Mark Grady

September 17, 1955 to July 17, 1992

The photo below was taken at AL's Bar at the Memorial for Jim Van Tyne (February, 1991). Peter Alexander is to the left, Mark (center), Scott Craig (right), Reed Roles (far right). Mark was "sympomatic" at this time and beginning a difficult slow path downward.

photo: Stephen D. Duddy

Mark was a particularly complex and sensitive guy. Born in Texas and raised in San Jose in a large Irish-American family, he vacillated between living in Los Angeles and San Francisco. Anarchy, poetry, all things Irish, and wicked wonderful music were all vital components in the life of this hunky blonde Adonis.

Recently (early 1998) I happened to visit San Francisco and dined at the "Irelands 32" Pub out near Pacific Beach. My host (and best friend) informed me at some point into Sunday brunch at this genuine Irish family "sports bar" that this was the place where the Wake for Mark had been some years earlier. This caught me by surprise and seemed to ignite something. We looked at each other oddly. And a great wave of simultaneous Mark-ness enveloped us both. We found ourselves crying like babies after some kind of unknowable experience of indetrminate duration had transpired. I don't believe in souls 'n' such. Or, at least, I seldom think about it. But that was definitely something. And I have a witness.

Mark's ashes are scattered amid the redwoods in the hills above Santa Cruz.-jm

photo: George Copanas

There's more on Mark in Reed's RantRoom

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