It's always fucked up when your friends die. Somehow it seems even more fucked up when you don't find out until well after the fact. That's the case with my dear friend, Andy Bogner. I was startled to open a message request this morning to find that Andy had passed away in December. The last time I heard from him was in October when he made sure he could crash on my couch if he came out here to visit the City. His plans were tentative, so when I didn't hear back for a couple months I was unconcerned.
I met Andy in 1998. He was just some random eBay customer, then he went a little wacky and became my best customer. At first we just emailed, then we started talking on the phone, then he came out for the PMA Antiques Show at the San Mateo County Fairgrounds. It was a great visit. We had a lot in common, like our mutual love for music and music memorabilia. He became one of my closest friends.
Andy ran a music store in Flint, as well as installed major PA and sound systems for buildings. When I met him, he was on a major roll. I kind of became like a personal shopper for the guy. He would express an interest in a poster or poster series, and I would chase that shit down for him. I felt guilty, so at first I was selling him the stuff at break even prices. When he realized this, I was roundly scolded, and forced to tack a profit onto what I got for him. He recognized that I was a very small player on the scene and seemed to GENUINELY enjoy helping me, and he helped me a LOT and OFTEN. I can give credit to Andy for making it possible for me to make my business grow enough to survive.
At the time, I had started my business on shit i found for free and a hundred dollars worth of Arminski handbills. No one took me seriously. Not even me. But Andy did. It was Andy who fronted me the money to buy my first large collection. It was a complete Grande Ballroom card and handbill collection. The collection was very publicly being peddled on eBay. The three biggest memorabilia dealers in the country, as well as the leading expert on the material, all wanted that collection. They all had bids in. When I sniped and won that shit with only 5 seconds to go in the auction, it put me on the map. No one knew or thought I had the resources at hand to pull it off. Then he let me sell it off piecemeal to pay him back. It only took a week, but still.
The next time I saw Andy, he had come out just to visit the City. I did a little tour guiding, and he had a blast. We walked into Webster Music in Alameda one day. He picked up a banjo and started playing that fucker like he was Grandpa Jones. He went on to play every stringed instrument in the store. Well. I was duly impressed. I had no idea he was so good. I said something along the lines of wow, i wish i could do that! A week after he returned to Michigan, I received two big packages in the mail. It was a Gibson Les Paul copy and a Fender amp. It came with a note that read Happy Birthday. It wasn't my birthday and he knew that.
That's just the type of guy Andy was. He was unselfish, kind and generous. I could go on and on, but the bottom line is is that I would have never been able to do this full time if he hadn't helped me in the infancy of this weird thing I do for a living. All the business shit aside, I'm a better person for having known him. RIP, Andy. You left this world a better place for you having been here.
