The Death of Steve Howe
Published May 02, 2006
I wound my way south through the misty twists and turns of Pacific Coast Highway at 3:00 AM as it snaked down toward Sunset with my brain buried under the sweet, humming insulation of too much alcohol.
Grinning vacantly, I took another hairpin turn at a reasonable but exhilarating speed and spied traffic cones ahead forcing me toward the center of the road. Oh bother.
I came to a near-stop behind several other cars just before the Sunset intersection. The cones ambiguously either wanted us to turn left onto Sunset or to continue south in the far left lane. Some cars turned onto Sunset, some went on ahead. I chose the second option.
Around another bend, frantic activity and grim faces in uniforms confirmed that we had made a mistake. At least I wasn't alone in my error. The night was lit hallucinogenically with ambulances and police cars flashing and clashing their garish, assaultive lights.
A few cars ahead, a figure waved emphatically for the line of cars to turn around. As I slowly backed to turn around, a blinding light shone in through my driver's window and a gruff knock followed. Startled, I stopped and rolled down my window.
"What the hell are you doing? Can't you follow directions? Don't back that way, you fool." An unexpected note of panic, or fear cut through the officer's voice.
I mumbled apologies and things about following other cars and this and that. The cop smiled and held his hand up for me to be silent.
"Have you been drinking peanut butter cocktails all night? I think you'll be spending the evening with us, buddy." The cop sounded strangely calm and almost kind. "Straighten this thing out and get out of the car."
I turned the truck so that it again faced south, my original direction. My headlights shone on the ambulance in front of me and on a long white, billowing object on the ground between my truck and the ambulance. A sudden wet gust up from the breakers blew the white covering off of the object, over the ambulance, and fluttering into the darkness.
Immediately before me was a red, blue and white object that, in a sickening jolt, I realized was a dead, male body. It — he — was impossibly broken and naked except for socks and shoes. Mortified, I turned away. The officer and I stared at each other in silence.
- The Death of Steve Howe
- Published: May 02, 2006
- Type: Opinion
- Section: Sports
- Filed Under: Culture: Crime and Court, Culture: Society, Sports: Baseball
- Writer: Eric Olsen
- Eric Olsen's BC Writer page
- Eric Olsen's personal site
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Comments on this articleComments
When I saw the headline, I thought you meant the geezer from Yes.
thanks Matt, so far anyway!
Chris, you are so not American.
thanks Phillip!
Chris, Recognition is half the battle.
he's way over 48 and probably can't hit 50 on the radar gun
you mean, it wasn't an over-the-hill, zonked out has-been who died? damn it, i really want Yes to go the way of the dinosaur. oh yeah... that happened 30 years ago...
no offense to the pitcher. fuck Yes. sheesh. cape wearing freaks.
zz, so you're not outraged Yes isn't in the Rock Hall?
um... who cares about a hall of fame? i don't really think about the place.
so you're a nihilist?
no... why do you ask? i don't care for Yes or the idea of a "rock n roll hall of fame..." but does that make me a nihilist?
I have heard many nihilists often denigrate both the Rock Hall and Steve Howe, the guitarist
i am not your typical steve howe-rock hall hatin hater. but, really, i don't care if you want to label me a nihilist. whatever.
EO, this reminds me of our conversation and your piece about your friends in TN: humanizing the tragedies in the newspaper. Well done, Sir.
thanks Josh, or at least making it about me!
ZZ, just messing with you - joke!
Chris, you're talking to yourself.
Suss, classic line
e.o.--you must have missed the joke in mine... maybe it wasn't a very good joke... nope... it wasn't... oh well... i don't care anymore...
ZZ, sorry, get it now, my bad! The Internet doesn't convey nuance very well.
I am so thankful that you were the observer that night, not the observed.
Great writing, as usual!
thanks Dawn, I am too but still feel bad about the whole thing
Steve Howe was insane, he battled an addiction that was stronger than reason.
No sane man would give up every boy's dream to snort cocain, unless they were insane.
I shared this same insanity, but was given a miracle and have been sober and clean for almost 20 years.
I was always a fan of Steve Howe, and continue to be. My prayers are with his family.
thanks Bob, it's terribly sad for Steve - I'm glad you were able to come out on the other end - best wishes!
When someone has a drinking problem there is no such thing as tapering back or cutting down on the drinking. Alcoholism is a desease! There are only 3 ways around this...Soboriety, insanity or death. Steve Howe paid the ultimate price for his drinking with his life. He may have been drinking. I wonder if he ever thought about going to AA or did his wife ever consider Al-Anon or the kids going to Alateen? It's a family desease. It is a shame that he's gone. He was a great pitcher.
Thank you for taking the time to mention the death of Steve Howe. I was a classmate of his through junior high and high school and knew him to be an great guy. Through the past 30 years his cocky and good natured attitude never wavered in spite of the bad press. Those of us who had known him at any point always knew that he had it in him to pull out of his problems and we never doubted that he would do so. It never occurred to any of us that he wouldn't have time to go on. I believe that it hit all of us below the belt when we got the news of his death. It is an amazing thing to me now to find that even people who hadn't known him were affected the same way. I thank you for writing about it.
The most important thing that needs to be said about Steve is that he never stopped. He never lost sight of where he wanted to be and never stopped working toward it. The addiction that kept getting in his way surely kept knocking his life around, but he never stopped working and he never gave up. His pitching was a talent and he utilized it astoundingly because he knew that he was born to PLAY BASEBALL. His record stands on its own. But on a personal note, please know that he was a warm and outgoing, good natured, cocky guy who took time out to often talk to people... even one of the class nerds...
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Eric,
I missed the news about Steve's death.
Quite a story you have presented here.
Glad that it has a happy ending on your end.