Star was Liverpool Irish and talked just like the Beatles whom he idolized. He could sing every word to every Beatle song that I knew as well as every word to just about every rock song that anybody else ever heard of. He could do the entire repertoire of Spooky Tooth for god's sake.
He played with almost every rock band in town and, although he was only 5'4," his base guitar resonated like a cello. He drove cab on the grave yard shift because he could play a gig and still go to work.
Star was one of the friendliest guys I've ever met and one of the sweetest. A non-stop talker, he never had bad word to say about anybody.
He always started at midnight with change for a twenty in his pocket.
By 1:15 one Saturday morning, he was already dead - shot by junkie, a former taxi driver, who wouldn't believe that Star hadn't tucked away a couple of hundred on a Friday night.
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