The Way It Is
By Pete Steiner
Let me down easy
The talent and torture of Gus Dewey went their separate ways. ••••
L
ast time I saw him, he was smiling, circulating among the large crowd of friends at a benefit concert for him at the Kato. He could no longer talk, much less sing. Throat cancer had forced the removal of his golden vocal chords. That meant his dream of reclaiming the rock stardom he’d experienced at 18 would not happen in this life. Mankato’s music scene has, over the decades, produced a long, illustrious list of characters: Spike Haskell, Leas Schwickert, Jerry Udelhofen, my own brother, Billy, Jim McGuire. But in the history of River City music, few have been more talented, and none more colorful, than Gus Dewey.
There’s something about a guy with a Telecaster and a lion’s mane of hair, who can growl out the blues or a ballad, that is irresistible to women. Gus’ first wife, Janet, says she fell head over heels when she first heard him in 1972 at the Stone Toad (now Tav on the Ave). The attraction was mutual, and Gus would write her songs on napkins: “Been myself too many days/ Hey, Miss Janet, change my ways/ Cold on the outside, come back in/ Rock and roll star, once again/ Heap o’ boogie and a pile o’ blues/ What’s a singer got to lose?/ Miss Janet, take me, take me away/ to some sweet tomorrow or a distant yesterday.”
•••• Daniel Gregg Dewey was born with music in his blood. His mom, Bid, had played piano for silent movies; his aunt, Bunny Just, was the organist at the Grand Theater. Somewhere along the way, he became “Gus,” and in 1965, he and his bandmates in the Submitted photo Gestures were suddenly rock Gus Dewey at his rocking best. stars, with the national hit, “Run, Run, Run.” But music biz politics Soon after that, Gus joined City Mouse, denied the band another hit, and they and they headed off on tour to Key West. 30 • november 2012 • MANKATO MAGAZINE
They returned to cut an album that was never actually released until 2011. I listen to Gus singing on that album now and ask, like many, why did he never really make it? Huge, expressive voice. Talented songwriter. Janet, who stayed married to Gus for three years, offers a clue: “He was a beautiful man, a huge talent, extremely intelligent. [But] he was an incorrigible child.” •••• If few were as talented as Gus, fewer were as driven by their demons. My brother and Gus’s bandmate, Billy says, “He knew he was great, but he was frustrated that nobody recognized it. Sometimes that would translate into selfdisdain.” The producers at Sound 80, a top Minneapolis studio, recognized the talent while City Mouse was recording there in the early 1970s. They asked Gus to be their in-house vocalist for jingles and commercials. Billy brought Gus in at 9 the next morning, but Gus bellowed, “How do they expect anyone to SING at this hour of the day?” That quickly led to a parting of ways, and Sound 80 hired the legendary Chad Mitchell as in-house vocalist instead. •••• On stage, he seemed possessed, pouring every ounce of his soul into every song. Offstage, he had an aw-shucks, self-deprecating demeanor, with a growly laugh. He also had a huge, loving heart. He and I never got around to finishing a song we were going to write, “Have a good time on my dime.” But everyone knew Gus didn’t take very good care of himself. Bandmates confirm that at a gig, his bar tab was often bigger than the check