I got the news earlier this week that Bill Wooldridge had passed away. Anyone who came through the punk scene in Tucson in the late 90s through the 2000s will remember the big scary-looking bear of a man standing at the back of the room at Skrappy's, grinning as he picked up kids who fell down in the pit. Strangely enough, it's his voice that I remember best, soft-spoken and gentle, laughing quietly after making a goofy joke.
Bill and Kathy built a community in Tucson in a more fundamental and important way than I think any of us will ever be able to fully grasp, even before they opened Skrappy's. I have spent so much time in their home--learning photography by shooting bands in their living room and eating at their table (Potlucks! Vegan Thanksgiving!), not to mention the countless hours spent at Skrappy's through its various incarnations. While Kathy is more immediately recognizable as the face of Skrappy's for many people (our punk rock den mother!), Bill was at its heart. For so many of us, they were surrogate parents, opening their home to anyone who needed it and providing a safe place for people with nowhere to go.
I have never met anyone quite like Bill, and I am better for having known him. My thoughts go out to Kathy, Eli, Dusti and Heather.
A memorial is scheduled for today at 2:30 MST at Skrappy's. A Chip-In has been organized here to help Kathy and her family with Bill's final expenses. Please contribute, if you are able.
