Wally Slocum passed away.
If you were a musician in Eugene, Oregon, from the 70's through the 90's, you probably knew Wally, and he probably knew you.
Wally was a quiet patron of the arts, at the center of involvement going back to the early days of the Oregon Country Fair and the W.O.W. Hall. He volunteered and made donations for local non-profits. But more than that, he probably contributed directly to the pocketbooks of every jam band in town.
One night in the late 80's, after a show I played... (an acoustic trio called Toribio, Bach
& Schwartzman--I was Schwartzman back then) ...Wally came up to me, put something in my pocket, and said, "He who sings, prays twice."
I still remember it. How could I forget? I wasn't all that good at the time. But Wally saw something in me that he enjoyed. He offered up that bit of wisdom, implying that I ought to take seriously the gift of having a decent singing voice.
I learned later that Wally did the same for other local bands who were making a genuine effort to lift themselves up in the profession. He knew how difficult it is to make a musical living. He valued the results of the enterprise so much, he was moved to help out.
But he was never ingratiating. He never converged on you with sycophantic praise. Rather, he lingered, with an aura of pleasant deviousness, probably plotting to plant some money on you, engaging casually in conversation as it presented itself.
You sometimes got a good compliment from him if the show was good. But you definitely heard about it if you were dropping the ball. A sloppy show might still garner a big tip in the jar, but not without a sideways mention that you could do a whole lot better.
I got to know him while watching Nine Days Wonder
shows at Taylor's on the U of O campus. We drank pitchers of Henry's Ale and marveled together at what we thought was Eugene's best band.
and I had a band called Mission District--a far cry from Nine Days, but not without its potential. Eventually, the two bands joined forces as The Renegade Saints, expecting to be something of a local jam supergroup. The results were a little pale at first, however, and Wally was one of the few who said so out loud. But he still supported us, attending every local show, and donating some capital for the hard assets we needed to make a real go of it. This was motivating, to have a critical listener in our supportive family.
When someone gives you money with no strings attached, it can be hard to take at face value. You try not to suspect that there me some ulterior motive. Vicarious involvement? Control? Recognition? But we knew Wally for a long time, and it had long been clear that the real reason he contributed so much was that he loved Eugene. It wasn't necessarily the bands themselves, or the musicians. It was his town, Eugene. He wanted it to be an eventful place, with a vital live music scene that he could enjoy. He was a throwback to a different time, when people understood the efforts required to make your community what you wanted it to be.
When The Renegade Saints broke up after our first 4-year-run, the band was in some debt. (We didn't even own our CD inventory.) Wally helped us out then too.
Wally, may you be blessed on the other side, surrounded by the music you love.