Always look on the bright side of life…
Brian George Walton Jr. was born on October 8, 1964, in the sleepy farming town of Duarte, California, located in smoggy Los Angeles County. His dad, Brian Senior, was a classic Californian auto mechanic—greased-back hair, disarming smile, and a philandering attitude. His mom, Virginia Ann Walton (Hess), was from the ethnically diverse East Side of Buffalo, New York. She aimed to be a free spirit, breaking away from her stifling German Catholic upbringing and setting out on a journey of self-discovery and freedom.
Few can recall exactly how Brian’s parents met, but it was the early 60s, and SoCal was the cultural hub of the country, characterized by rapid population growth, the rise of the Sunset Strip rock scene, ‘Beach Boys’ surf culture, and expanding aerospace industries. It was a transformative, car-centric era marked by suburban growth and iconic, relaxed lifestyle trends like backyard pool parties and the drive-in culture… So, probably at some random party.
To say their relationship was tenuous would be the understatement of the century. Marked by excessive partying that led to three kids and epic battles usually involving cars and the random blunt instrument, their thirty-year feud was the only enduring aspect of their relationship.
And Brian and his siblings were caught in the middle, bouncing back and forth between the East and West Coasts, which only added to the chaos of their childhood.
When back East, Brian would seize every chance to escape his spiteful mother at Grandpa’s. His maternal grandfather, Norman, was a gruff, no-nonsense WWII veteran and steelworker who genuinely liked the kid, and he had a Hammond organ! So when Brian visited, he and Norman would sit together often at the organ and play Oompah tunes. At least until Norman had had enough of it, then it was out, falling out of trees, throwing rocks at animals, and blowing things up like any other 70s kid.
Dear old Dad had an organ too, but it was mostly used as furniture, and Brian was rarely allowed to play it. When staying in SoCal with Dad, the Walton kids had to make themselves scarce because his idea of fun was usually at their expense… You see, Brian’s dad didn’t waste time getting remarried after divorcing his mom around ’72, and his new stepmother had two kids of her own. Since the Walton kids were part-time, they were a nuisance to her, so they were sent out to the garage to do beer duty for their dad and his friends.
Grandpa Norman taught me how to play music. Dad taught me how to build beer can pyramids. – BGW.
In a rare moment of calm amid the stormy seas of his parents’ rocky relationship, Brian and his siblings found themselves at their dad’s house in Pasadena, California. After recently tying the knot again, his father’s new wife decided to enroll Brian at John Marshall Junior High School (JMJHS), a school known for its vibrant arts program. His homeroom teacher, Ms. Meriah Diehl, was a force of nature—full of artistic energy and enthusiasm that was genuinely contagious. She quickly took Brian under her wing, recognizing a spark of talent in him just waiting to be brought to life.
Before long, Ms. Diehl had Brian signed up for all kinds of activities—band, drama, and even the checkers club! He thought acting was silly, and playing checkers was downright boring. But he took to music like a squirrel in a nut factory, especially the saxophone and violin. Before he knew it, he had become the school’s soloist. However, his performances often came off a bit stiff and robotic, and Ms. Diehl was not going to tolerate that.
With determination, she convinced Brian’s father to let her take him to a couple of live concerts. For Brian, the experience was like being given a license to act like a goofball, and he was thoroughly inspired by the dazzling display of professional musicianship.
During the dazzling 1972 Rose Bowl parade, the John Marshall Junior High School (JMJHS) marching band captivated the crowd with its lively music and energetic formations. Amidst the rhythmic beats and loud brass, a plump, cheerful eight-year-old saxophonist named Brian stole the spotlight. With a sparkle in his eye, he moved through the band, effortlessly dancing along to the music. Every now and then, he would stop to serenade a delighted onlooker, his joyful antics drawing bursts of laughter and applause from the enthusiastic crowd. The atmosphere was electric, and no one was more captivated than Nancy Hanks, the respected director of the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) and a distinguished guest at the parade.
After the event, Nancy made her way to the parade staging area and approached Brian’s dedicated teacher, Mrs. Diehl, and their conversation turned to the exciting possibility of enrolling Brian in the prestigious NEA music program. This opportunity would give him the chance to perform nationwide and potentially earn a Juilliard scholarship. Mrs. Diehl, full of pride and excitement, was thrilled that one of her favorite students was being considered for such an incredible honor. As a result, Brian became one of the youngest members of the esteemed program.
However, just as his star was beginning to rise, the complications of family life disrupted everything. After only a few months and a handful of exhilarating performances, Brian’s parents’ ongoing feud reemerged, abruptly pulling him back east, and the promise of a future in music disappeared suddenly.
In 1978, Brian finally reached his breaking point with his self-absorbed parents. After a difficult childhood that included time in juvenile detention centers and various group homes, he found a real sense of belonging with his new foster family—Dave, Diane, and counselor Alex. Thanks to their steady support, Brian turned his life around. He graduated from high school, got his driver’s license, and even learned to swim like a pro, earning his lifeguard certification.
Under Alex’s mentorship, Brian didn’t just sharpen his boxing skills; he also became a serious contender at the pool table, where each shot was a mix of precision and strategy. Best of all, he rekindled his love for music, rediscovering the joy of performing that had been absent for so long.
Alex had heard through the grapevine that the local band Talas was looking for a roadie. So, he arranged a deal with Brian: if he kept up with his schoolwork, he could hit the road with the band, with Alex serving as a watchful chaperone, of course. It was an easy choice, one that lit up Brian’s eyes with excitement.
Soon, Brian found himself immersed in the chaos of life on stage. He was tuning guitars, operating the soundboard, and impressing with stage lighting effects. Whenever the opportunity arose, he would jump onstage, joining the band in spirited jams that filled the venue with contagious energy.
I never truly understood how special my time with Talas was until I saw our bassist, Billy Sheehan, rocking out in a 1991 music video with the legendary band Mr. Big, Mind Blown!” – BGW.
With a high school diploma proudly in hand and the steadfast support of his foster parents behind him, Brian felt a surge of determination to pursue the prestigious National Endowment for the Arts Juilliard scholarship offered to him. However, a significant obstacle stood in his way. Despite the long hours he had worked at various jobs while in the group home, his small savings were nowhere near enough to support him in the busy chaos of New York City, let alone pay for a bus ticket. But once again, his loving foster parents stepped up, ready to show their unwavering support…
Dave and Diane organized a lively bake sale, enlisting the enthusiasm of friends, family, and even other foster kids. Together, they created an inviting spread of cookies, brownies, and cupcakes that filled the air with a warm, sweet aroma, all in hopes of raising enough funds for a bus ticket and some spending money.
Meanwhile, Alex contacted his cousin living in busy New York City, who happened to be the night manager at the famous Trude Heller’s nightclub in the lively heart of Greenwich Village. This historic venue, known for its cozy music scene, had a few apartments inside its brownstone, usually reserved for visiting musicians.
In exchange for living rent-free in one of the apartments, Brian would immerse himself in entertaining the happy hour crowd on the piano at the wine bar. He was granted the freedom to keep any tips he received and was allowed to forage for snacks in the kitchen as long as it was reasonable. The nightclub’s close proximity to the school campus, just a quick subway ride away, was an added bonus.
In my teenage years, nobody had a bigger impact on me than my foster parents. Dave was an outgoing, goofy guy who always knew how to make me laugh, while Diane was the patient, nurturing type who really took the time to understand me. They didn’t coddle me or give false praise; instead, they kept me focused and grounded, which was exactly what I needed.
Alex was my counselor and a total badass. His job was to prepare me for life on my own. A Vietnam vet, he strongly believed that joining the military could really help me. Luckily, the National Guard was offering a signing bonus for combat engineers at the time, so I decided to take the plunge and off to basic training I went.
All three of them stepped in to help mend my relationship with my parents, and it worked to some extent. When I returned from basic training, I made sure to visit my sister and brother, who had since joined ROTC. During that visit, my mom captured this great moment in the photo you see here.
Dave, Diane, Alex, and I stayed close over the years, and when I found out Alex was sick, I decided to send him that photo my mother took. From that moment on, he never stopped sharing how much it meant to him with anyone who would listen. Dave and Diane have since joined Alex in climbing that stairway to heaven, and it is with the blessing of their estates that I share this personal memory of them with you.
On a crisp autumn morning, Brian stepped out of the 66th Street–Lincoln Center subway station, hearing the crunch of golden leaves under his feet. The cool air had a refreshing bite that helped him shake off his nerves as he navigated the busy streets of New York City. With his heart pounding, he approached the grand façade of the Juilliard auditorium for his highly-anticipated audition.
Sporting a fresh haircut and dressed in the clothes he had worn for his high school graduation, he felt the weight of this significant moment pressing on him. Under his arm, he clutched a loose-leaf notebook filled with notes, scribbled assignments, and reminders from countless hours of preparation. As he walked, he couldn’t help but think about the long journey that had led him to this point. It was a mix of excitement and anxiety, but he was ready to give it his all.
Having just arrived in the lively city a week ago, Brian found himself sacrificing sleep to dive into rehearsals. His fingers glided over the piano keys as he worked to master Beethoven’s Für Elise, a melody that had become a comforting escape from his anxiety. But despite the soothing notes, he couldn’t shake off the nagging worry about his upcoming drama assignment—playing Cesario in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. The idea of portraying a woman disguised as a man, all while delivering lines in the ornate cadence of old-world English and adopting a British accent, felt daunting.
Brian showed up at the buzzing audition venue well ahead of schedule, hoping to find a quiet spot to focus and go over his lines. His first challenge was tackling the crowded reception desk, which was alive with a mix of nervous energy from fellow auditioners. The place was filled with a jumble of voices—some were passionately rehearsing their lines, while others were singing out loud, creating a chaotic yet lively backdrop. This noisy environment only added to Brian’s nerves as he tried to center himself for what lay ahead.
Just when he thought the noise would consume him, a rush of recognition hit him—he could pick out three voices he knew amidst the chaos. His heart soared as he caught sight of his foster parents at the front of the reception area, deep in a lively discussion with the receptionist. With a grin spreading across his face, Brian confidently made his way through the crowd, skipping the line to surprise them.
“What’s up!” he called out casually. A moment of confusion flashed across their faces as they took in this sharply dressed, smartly dressed young man standing before them—a stark contrast to the carefree, wild-haired boy they had raised. In an instant, the four of them embraced, laughter spilling into the reception area like sunlight breaking through clouds. The other auditioners shot annoyed glances, but the warmth of their reunion was unmistakable. Amidst apologies and laughter, Brian finally signed in, and together they stepped outside, ready to catch up as they left the reception area.
As they strolled across the lively campus, holding steaming cups of coffee, Brian shared his growing anxiety about taking on a role usually played by a woman. The sun peeked through the dense green canopy above as they looked for the perfect spot to sit and enjoy a smoke. Suddenly, with a playful grin, Dave snatched Brian’s notebook and, with a theatrical flourish, started handing out lines to the others. He launched into a funny impersonation of Brian’s character, and his antics sparked fits of laughter.
Brian, Diane, and Alex were initially surprised, but they quickly couldn’t resist joining in, their voices merging into a chaotic mix of exaggerated British accents that attracted curious onlookers. Laughter burst out around them, filling the air with a lively energy, and even the unexpected applause from some spectators sent waves of excitement through the group. As the laughter subsided, Brian felt a lightness in his chest; his face ached from laughing, but a new confidence grew within him, easing his nerves about the upcoming audition.
“I aced the music portion of my audition,” he later reflected, “but the drama segment was a different beast. I had to improvise my way through, especially since some of the other actors truly struggled. I thought it was game over for me… until I caught sight of the judges smiling.”
After the audition ended, Brian and his foster parents spent the next twenty-four hours playfully reminding New Yorkers of the long-standing rivalry with Buffalonians, their banter full of friendly teasing and laughter. When the bittersweet moment to say goodbye arrived, it was filled with the usual promises to reunite over the holidays and stay in touch. With warm hugs and reluctant goodbyes, his foster parents finally headed back to Buffalo. Just a few days later, they received exciting news—Brian had been accepted into Juilliard. Guiding him into the next exciting chapter of his life… Bite the Big Apple (1980-1983)