Editor’s note — This is the first of a multipart column about meeting famous rock and roll stars:

I was talking with a friend the other day and he brought up my odd habit of serendipitously running into rock stars over the years. Man, that was a weirdly worded sentence. Anyway, it is sort of interesting so I thought I’d put everything I’d written about this phenomenon in one magnificent blog for your reading pleasure. Consider it my gift to you, my loyal readers. You’re welcome. Let us begin:

Meeting David Crosby

My regular readers will know that I have a habit of running into famous people, most notably rock stars and their ilk. In fact, sometimes their ilk are more fun than the rock stars, if you know what I’m sayin’. My encounter with Soupy Sales in a Cleveland Airport bathroom is legendary, and I was once nearly beaten to death by one of Eminem’s bodyguards. Good times. Anyway, here’s another of my many rock star run-ins.

It was late summer 1999, and I was in Cleveland with my late, great, good friend Tim to see the Cleveland Browns open their new stadium. We were staying at the Renaissance downtown and I rose early on the day of the game to go down to the lobby and find a drink and a newspaper. As I was heading down, the elevator doors opened and a guy with shades stepped in and leaned against the wall opposite me. After about 30 seconds of awkward staring from me and nervous avoiding eye contact from him, the following conversation transpired:

Me: “Man, you look just like David Crosby.”

David Crosby: “Mmrumph.”

Me: “You are David Crosby, aren’t you?”

David Crosby: “Yep.”

Encouraged, I babbled on for a few minutes about his music. At some point I think I wore him down and he realized I actually appreciated and knew his work. I believe that because he proceeded to open up and actually began a nice, intelligent conversation with me regarding the state of rock music, as it was, in 1999. The fact that I may have mentioned him providing the sperm for Melissa Etheridge’s successful attempt at motherhood didn’t seem to bother him at all. Hell, at one point I didn’t think I was going to get rid of him. He finally walked with me through the lobby, wrote me a nice note and autograph, and actually gave me a bear hug that went on j-u-s-t a smidge too long before he left.

All in all a nice, albeit somewhat weird, encounter that I’ll never forget.

Anyway, David Crosby and I?

Buds.

Running into the Runt

This was a quick encounter but special nonetheless since it involved one of my musical heroes, Mr. Todd Rundgren, once known as “Runt.”

I was casually walking through City Center in C-Bus a few years ago (City Center was a cool mall, amirite?) when I ran into a rock and roll legend right there in the record store. My hands flew to my face as I yelled this: “TODD RUNDGREN!”

Because I’m quick like that, ya know? Immediately his hands flew to his face as he responded: “YES!”

Dude was mocking me.

Anyway, after a couple minutes of my blathering on about his music and what it meant to me, and him realizing not only that I wasn’t a lunatic but I in fact knew what I was talking about, we had quite the in-depth conversation about the state of music in general. Finally, I moved on to get a corndog and he left for parts unknown.

And that was my brief encounter with Todd Rundgren. Nice life moment for me, I must admit.

The O’ Jays and I

For some reason I’ve had more than my share of random encounters with famous people over the years, both from the rock world and elsewhere. Hell, I was once standing at an airport urinal, looked to my right, and there stood Mr. Soupy Sales himself. For you kids under 50 out there, Mr. Sales was Peewee Herman before Peewee Herman was Peewee Herman. Sort of.

It happened when my friends Jigger, Jerry (sadly, both gone now) and I were heading to Vegas back in the early ’90s. You’ve got to remember that I’ve always been quite the Motown/Philly Sound fan and am pretty knowledgeable about a lot of the groups of that genre.

We’d been in the air for a few minutes when I thought I recognized a guy a couple of rows in front of me. Was that Eddie Levert of The O’Jays? I loved The O’Jays!

What the hell, I thought. I went up and sat by him (keep in mind there were only about 30 people on the plane). Sure enough, it was Levert and the rest of the group along with about eight roadies sitting here and there. Turns out Levert was a great guy who appreciated the fact a Southern Ohio white boy loved his music so much, so an idea was hatched in my brain.

Throwing caution and common sense to the wind, I started singing one of their big hits, “Love Train” and begging the guys to join in. What can I say? I was overcome with joy at meeting the O’Jays and I was pretty sure I’d never have this chance again.

Long story short, in a couple minutes all three O’Jays were singing backup to yours truly on lead vocal. One of the guys (Walter Williams possibly) actually got up in the aisle and was doing the dance moves as I stood and sang beside him. Surreal. About halfway through I forgot the words and Levert took over. I then attempted to join the dancing but failed miserably, to the delight of the crowd. Jigger and Jerry? They just sat there with mouths agape, stunned at the surreal scene in front of them.

I then took a theatrical bow with the group as the crowd went wild (at least in my mind, don’t tell me they didn’t), the stewardesses applauded and Jigger and Jerry sat there shaking their heads. I believe I even followed up by trying to start a rousing rendition of “Backstabbers” but the moment had passed. The group got off at our stopover in Detroit, bro hugs were shared all around, and the O’Jays went on their way.

And you know what? To this day I can’t hear “Love Train” without getting a big grin on my face. If only camera phones were in existence back then. Damn it, man.

By the way, my buddies The O’Jays were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2004. I wonder if they remember me?

Dave Shoemaker is a retired teacher, athletic director and basketball coach with most of his professional years spent at Paint Valley. He also served as the national basketball coach for the island country of Montserrat in the British West Indies. He lives in Southern Ohio with his best friends and companions, his dogs Sweet Lilly and Hank. He can be reached at https://shoeuntied.wordpress.com/.