Tim Mize (left) and Matt Myers. Courtesy of KDHX
There was a time, a decade back, when a handful of us underemployed types put together some boxing tournaments in South City backyards. The promotion eventually took on some legitimacy and moved into more-traditional venues, with licensing and what-not, but the early fights were wilder, less-regulated affairs. Rings were made of ropes, carpets and luck. The audience was a rock’n’roll one that reflected the same DIY aesthetic.
While fighting none other than Steven Smith in a backyard in Dogtown, I sat down between rounds one and two and heard, cutting through the noise in a clear, distinct tone, this bon mot: “Hey, Crone: you can’t write and you can’t fight!” My cornerman, Barroom Bob Putnam, shot me a look like he’d been the one zinged, himself. And just as I’m sure I was steaming about the heckle at that second, I’ve only thought of that comment with extreme amusement ever since.
Tim Mize delivered the one-liner and it was a classic Mize Moment: off-the-cuff, tart, and timed just right. We clinked glasses about it at some point a while later, and sealed the memory as a funny, worthy one.
My run-ins with Tim Mize over the prevailing years fit largely the same narrative as many others: through his bartending days at the old Way Out Club and his half-decade at Hi-Pointe; and via his decade-plus of broadcasting at KDHX. For a time, we both had shows on Monday nights and it was pretty much guaranteed that Mize was at the station hours early, whether to preview albums, or to set up live sets, which would beam over from the Hi-Pointe, itself; former music director Tony Renner’s mentioned on Facebook conversations that Mize was generous in giving time to the station, organizing CDs and the like, the type of commitment to the cause that often goes unnoticed and unremarked upon.
It’s interesting how we gain information about one another today, using the combination of the personal and the technological. Over the past few days, I learned that Tim, as punk rock a cat you’d come across, worked as a bartender at Powers, a Clayton day bar that catered to lawyers. And that he’d most recently been working at the Missouri Botanical Garden, in a job he enjoyed. Embarrassingly, I sorta knew that he was in an important band in the ‘80s, but didn’t appreciate the impact that Laffinstock had on local punk and hardcore until now; a video circulating widely over the past few days captures that moment well, Mize fronting the band with the kind of kinetic energy that you might expect. Didn’t know, either, that he’d spent time at Wax Trax, working with/for bands like Ministry at an exciting time in that label’s history.
I’ve learned through the web that Tim Mize was born on July 15, 1967. And I learned on Saturday night, through a mutual friend driving past me in a car, that he died suddenly and unexpectedly that night, on August 18, 2012. He left behind fiancee Jennifer Kuykendall and a host of friends. Here are some memories about Tim Mize from them.
Bev Hacker, program director, KDHX
Tim was one of the first people that I met and worked with when I started volunteering at KDHX in 1993. We worked many late nights with other brand-new KDHX volunteers to produce a 120 page program for the first and only KDHXpo in Tower Grove Park. I knew right then that he was one of the good guys, and that we would be friends for a very long time. Tim was one of the kindest people I've ever known. He was taken from us much too soon.
Brett Lars Underwood, former overnight programmer, KDHX
He was my guru towards a lot of what I was trying to do with The NO SHOW. He was a madman throughout his show, but always had a button to push in between as a segue. He was a crazed educator for a lot of those middle-of-the-night folks.
Bob Reuter, musician, programmer of Bob’s Scratchy Records, KDHX
Tim was old-school; his tattoos weren’t the trendy kind you see today. They were many and worn like the patina covering old sailors. Those and the fading facial scars on his "Dead End Kid" handsome face belied, or maybe accentuated, all the sweetness inside him.
Barroom Bob Putnam, co-proprietor, The Way Out Club
We ended up back at my place. I was loaded that day since Sherri [Danger] was out of town and didn't show up till a little later. I don't think I'd been to bed, since Pablo [Weiss] had dropped me off at the house after all night on the East Side. Tim and I were talking and I ask him if he was related to Sandy Mize. Tim told me that Sandy was his mother who had died when he was seven. Tim asked me how well I knew her, and if I had any stories or pictures. I went through some old albums, found some pictures, made copies for Tim and talked about when she was young. We must have talked till way past the time Sherri got home. Tim said he really didn't know much about his mom when she was a teenager, and it brought him closer to her, talking about the past that he hadn't been part of. Tim was working at the club then. Some weeks later, Tim showed up with some pictures he had photocopied of Sandy and her name bracelet that he wanted me to have. Tim told me I was a link to his mother and that I should have the bracelet. Tim said it meant a lot to him, and I meant a lot to him. Tim, I'll miss you and I love you like a son.
Lisa Andris, proprietor, the Hi-Pointe
Years ago, for a few years running, I had the pleasure of booking the Riverfront Times Music Awards festival and Award ceremony (also known as the Slammies). One of the things I got to do was to select the presenters of the awards to the recipients in each band category. Who better to present the award for "best punk band" but Tim and Matt of Super Fun Happy Hour? When I asked Tim to do it, he approached it the way he approached everything, with full on high-octane energy and enthusiasm. That was a huge part of his charisma, how upbeat and excited he got about everything. He told me he had a surprise as to how he and Matt were going to present. I knew whatever they did would be awesome, and didn’t think about it again. Now given my advancing age and having been the Matron of Mayhem at the Hi-Pointe for 19 years, my recall of exact details is hazy, but it was right after the death of one of the two Ramones who had passed, so he and Matt Myers came on stage at the Pageant to present dressed up as the two dead Ramones, but they did it in Zombie mode; you know, all grim and white faced, with bloody scars and with those Ramones wigs on dressed in leather circa 1982. They did this whole Zombie Ramones back from the dead schtick, and it brought down the house. Tim talked real slow and made some kind of comment about being hung over on formaldehyde from his embalming. He had the most lightning-fast wit and his sense of humor was so hip, edgy and intelligent, again a huge part of his charisma.
Josh Wiese, musician, friend
I knew Tim via the Hi-Pointe and the music scene, in general, but my most vivid was his kindness. Ten years ago, I was getting ready to get married and the plan was to have the wedding and reception at one place, and then hit the Hi-Pointe for the night-owls. My wife and I had shared many great memories and good times there, so it only made sense. On the way to my wedding, my best man and I stopped in and ran into Tim. The scene was: Queens of the Stone Age blaring at 5 p.m., smoke already filling up the room, and Tim and Homey stocking up the bar for a long night. I told Tim that we were coming by with a big party after the wedding, and asked if he could save a bench for my new wife and I. "No problem, man, it'll be set for you," he said. Wedding and reception happen, and then we head for the Hi- Pointe. We get inside and our friends are waiting for us and there in the middle of the bar are two benches folded on one another. Tim comes up as we walk in, congratulates us, takes us to the benches and unfolds them. He gives me a hug/handshake and congrats to my wife as well... simple, sincere and kind. That’s how I remember Tim.
Eric King, co-worker at the Hi-Pointe, former programmer, KDHX
I remember the first time I met Tim. His cousin Jeff and I were working at a pizza parlor, and listening to tons of punk rock. I had seen Laffinstock open up a show a few weeks prior, and thought they were the greatest thing ever. So Jeff asked if I wanted to go over and hang out and have some beers after we got off work. Oh hell yeah! We show up, eat pizza, have a few beers. Talked with John Katsafanas while he was putting together the demo tapes they recorded....Tim came over, and we started talking about music. Next thing you know, he's pulling out all his records, seven-inches, and basically playing DJ, host, and bartender all at once. He duped me a copy of Naked Raygun, a band he was really into at the time. Finally left sometime in the early morning, completely blown away on how genuine, and what a nice guy he was. A friendship formed. Tim called me up late winter this past year, asking me if I'd want to come over and buy some of his vinyl collection. He needed some money, had too much crap, wanted to make sure it went to a good home. I show up, he shows me all the work Jen and him have been doing to the house. We shot the shit about tomatoes and our leaky basements. We make our way inside; we go up to the rock ’n’ roll room. Tim switches back to that guy I met 23 years ago. Bouncing around from collectible to collectible. Shows me the ceiling completely covered in old show flyers. He's really proud of this. The ceiling was giving him fits and he couldn't figure out what would make it look good. He really enjoys showing off the flyer the Dead Celebrities did, with a picture of me from my eighth grade yearbook. "Dude, you are on my ceiling, that's fucking great!" he cackles. He shows me what's left of the collection he's keeping, and of the cassette tapes, and CDs from all his radio shows. Make our way downstairs to the stuff he wants to sell. I tell him to pull out all the local stuff he has, I'll buy it all, no haggling. The afternoon is spent buying, listening to the stories that go with each purchase. (Excuse me, tears blocking the computer screen, trouble typing.) He tells me about the five-year plan. "Get the loose ends sewn up around the house, save up some cash, then Jen and him are getting out of here. Off to a beach town somewhere. Carolina's sound good." We hang out and shoot the shit for a couple more hours, decide we have to make plans to have a spaghetti dinner with our girls. I'd give anything to sit down and have that spaghetti dinner right now. Goodbye my friend, brother, love you.
Joyce Gorrell, co-worker, Missouri Botanical Garden
Funny, but being several years younger than Tim, I likely ran into him socially a million times but we didn’t actually meet until working at the Garden together. I knew Tim better from serving dutifully together on the Safety Committee, he representing the fast-paced docks and aisles of the Garden Gate Shop and I bringing the concerns of EarthWays Center to the monthly get-togethers with other staff. I recalled him being (of all things!) button-downed and by-the-book, which I admired, as I think we both did a bit of cat-herding back in our offices, to keep folks up-to-date on emergency procedures and things like personal protective equipment. Every now and then, I would see a tattoo peek out from his long sleeve shirt and wonder, "Hmm… there’s certainly more than meets the eye with this fella." It wasn’t until my boyfriend and long-time buddy of Tim’s—Steve Smith—was with me for a workplace sale that it finally "dinged!" for me that Tim was not just my workplace colleague, but also my peer in love of music and nightlife in the Lou. From then on, it was always such a treat to see him and know our connections. My last fun memory was of Jennifer and Tim attending the Green Ball held at the Moonrise Hotel, and they had such a fun time. That made me really happy to see them that night. Blissful.
Gary Mackey, co-worker, Missouri Botanical Garden
I’m a good friend of Tim and Jennifer. We all work here at the Garden, in different areas now, but closely located. Tim, Jenn, and I were associated together very directly in the Garden Gate Shop of MBG back in 2006 during the Chihuly glassworks exhibit held that year; Tim as the receiving supervisor in the gift shop, Jennifer as the primary Chihuly gift buyer, and I as the accounts payable invoice processor. We had a great time together, along with our other office colleagues in the shop during those very hectic and busy days. Joyce reminds me of another cherished memory of mine—Tim, Jenn, and I were huge Lost series fans, along with other members of the Gate shop staff. Jennifer and Tim would host TV-watching parties of Lost at their home, which included pots of chili and all the accompanying fixins, usually during the winter when it was so much appreciated. Those evenings are among my fondest along with sharing the Cinco de Mayo festivals in May with them down on Cherokee Street as well. Such, such good times. I can’t say how much I will miss Tim and his delightfully gregarious nature. He didn’t know a stranger. This guy was a true "mensch."
A Tim Mize Memorial page has been set up on Facebook. There will also be a memorial gathering this Saturday, August 25, at the Way Out Club (2525 South Jefferson) from 3-6 p.m. For more on Super Fun Happy Hour, see Roy Kastnen's 2011 interview with Tim Mize and Matt Myers on the KDHX blog.
