Seven years ago, on Feb. 14, 2009, the body of my former friend John McGlinn was discovered when the police broke into his apartment. The neighbors were aware that something was wrong. He was 55 years old. He had died from a heart attack several days earlier, but the actual time of death is unknown. By a lucky coincidence, his sister Lorin, her husband, and son had come to Manhattan from Colorado on vacation and were leaving on the 14th.
The police called several numbers in John's address book, including Russell Warner and Dan Langan, who called me with the news of John's death and connected the police with a cousin of John’s. She contacted Lorin in Manhattan. On Saturday afternoon, Lorin identified her brother's body while her husband and son flew back to Colorado. On Sunday evening, I met Lorin, and we both got very drunk reminiscing about John and his horrible treatment of family and friends. He was a complicated man whose personal demons too often got in the way.
Since then, I doubt there's not a day that passes without my mentioning or thinking of John. BK, The New Amsterdam Theatre Company, the New York City Gay Men’s Chorus, and John McGlinn were responsible for whatever career I’ve had, and some of my favorite projects happened because of John. After his death, I cataloged his estate, I worked until 2013 in an office surrounded by his scores, books, orchestra parts, and I swear that, when I was alone there, I would occasionally hear him walk through another room of the suite. I heard footsteps, doors open and close, and I called out, Is that you, John? He never answered, thank God.
