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I also nearly forgot that I saw him do the same thing at another joint around the corner 33 years ago this coming Thursday.
It’s been a long time between drinks. But the fun and the joy and the energy were the same. So was the sense that, for all its challenges and heartaches, this can be a good life if you try.
He and I were much, much younger the night of July 23, 1982. We each just wanted some fun in the seashore town with which he’d been identified — and vice versa — for so many years.
But there he was, popping up with the Brian Setzer-led retro-rockabilly trio the Stray Cats at Asbury’s Fast Lane.
They did Eddie Cochrane’s “Twenty Flight Rock,” Gene Vincent’s “Be-Bop-a-Lula” and Little Richard’s “Long Tall Sally.” Then he was gone.
Five years later, Bruce again surprised me at a sold-out show featuring blues guitarist Billy Hector and the Fairlanes at what was then the Deck House (now the restaurant Moonstruck) on Wesley Lake facing Ocean Grove.
My best friend and I had seen the Fairlanes several times at Cafe Elysian in Hoboken. We got to the Shore early, but the show was already sold out.
We caught a break, though, when we caught the eye of bass player Susan Lastovica.
“What’s up, guys?”
“Nothing,” I said. “We got shut out.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Then she told the doorman we were with the band.
We ended up having what for many was once a typical Springsteen shore experience — with a twist.
I was waiting for a drink when my buddy nudged me. Behind us were Bruce and first wife Julianne Phillips.
Bruce hardly moved from his spot, drinking long-necked Buds and enjoying the band, as we wondered whether a treat was in store.
It pushed toward 2 a.m. -- closing time -- when Lastovica finally invited Springsteen up. He was reluctant at first, but eventually relented. He had a dopey grin plastered across his face as members helped him strap on a guitar.
They launched into “Savin’ Up,” a song that Bruce had written for Clarence Clemons and the Red Bank Rockers.
They'd barely started when Mr. Happy Go Lucky Town forgot the words.
Lastovica leaned in a couple times, sang them into Bruce’s ear, and he kept on going.
Then he was gone.
Other Springsteen “appearances’ were much less of a surprise. They were actually calculated.
On Feb. 2, 1982 at Big Man’s West, he played “Ain’t That a Shame,” “Money” and “You Can’t Sit Down” with one of his favorite bar bands, Beaver Brown. That was a no-brainer.
I was a cub reporter for a North Jersey newspaper at the time and had gone down hoping to catch a story, which I did.
Springsteen saw the eventual A1 piece later that week — featuring a great close-up photo taken by a buddy of mine — and passed me a note through a mutual acquaintance: “Hey, Jerry / Keep rockin’,” it read.
I lost it (not my mind — the note).
Seven months later, Springsteen was on the Big Man’s stage again, this time with Dave Edmunds. Another sure thing.
They did the song he’d written for the Brit rocker, “From Small Things (Big Things One Day Come),” along with “Johnny B. Goode,” “Lucille,” “Carol,” “Bama Lama Lama Loo” and Edmunds’ “Lets’ Talk About Us.” Fun stuff, all.
Two weeks before his first-ever monster tour (“Born in the U.S.A.”), Bruce hopped up with Clarence and the Red Bank Rockers at the Stone Pony on May 19, 1984. Selections included “Fire,” “In the Midnight Hour,” “Lucille” and “Twist and Shout.”
Although the “surprises” continued for others over the decades, I’d more or less had my fill. I skipped the “Born in the U.S.A.” tour — too big, too polished, too populist.
It took the one-two punch of solo efforts “Lucky Town” and “Human Touch” to bring me back. They rocked harder, swung more, infused with the blues that had spilled from “Tunnel of Love.”
Then came “The Ghost of Tom Joad,” which cinched the deal.
And what can you say about “The Rising” that hasn’t been already?
Springsteen showing up last night made sense, of course. He’s on a break from a seemingly endless series of worldwide tours and his buddy was in town.
And if there’s one band other than the E Streeters who know Bruce's material inside-out, it’s Grushecky’s Houserockers.
Plenty of Pittsburgh fans made the trip — several of them wearing Pirates gear — adding to the excitement both in the house and on the streets of the “new,” bustling Asbury Park.
Grushecky was barely 15 minutes into his set when he announced the “REAL governor of New Jersey” was itchin' to get up there.
The songs Springsteen chose that night — mostly from his “Darkness on the Edge of Town” period — went to the very roots of my affinity for his work.
“Born to Run” and the previous albums were terrific. But “Darkness,” for me, is the greatest rock and roll record ever made.
Right out of the box, Bruce did “Adam Raised a Cain,” then “Darkness…,” then “Racing in the Street.” Voof!
The real surprise of the night was an outtake: “I’ll Save My Love For You.”
Grushecky and his flannel-shirted pal have performed together a lot over the years, including the Light of Day festivals at the Paramount across the street. So it was no surprise that they harmonized so smoothly on “Never Be Enough Time” and “Chain Smoking."Bruce typically grimaced and pulled up his shoulders while ripping off a howling solo on Grushecky crowd favorite “Pumping Iron.”
Unlike those long-ago shows, the view was often obscured by dozens upon dozens of cellphone cams, as many watched a live show not far from them on screens. What looked like three generations of fans sang along on “Because the Night” and “Pink Cadillac.”
Ed Manion brought the baritone sax sound with solos and subtext, particularly on a soaring version of “Atlantic City.” Then came the moment that Springsteen hit the line: “…. but maybe everything that dies someday comes back.”
“Maybe Asbury Park is back?” he added to cheers.
With his 66th birthday two months off, you wonder if Springsteen ever thought he’d see the light of that day.
He also recalled during the intro to “Frankie Fell in Love” of how he once played kitchen chicken with longtime E Streeter and former “Sopranos” star Steve Van Zandt, who he said had tried to force him into the “Felix role” when they lived together on Asbury’s Sixth Avenue.
“He didn’t do any dishes, the clothes were all over the floor all the time,” Springsteen said. “I’d let the dishes stack up in the sink until he couldn’t stand it anymore and he’d have to wash them. Days went by, corn flake bowls stacked higher and higher.”
“Miami Steve” didn’t take the bait, so Springsteen said he turned on the kitchen sink and went to work — until he got distracted by a phone call.
The water flooded a downstairs apartment and the two young musicians were evicted.
It was a time of hope and dreams, a time when a skinny kid from Freehold could believe in a promised land — and a guy with a bad haircut from Hudson County could believe him.
When it came time last night to do “Promised Land,” Springsteen sang it once again with fire and fervor, underscoring for a now-Bergen County man whose hair had receded and turned white that the effort is often its own reward.
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