By Mandy Feder
The big man pushed his saxophone to his side, reached down from the stage and handed me an ice-cold bottle of water.
“Here you go, honey,” he said, in the deepest voice I”ve ever heard.
That 6-foot-5, 270 pound, gentle giant died from a stroke last week.
The Boss said it best when he told the Huffington Post:
“Clarence lived a wonderful life. He carried within him a love of people that made them love him. He created a wondrous and extended family. He loved the saxophone, loved our fans and gave everything he had every night he stepped on stage. His loss is immeasurable and we are honored and thankful to have known him and had the opportunity to stand beside him for nearly 40 years. He was my great friend, my partner, and with Clarence at my side, my band and I were able to tell a story far deeper than those simply contained in our music. His life, his memory, and his love will live on in that story and in our band.”
My sister-in-law, Amy, possibly Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band”s biggest fan, flew from Portland, Maine to Portland, Oregon to see a show at the Rose Garden. I drove from California to meet her. I don”t remember the year, but the album was “The Rising.”
We staked our places in line, 15th and 16th. We had blankets, coffee and a little boom box. Amy explained that the first 300 people in the door got the floor in front of the stage.
“Hey, no offense Mandy, but when they open that door, I”m running. Keep up if you can.”
Gulp.
Amy, as tiny as she was, played Women”s Professional Football. She was stealthy. This wasn”t going to be easy, but I promised myself I could sprint the distance from door to stage.
After my entrance instructions, we settled on the concrete sidewalk in front of the venue. We shared only four or five minutes of conversation with numbers 13 and 14 in line prior to realizing that I went to school with number 14”s son, back east. We reminisced about Amherst for quite some time.
This is a small world indeed.
Many hours later the doors opened and I grabbed a bit of Amy”s shirt and ran behind her. I kept up and we stood on the left side of the stage, right in front of Clarence Clemons” saxophone. Amy handed me a piece of ginger root to chew on and said, “Wicked good going, Mandy, I didn”t lose you.” Then she patted me on the back.
It was an amazing show. Little Steven Van Zandt passed his mandolin around to the first few rows and even when the Boss stepped on my fingers that gripped the edge of the stage, I smiled. He graciously apologized as he hopped by.
I shared an evening exchanging smiles with Clarence Clemons ? a legend.
It doesn”t have anything to do with the price of tea in China and it transpired many years ago, but a memory of a smile and gesture from one of my heroes in the midst of the ever-present sting of children being murdered, friends losing longtime jobs, angry voices and hate-filled attitudes, it”s a bit of my personal nostalgia that I chose to keep close in my heart and mind.
Thanks for memories. Rest in peace, big man.
Mandy Feder is the Record-Bee managing editor. She can be reached at mandyfeder@yahoo.com or 263-5636 ext. 32.
