This past Sunday I attended a concert by Round Mountain for the second time since learning about them. Round Mountain is connected to our family through Vee Henry Rothschild, the beloved but unfortunately now deceased husband of Jacqui, Chris' mother and therefore his step-father. Vee Henry had 3 sons, just like Jacqui and one of these sons also had sons, Robbie and Char Rothschild, who are Round Mountain.
Unwittingly, they played the song posted below at the concert I attend yesterday and although they had written it for a dear friend of theirs, all I could think of was Chris and tears kept welling up in my eyes, I couldn't stop them, as the song played.
At the break I told Robbie how moved I'd been and how it had brought Chris to my mind and he was sorry I'd been sad, but I told him it was ok. It was good to have him there with us. The song is lovely, and if it is still up as you read this, you can download a free version of the song from their website.
Maitreya ©2005 C. Rothschild
A fool am I though touched by grace
when shone on by the sun
I felt it shining on my face
in the presence of this one dear man,
in the presence of this one.
Chorus:
My dear companion, how can I say goodbye to you?
It echoes through the canyons of this heart to lose a friend so true.
If I should live one hundred years
I'll never forget your ways
I hope to spend as much time as you did
with a smile upon my face,
with a smile upon my face.
Chorus
And when I close my eyes at night
your smiling face I see.
How can I ever say goodbye?
You live inside of me,
You live inside of me.
Our dear companion, how can we say goodbye to you?
It echoes through the canyons of this heart to lose a friend so true.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
from Pierre Dury
I am Christian's cousin. My name is Pierre and I'm living in Montreal. I always had a close affiliation with Chris because of our philosophy of life. Actually I smoke my first joint with him, at my aunt's place in a high rise near the twin towers. Boy was I stoned!
He came and visited me in Montreal a few times. He was such a sweet and unusual guy. Always loved him. I went to crash at his place in Brooklyn a few years back. Around midnight as I was trying to get some sleep, a band started to jam right above his apartment. It went on for hours...the drum, electric guitar; it blew my mind. Next morning I ask Chris what the fuck was going on upstairs, how did he managed to find sleep under all that noise and how come nobody complained? He told me they were russians that recently moved in and they dig music and in the building there's sort of an unwritten code allowing everyone to do as they please. It was perfectly normal for him. Good thing I didn't travel with my mom because she would have raised hell. Still that was Chris to me. Live and let live. He had the kindest smile. I'll miss him.
He came and visited me in Montreal a few times. He was such a sweet and unusual guy. Always loved him. I went to crash at his place in Brooklyn a few years back. Around midnight as I was trying to get some sleep, a band started to jam right above his apartment. It went on for hours...the drum, electric guitar; it blew my mind. Next morning I ask Chris what the fuck was going on upstairs, how did he managed to find sleep under all that noise and how come nobody complained? He told me they were russians that recently moved in and they dig music and in the building there's sort of an unwritten code allowing everyone to do as they please. It was perfectly normal for him. Good thing I didn't travel with my mom because she would have raised hell. Still that was Chris to me. Live and let live. He had the kindest smile. I'll miss him.
Monday, March 17, 2008
reflections from brother Peter
I realize that Chris was very special to a great number of people; family, friends and acquaintances alike. I must confess, I am a little jealous of his popularity.
I know that Chris preferred to look at life with a sense of irony and a humor all his own. Although I've always suspected he experienced occasional loneliness, Jocelyn's sharing of his letter brought this tragic fact home for me and I'm just sorry I didn't know enough as a brother to reach out to him more decisively. God knows I had every chance.
I could not have asked for a more amazing older brother. He and I existed within an arms reach of each other for a span of some seven years. Sometimes I called him, and sometimes he called me. The calls were few and far between, but always a great yearning went out from my heart toward him and for the untried relationship that now can only be a spiritual one. He and I shared many interests, chiefly art, but also movies and music. Not a day goes by when I am not haunted by the expectation which I know Chris had for me to master my creative instincts, as I have all of his paints and art materials.
'To be like Chris' I think it is the secret fantasy of a great number of us. Obviously, there can never be another like him. Who could possibly fit that mold? Yet cosmically, karmically, I know of no one else who lives so deep inside the heart of so many.
It often alarmed me to see how skinny, even frail, Chris always seemed even to me (no fatso myself). Even the material circumstances of his life were embarrassingly spare. The irony is that his character was so robust and full.
Even in terms of the anarchic Punk culture which he so admired, with its credo of "Live fast, Die Young" he seems to have made good: I still remember what for Chris must have been memorable times ( they are for me ) in Boston, where he began his career as a muralist. He was so euphoric about the Punk scene and he would play me these battered, recycled looking cassette tapes that lived on the floor of his AMC Eagle without a single case, all while tearing around pre-Big Dig Boston at illegal speeds. It was all so deliciously random. Small wonder he later broke the axle of his car. Well, I feel certain he must have a white and gold Porsche in the Spiritworld by now.
I know that Chris preferred to look at life with a sense of irony and a humor all his own. Although I've always suspected he experienced occasional loneliness, Jocelyn's sharing of his letter brought this tragic fact home for me and I'm just sorry I didn't know enough as a brother to reach out to him more decisively. God knows I had every chance.
I could not have asked for a more amazing older brother. He and I existed within an arms reach of each other for a span of some seven years. Sometimes I called him, and sometimes he called me. The calls were few and far between, but always a great yearning went out from my heart toward him and for the untried relationship that now can only be a spiritual one. He and I shared many interests, chiefly art, but also movies and music. Not a day goes by when I am not haunted by the expectation which I know Chris had for me to master my creative instincts, as I have all of his paints and art materials.
'To be like Chris' I think it is the secret fantasy of a great number of us. Obviously, there can never be another like him. Who could possibly fit that mold? Yet cosmically, karmically, I know of no one else who lives so deep inside the heart of so many.
It often alarmed me to see how skinny, even frail, Chris always seemed even to me (no fatso myself). Even the material circumstances of his life were embarrassingly spare. The irony is that his character was so robust and full.
Even in terms of the anarchic Punk culture which he so admired, with its credo of "Live fast, Die Young" he seems to have made good: I still remember what for Chris must have been memorable times ( they are for me ) in Boston, where he began his career as a muralist. He was so euphoric about the Punk scene and he would play me these battered, recycled looking cassette tapes that lived on the floor of his AMC Eagle without a single case, all while tearing around pre-Big Dig Boston at illegal speeds. It was all so deliciously random. Small wonder he later broke the axle of his car. Well, I feel certain he must have a white and gold Porsche in the Spiritworld by now.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Memories of Chris by his friend Tom Phillips
Tom's friendship with Chris goes back many years and of anyone who knew him well, Tom probably knew him the best. Here is his memorial of his best friend:
How do you recap a 29 year(!) long friendship especially in the face of shock and denial that it’s over? Where do you start? What is proper to say and not say? This feels crazy but here goes….
Chris was my best friend over nearly all that time- from when we first met in Burlington, Vermont around 1979 ….and right through the 80s-early 90s when we both lived in Boston reunited by some strange twist of fate….and then all through the mid 90s ‘til now when we both called NYC home. We were kindred spirits, not exactly “rebels” within our own families but restless free-spirits linked by our attraction to the frenetic energy of punk and rock ‘n’ roll music and a simultaneous rejection of suburbia and a settling into a kids & mortgage parametered lifestyle. Neither Chris nor I ever felt contempt for our own brothers who were raising families or had “careers” or conventional commitments; instead, we both chose to chase the night and somehow understand everyone who somehow saw things differently be it by their own choice or by the cards they were dealt. What a long strange and fantastic trip it’s been!
Over all those years, Chris always spoke very lovingly of his family even if he was quite adept at compartmentalizing his closest friends far away from his blood relatives. He did introduce me to Peter, and Tony Roy in his art lair across from the Coven Café in Nyack, NY, and later around 2003 or ’04 Serge, Michel, his beloved mom Jacqui, Lindsey, and others who were so delightful in Truro. (I also met, I think, Monique and Paul around their marriage date at a July 4th barbecue under the Williamsburg Bridge.) It’s doubtful that he ever mentioned, when visiting family, characters like Emil the Egyptian or Al Grew or Habib the falafel guy or Robin the German or Haydn or Roberta Nelson or GG Allin or The Wards or Daniel Galvez or Cyril or Felix or Jay at the Marz Bar or Jay at the Rathskellar. These were all important people to Chris for a long time because he loved their spirit and they loved his. Different faces in different cities and places who all loved the essence of Chris- all that positive energy and full presence and interest in what you had to say. Chris would lean toward you to focus on you and your words.
Chris loved, in no particular order: stylish leather boots, scarves, hip sweaters and hats, writing on his dashboard with chalk re: his next appointment, Japanese dating services, bodega “loosies” and fragrant cigarettes, O’Douls or cranberry juice in social settings, rambunctiously tossing non-harmful objects in uncontainable appreciation at his favorite musicians, avoiding airplane travel, good conversation with strangers, The Sex Pistols, edging up ahead of other cars at red lights, revving his engine loudly when he started the car, Bob Dylan, The New York Dolls, my wife Tanya’s Sunday dinners, driving on bald mini-tires for hundreds of miles,
2 AM phone calls with his latest guitar chord, beeping his horn to come out and play in whatever city we both lived in at the time.
Chris definitely did not like: getting stopped by police, mean people, total art ignorance, Rudy Giuliani, when friends got married and couldn’t come out at odd hours when Chris beeped his horn, New England blue laws, snowy weather that thwarted his nightly car crawl, rude and close-minded people, karaoke hosts who got upset when Chris toppled the sound equipment in a spirited tug of the microphone when singing “Wild Horses” in a Queens, NY dive.
I counseled him through: car accident frustrations, apartment relocations, errant police raids at his (the wrong) apartment in Chelsea, MA, business dealings with unscrupulous business associates, crazy roommates, slow times for his “Window Design” company, unrequited love interests he’d pursue…..
And Chris, in return, offered me hope through: divorce, unsure geographical relocations, career shift decisions, a horrific car accident and other numerous stresses that are part of life in NYC. In many ways, Chris was the brother I could always rely on even as a first option before checking in with my own three brothers.
Above our brotherly bond, we sure had a lot of laughs and plenty to celebrate! Chris did some incredible mural work in lesser-known places like Parrots (a Caribbean restaurant in NYC) where he drew incredible tropical scenery, the lowly White Castle fast-food restaurant window in Downtown Brooklyn (that STILL has his incredibly alive birds and tulips brightening a forgotten part of NYC) or even Sid’s Hardware (also in Brooklyn that has Chris’ signature Spring colors illuminating the dreary streets to this day). Not many people know that Chris was a significant contributor to a famous mural in Cambridge’s (MA) Central Square orchestrated by famed muralist Daniel Galvez- known for painting a renowned mural of Malcolm X in the very Harlem Audubon Ballroom that Malcolm was slain in, all commissioned by the civil rights leader’s widow. Then there’s Habib’s Falafel Stand in the Lower East Side where Chris was the artist of choice….that helped him long forget his lone concession to “selling out” to a 9-5 job at Boston’s Seaboard Company (one of the few times Chris actually was part of a sign-painters union). He did briefly belong to a similar outfit when he first came to NYC and was most proud of being part of a 20-story high painted ad for the Bowery Savings Bank (Chris helped draw the stacks of bills in a bank safe). We drove around many times looking at that ad down by Canal Street!
Chris provided the illustrations for a 1987 poetry publication (Rent Free) I put out with poet Raffy Woolf. I still have some of the book’s original pen-and-ink drawings Chris did at the Pine Street Inn where I worked at the time. He spent many hours connecting to the clients there …..and continued this wherever I ended up working even in NY. At one event in 2005 in Brooklyn, Chris came to a Client Recognition event of my employer (Women’s Prison Association) and drew countless portraits for kids whose moms had recently been released from prison. Of course, all the children loved Chris.
Of course, Chris and I ventured to an empty Lower East Side pub late in the late 1990s on a Sunday night where I met my wife Tanya! Within weeks, Chris forged an immediate bond with his other family- my wife Tanya’s family and extended network of friends. Chris was loved beyond words because he never put on airs and was always a gentleman kind and honest beyond anyone’s comprehension. Chris was, for over 12 years!!, there at countless house-parties, barbecues, beach sojourns, dinner parties….and many more evenings at our home having dinner, watching movies, etc. More than one time, Chris would outlast either Tanya or me in spirited discussions of politics, entertainment news, etc. ….all the while nonchalantly pulling out his sketchpad mid-conversation to document the event. Not least significantly and on my wedding’s eve, Chris helped me hang yards and yards of fabric in our wedding’s loft location. He even put on a suit for the occasion the next day and looked quite dashing.
In the end, Chris will outlast us all. The memories, the literally thousands of days we shared as friends, will certainly last whatever days I have left around this Earth. Chris closed his sphere of activity significantly in the last 1-2 years….with his neighbor and buddy George (who I never met) reaping the benefit of his camaraderie….but Chris is alive with Tanya and I in so many ways. What a beautiful person we were privileged to spend so much time with!!!!
RIP Chris!!! And, as you would say upon hanging up the phone….
“Hey!!!!!!!!!!!....”
How do you recap a 29 year(!) long friendship especially in the face of shock and denial that it’s over? Where do you start? What is proper to say and not say? This feels crazy but here goes….
Chris was my best friend over nearly all that time- from when we first met in Burlington, Vermont around 1979 ….and right through the 80s-early 90s when we both lived in Boston reunited by some strange twist of fate….and then all through the mid 90s ‘til now when we both called NYC home. We were kindred spirits, not exactly “rebels” within our own families but restless free-spirits linked by our attraction to the frenetic energy of punk and rock ‘n’ roll music and a simultaneous rejection of suburbia and a settling into a kids & mortgage parametered lifestyle. Neither Chris nor I ever felt contempt for our own brothers who were raising families or had “careers” or conventional commitments; instead, we both chose to chase the night and somehow understand everyone who somehow saw things differently be it by their own choice or by the cards they were dealt. What a long strange and fantastic trip it’s been!
Over all those years, Chris always spoke very lovingly of his family even if he was quite adept at compartmentalizing his closest friends far away from his blood relatives. He did introduce me to Peter, and Tony Roy in his art lair across from the Coven Café in Nyack, NY, and later around 2003 or ’04 Serge, Michel, his beloved mom Jacqui, Lindsey, and others who were so delightful in Truro. (I also met, I think, Monique and Paul around their marriage date at a July 4th barbecue under the Williamsburg Bridge.) It’s doubtful that he ever mentioned, when visiting family, characters like Emil the Egyptian or Al Grew or Habib the falafel guy or Robin the German or Haydn or Roberta Nelson or GG Allin or The Wards or Daniel Galvez or Cyril or Felix or Jay at the Marz Bar or Jay at the Rathskellar. These were all important people to Chris for a long time because he loved their spirit and they loved his. Different faces in different cities and places who all loved the essence of Chris- all that positive energy and full presence and interest in what you had to say. Chris would lean toward you to focus on you and your words.
Chris loved, in no particular order: stylish leather boots, scarves, hip sweaters and hats, writing on his dashboard with chalk re: his next appointment, Japanese dating services, bodega “loosies” and fragrant cigarettes, O’Douls or cranberry juice in social settings, rambunctiously tossing non-harmful objects in uncontainable appreciation at his favorite musicians, avoiding airplane travel, good conversation with strangers, The Sex Pistols, edging up ahead of other cars at red lights, revving his engine loudly when he started the car, Bob Dylan, The New York Dolls, my wife Tanya’s Sunday dinners, driving on bald mini-tires for hundreds of miles,
2 AM phone calls with his latest guitar chord, beeping his horn to come out and play in whatever city we both lived in at the time.
Chris definitely did not like: getting stopped by police, mean people, total art ignorance, Rudy Giuliani, when friends got married and couldn’t come out at odd hours when Chris beeped his horn, New England blue laws, snowy weather that thwarted his nightly car crawl, rude and close-minded people, karaoke hosts who got upset when Chris toppled the sound equipment in a spirited tug of the microphone when singing “Wild Horses” in a Queens, NY dive.
I counseled him through: car accident frustrations, apartment relocations, errant police raids at his (the wrong) apartment in Chelsea, MA, business dealings with unscrupulous business associates, crazy roommates, slow times for his “Window Design” company, unrequited love interests he’d pursue…..
And Chris, in return, offered me hope through: divorce, unsure geographical relocations, career shift decisions, a horrific car accident and other numerous stresses that are part of life in NYC. In many ways, Chris was the brother I could always rely on even as a first option before checking in with my own three brothers.
Above our brotherly bond, we sure had a lot of laughs and plenty to celebrate! Chris did some incredible mural work in lesser-known places like Parrots (a Caribbean restaurant in NYC) where he drew incredible tropical scenery, the lowly White Castle fast-food restaurant window in Downtown Brooklyn (that STILL has his incredibly alive birds and tulips brightening a forgotten part of NYC) or even Sid’s Hardware (also in Brooklyn that has Chris’ signature Spring colors illuminating the dreary streets to this day). Not many people know that Chris was a significant contributor to a famous mural in Cambridge’s (MA) Central Square orchestrated by famed muralist Daniel Galvez- known for painting a renowned mural of Malcolm X in the very Harlem Audubon Ballroom that Malcolm was slain in, all commissioned by the civil rights leader’s widow. Then there’s Habib’s Falafel Stand in the Lower East Side where Chris was the artist of choice….that helped him long forget his lone concession to “selling out” to a 9-5 job at Boston’s Seaboard Company (one of the few times Chris actually was part of a sign-painters union). He did briefly belong to a similar outfit when he first came to NYC and was most proud of being part of a 20-story high painted ad for the Bowery Savings Bank (Chris helped draw the stacks of bills in a bank safe). We drove around many times looking at that ad down by Canal Street!
Chris provided the illustrations for a 1987 poetry publication (Rent Free) I put out with poet Raffy Woolf. I still have some of the book’s original pen-and-ink drawings Chris did at the Pine Street Inn where I worked at the time. He spent many hours connecting to the clients there …..and continued this wherever I ended up working even in NY. At one event in 2005 in Brooklyn, Chris came to a Client Recognition event of my employer (Women’s Prison Association) and drew countless portraits for kids whose moms had recently been released from prison. Of course, all the children loved Chris.
Of course, Chris and I ventured to an empty Lower East Side pub late in the late 1990s on a Sunday night where I met my wife Tanya! Within weeks, Chris forged an immediate bond with his other family- my wife Tanya’s family and extended network of friends. Chris was loved beyond words because he never put on airs and was always a gentleman kind and honest beyond anyone’s comprehension. Chris was, for over 12 years!!, there at countless house-parties, barbecues, beach sojourns, dinner parties….and many more evenings at our home having dinner, watching movies, etc. More than one time, Chris would outlast either Tanya or me in spirited discussions of politics, entertainment news, etc. ….all the while nonchalantly pulling out his sketchpad mid-conversation to document the event. Not least significantly and on my wedding’s eve, Chris helped me hang yards and yards of fabric in our wedding’s loft location. He even put on a suit for the occasion the next day and looked quite dashing.
In the end, Chris will outlast us all. The memories, the literally thousands of days we shared as friends, will certainly last whatever days I have left around this Earth. Chris closed his sphere of activity significantly in the last 1-2 years….with his neighbor and buddy George (who I never met) reaping the benefit of his camaraderie….but Chris is alive with Tanya and I in so many ways. What a beautiful person we were privileged to spend so much time with!!!!
RIP Chris!!! And, as you would say upon hanging up the phone….
“Hey!!!!!!!!!!!....”
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Thoughts from Paul's parents
These thoughts about Chris come from Paul S. and Lu Yeaton:
We are the mother and father- in- law of Monique, and on January 15, 2000, Paul M. and Monique became man and wife in a little church in Belgrade Lakes, Maine. Many friends and relatives attended. After the service, everyone came to our house for the reception in Belgrade including Ann and Tony. And including Chris. We all had a great time. What a nice man Chris was. When in conversation with him, I just knew that he was giving me his total attention. Talking with him was easy and fun. And when one views his artistic product, there's no doubt that here is a man with immense talent and capabilities. And his characters were so happy and that were just enjoying the simple pleasures of life--lots of joie de vivre. It just warmed the heart to view them. While his friends and family had several years with Chris, it should have been many more. I'm sure everyone misses him dearly. I know we are sad.
Paul S. and Lu Yeaton
We are the mother and father- in- law of Monique, and on January 15, 2000, Paul M. and Monique became man and wife in a little church in Belgrade Lakes, Maine. Many friends and relatives attended. After the service, everyone came to our house for the reception in Belgrade including Ann and Tony. And including Chris. We all had a great time. What a nice man Chris was. When in conversation with him, I just knew that he was giving me his total attention. Talking with him was easy and fun. And when one views his artistic product, there's no doubt that here is a man with immense talent and capabilities. And his characters were so happy and that were just enjoying the simple pleasures of life--lots of joie de vivre. It just warmed the heart to view them. While his friends and family had several years with Chris, it should have been many more. I'm sure everyone misses him dearly. I know we are sad.
Paul S. and Lu Yeaton
Saturday, February 16, 2008
He was a friend of mine
Here are the lyrics to the song "He Was a Friend of Mine." This is the song that Serge referred to in his eulogy of Chris during last weekend's memorial. He mentioned that when Chris played it during the week he was at his mom's home over Christmas, his singing of it was so moving that his mother asked him to please stop.
One wonders what ties Chris had with the song. Now it's almost ironic that he's the friend we will all think of when hearing it. It is a traditional folk song, originally probably recorded by Bob Dylan, but also sung by The Byrds, Bobby Bare, the Grateful Dead, and Willie Nelson among others. It was also on the soundtrack for the movie "Brokeback Mountain." If you want to hear a beautiful version of it, Bob Dylan has one on his Bootleg Series, vol. 1-3.
He was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
Every time I think about him now
Lord I just can't keep from cryin'
'Cause he was a friend of mine
He died on the road
He died on the road
He never had enough money
To pay his room or board
And he was a friend of mine
I stole away and cried
I stole away and cried
'Cause I never had too much money
And I never been quite satisfied
And he was a friend of mine
He never done no wrong
He never done no wrong
A thousand miles from home
And he never harmed no one
And he was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
Every time I hear his name
Lord I just can't keep from cryin'
'Cause he was a friend of mine.
One wonders what ties Chris had with the song. Now it's almost ironic that he's the friend we will all think of when hearing it. It is a traditional folk song, originally probably recorded by Bob Dylan, but also sung by The Byrds, Bobby Bare, the Grateful Dead, and Willie Nelson among others. It was also on the soundtrack for the movie "Brokeback Mountain." If you want to hear a beautiful version of it, Bob Dylan has one on his Bootleg Series, vol. 1-3.
He was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
Every time I think about him now
Lord I just can't keep from cryin'
'Cause he was a friend of mine
He died on the road
He died on the road
He never had enough money
To pay his room or board
And he was a friend of mine
I stole away and cried
I stole away and cried
'Cause I never had too much money
And I never been quite satisfied
And he was a friend of mine
He never done no wrong
He never done no wrong
A thousand miles from home
And he never harmed no one
And he was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
Every time I hear his name
Lord I just can't keep from cryin'
'Cause he was a friend of mine.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Caroline's thoughts on Chris
I received this email from Caroline Roy shortly after we learned about Chris:
This is a sad time for us. We all loved Chris and his gentle soul. He touched us all. Lindsay and Renee were able to spend time with him over the holidays and for that I am very happy as they are. I had not seen Chris in some time, but one of his drawings hangs in my living room so in a sense he is always present. It is a drawing he did when he was living with us in Brighton when we were first married. He would go to the Boston ballet practices and sketch the dancers as they went through their routines. I love this drawing. It is hard to know why these things happen when so unexpected. As you both say, it makes us step back and realize the importance of being grateful for having those we love in our lives, as well as letting them know that every day. We do tend to forget and take for granted.
This is a sad time for us. We all loved Chris and his gentle soul. He touched us all. Lindsay and Renee were able to spend time with him over the holidays and for that I am very happy as they are. I had not seen Chris in some time, but one of his drawings hangs in my living room so in a sense he is always present. It is a drawing he did when he was living with us in Brighton when we were first married. He would go to the Boston ballet practices and sketch the dancers as they went through their routines. I love this drawing. It is hard to know why these things happen when so unexpected. As you both say, it makes us step back and realize the importance of being grateful for having those we love in our lives, as well as letting them know that every day. We do tend to forget and take for granted.
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