Clyde Erman Taff, a tribute.
This is my first blog...it is a tribute to a friend. A eulogy, if you will. I miss him.
Fade to Black
Clyde was a black hole in space, not because astronomers and all the rest of us could never really identify his location in the universe, but more because of his gravity. Clyde had gravity. Major gravity. And for a select few Clyde had major anti-gravity. As a warning at least half the stories I will tell here are embellished or even made up, but I don't care. I really don't care, as Clyde truly deserves to be remembered as a life embellished. Let me say that one more time, Clyde deserves to be remembered as a life embellished.
Special Effect(s):
the many facets of Clyde...a man who taught himself pyrotechnics, loved to sail, be in Tahiti collecting black pearls, a man who asked asked little and gave more of himself than anyone knew...a man who was comfortable hanging out with drag queens in Oakland, "say sailor, got your paycheck"?, riding harleys with Hells Angels, driving Roger Waters Ferrari in England or getting drunk and trying to pick up German college girls with David Bowie...for the record they didn't score. Apparently, because the girls had never heard of David Bowie. I can just imagine Clyde sitting there laughing his ass off, totally unfazed, telling David, "Hey Ziggy, yeah you, Superstar, tell em your with Duran Duran" and that was the thing about Clyde, he could disrespect you in a way that showed he truly cared.....in contrast to the David Bowie drinking incident Clyde hardly drank at all. But there is a side story here: For 10-15 straight years, Clyde would spend New Years eve at the Grateful Dead Concert. Clyde had a special assignment. Clyde would waltz in around the 28th and 29th of December and be given total creative authority to design the New Years eve special effect. I'd show up with Clyde just to hang out and soak up the perks of friendship. Hey catered food! It wasn't unusual for Clyde to look at me and say, c'mon we are going out to pick up 10,000 glow in the dark ping pong balls, "um okay, Clyde"....anyway, around 11:30pm every new years eve Clyde would disappear for a very private celebration. Clyde would go off and pour a glass of champagne for himself and two guests, one of whom was Bill Graham...Clyde kept most details of that annual moment to himself although he did tell me that it was Bill Graham's only drink of the year. Amazingly or perhaps typically, Clyde was there. Apparently, they would all make a toast and the three of them would only have only one or two sips and go back to work....what did they toast to? My guess is Bill toasted his escape of the Holocaust and Clyde in turn toasted his escape from an ordinary life....Actually I don't really know what transpired as Clyde was always blase about his annual toast with Bill. He never called attention to it, perhaps knowing that his private status with Bill only existed because Bill knew Clyde would keep things to himself. And contrary to the casual perception of Clyde it was that ability of total discretion than in part defined him, as Clyde knew how to keep secrets, secret. How, when where Clyde bonded with Bill to be part of that exclusive inner circle, I never knew, and I am comfortable with that remaining a secret....Clyde was privately generous, giving Christmas and birthday gifts to many children....Clyde lived large, but lived simply......he came to stay with me in Las Vegas and slept on the tile floor of the living room rather than the guest bedroom "um okay, Clyde" We drove to New York together a week after 9/11. Clyde was there to help me with a project I was doing...Clyde asked nothing for his time and even tried to reimburse me for his share of the expenses simply because he loved New York, "Greatest city in the world" Clyde often told me...Clyde saw the world, all of it....while doing pyrotechnics for Pink Floyd, Clyde was in a semi truck and got stopped on the Russian Border. This was back about 20 years ago. So this wasn't Rodney King, "can't we all get along Russia", this was badass Mike Tyson Russia. This was, automatic weapons drawn, I'm going to kill you, Russia. In the back of the semi were 40 tons of explosives and there was American smart ass, Clyde Erman Taff sitting up front of the truck...nothing like shooting off fire works in the dead of winter for Russian Border patrol agents to demonstrate the innocence of your agenda. Special effects. Then the border patrol agents waved goodbye. Do svidanya. Do svidanya, cousin Clyde. Do svidanya, indeed . After finally arriving in Moscow, Clyde discovered that his local work crew at the venue consisted of 400 wide eyed members of the Red Guard. I don't know anyone else in the world who has that credential on their resume. Seems to me shortly thereafter the Russian military begin to destabilize....??? While Clyde generally put on a gruff and sometimes outrageous demeanor, it was only to hide the extreme sensitivity that lied underneath. I remember driving along some marsh with Clyde and Clyde starting pointing out all the birds and naming them. Clyde was a birdwatcher and a member of the Audobon society. Who knew? Snowy Egret, Clyde pointed out to me. Clyde taught me what a Snowy Egret looked like and I have never forgotten it. Thank you Clyde. Thank you. For that, I will even forgive you for making me wear platform shoes in the 70's. Speaking of the 70's, about 30 years ago, Clyde's name came up in conversation with a group of friends....and a relative newcomer asked, who's Clyde? Chris Muir (brains filled with not enough hallucinogens and too much Dr. Suess) looked at the new comer and replied "Oh Clyde is not so much a 'who' question, as a 'what' question". Greatest description of Clyde ever...of course now, I think it is finally appropriate to answer that question. I will tell you the answer to 'what is Clyde?', Clyde is and was special effects, I can expand on the special effects theme, but all of you who knew Clyde will know intuitively what I mean when I say Clyde was special effects or maybe just special effect.....it was never in the nature of my relationship with Clyde to discuss our feelings...too weird, too gay, too whatever...it is only now that I realize how much I loved the guy and never told him....So I'll tell you now...Clyde, I love you....you are truly Special Effects.......and yeah I can hear the silent cynical voices...maybe even Clydes own voice saying "Special Effects? Don't you mean especially affected? Yeah Clyde was affected, but that's why we all loved him, not just me....I'll apologize in advance for the cheesy goodbye, but I am out of words right now....So, aloha and bon voyage, Clyde. Take care my friend. You will be missed. Shows over. Fade to black.
Fade to Black
Clyde was a black hole in space, not because astronomers and all the rest of us could never really identify his location in the universe, but more because of his gravity. Clyde had gravity. Major gravity. And for a select few Clyde had major anti-gravity. As a warning at least half the stories I will tell here are embellished or even made up, but I don't care. I really don't care, as Clyde truly deserves to be remembered as a life embellished. Let me say that one more time, Clyde deserves to be remembered as a life embellished.
Special Effect(s):
the many facets of Clyde...a man who taught himself pyrotechnics, loved to sail, be in Tahiti collecting black pearls, a man who asked asked little and gave more of himself than anyone knew...a man who was comfortable hanging out with drag queens in Oakland, "say sailor, got your paycheck"?, riding harleys with Hells Angels, driving Roger Waters Ferrari in England or getting drunk and trying to pick up German college girls with David Bowie...for the record they didn't score. Apparently, because the girls had never heard of David Bowie. I can just imagine Clyde sitting there laughing his ass off, totally unfazed, telling David, "Hey Ziggy, yeah you, Superstar, tell em your with Duran Duran" and that was the thing about Clyde, he could disrespect you in a way that showed he truly cared.....in contrast to the David Bowie drinking incident Clyde hardly drank at all. But there is a side story here: For 10-15 straight years, Clyde would spend New Years eve at the Grateful Dead Concert. Clyde had a special assignment. Clyde would waltz in around the 28th and 29th of December and be given total creative authority to design the New Years eve special effect. I'd show up with Clyde just to hang out and soak up the perks of friendship. Hey catered food! It wasn't unusual for Clyde to look at me and say, c'mon we are going out to pick up 10,000 glow in the dark ping pong balls, "um okay, Clyde"....anyway, around 11:30pm every new years eve Clyde would disappear for a very private celebration. Clyde would go off and pour a glass of champagne for himself and two guests, one of whom was Bill Graham...Clyde kept most details of that annual moment to himself although he did tell me that it was Bill Graham's only drink of the year. Amazingly or perhaps typically, Clyde was there. Apparently, they would all make a toast and the three of them would only have only one or two sips and go back to work....what did they toast to? My guess is Bill toasted his escape of the Holocaust and Clyde in turn toasted his escape from an ordinary life....Actually I don't really know what transpired as Clyde was always blase about his annual toast with Bill. He never called attention to it, perhaps knowing that his private status with Bill only existed because Bill knew Clyde would keep things to himself. And contrary to the casual perception of Clyde it was that ability of total discretion than in part defined him, as Clyde knew how to keep secrets, secret. How, when where Clyde bonded with Bill to be part of that exclusive inner circle, I never knew, and I am comfortable with that remaining a secret....Clyde was privately generous, giving Christmas and birthday gifts to many children....Clyde lived large, but lived simply......he came to stay with me in Las Vegas and slept on the tile floor of the living room rather than the guest bedroom "um okay, Clyde" We drove to New York together a week after 9/11. Clyde was there to help me with a project I was doing...Clyde asked nothing for his time and even tried to reimburse me for his share of the expenses simply because he loved New York, "Greatest city in the world" Clyde often told me...Clyde saw the world, all of it....while doing pyrotechnics for Pink Floyd, Clyde was in a semi truck and got stopped on the Russian Border. This was back about 20 years ago. So this wasn't Rodney King, "can't we all get along Russia", this was badass Mike Tyson Russia. This was, automatic weapons drawn, I'm going to kill you, Russia. In the back of the semi were 40 tons of explosives and there was American smart ass, Clyde Erman Taff sitting up front of the truck...nothing like shooting off fire works in the dead of winter for Russian Border patrol agents to demonstrate the innocence of your agenda. Special effects. Then the border patrol agents waved goodbye. Do svidanya. Do svidanya, cousin Clyde.
posted by Sonoma Blue at 10:32 AM
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