Remembering Bob Reuter: St. Louis Speaks [Multiple Updates]

Categories: Local History

VintageVinylBobReuterMH.jpg
Jaime Lees

[Update 8/7: Added now are remembrances from Tom Huck, Evan Sult, and an e-mail exchange between Reuter and Andy Lashier.]

[Update 8/6: We have added two more tributes, one from Larissa Rook of Wormwood Scrubs and one from KDHX DJ Nick Acquisto. Both can be found on page 11 of this post.]

[Update: Since this article was originally published we have added tributes from Kentucky Knife Fight's Jason Holler (page 9), Joe Thebeau of Finn's Motel and local artist and musician Dana Smith (page 10). Click on the names that follow to jump to the pages with individual tributes from the original post: Randall Roberts / Erin Wiles / Steve Carosello / Shaun Morrissey / Little Rachel Fenton / Mario Viele / Ellen Herget / Matthew Frederick / Jeff Hess / Brett Underwood / a story contributed by artist Red Mouth, written by Bob Reuter.]

I got the call early, about an hour and a half before the news hit the Internet. My friend Jim was on the phone. The tone of his voice was calm and reassuring -- gentle, even. Bob Reuter, he explained, was dead. Over the next few minutes we talked each other through the shock as best we could. Then Jim offered a short list of people who would be good for a quote or two on Bob's life.

See Also:
- R.I.P. Bob Reuter, St. Louis Music Legend: Man Who Fell Down Elevator Shaft Identified

What follows here is a collection of uncensored stories from many of the people -- musicians, writers, fellow KDHX deejays -- whose lives were touched by Bob Reuter throughout the years. We're working hard here at the Riverfront Times to gather your memories of Bob's work and life. It's something that we take very seriously, and we feel that his story is best told by his friends, colleagues and fans.

Many people have stories yet to share, so check back frequently. This page will updated as the contributions continue to roll in. And please, feel free to write your own story in the comments below.

Like many others, I have my own history with Bob. There are better stories to be told, so I'll keep it brief.

I met Bob in the late '90s when I was just a teenager. He circled me like a hungry wolf and asked me to come over to his house so he could take my photo. (I was his type: artistic with bleached hair, severe eyeliner, short skirts and photogenic breasts.) But I knew Stranger Danger when I saw it, and I told the old perv to get lost.

But he never disappeared and neither did I. We shared the same friends, the same venues and the same scene for years. And as time went by we came to know each other, and I (mostly) forgave him for being such a creeper back in the day.

Bob and I didn't always get along, but it never went past the general head-butting of two people who both like to be in charge and don't take any shit. It was never that serious, anyway. If anything, I think he was impressed by my frequently sassy attitude.

But at no time when I was annoyed with him did I belittle his work.

He couldn't be considered an expert at most things he did, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he did it anyway. His photos, while frequently blurry and and technically imperfect, captured the vibrancy of St. Louis and its inhabitants. In my opinion, his radio show (Bob's Scratchy Records) was the best on KDHX (88.1 FM). And his music was always great, but it became absolutely stellar when he hooked up with the geniuses at Big Muddy Records.

In one of my last private e-mail exchanges with Bob, I praised Big Muddy founder Chris Baricevic as the "biggest badass in St. Louis." He concurred, writing, "He's believed in me from the start and worked selflessly on my behalf. I owe him for a life turn-around." I spoke with Baricevic on the evening that Bob died and was relieved to learn that Bob's family, his bandmates, were all mourning together that night.

It's this kind of stuff about Bob that I choose to remember. He said lots of nice things when nobody else was listening. He often sent encouraging words out of nowhere. He inspired the younger generation, and he made connections with scores of unlikely folks. He was difficult, but he was worth it. And his music, art and tireless documentation of the city and its people will be his legacy.


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14 comments
archangel666
archangel666

I heard one of Bob's ex-friends put a New Orleans style curse on him a few months ago. He had treated this person very badly, inexcusably so, in a way that only Bob could try to excuse. Kinda' makes ya wonder...though knowing Bob it probably wasn't the only time he'd been cursed. Don't think I'm disrespecting him, but he did have a nasty side. Which probably made his softer side even sweeter.

Patrick Lester
Patrick Lester

Black Friday radio show-Funny Dude,at a different level than most peoples minds operant on!

CLEMENSBYRON000
CLEMENSBYRON000

Known Bob Henry Reuter as people say off and on since 1968. Don "Frankie" tomazi, DeAndreis, North St. Louis his mom . . . Dinosaur days, Kamikazee Cowboy photos books . . . Watched over him in intensive care twice . . . Was in my wedding "uncle" to my kids . . . He was no saint but he was real . . . Like any real artist he was sometimes a jerk . . . but I can say that like so many others there is a big hole in my cynical old heart . . . I loved the man, his music, his art . . . And his struggles Bob was no saint but he was a "real" artist and appealed to the better angels in all of us flawed and sometimes dark but ALL heart no surrender

SocRandom
SocRandom

I was never a fan of Bob Reuter.  I listened to his radio show at times; I saw him perform around town.  I never connected with his rowdy radio host personality or with him as a performer.  I didn't dislike him, it's just that I never connected with him in a way that made me want to hear more.  I believe we had some things in common; he attended some of the same shows I attended and we had mutual friends.

All this being said, when I heard about his tragic death over the weekend I was compelled to follow the story.  I was shocked; I wanted to know what had happened and why.  We are still waiting for some of those answers and we may never know some of them.  As I followed the story, I began to read the tributes about him, written by friends and fans.  I listened to his songs in a way I never had before; I looked at his photography and thought "WOW!".  I began to see something that I had never seen before, never noticed, never sought out.  I saw that he put his heart into the things that he did, the way he lived his life.  He was completely himself, and he didn't care who liked him and who didn't.

What I started to really see is that he was the type of person that I aspire to be.  He made a mark.  He influenced people by what he did and who he was.  Not everybody will recognize this influence but it is there.  I started to feel a kinship with him by realizing that he was motivated by the same thing that motivates me: a passion and love for art and creativity.  I realized that I write songs and record them so that people will know me better after I am gone.  I do this for my daughter first and foremost, so she will someday know me as a person and not just as a parent.  She will know what/who I loved, what I cared about, and how I struggled.  I also do this for my family and friends, and anyone else who cares to listen.

There are two very valuable lessons we can learn from Bob's life.  First, be who you are and don't be afraid to show it.  Second, appreciate those people around you while they are here, rather than when they are gone.  Thanks Bob!

tonypatti
tonypatti

Bob made himself important almost casually, by recording and releasing the first DIY punk rock single I remember seeing. There were no covers, just plain white sleeves, but the label had a wild, crude, howling figure decked out like a punk on one side, and that was enough. Up until this point, most of the musicians around town had only vague ideas about recording music, which seemed like something only signed musicians were allowed to do. Bob's now commonplace act, of doing it himself, was a radical invention to every band that saw it. You have to understand what this meant to St. Louis: Bob literally jump-started the entire scene with this 45 record. 

The Dinosaurs played with all the earliest punk bands of the late 70s. The Retros, The Camaros, The Felons. But Bob didn't look punk to us. He looked old, with his beard and his balding hair, his plain cowboy shirts, so many of the kids and punks rejected him, not so violently, but by limiting their enthusiasm. And soon after getting everyone whipped up with that record, Bob went away to Syracuse, and we all wondered what happened to the Dinosaurs.

Through the years, I kept going back to the Dinosaurs. The first big punk band! Rock'n'Roll Morons! The ancient shows, dim in memory, the excitement of something radical and new happening.

When he came back through, punk rock had curdled into the formula of the 80s that reached it's most formulaic height in the band Green Day decades later. Bob was now singing country music, and this was even more radical than I might be able to get across. There was probably no time in the musical landscape when country music was more unhip than the mid 80s. Bob seemed irredeemably lost to most people in the local music scene. He must have been bitterly angry about the lack of attention he suffered back then, but he still had his fans, just not the cool, cruel, trend-loving alternative kids. 

But Bob never stopped playing, he just got better. His band Kamikaze Kowboy suddenly seemed to fit into the scene a little more naturally, as Uncle Tupelo and Diamond Stud started throwing down country covers, and Uncle Tupelo started writing songs that had a strong country influence, much like what Bob had been doing without any recognition. They blew up big time, and Bob continued, with a bigger fan base, doing his rock and country hybrid, with Kamikaze Kowboy, throughout the 90s.

In 2000, after a couple of minor recordings, he recorded his greatest alt-country CD, Down In America, and seemed to have reached a kind of peak, at least of songwriting and critical recognition. But Kamikaze Kowboy kind of fell apart, and Bob mostly played solo most of the time, and could be seen working the door at Frederick's Music Lounge. A lot of people who he became close to got to know him then, as an old guy who did a lot of solo gigs and sold photos in bars.

His comeback, after nearly dying of a heart attack, was mythic, inspiring, glorious. That bitterness, that anger, that resentment of seeing everyone else get their slice of the glory finally started to fade, a little, though the habit was hard to break. A lot of people through the years could never understand Bob's distance, his anger, his sharp edges, but through the years of never-ending struggle just to have a toehold in the music scene while shallow stars shot up and faded away around him, he managed to use that anger as fuel to keep going, to keep true; always offering us a chance to see how brightly he could shine.

jasminblu59
jasminblu59

Bob once told me that for all that he had a million contacts in his phone, there was only maybe one or two people he could really call when he was in need of help. He felt his "friendships" were very superficial, that he never got close to people. "Everyone I get really close to always leaves me and you're prolly going to leave me, too" he'd say. I don't think people left him so much as he drove them away. He'd get abusive and alienating and controlling. That, and his racism and his borderline perverted desire for young girls did, in fact, drive me away, too. It's sad to me, because the part of him that was gold was 24 kt solid. We were very close, for a very short time, until his demons took over. I hope when he crossed the River Styx he left those demons on the far shore, and I hope he is now really resting in peace...

bill.streeter
bill.streeter topcommenter

@jasminblu59 I think that Bob's obvious human flaws is part of what makes him attractive as an artist. That he could have these deep personal shortcomings and still contribute something wonderful to the world is something we can all learn from. He knew he had demons, he acknowledged them, he wasn't proud of them but he was able to expose them to the light of day and examine them in public through his music and writing and we're all better off for this. 

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