John O'Meara performing at a benefit in his honor in 2010. Photo by David J. Genac (QCPhoto.ImageKind.com).

John O'Meara Jr. died on April 22 at age 58, and the memories and thoughts in this article attest to a much-loved man and musician who played in myriad Quad Cities-area bands in many genres.

O'Meara was born in Moline and graduated from Rock Island High School in 1974. He studied music at Black Hawk and Augustana colleges. His sister, Betsy McNeil, said highlights of his musical career included playing with Warren Parrish and Louie Bellson.

He was diagnosed with an oligodendroglioma brain tumor in 1992 and, following treatment, was declared cancer-free in 1996. In 2010, he was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor.

Although cancer affected his physical ability, he continued to perform.

O'Meara is survived by his father John Sr., sons Levi and John Gabriel, brother Paul, sister Betsy, brother-in-law Dan McNeil, nephew Leo McNeil, and sweetheart Elisabeth Lockheart.

Memorials may be made to family at 1904 46th St., Moline IL 61265, and will be used for his sons and to buy a Fender bass for the River Music Experience's scholarship program.

Memorial events for O'Meara are being planned.

John O'Meara in the 1970s

My Big Brother John

John O was my big brother. He was fun and caring and inspired me to be positive. He wore red high-top Chuck Taylors and even through his struggles he always wore a smile. He was an artist. Pure talent.

When I was little, he would play the piano and sing "Lady Madonna" to me. And when we played hide-and-seek in the basement, I would hide under the stairs and he would sing "Dear Prudence." He taught me how to make homemade eggnog and we would watch It's a Wonderful Life again. Always with his smile.

I called him John O and he always referred to me as Bets O or Elizabeth. He would pick me and my friends up in his little blue Toyota truck and we would pile in the back with the tailgate hanging down. Rock-and-roll music would be blaring from the cab with all of us singing at the tops of our lungs. He would drive about 15 miles an hour. We shouted "Faster!" and he would smile into the rear-view mirror. Rowdy and raucous.

He would sit with me for hours quizzing me on my paintings for art-history exams, never giving answers. Just his smile.

He was the one I ran to with tears. He would hold me. The harder I cried, the tighter he squeezed. Never saying a word, just his smile.

When I went back to work, he and Papa John Sr. watched my son Leo. Our "nannies," we called them. They would sing, play the drums and guitars. For Leo's third or fourth Christmas, Uncle John bought him a classical acoustic guitar because of its small size. He introduced Leo to Star Wars and Harry Potter. I would come home to a new tub of my nephew Gabe's Legos a lot of days for months. Our village.

My brother radiated a gentle intelligence. He encouraged his students to shape their own style. He taught them music. He was my big brother. Life is not flawless. John O has begun his next beautiful journey. His soul, his smile, and his music will remain. Genius was bliss with my brother. He was positive beyond belief with a perpetual and infectious smile.

- Betsy McNeil (O'Meara)

Bringing the House Down

I was introduced to Johnny O for the first time at the (late) Louie's River House on the Rock River after a Moonshine River concert in 1975. We have been close friends ever since.

Johnny was one of those guys who didn't seem to have to work hard at anything he did. He could do it all, playing bass (both upright and electric), guitar, and piano, and he could sing well.

We would be playing a trio jazz gig somewhere (John on bass), and on breaks he would sit at the piano, playing and singing Beatles songs, bringing the house down.

Johnny and I have hung and played many gigs since then. He was loved by everyone.

I could write a book about Johnny O. Maybe next time.

Rest in peace, my good friend. Your spirit will always be a part of me.

- Terry G. Hanson

Terry Hanson has been a professional drummer and educator for the past 40 years and currently plays in the Terry Hanson Ensemble, the Ellis Kell Band, and Whoozdads? He teaches at Black Hawk College, West Music in Moline, and the River Music Experience.

John's Cabin

I remember a hot summer in the late 1960s when I, along with the rest of the 14th Avenue gang, was recruited by John to build a cabin in the woods by his house. We eagerly joined him in wheelbarrowing hundreds of old bricks we borrowed from somebody's hoard to serve as the floor. It took several long, hard days to drag old, eight-foot garage doors and plywood to erect the walls and roof. Just when we were ready to move in and live there, we were discovered by the horrified property owner. John thought that would be a good time to leave and never come back. All that was left in our wake was the neighbor's angry shouts and a huge eyesore at the bottom of a steep ravine. For the next 40-plus years, I was lucky enough to be involved in many more crazy, fun adventures with John O'Meara at the helm. I will miss him dearly.

- Pete Tyler

In His Element

John O'Meara in 'Bix: An Interpretation of a Legend'I first met John O'Meara during the filming of Bix: An Interpretation of a Legend by the Avati brothers during the summer of 1990. He was one of the musicians in a number of the scenes with the Frank Trumbauer orchestra. John and I hit it off. Everyone liked his happy-go-lucky personality and his skill as a musician, and he wanted to know everything you can imagine about making movies from me and the others in the production.

One afternoon out by Taylor Ridge, there was a perfect farmhouse for a location to be used as Trumbauer's home. John and some of the rest of the actors and musicians worked on the scenes and had a ball with the 1920s cars that were used. Even when there was a break in the shoot, everyone was in character. John looked like he was channeling the musicians of the period.

You could tell that he was truly in his element.

Because of our interactions during the filming, I started following him around the area to see the bands that he would play with from time to time, and I remember a number of occasions when he was playing at Orwell's in Moline with some really great local musicians.

The Avati brothers liked John and cast him several times in their other productions during the 1990s. During the summer of 1991, he was around a lot when Brooke Shields was in town working on An American Love. My birthday came up right after we wrapped the production, and I had a large party at Mac's to celebrate it. John and his band at the time provided the entertainment. He did it as a favor to me, and I never forgot it.

Later that fall when Franco Nero came to be in the Avatis' Brothers & Sisters production, he and I would go out quite often during the weekends and try to catch John during his various gigs. Franco was impressed with him and said to me a number of times how much he liked his style.

Over the years John and I would catch up with each other during a film production or two or at one of the venues where he was playing. It was just like no time at all had passed. His fun-loving nature always made for a good time, and the music that he was playing added much to our encounters.

- Doug Miller

Doug Miller is the planning consultant for The Creative Arts Academy of the Quad Cities and is working on a couple of movie productions.

It Never Bothered Him

He was the consummate professional musician, in that the most important thing for him was the gig - doing the best that you can and doing the right thing for that particular gig.

John was really highly educated musically. He had a really good understanding of musical theory - rhythm, melody, harmonic structures. He knew how to apply the music theory in the right way, to each style of music.

John could play all styles of music. One of his fortes was the versatility. We always meshed really well, because we could play every type of music and play it the right way. There are certain notes and harmonic structures you use depending on the style of music you're playing. Each one of them requires a certain feel and style of playing.

Before John had his health problems, he had picture-perfect technique on the bass - physical technique. He could do all the techniques physically on the bass. With that and his musical-theory ability, John was a top-shelf bass player in those days - as good as it gets around here.

After he had his health problems, he lost significant dexterity in both hands, but especially his right hand - and that's his picking hand. He kept working at it, and he had to totally re-teach himself how to pluck the strings. He couldn't pluck the strings in the conventional way because his fingers wouldn't work that way anymore. So he had to come up with his own way. It looked like he shouldn't be able to play the bass the way his hand worked, because he just didn't have the physical dexterity anymore, and it never came back for him.

Somehow, he figured out how to do it where he could play some of the stuff that he used to be able to play physically. If that was me, I probably wouldn't have kept at it. He acted like it never bothered him. He worked at it, and had fun, and it didn't bother him that he couldn't play physically as well as he did before he had his health issues. Nothing bothered him about it. How can he be having this much fun knowing he can't do what he used to do? But he still enjoyed the hell out of it.

He also had a really good intuitive feel for music. He could play by the seat of his pants as good as anybody.

Even in his late stages, when he was having a lot of memory difficulties, he could remember thousands of songs - melodies, chord changes, keys, everything. How do you remember all that stuff?

I consider it a privilege to work with him and his dad.

- Jim Stroehle

Jim Stroehle is a local drummer who played with O'Meara in many bands starting in the 1970s.

John O'Meara in 2014

Anything for a Friend

John was a friend to all he met. We became very close friends when we were both attending Black Hawk College back in the '70s. John quietly (and not so quietly) pulled me out of my little musical "shell." He would take me to concert venues I had never dreamed of attending. One time, he grabbed my hand and said, "Come on! We are going to the Police Ball." Uninvited, he said, "No problem. I know the band."

As I was teaching and needed a guitar, he gave me his Gibson Hummingbird! There was nothing John would not do for a friend.

He supported every local musician just by "being there." When he was not playing himself, he was listening to a friend perform.

Everyone loved to be around John.

No matter how difficult his situation became, he always had a smile and kept people laughing. His whole life was focused on playing music and helping or supporting others, especially musicians.

He will be missed.

- Mitzi Harris

John O'Meara with his son John Gabriel

A Stand-Up Guy

John and I first worked together in the '80s. What a guy! It's a given that he was a great player. More importantly, he was a stand-up guy, great to work with, totally giving to others - just a great guy! I never heard him complain, even through his long and severe physical trials. Always smiling and concerned about others. Here's to you, Johnny O. Now you're playing pain-free.

- Denny Hitchcock

Denny Hitchcock is a producer at Circa '21 Dinner Playhouse.

Super Nanny

When our son son Leo was four years old, my wife Betsy went back to work. Leo was in preschool at the time, but we needed someone to watch him for the summer months. His grandfather John Sr. could, but John Jr. also offered to help. As a working musician, John worked nights and weekends, so he had the time and looked forward to spending time with his family. We were grateful.

I often joke that Leo has a super-power, an ability to instantly sense who the bad guys and the good guys are. From the beginning, he knew John was one of the good guys. He loved his uncle and the summers he spent with him. Those summers, John was Super Nanny.

- Dan McNeil

Always About Giving Love

I was lucky enough to be part of Johnny's life for the last couple of years.

Though we met through music, that did not define us. As John was going through some rough times, we talked and spent a lot of time together. With Johnny at my house so much, he and my dog Lobo developed a great friendship.

At times John had a hard time expressing himself, and Lobo would just lick his hand and Johnny would relax and get his point across.

My Wonder Dog Lobo was used to getting a small ice-cream cup as a treat daily and knew where they were. I am not a big ice-cream eater, so no one else ever had one.

After dinner one evening, Johnny went and got an ice cream, not knowing they were Lobo's. (It was real ice cream, not the dog kind.) While he was eating, Lobo sat directly in front of him with his mouth just drooling. Johnny asked what was going on, and I told him he should go back and get Lobo one, because they were his. Once Lobo had his ice-cream cup, he kept a watchful eye on Johnny as he finished it off.

Johnny and Lobo became so close that when he had the opportunity to be my guest for 10 days over Christmas this past year, Lobo slept at the foot of his bed and stuck to him like glue.

I didn't know Johnny as long as others did, but Lobo and I were the recipients of his love and caring. Through all the pain and discomfort he never revealed, Johnny O was always about giving love.

- Don Stewart

A Heart as Big as They Come

John and I played music together off and on for years, and he was actually in my blues band for a time in the early '90s. He was also one of the first folks there for us following our daughter Karli's accident. Most folks around these parts know the story of how our younger daughter Ali and I saw Karli's face in the moon. John came over the next morning and just couldn't wait to tell us what he had seen in the moon the night before, but he couldn't get the words out. When he tried to tell me, he broke down in tears. I remember him holding onto me as I told him I knew what he had seen. He had a heart as big as they come, and a very contagious smile. Material things just weren't that important to him, and his family, friends, and music were all the wealth he ever needed. We had some wild times together, and a million laughs. It broke our hearts when his playing was impaired by the surgery on his brain tumor, but he was a fighter and virtually had to re-learn how to use his right hand. We all loved that red-headed rascal, and we will miss him so much.

- Ellis Kell

John O'Meara in the 1980s

Changing the Mood with His Presence

I have known John since high school. Once a mutual friend was going through a rough patch, and John came in and changed the mood with his presence. He knew that everything was going to be okay and made you feel that way, too. I have never met anyone who lives in the moment like John did. Peace to you, my old friend.

- Jeffrey Clark

Never Goodbye

When I was asked to write some things about Johnny O, it was something I had to think about. How does one sum up someone as great as John was in a few words or sentences? This has been a devastating time for my husband and myself and everyone who knew him.

Anyone who came in contact with John loved him, and we truly felt our lives were enriched because he was in it. No matter where John went, he seemed to know everyone. And if there was someone he didn't know, by the time he left he made a new friend. He was really good at bringing lots of people together.

To share the happy moments with John, I honestly don't know where to start, because there was so many. I know he was there for anyone who needed him no matter what he was going through. He taught a lot of us how to live our life every day to the fullest. And to laugh, always laugh. And to make you see things in a whole different way was something he was really good at, too. He always had a smile on his face, his bass in his hand, and a song in his heart. I remember reading that about him somewhere. And he was loved everywhere he went.

One time when visiting him at his house, I said goodbye and he said, "It was never goodbye. It's always see you later." How many times have that night and those words played over and over in my head since he passed? And I do believe that. So I will see you later, my dearest friend.

- Shelley Hanson

John O'Meara in 1974

A Final Gift

On Saturday before John's death, we were told he wouldn't be able to donate any organs because the infectious disease had made it too risky for a recipient. However, at 9:10 a.m. on April 22, Galveston Lions Eye Bank received John's tests to learn he was a match. At 9:30 a.m., Lions came to inform floor nurses (we could hear them talking in hallway) that Lions wanted to talk with us to see if we were still interested in donating. Before the Lions could come in the room, at 9:41 a.m. John took last breath, although the official time of death was 10:15 a.m. When meeting with Lions Club and other parties a bit later that day, the Lions representative was so giddy. He just kept repeating to me that they had been looking for a match for this person for a very long time. He let me know one of John's corneas was to be given to a minor youth who was very deserving, and the Lions had been searching to match the youth for a very long time. John's other cornea an adult received, and the rest of the eye was donated to Baylor University for infectious-disease research.

- Elisabeth (Lisa) Lockheart

Elisabeth Lockheart was John O'Meara's significant other.

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