Paul Perry
(a.k.a. Mr. Hoi Polloi)

On Saturday, October 16, 1999, The Bergen Record reported it this way:

PAUL PERRY, 43, of Clifton, formerly of Fair Lawn, died Friday. He was a courier for Federal Express, East Hanover, where he worked for 10 years. Arrangements: Vander Plaat Funeral Home, Wyckoff.

None of us in the band were quite prepared for this. We spent the ensuing days getting our suits dry-cleaned, buying flowers, meeting with family, and finally, putting a dear friend in the ground.

Three weeks prior to his death from cancer, our friend and part-time roadie, was moshing his favorite mosh. His dance, usually accompanied by Smells Like Teen Spirit, was a determined-but-joyful arms-at-side speed-skip in a half-moon pattern, that often resulted in a near collision with our equipment. We had no idea that the next time we saw him, he'd be barely able to breathe, let alone mosh, as he was suffering the side-effects of chemotherapy.

Though 43, Paul easily passed for his late-20s. His overwrought smile and loud coconut-shell laugh is still in our memories.

He earned the nickname Mr. Hoi Polloi because of his nearly perfect attendance record during Hoi Polloi's formative days, when he would wear his black Hoi Polloi T-shirt to every gig -- regardless of the temperature -- and selflessly help the band pack up at the end of the evening. For quite awhile, Paul's social life seemed to revolve around our shows and the band's other activities. He spent many a night curled up under a guest blanket on the floor or couch.

No member of Hoi Polloi can go for a few minutes without being teased, and Paul could trade barbs with the best of us. One of the most memorable is when Paul got particularly schnookered during a party and passed out on the couch. We used eye-liner to write "I LOVE BOYS" on his legs. Paul did not discover our joke until late the next morning while sitting in a Laundromat. In shorts.

Not without his faults -- who is? -- Paul would often participate in gastronomical turbulence that stunned even the most hardened nostril. After any gig, while we were loading sound equipment back into the vehicles which brought it there, Paul was noted to do some free-form expulsion exercises. Thus, given Paul's penchant for loading and unloading simultaneously, the term Roadie-Odor was christened to help describe his unmistakable brand.

As the photo attests, Paul had a great love of snorkeling. This was a passion he developed over the last few years, and one that from his hospital bed, he swore he would accomplish at least once more.

One of the really great things about being in a band is that you're with people when they're really happy.

Paul, we're glad you spent a lot of happy times with us.

Sorry you didn't make that last diving expedition. May you snorkel to your heart's content in the afterlife.