Tuesday, June 26, 2001
Call Allman Brothers fan
the midnight writer
Milford's Dean Reynolds puts his passion into a self-published book
By Larry Nager
The Cincinnati Enquirer
 Among Dean Reynolds' memorabilia is a poster signed by Gregg Allman.
(Ernest Coleman photo)
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He thought it was going to be just another concert, but Dean Deano Reynolds' one-night stand with the Allman Brothers turned into a love of a lifetime.
It was in April of 1970, Mr. Reynolds, 51, recalls. He saw the band for the first time at Ludlow Garage, the Clifton club where he worked as a production assistant.
This band was different. It seemed like I could identify with 'em. I liked what they were doing. They were young and they were playing blues.
Mr. Reynolds sounds perfectly rational, just an average boomer rock fan. But his surroundings tell a more obsessive story.
In the basement of the Milford home he shares with his wife, Pattie, is the world's largest repository of all things Allman.
The walls, at least those spaces not covered with Allman Brothers posters, are lined with dozens of shelves, each one warping under the weight of hundreds of Allman videos and reel-to-reel audio tapes. The floor is a maze of boxes, packed with Allman LPs, CDs, 45s and eight-tracks.
For three decades, no matter what happened to this Southern blues/rock band, Mr. Reynolds' stayed true to his group.
Guitarist Duane Allman and bassist Berry Oakley's deaths in motorcycle accidents in the early '70s. Gregg Allman's marriage to Cher in '75. Gregg's testimony in '76 before a grand jury to avoid drug charges. The band's '76 breakup and '78 reunion. Another breakup in 1982.
None of it mattered to the doggedly loyal fan and collector. Even last year, when the group fired original guitarist Dickey Betts, Mr. Reynolds' faith didn't flag.
I felt dedicated to them, he explains. I loved this band in the beginning, and I followed them through the ups and down, even though I didn't like some of their albums in the disco period.
But I have to go back to that first album. "Dreams' just sent chills up my spine. I was just so impressed by this band. ... It was not that ego-star-money trip. No shenanigans, no costumes. They played music!
Project of passion
Mr. Reynolds is sharing his passion in a self-published book, The Complete Allman Brothers Band Discography. He spent almost five years and tens of thousands of dollars to write and publish a lavishly illustrated, glossy color, limited-edition of 2,000 pages.
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HOW TO BUY IT
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The Complete Allman Brothers Band Discography, $34.95, plus tax and shipping, available from www.geocities.com/abbbook/.
Mr. Reynolds will sign copies of his book and play rare Allman Brothers recordings from his collection 2-4 p.m. Saturday at Everybody's Records, 6106 Montgomery Road, Pleasant Ridge. 531-4500.
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His labor of love is earning good reviews in the fanzines, such as Relix and the Allmans' own Hittin' the Note.
Even Geraldine Mama A Allman, mother of Gregg and Duane, liked it. Unlike most Allman books, which focus on drugs and sex, this one is all rock 'n' roll. Mama A wrote Mr. Reynolds a thank-you note, calling the book tasteful.
I think it's a great piece, says Kirk West, Allman Brothers Band tour manager, band historian and photographer. It's well-researched, well-documented. He's worked really, really hard for absolutely no money. It's a genuine project of passion.
Finding his band
Mr. Reynolds loved music long before he heard the Allmans. Growing up in Clifton, he'd even made a brief, unsuccessful stab at learning drums in grade school.
A lack of talent didn't keep him from wanting to be part of the music scene. He spent his teens at every concert he could get into, from Jefferson Airplane at Music Hall to Jimi Hendrix at Cincinnati Gardens. In 1969, he made the pilgrimage east to Atlantic City Pop and Woodstock.
But when he saw the Allmans at the 1,000-capacity Ludlow Garage, that was it. I would go to other concerts and see other people but it wasn't like the Allman Brothers, he says.
He'd found his band and a home at the rock club. Mr. Reynolds worked at the hippie haven, doing everything from helping run sound to driving musicians around. It was his transition from fan to backstage insider.
Backstage buddies
In 1971, as the burgeoning rock industry moved from clubs to arenas and Ludlow Garage closed, Mr. Reynolds followed his favorite band into bigger venues.
He was there when the Allmans opened Riverfront Coliseum on Sept. 9, 1975. He attended shows at Dayton's Hara Arena and other venues.
By the late '70s, he was seriously collecting Allman memorabilia and bootleg tapes.
In 1982, he ran an ad in Goldmine, a magazine for record collectors. Mr. West responded.
I wrote down the 11 tapes I had, says Mr. West. And he sends back his list of 156 Allman tapes in 1982 (when few were collecting concert tapes).
Mr. Reynolds got a few more tapes, but the best part was his friendship with Mr. West.
A few years later, when Mr. West was hired by the reunited Allmans, Mr. Reynolds often would tag along. Friendships with the band members were established. Mr. Reynolds would take photos and share them. At 6 feet, 5 inches, he often was mistaken for a bodyguard.
Oh yeah, I remember him, big guy, Mr. Betts recalls. He's got a bunch of great photographs that he's taken. He knows his stuff, and he's a great guy, too.
Mr. Reynolds met Gregg Allman backstage at a 1984 solo concert at Dayton's Hara Arena. I hooked up with Gregg and mentioned the Ludlow Garage and we were talking about our childhood. He talked about growing up with Duane. Our mother's birthdays were close to each other.
The two became so close that Mr. Allman recorded a message for Mr. Reynold's answering machine.
Honeymooning with the band
After doing solo work in the '80s, the Allmans reunited again in 1989, returning to a very different music scene. A new audience had developed, thanks to the Grateful Dead. Young hippies flocked to Allman shows. The '90s saw a commercial and artistic Allman revival, fueled by the Dreams box,as well as a two-disc set of the 1970 Ludlow Garage shows. Mr. Reynolds is thanked on both.
Mr. Reynolds was there as often as possible, thanks to a permanent place on the backstage guest list and the generous vacation policy of his employer, General Electric.
When the Allmans toured, he'd leave his electrical maintenance job and hit the road for a week or two, a pace that outlasted his bachelor days.
When Pattie and me got married in 1993, we didn't plan it that way, but the Allmans played Riverbend the next night, he says with a laugh. So we hooked up with them and went on the road with the band for a few days. Yeah, we honeymooned with the Allman Brothers.
Rock 'n' roll heaven
Through it all, he continued to collect anything Allman-related.
He found some bizarre items, such as the guitar-shaped doggie chew toy that plays Duane Allman's Little Martha.
That's worth just a couple of bucks, but many of Mr. Reynolds' items, notably original '60s rock posters, would fetch thousands.
Due to the book, offers are coming in from wealthy Allman collectors. One in Atlanta is decorating an entire 2,000-square-foot room in Allman stuff. Mr. Reynolds decided to sell most of his recordings and memorabilia to offset the cost of the printing of the book.
But his love hasn't cooled. He'll be backstage when the Allmans play Riverbend on Aug. 15.
That experience seeing the Allmans perform live remains Mr. Reynolds' life-long passion.
All around, I've had some fun, he says happily. I saw some great bands, got to meet some great bands, got to shoot some great pictures, got great tapes. It's been rock 'n' roll heaven.
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