Ted McNamara, R.I.P.
A comment from his nephew alerted me to the passing of Ted McNamara. I knew him back in the 1970s, when we both used to hang out at Barney's Beanery in West Hollywood. (I've written about him earlier here.) He was quite a guy, though rather down and out at the time, living on income from telemarketing jobs and sporadic royalty payments from songs like "Sooner or Later" which he co-wrote.
He had studied to be a Catholic priest, but dropped out for a life of merrymaking. He was one of those guys who makes everyone feel good, always greeted folks like a long lost cousin. He went by the moniker "Trashy Teddy" because I suppose of his eclectic taste in paramours. The day his blocked Rhodesian royalties came through was a great party. But I go on.
I played my Sho-Bud pedal steel a few times in his pickup band at Barney's, until the cops stopped it, because Irwin didn't have a cabaret license. Doug Westin let Teddy's band play the Troubadour on Ted's birthday. I still have a tape or two from those days -- somewhere. Steve Dodge was a co-leader of the band (not really co-leader but a separate band with overlapping membership). Teddy introduced me to a number of famous musicians, but I am more grateful for the good times.
With Ted's passing, all my friend's from the '70s at Barney's are gone - Ted, Steve Dodge, Gracie Mueller. There were others I remember: Lucky (anything but), Cindy Grande (so-called because of her height) who had sore hands in the evening from giving massages all day, Stewart the bartender, and the rest (as they say on Gilligan's Island).




