One of the finest men I have had the pleasure to know was Del Shannon. For whatever reason, Del and I became very fast friends. I believe he felt I liked him as a person, not as a rock star.

We would spend many hours together when we were on the road and he even spent time at my home, fishing in the backyard pond. When he would visit he would always bring goodies for my daughters. Candy, Oreo’s®, chocolate milk, anything a child would love. His heart was huge and made of gold.

When Del would be passing through Chicago and have a layover at O’Hare, he would call just to say hello.

One day we were sitting at my home between a double-performance. We were playing our guitars outside on the deck when he asked me whom my musical influences were. When I mentioned The Beatles he lit up. “The Beatles? I know them.” As I started to laugh, he looked me dead in the eyes and said, “No, I really do know them.”

I learned that Del Shannon was the first American artist to tour with and record a Beatles song.

A few months later, we were performing together again and, as it worked out, we had a day off between a four-day tour. I picked Del up from his hotel and brought him by the house for dinner.

As we were playing our guitars again, he stopped and opened up his bag and pulled out an old photo album. He handed it to me, and as I slowly flipped through the pages, my jaw slowly dropped open. I saw page after page of Del and The Beatles playing guitars together after their shows. They all had on their shirts and ties, and there were a lot of finger sandwiches and empty Dr. Pepper® bottles all around the room. You could see them all singing in some photos, laughing in others and mugging for the camera in a few. I was very impressed. He never talked about it again. Del was a very modest man.

He was one of the most misunderstood people I had ever met. He carried a very sad shadow around with him all the time while I played the fool and kept trying to make him laugh. It wasn’t until he was gone that I learned that he was manic. From what I understood, a doctor prescribed the wrong medication for him.

A few weeks before we were supposed to perform together, he called to cancel. He said he was in bad health and just couldn’t do it. I didn’t understand but accepted his reason.

Two weeks later, the new medication had finally driven him to suicide. I had heard that his wife sued and won a very large malpractice suit against the doctor.

I can remember hearing the news about his death one morning on the radio as I was driving to work. Tears fell from my eyes all the way to office as I remember this gentle, tortured man. When I got home that night, I pulled out a tape of one of our live shows together and, sitting alone, I listened to it a few times before I went to bed.

Listening to the tape took some of the sadness out of the day. Del was alive again in my ears. I could hear him laughing and singing and talking to me during the show. He was doing what he did best. His “Heaven on earth” was the stage. His kindness and friendship will never be forgotten, and his legacy lives on through his timeless music.