I was in Naples, Fla., doing a gig when I got the call last Saturday morning about the death of Roddy Pahl.
After getting over the shock of the news, and a brief conversation with his wife Wendy, I took some time to reflect on the five-plus years he and I have been friends. When Roddy and I first met, he was tipping 500 pounds, maybe 6 feet 6 inches tall, shaved head – not a little sucker by any stretch. As big as he was, Roddy was equally soft-spoken. In fact, as I write this, I can’t recall anytime EVER that he raised his voice.
He had Bypass Surgery a couple years ago; I visited him in the hospital the night before. He admitted to me how scared he was about the surgery and not being able to pull through it. I remember laughing at him, "dude, you’re this huge man! Now you will be huge and in good shape." He told me later how important it was that I took the time to drive to the hospital to see him. I can’t recall a day in more than five years I have not had some kind of contact with Roddy.
He and I worked together in a showroom in Vegas for a couple years, then Fremont Street and The MGM. Until now, that's the way it has always been.
I spoke with three people on Friday, as it was a travel day – my wife to complain about being bumped off of a flight, my tour management for the same reason, and Roddy – he wanted to buy a car sub I had collecting dust in my garage. I busted his balls for a few minutes and told him I would see him with the sub Monday.
Roddy weighed 300, 400 pounds or more, but one thing I know for sure is most of that weight was his heart. You would be hard-pressed to find anyone lucky enough to have known him to have anything bad to say. To this day, I am unaware of a kinder more genuine, but tortured soul.
Thank you for gracing us with your presence.
Much love to Wendy and those four kids.
Big Daddy will miss his friend. I just hope there is enough room for his ass up there…