This one really hits home. I was thinking about Hal the other night after the band did "Be My Baby," and I was telling everyone how I'd finally met and seen Hal at a clinic at the Long Island Drum Shop in Bellemore, and we had to convince him to get up onstage and play that famous beat that everyone knows. He got a standing ovation for it. He said, "What am I going to play? There are no other musicians here!"
I have known Hal since 1987, when I interviewed him for my book. We became friendly and communicated occasionally. He was active in promoting my book, while I helped promote his book, which was published not long after mine. Hal was a terrific guy, always available to talk on the phone if I had a question. He was very honest with me about how he was fired by John Denver's management after playing with him for many years on the road, and how his studio career came to an end in Scottsdale, AZ, where he was forced to work as a security guard. Most people don't know that he was a Korean War veteran.
He was married six times ("I had a weakness for long-legged blonde showgirls," he told me), and his fifth wife died of cancer. He remarried, and wife #6 took him for all he was worth. Hal was forced to sell all but one of his gold and platinum records to survive. She took his house, his boat, his cars, just about everything he had. I know he was devastated. Fortunately, he had a good pension from the Musician's Union.
In 2006 when my book was republished, I spoke to Hal at length again. He had been given a couple of Chinese Taye drumsets to play and he was impressed with the quality ("Over in China, if someone makes a mistake in that drum factory, they practically cut their fingers off!"). He had done three album sessions that year, including one with Mason Williams, and he told me, "I'm retired now. It's time for me to rest and time for the young guys to take over." I don't think he ever played on another record.
Godspeed Hal. Thank you for your inspiration and so much more. A very sad day for me.
