Reverend Stickman, RIP.

Reverend Stickman left for the great gig in the sky on December 22 of last year, at the age of 59. “He put his music on the sidelines to play with others,” says Jenene Lambert of her friend and bandmate. “Even though he wanted to do his stuff, he just went with the flow and went to wherever he was needed.” Going where he was needed resulted in several collaborations with January Avalanche, Cathryn Beeks, Sandi Shaner, and others, while his original compositions were recognized by both music lovers and judges at a 2011 songwriting competition at Humphreys. Born Mark Schmitt in Denver, Colorado, he became known as Reverend after submitting a fee to officiate a friend’s wedding.

He was openly spiritual, but not religious, stating, “Spirituality is something we can all feel. Religion divides us from each other.” This stance enabled the Reverend to be open to making connections beyond music. “We would spend countless hours before and after gigs and on long tour rides discussing so many philosophies,” says friend and collaborator Bahman Violin. “We shared the love of trying to make ourselves better, in every way possible, always striving to learn from our mistakes, grow through challenges, and be in the ‘flow state’ that we would achieve every time we played as much as we could in the real world. He taught me over the years about the power of unexpected kindness, and the grace of giving yourself the chance to not always be perfect, musically or otherwise.”

This grace extended to his fellow musicians as well, as noted by saxophonist Bob Bartosik. “Rev was always kind and encouraging other musicians. We had a couple players on More Than Blues” — nominated for a 2014 San Diego Music Award — “that he invited back a second time to redo their parts that didn’t quite work. I was more of the ‘Let’s get somebody else’ type. He taught me to be forgiving and give people second chances.”

Described as always in the moment and never in a hurry, The Reverend’s in-the-now mindset made for some humorous memories. “We played a bar in Del Mar,” says Lambert. “We got all loaded at setup before we realized he forgot his guitar! We had to call our friend Charlie Imes, who lived down the road, to bring us one.”

Shared stories from the road, such as Violin’s recollection of some shared horrible gas station coffee, are a testament to Stickman’s ability to make fun of trying situations. “When we got in the car and took a sip, it was by far the most god-awful bitter coffee ever. We barely were able to swallow the first sip, but we took a second, only because we were so tired. We took a break, and I said, ‘Man this is awful, huh?’ And lightning quick, as if in a script on a sitcom, he retorted, ‘Yes, however, it has made me nervous.’ I had my sides splitting at that one.”

An avid Padres fan, Stickman loved to watch games with Bartosik, both at the stadium and remotely. “Padres playoff games in 2022,” Bartosik recalls. “We got tickets, but the Reverend had an annual Baja music trip he did every October. So I’m at the games and, every time something happens, he texts me. He’s watching on TV in Cabo. We went to over 50 Padres games together over the past few years. I may miss going to games with Rev more than playing music.”

                                   

Reverend Stickman at the Ruby Room in Hillcrest, where he performed at the Overheard & Famous In San Diego comic strip art show

 

Recalls Violin, “We won a grant in 2019 from UCSD to put on a full live theater show with our original music combined with poetry and narration to describe the refugee experience. We worked for a whole year on that production, and were rehearsing the anthem of the musical, which was an all-original composition by Reverend. There’s a video captured of him not even three notes into the song, with the full band and singers, and at that moment you see Reverend stopping the music to say, ‘I’m so sorry, it’s just when I wrote this on a paper napkin, never did I think we would be here. You all sounded so good. I’m so sorry, give me a minute.’ Nothing could better describe his humbleness and amazing soul in one moment.”

While his death leaves an empty space in the music scene and an incalculable depth of grief for those closest to him, there is this consolation: the Reverend did what many claim they aspire to do. He left the world a better place than he found it for his having been in it.