I first posted this on the umgf forum, and I'll copy it here:

I'm devastated. Bruce was like a second father to me. I grew up in Saratoga, and my parents were among the original patrons of the Caffe Lena. By the time I was a freshman in high school, fall of 1968, I was the dishwasher there every weekend. the music was incredible. We had heard of Bruce through Rosalie Sorrels stories of 'her good friend U. Utah Phillips, the Golden Voice of the Great Southwest.' Her stories of him were hard to believe, and when she sang his songs, well if you haven't heard Rosalie sing 'Starlight on the Rails'...... Bruce had gigs booked in the east, but never showed up, so as strange as it may seem now, we thought that he was her alter-ego, someone she made up, and that she wrote the songs herself. One night in the fall of 68, I showed up to work and there was this buzz....'He's Here!!' Who? Utah Phillips!!

It was unbelievable. the first song he sang at Lena's was 'Enola Gay'.

Bruce was the smartest and most creative person I have ever known. There were amazing musicians in town already, and Lena and Bruce created an environment that attracted so many more. Andy Cohen, Kate McGarrigle, Roma Baran, Jim Ringer, Mary McCaslin, Patti Nunn, Bill Vanaver, Martin Grosswendt, Kurt Anderson, Luke Baldwin, Jack McGann, Bill Hinckley, Pam Ostragan were a few of the people that lived in town. In those days, Lena booked the performers for the weekend, so they would play Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and usually crash at her place. The scene was amazing, and don't forget it was the 60's. Bruce was a social activist, and realized that he could continue his work as a folk performer. Watching him refine the character of Utah, and create sets of stories and song was a gift to me. He gave me my first guitar lesson. He taught me a history of this country that wasn't taught in schools. By his actions and words he instilled a sense of compassion and caring for the less fortunate among us. He was kind to a young kid who was just hanging out. He taught me how to drink Henry McKenna, which I can't do anymore.

During the summer, like most kids on town, I worked at the track. Breakfast there was always fun, and sort of the traditional way to end a night out in August. On morning Bruce and a few other folks showed up. the maitre d' asked him if he was there to see some horses. Utah said he was. 'Which stable are you with?' 'Oh, I'm from Purina, I'm here for the losers.' They threw him out.

Being the labor activist he was, he started the Wildflowers, a musicians co-op that was a local of the I.W.W. It worked pretty well until they got ripped off by a concert promoter.

He lived in town all through my high school years, and except for my parents, he is most responsible for who I am today. in 1972, I went off to college, which was tame after being around Utah. A bit after that, he moved to Spokane, and was a resident performer at the Folk Life Festival there. He told a story about the day he covered his face with charcoal, and got into the boiler of an old steam engine on the grounds of the festival. when a tourist would look in the firebox, Utah would say hello and start telling old train stories....

In 74 I took the year off from college to get my head together. Halloween 74 with a full moon I decided on the spur of the moment to join Al McKenney, Tom Mitchell and Steve Martin to drive Blanche, Bruce's white 1957 Chevy panel delivery to Spokane. We hitch-hiked to San Francisco and spent a few nights with Faith Petric, and then I hitched back to Saratoga. It was a great trip, and I still can't believe I've hitch-hiked across the country.

I hope the westbound is taking it easy and slow with him, and that his trip is calm. He left a lot behind for those of us who knew him. I hope to carry his message with me, and carry him in my heart. I'm sooooooo grateful that I got to know him back in those days.

Mike