Bruce McCrae, aka Rudy Cheeks, aka Jorge of Phillippe & Jorge, passed quietly on Friday Night. Bruce had suffered several health events in recent years, and wasn’t out much, but in his heyday he was the sort of public figure you could find at major art, political, and music events almost every night of the week.
Bruce McCrae touched more lives in RI than that drunken, handsy uncle who found his way into the bridesmaids section of the big wedding. And part of his inimitable charm was that he’d love that analogy. He was in numerous bands, most noticeably the Young Adults and the Fabulous Motels, each of which came within inches of rolling out nationally (before the internet made that less of a thing). There is an exhibit dedicated to him at the RI Music Hall of Fame, and a barstool named after him at Nic-a-Nees, where he would regularly supplement the performances of local bands with virtuoso harping on one of his extensive collection of harmonicas.
For over 40 years, Bruce and local non-profit leader Chip Young produced a column – without EVER missing a deadline – that poked at the underbelly of local culture, politics, and mainstream media. They hung out in the best/worst bars, the Signal/Telegram of the day, where liquor-loosened lips spilled all the latest tea, grist for the Cool Cool World column. They were mercilessly righteous, nicknaming the Providence Journal The BlowJo and The Urinal, because one insulting nickname just wasn’t enough. Ronald Reagan was Al Z. Heimer. Governor DiPrete disliked being called The Gerber Baby. Governor Chafee was The Missing Linc and there’s still-serving senator they dubbed Sherbert Whitebread.
Chip brought the Ivy-league rapier wit, his barbs and jokes delivered with a fencing foil. Bruce brought an axe when he wanted to get medieval. When their column turned 40, Motif turned to a few local professional news associations to try to get them some recognition. The New England Newspaper & Press Association rejected the idea outright. The RI Press Association responded with one word: “No.” I think Bruce and Chip were prouder of that than they would have been with an actual award, even though it meant no party.
When I worked at Providence Monthly, in ancient times, for our first issue, editor Brett Davey put Bruce and Chip on the cover. They were considered the most interesting people in PVD in the day. The second issue had Buddy Cianci and Vinnie Paz.
A couple of my favorite Motif moments came from “meetings” with Chip and Bruce at local watering holes, where we would ostensibly discuss the magazine column, but really they would lavish ridiculous, quirky PVD stories on the young guy at the bar, a strange, warped, cool, cool minddrop into a unique, know-a-guy culture of years gone by.
Bruce’s devil-may-care, shenanigans-come-first will be sorely missed, here, throughout the city, and in the modern world. Bruce, may you find an endless supply of rubber chickens wherever you go next.
Photos courtesy of his fellow radio DJ host Carolyn Fox. Here are some of the insane number of homages on social media in the past few days:
Farewell to our good friend and comedic genius Rudy Cheeks. RIP Bruce, you gave us so many laughs. Your huge and wonderful contribution to our RI music community will never be forgotten. You will be sorely missed. Fly high my friend. – Roomful of Blues
He was a friend of POP and a friend of the Providence Underground. We all learned from him.
Rudy was our Master of Ceremonies until he was too unwell to attend. He will always be with us.
Thank you Rudy. – POP Emporium of Popular Culture / Darren Hill
Thank you for your humor, your quick wit, your encouragement and your loyal friendship. I loved talking to you about music and the state of affairs. What you did for the local music and arts community should never be forgotten. They should build a statue in your honor. Wouldn’t that be something? I won’t forget you Ru, you were a special person. – Don Culp, Tune In Tune Up
Most of the photos accompanying these posts are in sharp focus, and capture his sharp-edged sparkle. So I posted the one below, which obviously does neither. But it does capture a place, a time, an attitude, and some of the unlikely titans who stuck an oar in the water and turned Providence from its slowing course as a fading industrial burg into a hometown for the creatively slightly-deranged, a creative capital years before focus groups made that a marketing slogan.
If you’re reading this, you’ve probably seen this photo by Bonita Flanders more than once. John Rector at the door of Leo’s, late 1970s, being photographed (behind pole) by Johanne Killeen. Spreading holiday cheer across the sidewalk: Rudy.
I like to think that Bruce would be OK–maybe very OK– with this image getting out there right now.
I had the welcome fortune to get to know Bruce, though long after that sidewalk moment. I last spoke to him last May, at the mobbed celebration, at The Met, of John Rector and everything John had given this town at Leo’s. Rhode Island is really just the right size for connecting the things that should be connected.
There’s no truth to the rumor that after they renovated The Independent Man the features now looked a lot like Rudy. – Mark Sawtelle
When he accepted us as friends, I felt like I was given keys to the cool underground art scene of Providence. And believe me, it was a very cool world. He refused to surrender to the normal world and inspired so many of us to follow our own paths. I wish that I could have been with him more but it didn’t work out that way. Thank you, Rudy Cheeks.
You remain one of a kind and that proves it, if you know what I mean. – Musician Mark Cutler
The family is holding a private funeral – public memorials have not yet been announced.
