By Bob Deakin
There was only one Mike Spooner: The Californian from Massachusetts. If you met Mike, you would think he just hopped off a surfboard. Unfortunately, Mike left us last summer following an illness. Only 60, he looked much younger and was eternally youthful in attitude.
I hadn’t seen Mike in years but kept in touch here and there. He, his brother Tommy, sister Kelly and parents, Carol and Bob, lived near us as kids and were all well-known in the Danbury community, with ties to the News Times and local sports.
I first remember Mike roaming the neighborhood and playing baseball with the big kids.
Who’s the Dude With the Guitar?
My most vivid memories of Mike come from years later, when I was in high school and Mike was in his early 20s. I’d be trying to sleep late on a summer night and suddenly hear the strumming of a guitar.
“What the …?” I’d say to myself. He was Santa Claus. Nobody could see him but me.
I’d get up, look outside, and sure enough it’s Mike strolling down the middle of Southern Boulevard playing his guitar and singing. I was struck with the boldness to walk straight down the middle of a quiet street (notorious for speeding cars), surrounded by home after family home, after midnight. Who else would do that?
I don’t remember what he was playing, but it sounded in the Neil Young vein. Possibly his own songs. He knew everything about music.
Hey Man. What’s Up?
Around the same time, I was looking for a drum set, and my brother Mick arranged for the Spooners to sell me theirs. Eventually, I got the word, and drove to the Spooner home on Old Farm Road and Mike answered the door.
“Hey man! What’s up? Yeah that’s cool. It’s over here,” Mike said, leading me to the old Pearl set. I gave him $500, gathered it up, put it in Dad’s car and drove the whole quarter mile back to our house.
Mike clearly wasn’t expecting me to show up, and I’m still not sure if he even knew what I was doing. He was in a highly mellow mood this afternoon, and I was so happy to pick up the set, I barely noticed that he didn’t notice.
Between Aerosmith and Fenway
Fast-forward a few years, and I hang around Mike a few times here and there. We were older yet still trying to find our way in the music industry. We met at Chuck’s Steak House one night and ended up going to his place in Boston a few days later to scout out prospects for some recording work he was looking to do.
We took in some sights of town, neither of us with much money, and stayed in a recording studio that we called home for a night or two.
Mike had some equipment stolen from his van just before I arrived, which set him back financially, although he’d never let you see frustration or ask for anything. The studio (his place) wasn’t set up to live in yet, but he wasn't concerned. It was comfortable, though, and only a couple hundred feet from Fenway Park’s Green Monster.
Don’t Leave Anything in the Studio!
He was big into the Red Sox, and somewhat of a fan of Aerosmith, who used the studio we crashed in as their rehearsal space. By that time, they had long been in recovery, and we had explicit instructions not to leave beer bottles or any funny stuff around.
We listened to a lot of music and played guitars but didn’t accomplish much. I remember one night sitting in a storage area off to the side of the rehearsal space and sifting through LPs. They were all his, and he had a turntable, and we kept putting records on that I didn’t know.
Lots of California new wave rock bands from the 80s. He was also into the Grateful Dead and all the classic guitar bands.
Staying in a recording studio next to Fenway Park? How cool was that? We came up with all sorts of ideas to record Boston musicians. He seemed to know the area well, and I didn’t at all. I’d had some experience recording, wasn’t planning on coming to Boston, but when Mike Spooner invites you up to Beantown you go, and wonder what kind of adventure it will be.
He was so much fun to hang with. “Find a vocal booth or something and a blanket to sleep,” he told me when we’d had enough music. I don’t even know where he went.
Mike Spooner: Life in Boston
He knew people all over Boston. I saw him occasionally in later years, but he moved a few times and changed gigs. He worked as a live sound engineer when I visited Boston. He could do lighting, instrument tech, or anything. Difficult industry for anyone to maintain a regular gig. He didn’t have it easy at times, but would maintain the same chill attitude regardless.
Mike was always encouraging. As I said, the California guy who didn’t realize he was from the northeast. He always smiled and was ready to make friends or turn you on to new music or a new way of thinking. The Boston weekend will never be forgotten.
Regretfully, I lost touch with Mike. I did see his brother Tommy, and my brother Mick was always in touch, as were countless friends. I saw Mike in later years, once in Boston in the middle of a festival outside Faneuil Hall, and the conversation immediately went to music.
A Short Time To Be There
In his last year or so, Mike contracted Lewy body dementia, a rapidly-progressive brain disorder causing cognitive decline. It is often associated with Parkinson’s. In Mike’s case, according to Tommy, he suffered serious hallucinations, and doctors were unable to alleviate the symptoms. It is the same condition Robin Williams was diagnosed with following his passing.
Sadly, Mike is gone, and way too soon. Of course, you never realize you haven’t seen enough of your friends or family until it’s too late. It’s a pattern that repeats itself too frequently. I do my best to keep in touch with everyone, but it’s never enough.
Talking to Tommy Spooner recently, I remember things I haven’t thought of in years. Your personalities and outlooks on life are formed in large part by the people you knew when you were young. If you knew the Spooners, consider yourself lucky. You probably have a sense of humor, a love of sports, and a casual approach toward life.
We lost a good guy in 2023. If you ever see someone walking down the middle of the street playing the guitar and think he might be out of his mind, think again. He was far from it. The world has one less inspiring soul.
Cheers, Mike. Such a long, long time to be gone, and a short time to be there.
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