As requested, here's a transcript of Paul's address at Funeral Home 05/27/00.

Good morning, My name is Paul Stark.
On behalf of Fred Boettcher’s family, I’d like to thank you all for coming today.
I realize that 10:30 in the morning on a Saturday is kinda early for some of you
to get up and moving.  I know it’s earlier than Fred preferred to get up on any day of the week.

This morning we’re here to honor Frederick E.  Boettcher,
 my best friend and my favorite storyteller.

When Fred’s children asked me to say a few words at this service,
I told them I would be honored to, but had know idea what I
would or should say. I’ve never been a public speaker,
I’ve always considered myself to be rather the opposite...a public listener.
I really enjoy hearing a good story.

Fred Boettcher was my best friend and my favorite storyteller.

I’ve known Fred for less than 10 years.
A much shorter period of time than many of his other friends here this morning.

I can’t speak first hand about the boy Fred was growing up
in rural southeast Missouri in the 1940’s, but I can tell you stories..
And so can his father Elmer and his sisters.
Wonderful, funny stories about things like Bummler his grandmother’s killer rooster,
or of some of the truly odd kids that attended his one-room schoolhouse,
or some of Fred’s earliest money making schemes.

I can’t speak first hand of the adventures that he had while in the military in Germany
in the 1950’s, but I could tell you the stories,
 and so can people like Fred’s friend Jay.
Stories about the glass eating circus performer that was in Fred’s platoon,
or the infamous“Kirchoff-the-jealous guy,
or Fred’s friend “Gissela the Madam,” who may have saved Fred’s life on more than one occasion,
...or the story of Fred falling in love with Rita, his first wife and mother of his children.

I also can’t tell you from first hand experience about the young man who came home
after military service to go to college, start a family, and then support them with a series of odd jobs.
I wasn’t there.   But I can tell you stories, and so can Fred’s children & friends from that time period.

I didn’t hear Fred perform in the 1950’s & 60’s with Fred’s Variety group
or some of the other bands he played in.
 I wasn’t around to hear him play country music on the radio.
I never saw him read the news on television.
And I never watched him work the room (& the ladies) between sets
at The Purple Grackle or in the nightclubs in Gaslight Square.
But I know the stories and so do people like Fred’s friend Bill Rowe.

 I never traveled with Fred across the country when he was a sales rep for Lenco in the 1970’s
and yet I know about the time he met his singing idol Don Cornell in Las Vegas,
and the rancher in Texas who spoiled him with huge steak dinners,
or his partying Cajun friends in the New Orleans Ship Building Yards.
Ask Fred’s friend  Max Prill to tell you about some of those adventures someday.
 

I guess my point is that I didn’t have to be at those places myself
to know about those chapters in Fred Boettcher’s  life.
 

Over the past couple of years, Fred and I visited almost everyday.
And almost everyday he had a new story for me.
Some of his stories had to do with the dark side of people,
most had to do with the ironies that we encounter on this planet.
But the very best of his stories had to do with Fred’s observation
that most people are inherently good,
and that all people deserve to be given a chance to show that they can be good.
Fred and I became close friends when we discovered that
we shared that same philosophy about the goodness of people.
 

One of my favorite of the hundreds of Fred’s stories takes a little longer to tell
than I think my nervous legs will allow me to stand up here.
Ask me for the full version sometime when I’m sitting down...
Here’s the Readers Digest condensed version:

The first half of the story is about a young Fred who used his own money and skills
to repair and change a tire for a family who was stranded on the road
on the way home from their vacation.
He fixed their tire, spent a few minutes playing with their young son,
got them back on the road and said goodbye.

 The second half happens years later when Fred’s family was vacationing
and under similar circumstances,
with some very serious automobile problems that were beyond Fred’s ability to repair. ,
They found themselves at the bottom of a hill that dead ended at a gate of a bible camp
& a sign that said“closed-for-the season.”
Fred knew that that car would not make it back up the hill,
that he didn’t have any money left for repairs after
already having paid to fix a different problem on the car earlier that day...
and didn’t have a clue what he was gonna do.

 At the bottom of the hill, they encountered a minister and his family,
who had just closed up their camp for the season and were getting ready to go home.
Fred did not recognize this minister & his family, but they remembered him
and the kindest he had shown them when once they had been stranded on the road with a flat tire.
Yes, it was the same family.
Now, years later , the original stranded family’s young son had grown into
an experienced auto mechanic who fixed the Boettcher’s broken down car.
The minister’s family re-opened up their camp & cabins
and shared their food so that the Boettchers could have the
vacation weekend that they had originally planned.

Fred believed that good deeds do eventually come back to you....
 

Fred had a lot of friends and Fred kept a lot of secrets.
He could pretend to be the most stubborn jerk in the world if
he thought it was necessary to make a point and to teach someone a lesson about life.
And in the years that I’ve known him, as he mellowed a bit,
he could also be a very generous, caring, thoughtful man.
(Let’s just keep that between us, we don’t want to ruin his reputation as a tough guy.)

In the past few days, I’ve talked with lots of  people about Fred
and there seems to be a common thread in all of their relationships with him...
He had the ability to make you feel special.

Weither it was in a conversation on a quiet night in his bar,
or that direct eye contact he made with you when he was singing a song,
or the self-restraint I watched him display when someone
was excited to tell him what they thought was a new joke,
but that of course Fred had heard hundreds of times before.
 

 His ability to make people feel like they were special came from the fact
that he truly believed that everyone is special.
 It didn’t matter where you were from, how old or young you were,
what language you spoke, how rich or poor you were, how intelligent you were,
what your sexual orientation was...
or even if you wore clothing not necessarily designed for your gender.

Fred believed that everyone deserved a chance to be themselves.
 

Fred had an advantage over many people when it comes their time to leave this world.
A year ago Fred was told that he had a terminal illness,
he realized that he had a limited amount of time left on this planet.
He chose to not change his lifestyle.
He could have closed his nightclub and taken a vacation. But he didn’t.

 He understood that he had created a special environment in his little nightclub on Chippewa.
And he didn’t want to deprive the people who found a home there from having that special place.
He remembered the people who met and made long term relationships that started at his nightclub,
including the dozens of couples that he performed wedding ceremonies for in his backyard garden.
He remembered the musicians who got to show off their talent on his stage in the twenty years the club existed.
 After he got sick, he started a new weekly open mike session for young ,
sometimes unpolished, musicians to have an audience to play to.
 

He also couldn’t have continued to keep the business running, if he hadn’t had so much help
from three very responsible young people:
his bartenders for the past few years: Erika, Kathy, and Fred Boettcher Jr.
Thank you three for maintaining my friend’s vision on the nights when
his energy level wouldn’t allow him to.
And thank you for being there so that I could take him away from time to time
for  much needed, well deserved diversion outings.

Thursday  night I had a conversation with someone who had only met Fred once,
but told me that he would never forget him.
To this man and others who didn’t know Fred well, he was an icon
or as the man Thursday night said, “He was bigger than life”.
It’s great that some people will remember him that way.  We need legends in our lives.
I personally won’t remember Fred as a legend,
(although some of his adventures may be of legendary proportions)
I will remember Fred as a great story teller,
a person who listened to and truly cared about other humans,
and I will remember him as my very best friend who I loved and respected.

Wednesday night another young friend of Fred’s was trying to reconcile
her feelings of loss and understand why she was so upset about Fred’s death.
She realized that she had lost someone who she referred to as one of her “teachers in life”.
What she hadn’t yet figured out is that if we pay attention and remember the lessons
that our “teachers” share with us, and in turn pass those lessons on to others,
...then our teachers will never really die.
 

Fred believed in a God and an afterlife,
 but he also believed that our time on this world should not be wasted.
Fred had a year to try to say goodbye to his family and friends. Not all of us have that privilege.
One of the lessons I learned from Fred was that one should not wait until a loved one
is gone to tell them that they love them.  Do it today and everyday.

And learn from and appreciate everything that life offers you .
Even ... or maybe,  especially the not so pleasant parts.
 

Everyone in this room as a “Fred Story” or two or three.
I encourage you to remember and share those stories with each other and new people you encounter in the future.
Although Fred’s body is now quiet, his memory and stories do not ever need to be silent.
And to the young lady that told me the other night that thought that she had just lost a teacher:
It’s your turn now, pass those stories and lessons on.

And when you’re sharing those Fred stories with people in the future,
When you get to the end of a story,
do me a favor  & don’t forget to quote Fred by including....

 “True Story, I Wouldn’t Lie, ...Ha”

My best friend would appreciate it.
 

Goodbye to my best friend and my favorite storyteller. I love you.