On Nov. 25, 2007, one day shy of the 24th anniversary of his success, Kevin was found dead in Las Vegas.
Only two of the other six guys knew Kevin from school, but our impressions were the same: Kevin was a very nice guy and always ahead of his time.
Of the three of us, I was closest to Kevin and I told my friends that even at the age of 11, Kevin knew exactly what he wanted to do and be: Kevin was very focused on becoming a rock star.
I got to the unveiling early and was met by a friendly and polite fellow who was there for the same reason.
“My name is Steve Smith,” I said. “I’m here for Kevin.”
“Me, too,” came the reply. “My name is Frankie Banali.”
Many people just 10 years younger would have recognized Banali’s name. But I did not know him as Quiet Riot’s drummer.
When he revealed this, I spent the next 30 minutes pumping him for information about the avant-garde, very focused and very good friend whose friendship I had for only a couple of years so long ago.
To Banali, I’m sure that I sounded like a reporter for People magazine because I asked everything about Kevin except for his favorite color.
“Kevin was a good eater,” Banali said, and he proceeded to tell me about Kevin’s love of food. Having seen pictures of him not long before he died, I told Banali that he looked like he was in good shape despite his appetite.
“He was,” Banali said.
The 20 or so people then retreated to the Corona del Mar home of Laura Mandell, Kevin’s mother. Before driving away, I introduced myself to Kevin’s brother, Terry, now a plastic surgeon based in Newport Beach.
