Richard Robinson

Richard RobinsonRichard Robinson died last November 15 (2018), at home in Manhattan. He attended Yale with us until just a few months before graduation, when he dropped out to join a rock’n’roll band. After moving to Manhattan in the late 1960s, he worked as a record executive at Buddah Records, had a syndicated music column with the Bell McClure syndicate, was a late night disc jockey on WNEW-FM, and hosted a syndicated radio show. Additionally, he directed early videos for The Ramones and Blondie, produced albums for the Flamin’ Groovies, Lou Reed and David Johansen, wrote 13 books – including “The Video Primer,” books on music, kung fu and magic, and co-authored Dick Clark’s autobiography. He was a contributor to Creem Magazine and edited the rock magazines Hit Parader and Rock Scene. In the late 1990s, he quit the music business to perform as a magician and ran several magic websites. He is survived by his wife, music journalist and author Lisa Robinson.

“Richard heard me drumming away on my kit in my room at T.D. when we were both sophomores,” says Jack Finnell. “He asked me if I wanted to join him in forming a rock band, and I said, ‘Sure. He proceeded to find a freshman to play lead guitar and a junior to play rhythm, and he took up bass himself. We were called the Original Sinners and played gigs at Brown, Smith, Vassar, Barnard, UConn and MIT, among other places. They thought it was cool that we were Yale dudes and paid us $400 a gig, pretty big bucks back in ’65 and ’66. We hardly ever played at Yale, where the attitude from the residential colleges and fraternities was more, ‘Yale guys? BFD.’ Richard was not the world’s best electric bass; in fact, my roommate, Steve Stack, played bass whenever we’d travel to NYC to record. Dick was the world’s best business manager, though. He was truly his own man, creative and courageous. He didn’t graduate Yale, leaving to pursue successful careers in both music production and, later, magic. Yes, magic. Somehow, for this independent soul, that sounds perfect.”

“This news saddens me because for several years, Richard was an extremely close friend and a kindred spirit,” says Jay O’Brien. “Richard went to Loomis and I first met him freshman year. He was extremely friendly. His eyes twinkled. But he had three smiles I remember. One was a normal amused smile, another a bemused smile, and then there was a wry impish smile. Richard shared with me that he thought he got into Yale because he was a magician and had started a magazine for teenage magicians while in high school. This experience obviously served him well in his career as a rock ‘n roll journalist. His demeanor on stage was very controlled and he normally had a Bill Wyman stoic look but sometimes had the bemused smile.”

“In Sophomore year Richard, Allen Whipple and Wendell John got a suite across from Randy Huber, Peter Battles and me. Allen did not come back, so Richard and Wendell had a double. The five of us roomed together or next to each other for the rest of our Yale experience until our senior year, when Richard announced that he was not accomplishing anything at Yale and he was dropping out. There was no question that he had thought it out and he moved to New York and took a job as a gofer with a record company. He worked hard making contacts and I would visit him. I can remember that we went together to an introductory show of Traffic at a relatively small basement bar. He had obtained tickets through his record company and we were excited because we knew of Stevie Winwood from his days with the Spencer Davis Group. Richard shared with me that he went to a lot of industry events because of the food.

“Fairly quickly, Richard got into rock journalism and started a group of fanzines. These were magazines made up of press releases about rock stars, and they were profitable because they had a long shelf life and low cost. After a few years of doing this Richard sold them to a major publisher, and I had the idea that he made enough doing this that he was well off. In the early 70’s, he married Lisa Robinson, who went on to become an accomplished writer. He produced records for The Flamin’ Groovies and produced Lou Reed’s first solo album. This album had the best version of “Walk of the Wild Side” and “Lisa Says.” On a visit to New York in 1971, I found that Richard was again doing magic and he convinced me that Bruce Springsteen was a great new artist.

“I never saw his magic performance in a theater, though he did perform some tricks for my wife and me in his New York apartment. Richard took his magic to the internet and was criticized for doing so. But Richard had his own vision and was not swayed from it by inferior minds.

“I lost contact with Richard after the seventies until his 70th birthday. I tried to contact him to wish him happy birthday and left messages. A few days later he called me and we visited for a couple of hours with him doing most of the talking. He was the same Richard. He told me that he was spending a lot of time digitalizing videos. I visited with him before our 50th reunion. I tried to talk him into coming, but he didn’t show. I was supposed to have lunch with him in New York after the reunion, but when I talked to him I found he had broken his wrist and had to do therapy. I’ve missed Richard for years and do more so today because he’s really gone now. He was truly unique in many different ways.”

Stephen Dahl adds, “Dick and I were at Loomis together with the likes of Bob Lehrer and several other classmates. Dick was on the ‘Crackpot Committee’, a senior group that created events such as the Great Pumpkin search on Halloween, but devolved into a secret bunch that got itself kicked out of school for drinking booze on the shores of the Farmington. I don’t think Dick was involved, but the result was that ‘a sip is as good as a case’ became the committee’s byword. You were punished for a swallow or a guzzle. Neither Jay nor I has been able to speak to his widow Lisa. Indeed, try to find anyone’s number at Vanity Fair. Dick died in mid November and was duly listed in our Loomis database, but, oddly, no one at Yale noticed, it seems. The obituary was in the New York Times. Dick was quiet, odd, pleasant and smart. Not obtrusive, given to rock ’n’ roll and prestidigitation. R.I.P.”

Greg Jorjorian comments, “I never cease to be amazed and heartened by how so many classmates followed the call of their heart and soul.”