"Don't mess with my mom, Dave; she knows this stuff..." - Greg Drew shares memories for Mother's Day

May 11, 2025

Regular readers of Letters To You know that I've been fortunate enough to enjoy a long personal and professional relationship with the great music writer and Springsteen biographer, Dave Marsh. For more than four decades now, Dave has been a trusted and invaluable friend, mentor, and collaborator. One of the more surprising and delightful things to come out of our friendship are the occasional interactions that eventually occurred between Dave and my late mother, of all people. Looking back now, however, I actually shouldn't have been too surprised by any of those interactions. After all, though they were a generation apart in age, both Dave and my mom were born and raised in Michigan, they both love(d) baseball, children, Christmas, and of course the music of Bruce Springsteen, which played an important role in helping their paths to cross and connect, as it often has for so many listeners.

After we first met in 1979 (at one of his book-signings for Born To Run: The Bruce Springsteen Story, naturally,) Dave and I eventually became closer friends. Throughout the early-to-mid-1980s I would hang out with him whenever possible at various music industry events, became a contributing editor for his independent newsletter Rock & Roll Confidential (later renamed Rock & Rap Confidential) - usually writing from a musician's point of view – and occasionally spend time with him at his family's New York apartment, which was a bit like visiting the archives of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

Meanwhile, my mom eventually got to know the name Dave Marsh very well, too. As I previously wrote in this website's big feature on Marsh and his 2023 Kick Out The Jams anthology, in 1978 - before Mom or I had even met Dave, let alone began to know him personally - I suggested that she read his Rolling Stone cover story on the Darkness... tour so that she might better understand why the music of Bruce Springsteen had become so important to me. "I think I understand now, Gregory," she said to me after reading that Rolling Stone feature. "I can see why you want to go [to Springsteen concerts] so often...The guy who wrote that is a very interesting writer. Made me feel like I was at the show."

And as time went by, Mom would notice my copy of the latest Dave Marsh book or read one of my RRC pieces, and she'd begin to connect that "interesting writer" from Rolling Stone to her son’s new friend. Of course, it also wasn't too long before "Brucemania" kicked into full swing, with the release of Born in the USA. Bruce was everywhere, all the time, such that even a suburban housewife in her mid-fifties, like my mom, could become a fan, especially if her son already was a huge fan who attended multiple concerts in 1984. Mom enjoyed the "Dancing in the Dark" video (Thank you, MTV - I think,) she loved the drumming on "Born in the USA" (having been a drummer herself, back in high school,) and she swooned, as so many did, over the "I’m on Fire" video.

But the "Glory Days" video was where the "trouble" really began. Not only could I point out my pool-playing friend Dave's cameo in the video - playing, by the way, with all the dexterity of a journalist – but it also featured two of her life favorites: children and baseball. And let’s not forget the clean-shaven all-American singer, singing an incredibly catchy song. One night, we happened to be watching it together and suddenly I heard my mom say, "I heard he’s doing some shows at Giants Stadium. Do you think your friend Dave could get us some tickets?"

Up until that point in our relationship, I'd never hit up Mr. Marsh for Bruce tickets, and I had sworn to myself that I would be the one person who never would. But I knew three unfortunate facts: the tickets already had been placed on sale, they had sold out quickly, and now tickets were available only for resale through "ticket-brokers" (legalized scalpers.) The guy I normally used only had field-level seats to sell, and I couldn't imagine my 56-year-old mother dealing with that madness. So I summoned up my courage, as well as a little bit of charm, and called Dave to ask him for four tickets in the stands. (I asked for four because I had equally fanatical friends, and I also figured I could use a buffer!) Dave was pleasantly surprised by the request and said that he thought Barbara [Carr, Dave Marsh's wife and Bruce Springsteen's longtime co-manager] would get a kick out of it. He, of course, came through and for the two extra seats, I invited my friend Michael, who is thoroughly charming and socially adept in any situation (unlike myself.) My last ask was my great friend from college, Julian, who already knew Mom. When I told Julian - a terrific recording engineer - that I had an extra ticket for Giants Stadium, he began to comment on outdoor concert sound not being up to his standards, etc. I mentioned Michael, and then told him the fourth would be my mom. "I’m in," he replied immediately. "Give me the date so I can take off work."

The evening did not disappoint, even beyond the usual E Street Band greatness. Not only was Ma Drew attending her first stadium rock show, but thanks to our benefactors, we were in the VIP section. New Jersey’s own Jack Nicholson, along with Angelica Huston, were sitting a couple rows in front of us. Various other movie stars were in our section, too, and Julian’s sacrifice was rewarded with a seat next to Mariel Hemingway. Mom was thrilled by the show, loved Max’s drumming, and thought Bruce was an exceptional performer. She got a particular kick out of the sequences when Bruce would run out to the end of the extended stage wings, with the band tagging along. She referred to it as "follow the leader." I think it brought her back to her pre-marriage elementary school teacher days.

After that, Mr. Springsteen had become "my Bruce." Not in some sort of psycho way, but as someone she cared about, like a familiar acquaintance or neighbor. Through the media, she followed him the best she could, and was sad when she heard about Bruce’s divorce. But when she learned of Patti and Bruce’s relationship, and that they were expecting a child together in 1990, she was thrilled. My sister had provided Mom with her first grandchild in late 1989, and we all soon realized that "Grandma" was the role she was born to play.

So it’s the early summer of 1990, and I stop by Mom's house on my way home from an afternoon visiting Dave. I fill her in on the pertinent details, and the questions begin: “Did you get to see Barbara? Was she there?" I thought about my answer, figured it wasn’t a violation of national security, and answered, "No, she’s in L.A. for Patti’s baby shower." Talk about your proverbial opened can of worms. “They’re not married yet, right?," she asked. "When is he going to marry her?" (Did I mention that despite loving rock ‘n’ roll - by this point, she also had seen the Rolling Stones/Living Colour show at Shea Stadium - Mom was a bit old-fashioned when it came to kids and marriage.) In order to quickly change the subject, I indicated I would ask Dave the next time we spoke.

Soon after, I spoke again with the noted Springsteen expert, and informed him of my mother's question. If you’ve ever heard Dave Marsh give one of his definitive opinions on SiriusXM satellite-radio, you can appreciate the tone of his response: "He’s not getting married again; it’s never gonna happen!" I later conveyed this response to my mom. Her reply: “Once he sees that baby, he’s gonna wanna marry Patti. I tell you, Gregory, it’s going to happen, and it will happen within a year. You tell your friend Dave," she continued, "that he’s going to be married within a year, and I’ll bet him a lunch!” I soon conveyed this wager to Dave, while warning him not to mess with my mom on things like this; she knows this stuff. He replied that he knew Bruce Springsteen, and it would be the easiest bet he ever won.

The bet's deadline was set for one year from the birth of Bruce and Patti's first child. Evan Springsteen was born on July 25th, 1990; Patti and Bruce got married on June 8th, 1991... Please hold your calls; we have a winner. I would gingerly remind Dave of his loss/debt from time to time, but I must admit that I didn’t push him too hard. And the few times I did remind him, the subject would get changed fairly rapidly. Looking back, I only wish that Live From E Street Nation had been around then. It might have been fun to bring it up on the radio. On the other hand, it also might have ruined a perfectly good friendship.

But I digress. 1991 turned into 1992, and soon thereafter came the announcement of another Bruce Springsteen tour. Mom saw something in the paper about a bunch of shows at the Meadowlands Arena and asked me if I thought she could trade her lunch for a couple of tickets. So yours truly, Mom's messenger boy, called Dave to relay the request. His answer was sweet and terrifying at the same time: "Only if she calls me directly and asks me herself." I set up the time, dialed the phone for Mom, got as far out of earshot as possible, and let the two crazy kids from Michigan talk one-on-one. Two tickets for opening night were arranged, with my job being Ma Drew's chauffeur/escort.

Truth be told, this Springsteen show was unlike any I've ever attended before or since, and it had nothing to do with the show itself. Dave knew our seat locations and had passed the info along to our mutual friend, Thom Duffy from Billboard Magazine. Prior to the show starting, what occurred was one of the most terrifying moments of my still relatively new music industry career. With the preshow music playing loudly in the background, Dave and Thom, two of my favorite and most important professional contacts as well as friends, are meeting and talking with my mom – extensively – and thanks to the music, I can’t really make out what they’re saying! The longer it went on, the more I was filled with dread. Not your usual Springsteen concert emotion, for sure, but as it turned out, my fears were ill conceived. The three of them talked pleasantly until they dimmed the arena lights, and I was left feeling like the fourth wheel on a kid's tricycle. But I did get to see a great show, so I had that going for me.

After that in-person encounter and a post-concert handwritten thank-you note to Dave, Ma Drew treated Dave Marsh like an extended family member, and he reciprocated in kind. Along the way, Dave, my mom, and I attended several Yankee games together. (Besides "my Bruce," there was also "my Jeter," as you can imagine.) Additionally, more than thirty years after that '85 Born in the USA stadium show, Mom and her three "dates" went to Giants Stadium for another Springsteen show (Mom’s fourth,) and as an extra treat, my mom finally got to meet the great Barbara Carr in person.

As the years went on, my mom’s health deteriorated – a triple bypass and two broken hips will do that to you - and eventually, she had to be cared for in a nursing home. But her mind remained sharp until the day she died. One of my duties was to always tell her about my interactions with Dave, whether on the radio, or her personal favorite, helping "Santa Dave" during our annual holiday-party visits with MSKCC patients. I only wish she had stayed healthy enough to see Springsteen on Broadway. She loved going to NYC to see a Broadway show, and I know she would’ve been enthralled and thrilled to witness Bruce in that setting.

I, on the other hand, became a basket case during Springsteen on Broadway. The song "The Wish" had always resonated with me for obvious reasons, including my own memory of a guitar under the Christmas tree one year. The preview performance at Monmouth University was about a year after my mom had gone in the nursing home. When Bruce started talking about his mom and began the song, I lost it - head buried in my hands, tears streaming down my cheeks, thinking about these tales I’ve just shared with you, along with so many other memories. And if you thought I would've been more prepared when I attended the Netflix filming of Springsteen on Broadway almost a year later... well, you’d be as wrong as Dave was about Bruce getting married. I was afraid my barely contained audible sobs were gonna wind up on the soundtrack. To this day, I still can’t make it through a complete listening of that song.

So that’s my Mother’s Day story, dear readers. Many thanks to Bruce, Dave, and Ma Drew for their respective roles in providing all of these cherished moments. And if you’re looking for a sad song, I ain’t gonna play it.