03/02/2003

Nick O'Neill was one of those kids you figured God must have smiled on. Funny, handsome, talented, Nick had it all.

He was 18, wrote songs about the injustices of the world, and had a gift for making those he met feel special.

He acted in plays, and sang lead for a band called Shryne, a name that reflected his reverence for all things. And he dreamed of becoming a rock star.

With a boy like that, caring and wise beyond his years, there's no telling how Nick O'Neill would have made his mark on this world.

Kari Tieger, a Riverside singer-songwriter, knew Nick was special the first time she met him. Tieger's son, John Brennan, plays lead guitar for Shryne and their home had become the band's unoffical headquarters.

Tieger was skeptical when Nick announced he wanted to sing lead for Shryne. She wasn't sure he had it in him -- until he grabbed the mike.

"Infectious, high-energy, effusive," were some of the words she used to descibe his debut.

"Nick was the type of person," said Tieger, "that even the briefest brush with him left an impression."

I only got to witness Nick's short, dazzling life from the sidelines, attending performances at All Childrens Theatre, where our 16-year-old daughter Amanda shared a stage and many a post-performance hug with him.

Nick was an old hand at theater by then. An older brother had introduced him to the stage when he was 12 or so, and at least once he'd played part of the Cratchit clan in Trinity Rep's A Christmas Carol.

An All Childrens director discovered him taking classes at Perishable Theatre and knew he was a find.

"Some kids you really have to work with," said All Childrens founder Wrenn Goodrum. "Nick could just do it."

Nick wasn't always in starring roles, but he was always a star. Lanky, self-assured, with a flair for outrageous get-ups, he was hard to miss.

Even in that blurry television footage of fans packing The Station Nick was easy to spot, with that halo of blond hair and a look that the world was his for the taking.

Nick, who'd dropped out of high school to become a rocker, had gone to the West Warwick nightclub with John, hoping to jam with members of Great White after their gig. Shryne, which released its first CD last year, had played the The Station several times, including last New Year's Eve.

When flames began licking across the back of the stage, Nick and John stayed to help Great White guitarist Ty Longley, who also would perish. Then the lights went out and panic set in.

Clutching one another, Nick and John groped their way through the choking smoke, looking for a way out. Someone kicked out a window. John scrambled toward the square of light, and life. Nick was swallowed up in the desperate crush of victims.

"Until the end," said Tieger, "John had his hand on Nick's shoulder."

Sweet memories

The day after the fire, as the sickening truth that Nick was not among the survivors began to sink in, people started dropping by the All Childrens offices in East Providence to try to make sense of the senseless and recall how this remarkable boy had touched their lives. Parents brought food. Friends brought sweet memories.

Nick was in his final year with the troupe, which meant he'd be graduating in the spring, after a farewell performance in Fame. He was talking about heading for Los Angeles after that, to star in his own personal version of Fame.

"He was a lover of life," said Goodrum.

Nick, she said, was the one at the company who looked out for the stragglers, the shy kids who didn't fit. He'd cheer them on.

Director Joanne Fayan remembers a young actress who was nervous about a singing part. "Don't worry, you can do it," Nick assured her.

"He had a unique gift of reaching kids that others couldn't reach," said Fayan.

Of course, he could be a pain, said Goodrum. But who could stay uspet with a charmer like that for very long?

There were lots of sides to Nick, the wannabe rocker who wore pink boas and a leopard-skin cowboy hat, who "totally evoked Jagger," as Teiger put it, as well as the sensitive kid with the big heart.

You never knew what to expect from him, said Goodrum. Nick could be a cut-up or an angel.

"He was a gorgeous young boy," said Goodrum, "and he sort of knew it. He was a little stuck-up when he first came to ACT four or five years ago.

"But the last couple of years, I really feel he found the kindness in his soul."

Band to play on

Monday night, Tieger e-mailed to say that her son, John, and the rest of Shryne -- guitarist Andrew Sharp, bassist Damian Knight and drummer Jeff Cruz -- had decided the band would live on as a tribute to Nick.

Earlier in the day, Goodrum called to say that All Childrens is planning a tribute of its own today from 5:30 to 8:30 at the Vartan Gregorian School in Fox Point, where the group puts on most of its shows.

Ollie Brennan, John's father, is putting together a video of Shryne shows and Nick's All Childrens performances. Friends will be bringing instruments, songs and stories to share.

Goodrum said she wanted to make sure Nick got his graduation send-off, after all.

"It's a graduation from this life," she said, "to the next celestial world of rock 'n' roll. Because wherever Nick he is, I know that's what he's up to."

Channing Gray and other Journal arts writers share the At Large column. Reach him by e-mail at cgray@projo.com.