Shawn Terry, by all accounts, was never afraid of the dark.
The rock musician, a St. Mary’s Strip fixture with an encyclopedic knowledge of goth, heavy metal and Christian Death, was remembered by about 100 friends at an impromptu memorial Monday evening at La Botanica.
He died early Saturday morning from complications of an aggressive form of cancer which was diagnosed too late, his wife said. He was 42.
Terry’s wife, Christine Terry, said that he’d injured his shoulder this summer and that the pain never subsided. Something was wrong. An MRI in September revealed a cancerous mass. Last week, he’d hoped for treatment. But a chest X-ray showed that the Stage 4 cancer had spread throughout his body. He died two days later.
“I knew that he knew. He was a fatalist,” said Terry.
Like his cool goth hairstyle and fashion sense, his humor was equally dark, dry and black. In his last communication to his wife and nurses, he motioned for piece of paper and pencil. Terry was intubated, on a ventilator and heavily sedated.
He’d just learned that he was going to be examined yet again. He wrote, “What? No colonoscopy?” Next to it, he’d drawn a happy face.
“He lived on his terms up until the end,” said Brandyn Miller, a longtime friend.
Friends gathered under La Botanica’s cover outdoor patio. The glow of red neon overhead and dozens of small candles illuminated picnic tables and makeshift altars with flowers.
Remembrances ranged from somber and sweet to ribald to sick humor. Friends – many of them part of the North St. Mary’s Street service industry and rock scene – rose to speak at a microphone. A DJ spun dreamy/eerie instrumental goth.
“(Expletive) cancer!” went up as a rallying cry.
De Los Muertos frontman Paul Lopez spoke briefly. “Tear-jerking as it is, 100 percent he was a rock and roller,” Lopez said.
Terry was praised for his pure heart. This was a common refrain among the 30- and 40-something crowd.
When things got a little too sweet (which was rare), a friend was there to smack the sentiment down.
“Shawn was smart and all that, but he was also a (expletive) psychotic (expletive),” said Sergio Hernandez, a musician and bartender.
Another friend from the Mix spoke up – “I had to kick him out of the Mix a lot.”
But the laughter and the applause was pretty equal, no matter the sentiment.
Terry was praised for living his rock ‘n’ roll dream. He sometimes worked at Robot Monster Guitars, a hip used instrument store nearby. He helped out at La Botanica to make ends meet.
Local indie musicians expressed their gratitude for his guidance and enthusiasm and being part “of a little freaky club of people who understand each other.”
Musician Chris Smart recruited Terry to play in his band Mechanical Walking Robotboy more than a decade ago.
“He was no angel,” said Smart, explaining that his friend’s shyness turned into something else entirely after three-and-a-half beers – “a Jekyll and Hyde thing.”
“He was the first real rock ‘n’ roller I ever played with,” Smart added. Musician Roland Delacruz, who also works at Robot Monster Guitars, said Terry’s knowledge of rock ‘n’ roll was extraordinary.
“You took what he said as the truth,” Delacruz said.
Janale Crossley attended Center School with Terry in the late 1980s.
“He’s going to go down as a legend,” she said.
Another old friend could barely contain her grief at the wake. “It’s amazing to see all of these people that loved him,” she said. “The Shawn that knew (so many years ago) was so painfully shy.”
After it was over, Christine Terry had the last word.
“I feel so much better having heard all these stories,” she said. “I will love him forever. I’m completely devastated. I feel that this is so right.”
And with that, the DJ turned on the rock and roll.
Hsaldana@express-news.net
