On the occasion of Kevin DuBrow’s death, an anecdote:
I used to work with the king of copy editors, A. He was perfect at his job: knew everything, meticulous, obstinate. A very nice guy outside of work also. He was slender and carried himself in an effeminate way, and had long brown hair parted in the middle.
A. was also seriously into heavy metal music. This was the late 80s, when metal and glam and pop-metal were king, and he was way into that scene. Aside from the long hair it’s not something one would have expected, but A. was full of unexpected.
One day someone mentioned Quiet Riot and he said “Oh, I have a story there.”
Years and years previous, A. had been shopping at the Ralphs market on Sunset at Poinsettia in West Hollywood. This is colloquially known as the “Rock ‘n’ Roll Ralphs” because it’s right next to the Strip and all the guitar stores.
A. was pushing his cart along looking for peas or something when he noticed a rocker dude trying to get his attention. The guy was very excited and grinning widely.
“Hey!” he said. “Do you play an instrument?”
A. said “Uh yes. I play bass. why?”
“I’ll tell you why. I’m Kevin Dubrow and I’m starting up the best heavy metal band in history. You’ve got the look and the attitude I want. YOU WANNA JOIN UP?”
There was a pause of about five seconds and A. declined the offer politely. Dubrow roared on off to find his next perfect metalhead.
I asked A. if he regretted not getting on the Quiet Riot ride and he said no, he couldn’t handle the lifestyle as much as he loved the music.
A. only wore tailored clothes and spoke with a refined, aristocratic accent. He was able to pass as gay well enough to work for years at a gay publication, but from what I heard his dating preference was for the Pamela Anderson type. Oh! And he’d been a pool shark previously in life, but had to give it up because he was too small to collect.