was born in East Virginia, in Hampton, on December 28, 1941, which would make him 64 when he died.

He was powerful on stage, he wrote some great original songs.  He was an amazing gentle soul with a wonderfully outgoing sense of humor.

F

He was mesmerizing, onstage and off, with a permanent sense of wonder and a twinkle in his eye.  His voice boomed and whispered, with a theatrical presence somehow crafted and well-learned (he’d indeed played with Sammy Davis Jr. in the London company of Golden Boy.)  When we met he told me how he’d recorded an unreleased album for a big label (maybe United Artists?)  He was funny, he was exceptionally good-natured, he was genuine, and, he knew a wonderful group of songs.

He had attended Virginia Union University.  Does he have any relatives or descendants?  Not in the traditional sense.  He had left a wife and children before I met him, which was thirty-eight years ago, when he had somehow moved to Cleveland.  I found out he had been married, to Carolyn, and fathered two children who by now also have children of their own.  A stepmother, Janie, is also still living in Hampton, Virginia, near Norfolk.  She comments the family is quite broken, and said to me she hasn’t had any contact with John for over twenty years, and she doesn’t know where Ricky (John R. Bassette III) and Karen are. (John’s kids, and they’re her own “step-grandchildren”.  She says she doesn't hear back from them when she tried to make contact.)

John is survived by a younger brother, Hugh, who lives in Oakland, California.  He’s a retired school teacher who ran for mayor there in 1998, and he was able to visit Cleveland and saw John a few years ago.  He has an interested cousin, Estelle Rollins, who lives in the Bronx and who says John has many relatives still, in Hampton as well as in Providence, Cranston, and Warwick, Rhode Island.  John was “John Jr.” to his family.  His mother Lucille is deceased.  His father, John Sr., was a Baptist preacher, who passed away about six years ago, and there’s no indication John went to the funeral or had any contact with any of his direct family for many, many years.

I listened to him sing dozens of times, and never tired of it.  He seemed to be the best  here in town, and much better than most of the touring acts, and he lived in the neighborhood.  He did a  “fashion photo” spoof for us in the da da Boom in 1972, the same year I presented him in concert at CWRU’s Hillel.  In 1979 he and his ever-present cape were on the cover of Scene, his face shrouded as the mysterious embodiment of the unknown “local folkie”.

He recorded about five record albums, depending on how you count his “Live” disc released only to radio, or his 1970 “mini-album,” which had changed the local music business.  John was a pioneer, showing everyone you could do it yourself, you could be your own label.  With entrepreneur and leather crafter “Spa John” Prusnek, advertising whizzes Eric Ambro and Tom Pope, and amazing creative assistance from cartoonist Dave Sheridan --the “Overland Vegetable Stagecoach” was created and John’s “Tinkertoo” Records was one of its projects.  It was a beautiful thing.   It was no Telarc, it probably didn’t make money, perhaps in retrospect nobody even really got paid, but the idea at the time was revolutionary and illuminating.  It directly was the example that encouraged others to do the same, including Alex Bevan and Lynn Haney.  John was the source for an article on “How to Copyright Your Songs” in Mother Earth News in 1970, which can still be found on the internet.

He lived in various places:  Hessler, Akron, Cleveland Heights, Ravenna, never staying long.  He went through girlfriends and benefactors, traveling light and leaving behind boxes of records.  Barb and Lorraine are names I hear mentioned, and for me personally, the esteemed late George Anthony Moore comes to mind.  He played events like the 1979 May 4^th commemoration at Kent State, on the bill with William Kunstler.

Yet, he was convicted in Portage County, for a sex crime.  (Where the prosecutor in his trial intoned, “Isn’t it true you wrote a song called ‘Weed and Wine’?”)  He and I renewed our conversations when he came to Cleveland’s Free Clinic in the early eighties and he helped its short-lived Arts Program, working for Abby Linhart as part of his work release.  I know by then he’d given up performing, after going to jail, which was oppressively traumatic for him.  That was about 25 years ago.  Up to then he’d performed all over the Midwest, to large and small, enthusiastic audiences, and had enjoyed a fair amount of popularity for about ten years.  For a brief period, calling himself Jon Bon, he then hosted a cable TV show in Cleveland Heights, but the shift to a very quiet withdrawn place just seemed to immobilize John.  He retreated into himself, and he appeared to stop paying attention to the muse. 

He never owned a cell phone, or a computer.  (For many years he never even had a phone of his own.)  He also never seemed to own a car.  I saw John throughout the Eighties and into the Nineties as he trudged across our town on RTA by himself and worked anonymous telemarketing jobs to pay his rent.  He lived very much alone, in a hermit-like monastic lifestyle.  He would regularly spend hours in the Lakeshore Branch Library -- I’d run into him there and elsewhere every few months, we’d talk, I’d bask in some in his wisdom and give him an occasional ride.

Sometime in the last ten years he suffered a stroke or series of strokes, and through the efforts of Cleveland Poet Laureate, the late Daniel Thompson, ended up at the West Side men’s shelter St. Herman’s House of Hospitality.  Abbot John Henry who befriended him there, and eventually took him in as part of the operation, says how as an 11-year-old his life had been changed by John’s presence, and remarks how it’s not often in life we can be helped by someone whom later we can help and directly return the favor.  John liked to scrape plates after the St. Herman’s evening meal.  Although he no longer played, he loved singing and listening to hymns.  He was an inspiration to the workers and visitors at St. Herman’s for a couple years.

It was a moving newspaper column by Michael Heaton in the Plain Dealer that prompted a concert for John on 5/19/02.  Organized by Alex Bevan, the successful event included Jim Ballard, Charlie Wiener, Michael Stanley, Jim Schafer, and many others.  To commemorate that occasion, Alex put some of John’s songs on CD for the first time, delving into some of John’s old vinyl and re-mastering it. [Rainbow Colored Clouds] 

Shortly after that, through the efforts of David Krauss, John ended up at St. Augustine Manor nursing home. He could barely move or talk, and worker Esmi Correya took an interest in him.  At one point John impressed upon me his need for me to chase down a duffel bag of valuables he’d left with Dale Brenner.  I arranged for that, and got him away for outings on a few occasions, including once to hear fellow stroke victim  Baba Ram Dass, before a large crowd at Masonic Auditorium.

I was humbled when John asked me to be his Power of Attorney for healthcare, not knowing exactly what that responsibility entailed.  Then, Jim Ballard came by to play recorded tracks for John that he’d produced as a compilation/tribute CD, of others doing John’s songs. and John was delighted.  The tribute CD [Been Through So Much Together] has not yet been released, but it was a joyful gift to John as his health deteriorated.   John’s condition worsened, and he then became no longer able to move on his own.  He went in and out of the hospital, one crisis after another. 

During a cardiac arrest on Thursday, October 26, his heart stopped some twenty minutes, leaving his brain dead.  A neurology consult on 10/30 confirmed there was no longer any brain activity.  I finally was faced with the responsibility John had entrusted me when he said, “You’ll know what to do,”  and on 11/1 I signed a doctor’s order to “Do Not Resucitate.”  His body succumbed completely by 3 p.m., Thursday November 9^th.  Burial arrangements are by John Malloy.  Internment will be at Riverside Cemetary at the W. 25th Street exit of I-71, on Thursday November 16^th at 4pm, with a brief service afterwards at 7pm at the nursing home, St. Augustine Manor, about 15 minutes away, at 7801 Detroit Ave., Cleveland, 216/634-7400.

 Thoughtful to the end, John surprised us all as we found out he’d prepaid his own expenses for a simple funeral, including purchasing the plot at Riverside.

 A couple hours after John died,  WRUW’s Chip aired something I’d forgotten, John’s rousing, rare cover version of “Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow, Yesterday’s Gone…”   I’ll try.  Thanks, John!

A memorial benefit concert will follow, hopefully within a week,(?) probably at the Beachland Ballroom on Cleveland's East Side.

Feel free to add to all this or send it along to anyone else who might be interested.

(Replies below are by other folks.)

peace

Larry

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the site:  JohnBassette.org is currently under construction

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It is time to sing the bard to sleep.

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Though I never knew him personally as a friend, he was

in fact the first singer/songwriter I ever saw live, and

there's no doubt he was reason I thought I could also

do music in Cleveland.  I started Hotfoot Quartet

in '77, and shared a few stages with John.

          - Paul Kovac (HillBilly IDOL)

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...when he appeared on the (WMMS) Coffeebreak

Concerts, I engineered them.  I always enjoyed his

performances.  They were great and they were real.

So was John.  When John came into the studio, it was

like having your best friend there.  Very down to

earth.  And the music was outstanding.

          - Jeff Kinzbach

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John was a huge inspiration to me.  I was fortunate

to have been able to tell him so one time.  It seems

like just yesterday when I saw him sing at Lakeland

College's cafeteria (1970).

          - Jim Blum (WKSU & FolkAlley.com)

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I met John in Richmond, Virginia when I was a teenager

(1968?).  He was a friend of my mother,

...an anti-war (Vietnam) activist...

I have a vivid memory of him standing in our suburban

white-neighborhood living room singing to us. I was

probably about 14 years old, and a budding folk

singer/guitarist. So, here he is, bigger than life,

with that voice and that laugh, and he's fearless,

and beautiful. Of course, I was smitten. He said,

"You have to hear this song! It's amazing!" and he

sang "Circle Game". That was my introduction to Joni

Mitchell.

The enclosed pdf is from a brochure of John's that I

have carted around with me since then (I'm now 53!).

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The Newport Folk Festival 1967

"John Bassette who revealed more of a professional

touch than anyone else on the program except Miss

(Judy) Collins"

    Bradford F. Swan

        The Providence (RI) Journal, July 1967

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I didn't like John. Still don't.  And and I'm not part

of his family... I thought he was a hack.

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John Bassette, Jr. passed 11/9/2006.  John passed

away after a long illness in Cleveland, Ohio.  He is

well known in Cleveland as a accomplished musician,

and much of his music is still cherished in Ohio.

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I can hear him now, getting re-acquainted with his

Martin D-28!!!!!!  It will be fun to join him in the

Folk Choir someday.

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We share things in common that each of us can

instantly recognize, but can't really be explained to

outsiders.  Like a family.

That's how I feel - a death in the family.

There is a lesson here.

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Holly Gleason wrote this about John Bassette back in May:

++++++++++++

in a small room

with a window

and two beds

no velvet cape to cloak you

no spanish leather to your knees

you lie,

dying

not even sure which way the waters toss

staring to the heavens

lost

in some fancy moment past

remembering what you were

a butterfly of paisley

a dreamer on the rise

a wonder and a sparkle

an inspiration amongst the mud

and it is in these painful moments

nothing can be said

heartbeats strain against the chamber

ribs inhale then fall again

barely barely breathing

each moment still a fight

captive on terre firme

ready to seek the light

nightbird

take the window

dark crow

be free and gone

not for everyone the morning

not for you it seems the dawn

dew dripping down the birches

sun settling on the dawn

if it is time

let it take you

kinder

quieter

gentler

place

you have shown us to the dragons

with a soft smile on your face

a refuge then a moment

an easy passage in the night

gone with easy answers

wings breaking in flight

goodbye deep voiced poet

bard and mythic soul

somewhere in the distance

somewhere there's a hole

     and you shall crawl right through it

you shall not look back

velvet cape about your shoulders

leathers polished black

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John touched everyone he knew - either through his

spirit of living or through his gift of song.  I

remember a long ago conversation with John, when,at

the tender age of nineteen, I told him of how I so

deperately wanted to leave a positive imprint on the

world.  He told me very simply that I would know

already if that were to happen.  So to you, John, I

give a toast, because you continued to seek your

vision long after you knew the limitations on your

physical life.