Jody Stecher says:

From: "jody stecher"
Sent: Wednesday, March 23, 2005 12:36 AM
Subject: Forrest Rose

I have sad news. Forrest Rose died early Sunday morning. Here¹s my version of what happened.

On Saturday night Perfect Strangers played a concert in Avondale, Arizona, a suburb of Phoenix. We had played one of our best concerts ever the night before in Tucson and on this evening Forrest played some of the best slap bass solos he¹d ever done and was his usual gracious and humorous self in his MC work. Roger Wilcox, a good friend of the band had invited the whole band to stay with him at his home, a bit north of the concert hall. Roger is a physician specializing in ER medicine and is an amateur musician. He¹s from Columbia, Missouri, Forrest's home town for many years, and his musical history is entwined with Forrest¹s and that of Chris and his wife Betsy. They go way back.

We had a very pleasant music session, playing songs and tunes that are not part of our stage repertoire, enjoying each other¹s company and appreciating each others¹ playing. It was absolutely lovely. We played Indian Springs and Georgiana Moon, Wagoner, and Chris¹ new song Today I Saw The Longest Train. Sometime past one AM Forrest put down the bass and sat on the couch and began requesting oldtime country duets from me and Chris, and he helped us with the words when we forgot. At about half past one in the morning on March 20th, Palm Sunday, I was half way through a song about getting ready for death, when I stopped singing and asked Forrest if he was alright. His
eyeballs had become elongated like lozenges and were swinging back in his head and rotating. His body was rigid and his head thrown back. A short time before, Bob had put away his banjo, Peter had gone to bed, and the other two folks in the room were Roger and a guitar picking friend of his who is a PHD pharmacist and well acquainted with emergency medicine.

They were on the case instantly. We all knew Forrest had experienced a brain aneurysm in 1987 (and later we learned there was at least one subsequent seizure) and I suggested this might be another aneurysm. It looked at first like a *safe* seizure to the two doctors and they waited perhaps 60 seconds to let it run its course. Forrest¹s color was good and it was clear that he was breathing. But then his color changed, and they observed other signs and they pulled him to the floor and began pounding his chest and Roger told us to phone 911 which Chris did. Forrest was spewing foam, a bit of vomit, and some blood (probably from a bit tongue). In spite of this, as well as other dangers, Roger, the perfect doc and the perfect friend, administered mouth to mouth resuscitation. Forrest gave out some strange moans and vocalisms which I believe are typical sounds of someone undergoing certain types of seizure. And then he was still. It all happened fast and by the time the EMT guys came on their fire truck I think Forrest was a goner.

They found little or no heartbeat. Atropine and electricity did not revive him. It took them seven or eight minutes to get there. Considering they came from around the corner I thought it was too long, and we actually phoned twice. But Forrest¹s death was probably not their fault. I think he departed after about four minutes from the onset of the seizure, about two minutes after we phoned 911. All the same they rushed him to the hospital where he was pronounced dead.

At the time of writing (Tuesday, March 22) I still don¹t know the cause of death. Stroke? Aneurysm? Heart Attack? I found it upsetting that he began his seizure during my rendition of a rather weird and otherworldly melody with the refrain *Dying time¹s coming when the sinner must die*. I eventually worked out that Forrest didn¹t fall in love during the love songs I sang that night, etc, so I can probably rule out the power of suggestion or his being scared to death. He wasn¹t the type anyway. His girlfriend Bernadette seems to think he¹d have loved the irony. Whatever the case may be, it *was* strange.

Then again, it had been a strange week. I had left home for Arizona in an inexplicably apprehensive mood. During the course of my visit, I caused damage to a violin in a Tucson music shop in an inexplicable and bizarre turn of events. At the same time this was happening, Phil Hollenbeck, the great pakhawaj (Indian barrel drum) player was driving on a 2 lane rural mountain road in New Mexico when a 30 lb chunk of ice flew off a semi truck and slammed through his windshield at 80 mph. He blacked out and came to a stop 50 yards to the side of the road in a snowy field. He had broken ribs and some face laceration but he¹s fine. I talked to him on the phone yesterday. He said his last memory was a large white object shaped like the state of Oklahoma flying at him. Earlier, the mother of the wife of a band
member fell off the toilet and broke open her head. All of this is true and rather bizarre. Forrest¹s seizure however seemed not bizarre but inevitable. I was not surprised, since I knew he¹d have another aneurysm or final seizure some day so I was prepared for this. I don¹t know how or why, but I had fully expected that it would happen on the road with Perfect Strangers and that I would be present when it did. Eventually we found out that his parents and girl friend were also expecting this and were also prepared.

We all got *some* sleep and much of the morning was spent in an informal Memorial for Forrest. The same was done in the evening back in Tucson. His parents flew to Phoenix to take care of details. His dad is a forensic doctor, in fact he was the physician who pronounced JFK dead in Dallas. His mom on the phone with Chris said: *well we had 18 very good years*. Considering he¹d been living on borrowed time since his 1987 aneurysm, I guess 18 years was a pretty long run.

Forrest was a lover of truth and was a philosopher concerned with ethics, morality and social justice. This was reflected in his clearly written and provocative newspaper columns which were very much in service of truth and justice. Sounds a bit like Superman, huh? As a bass player he kinda *was* a superman in a gorilla sort of way. Very powerful and growly with great forward propulsion in his rhythm. As a father he was exemplary and inspiring. Music was not the most important thing in his life. Forrest was devoted to his son Brennan and I think their relationship was what he treasured the most.

Perfect Strangers had been practicing and performing quite a bit of new repertoire which we were planning to record with Forrest. Forrest had been wanting to retire from the band sometime soon as he disliked flying and felt the need to be at home as well. Forrest¹s sudden death sheds new light on things he wrote and said to the band in the last few weeks. We now think that he had not been feeling well and/or had a premonition that his days were numbered and he wanted to retire from the road so as to spend as much time with Brennan as possible. But he was going to play any gigs that were already booked for which we could not find a substitute.

Finding another bass player will not be impossible. Finding a substitute or replacement for Forrest Rose is utterly impossible. But he¹ll always be a member of Perfect Strangers. His touch is evident in our arrangements and pacing and his spirit is entwined with that of the band.

-Jody Stecher