Oh the Places You'll Go (or How I Ended Up Back in Cleveland)

I had known for a while that Geddy Lee was writing another book, and unlike the last one, this was more of an autobiography than a tribute to his love of playing the bass. And when he finished it and embarked upon a book tour, I was looking forward to seeing him-- we hadn't seen each other since the last book tour, back in 2019. 

Geddy came to the Orpheum Theater in Boston on Saturday night the 18th of November. Prior to the event, I had a wonderful time hanging out with a large group of Rush fans, many of whom were part of RushCon, which I attended on a few occasions and really enjoyed. I gave a talk (I hope it was interesting), and then I got the message from Geddy's manager that if I went to the venue early (as in, "now"), he'd have some time for us to chat. Needless to say, I went over immediately, and had a chance to hang with him for a few minutes. We hugged, and we talked about family, his book, and our 49-year friendship, something both of us are grateful for.

For some strange reason, Boston's big album rocker (WBCN) never really played Rush very often: I was told the program director didn't like the band, and it wasn't till years later when the guys got played at a different station-- classic rocker WZLX. But a lack of local airplay never stopped thousands of fans from turning out at Rush concerts, nor did it diminish the size of the crowd at the Orpheum. Even now, eight years after the band broke up, the fans love Rush, and they absolutely love Geddy.     

I sat in the audience, enjoying the show. Eric McCormack, of "Will & Grace" fame, was the moderator, and he and Geddy had an interesting conversation.  But prior to that, the audience was treated to a slide show that included rare photos from Geddy's life and career (I was surprised that there was a photo of me, and when the fans saw it, they cheered; they also cheered the first time Neil's photo came up); it was accompanied by organist Josh Kantor. Josh is incredibly talented, and fun to listen to: he does the music at Fenway Park, and he added some local touches, like "Sweet Caroline"-- a sing-along version of which has become a staple at Red Sox games.      

Geddy seemed relaxed and comfortable, as he told stories about how he got his name (both his Hebrew name and his English one); his complicated relationship with John Rutsey; his first impression of Neil, and how Neil's audition for the band went; and why he thought his dad was an incredibly cool guy (and how his death-- when Geddy was only twelve-- affected him). He told of how he learned his dad had been a musician in the old country-- he wished he had known that growing up, as it was something he and his dad never got a chance to discuss.  

Along the way, in addition to answering McCormack's questions, Geddy read several excerpts from his book, and he also talked about missing Neil, and how much the friendship of his band-mates meant to him. He said they seldom if ever argued, and they could always make each other laugh. He mentioned bands that were really good to them (like Kiss) and bands that weren't (like Aerosmith). And he mentioned the staying power of "Working Man," which they performed during just about every tour.  Geddy's talk provided some details  about his life that many of us knew, as well as some we'd never heard before. I thought that perhaps writing the book was cathartic for him-- a retrospective on a successful career, but also a way to process losing his dad so unexpectedly, losing his mom to dementia, and ultimately, losing Neil to cancer. 

The talk had some sad and emotional moments, but it was also very entertaining, especially when Geddy told stories about life on the road. More recently, he told about how much he had enjoyed collaborating with Alex during the Taylor Hawkins tribute. He said it was great to play together again; but while he had no desire to re-create Rush (he has long said if there's no Neil, there's no Rush), he was eager to get back into music on some level. He had rediscovered a couple of songs that he wrote in the late 1990s, and he wanted to write some more, and possibly collaborate with Alex at some future point.

But as I was watching Geddy do his book talk, nobody in the audience knew I had a secret. When I was backstage with him before the show, his manager (Meg) suddenly asked me if I'd be willing to come to Cleveland the next night, assuming they could work out the logistics, to lead the fan Q & A. It was almost a spur of the moment thing; evidently Meg and Geddy got the idea, and once I said okay, it was a matter of making it happen-- except I was asked to not say a word, almost like I would be the "Mystery Guest."

I hadn't been back to Cleveland in a while, but it has such an important place in Rush history, and I was excited to be a part of Geddy's show. And that's how I ended up in a limo, being taken to the airport, and on to Cleveland, in time for the pre-show sound-check at the State Theatre. Geddy was very happy that I was there, and we had fun doing some ad-libs and testing our microphone levels. I did a practice run on some of the fan questions, and then they ushered me back to the Green Room (which isn't green, but I guess many years ago, the guests actually waited in a room of that color). At some point, while the first part of the show, moderated by music journalist Rob Tannenbaum, was going on, I was able to watch it from a chair to the side of the stage, behind the curtain (nobody in the audience could see me, but I had a wonderful view of Geddy and Rob in conversation.  Geddy read different material from what he read in Boston, and told a few different stories, but once again, he seemed relaxed and conversational-- as if he'd been doing this all his life. 

After the intermission, Geddy did another reading from his book, and then... he announced that the person reading the fan questions would be me, and I came out on stage. Geddy and I hugged, and I waved at the fans, many of whom were on their feet applauding and cheering us both. It was almost magical, and yes, I know that's a cliché, but that's how it felt-- like some kind of magic was happening. I had tears in my eyes, and I don't think I was the only one. After all, Cleveland was where it all began, and now, 49 years later, we were all re-united, brought together to celebrate Geddy and to celebrate how much Rush meant to our lives. 

I showed Geddy my old (1975) pass for the Agora Ballroom, and asked him what he remembered of playing there while I was at WMMS. And before we got into the questions, I thanked the fans for being loyal to this band, and I also thanked Geddy. He could easily have forgotten about me years ago, but Geddy (and Rush) always took friendship seriously; the guys in Rush were always loyal to those who had been good to them.  And then, we got into the Q & A. Just like in Boston, when Washington Post arts reporter Geoff Edgers led the questions segment, I read the name of the questioner, we'd put a spotlight on him or her (there were lots of women there, by the way, and I once again remarked that yes there ARE female Rush fans-- which got a cheer from some of them) and then, I'd read their question and Geddy would respond. I was pleased that he and I had a good rapport: to be honest, I hadn't been on stage in quite a while, and I was just hoping I'd do a good job for him and make the fans happy too.   

Evidently I did, because at the end, as I walked off stage, Meg and all the others who had been watching us, said it had turned out perfectly, and it was right that I was there to be a part of it. It was a full-circle event, in a way: I was back in Cleveland, doing what I used to do when I was still on the air, back with people I cared about, back with Geddy, talking about Rush in the city where I first introduced "Working Man." It was as it should be. And before I even got back to my hotel, fans were posting photos and comments to my social media pages. It had been a night I would never forget. I felt privileged to have experienced it.      

So, how do I put into words how much being there meant to me? During the Boston event, at one point, Eric McCormack began singing some lyrics from a Rush song I dearly love, "Madrigal." It seems a fitting tribute to Geddy, to the fans who have remained loyal to Rush, and to the power of friendship, even during difficult times. To everyone who saw me at either of the shows and said hello, or reached out to me on social media, thank you for making me a part of the extended Rush family. "When all around is madness, And there's no safe port in view, I long to turn my path homeward, To stop a while with you." And in a way, that's how it felt: like coming home, like being among friends, like stopping a while to celebrate our shared appreciation for Rush, and our gratitude for Geddy Lee.