I'm working on a special project this year about a certain radio station, so I've been going back into my files and pulling out some old interviews with former Loop colleagues and pals. I'll feature one a week here on the blog. This week, it's Buzz Kilman, part 2. I found this old piece that I co-wrote for LoopScoop magazine in the fall of 1993, just before I left the station to be part of John Landecker's show on WJMK. I think it really captures the essence of Buzz. If you have some of those old LoopScoop magazines, this is the one with Danny Bonaduce's butt tattoo on the cover.
One Night Stand with Buzz Kilman
He’s a newsman, a bluesman, a movie-review man. We know
there are people living in his walls, but what do we really know about Buzz
Kilman? When the LoopScoop editors (Rick Kaempfer, Cindy Gatziolis, Anne-Marie Kennedy) decided to do “One Night with Buzz,” Buzz’s response was “Well, OK.
But there are going to be some ground rules. NO BACKING OUT AT ANY POINT IN THE
EVENING. No matter where we go, no matter what we do, no matter what happens.
There will be no going home at midnight.”
“Should we be afraid?” we asked. Buzz thought about it for a moment and said,
“Yes. You should be very very afraid.”
A SATURDAY NIGHT, LOUNGE AX, 7:30pm
2438 N. Lincoln Avenue
We were told to meet at 7:30pm sharp! Buzz showed up
sometime after 8pm. We tried to figure out why Buzz wanted to start at Lounge
Ax, because the crowd seemed more like fans of Pearl Jam than Lonnie Brooks.
Buzz told us we were there to hear a reading by Jim Carroll.
“He’s a former heroin addict from New York. Used to have a
band, but he decided he didn’t want to be bothered with rock and roll anymore.
Now he’s a writer.” Our LoopScoop writer Rick came up with the fact that Carroll’s
claim to fame was an early eighties song called “People who Died.” Buzz
surveyed the crowd and nodded, saying “It’s good to see the drug addled youth
of Chicago come out for a cause.”
MI CASA, SU CASA, 9pm
2524 N. Southport Avenue
Buzz needed nachos so we headed over to Southport to his
favorite restaurant, the name of which he couldn’t remember (Mi Casa, Su Casa).
Buzz was a little disappointed that we sat in the back room.
“I don’t know anyone in the backroom,” he said, then added
as an afterthought, “But I know everyone in the front room.”
After ordering his nachos (“I’m getting nachos and I’m not
sharing them with anyone. Get your own”) and his drink (a shot of Cuervo and a
bottle of Dos Equis), Buzz went to the payphone to call Loop Limo, figuring
that we could hit the station up for the ride.
Unfortunately it was prom night, but Buzz did make a discovery. “Hey,
when did they raise a payphone to 30 cents?”
We asked him if it was our imagination or was he now happier
(with Johnny’s show in the afternoon) than he used to be. “Oh hell yes. I’ve
been tired for 15 years. I thought that’s just what happens when you turn 30.
You get tired. When we moved to afternoons I was worried I’d be going ten hours
without a nap, but on the first day, 7:00pm rolled around, and I was ready to
rock!”
Buzz also told us about his newest piece of art, a 4 ft by 7
ft life-size painting of Miles Davis and the band. Buzz was proud of the fact
that he hung it himself, but even prouder that he snatched it away from actor
Peter Weller who just didn’t move fast enough to buy it.
BROTHER JIMMY’S, 10:15pm
2909 N. Sheffield Avenue
At this packed restaurant and bar where a sign tells you to
‘Put some South in Yo Mouth’, Buzz slipped away saying he needed to use the
bathroom, as we waited in the doorway for Cindy, who had been denied entry by
the Fire Marshall. As we began to make our way up to the front, we heard an
announcement that a guest musician would be sitting in with “The All-Bubba
Blues Band, formerly featuring Buzz Kilman,” and we heard a familiar voice
begin his rendition of “Walking Blues”. Of course. Let him out of your sight
for a minute and you’ll find him on stage with his harp. When finished, Buzz
jumped from the stage and ran to the front door screaming “Where are my
people?”
We headed for the next bar.
JUST ONE MORE, 11:30pm
4600 N. Lincoln Avenue
This friendly neighborhood bar had a crowd of about fifteen
people, but the band went all out like they were playing for 1500. From nowhere
Buzz whipped out a small black doctor’s bag and plopped it on the bar. He
rummaged through it, pulling out half-a-dozen harmonicas and blowing into each
of them, before picking one and wandering to the stage to jump in with the
band. He ordered a tequila on his way up there. Throughout the night various
members of the audience jumped in to jam, while our two female writers started
a sting operation at the pool table in the back. The guys playing the two
staffers should have taken Buzz’s advice when he told them, “My money’s on the
ladies.”
The guys lost.
The bartender’s policy was something akin to “any friend of
Buzz’s is a friend of mine”, so it was many beers later when we found ourselves
discussing the possibility that Buzz may have pulled one of his famous
disappearing acts, slipping out a side exit. We decided to give him five more
minutes, and luckily, we did, because he emerged from a small door behind the
bar shouting “My People!” He told us that we had one more stop, and that a
regular had leaned in to tell him “that girl Anne-Marie isn’t going to make it.
Her eyes are spinning like pinwheels.”
Buzz giggled.
THE PASSTIME LOUNGE, 2:30am
1740 W. Belmont
Let us paint the picture. The PassTime Lounge on Belmont is
filled with pictures of Waylon Jennings, people who covered themselves with
tattoos long before tattoos became fashionable, and members of the Chicago
Chapter of the Wheelmen and their women who wear jackets with “Property of…”
stitched on the back. Toothless Joe was in the corner seat talking to a woman
lugging her own bowling ball. Back near the pool table there was a portly man
who, irked that the table has robbed him of fifty cents was lifting the table
off the ground, grunting then letting it crash to the floor, causing slight
earthquakes.
After strolling the bar, being met with warm greetings from his acquaintances,
Buzz was back on stage with his doctor’s bag of harps again and didn’t stop
playing until the bar was almost ready to close. Some of our writers
interviewed the locals for tidbits on Buzz (there were none), while another
discussed biker gangs with Dennis of the Wheelmen. Our girl Cindy’s last phrase
was “I’m just gonna close my eyes for a little nap. Don’t let Buzz see me.” She
didn’t get much time though because after much Blues and tequila, Buzz was
calling it a night at 4:45am and walking out the front door of the PassTime
Lounge. We caught up with him on the street and he said, “You still here?”
Of course we were. Where to next?
“You…go home!” Buzz sputtered and crawled into a cab that we can only assume took him back to his home with the people living in the walls, and his life-sized painting of Miles Davis.
