been very difficult getting this together; Gramps is an artist to the core, and pinning him down to a certain time is nearly impossible. Fortunately, the day before the end of the month, he agreed to meet me at a local Seattle pub called the Blue Moon, a long time artsy haunt where musicians, poets and the other dregs of society would gather to tip a brew. This is also where I saw Gramps the first time nearly 18 years ago.
Aside from a touch more gray, his appearance has changed very little in the last 18 years. Long bony fingers protrude from gloves with the tips cut off. His hands are soft as a chamois, his twinkling blue eyes as soft as his hands, and the lack of wrinkles behind a mountain of a beard indicates a long life of clean living.
Although Baby Gramps doesn’t have a mass appeal that would earn him a headlining slot at a Lollapalooza festival, he has a mass appeal in the sense that any audience between the age of 2 and 102 are captivated by his vaudeville antics, hilarious lyrics and animated guitar playing.