Gary Scott “Casey” Conroy, who has died aged 72 after a private battle with ALS, was a music man to his bones, with a mischievous spirit with a flair for irreverence, and a firm believer that everyone deserved their chance—though pretension never held his attention for long.
Born in Beloit, Wisconsin, on July 13, 1953, to Cita and Harry Conroy, Casey grew up with Midwestern grit tempered by a healthy dash of Hawaiian culture from his mother. Independent to the point of contrariness, after attending the University of Wisconsin–Madison he set off west with little more than an old car, five dollars in his wallet, and the conviction that life should be lived on his own terms.
Arriving in the San Francisco Bay Area, he began with odd jobs in music stores and soon found himself at the heart of the city’s cultural life. For years he managed the Record Factory on Market Street, while on the side turning up in almost every quirky institution the city had to offer. At Beach Blanket Babylon, where he ushered, he was “shocked” to discover that waiters pocketed hefty tips for better tables—he even informed Steve Silver that the show could use “an update to make it actually funny.”
As assistant to Jean and Bruce Brugmann at the Bay Guardian, he absorbed Bruce’s lesson that the powerful serve at the people’s pleasure: when a mayor arrived fishing for an endorsement, Casey was instructed simply, “make him wait.” Later, in the kitchen at the Thanksgiving AIDS Dinner, he followed suit, handing Mayor Frank Jordan a serving spoon with the words, “Don’t just sit there like a log, Frank—time to sling some hash.”
Casey’s outlook was democratic in the truest sense: celebrity or dishwasher, all deserved a fair hearing—except, perhaps, the pompous. At Concord Records, the telephone rang: “This is Larry Ellison. Do you know who I am?” Casey replied, “No. I’m Casey Conroy. Do you know who I am?” Ellison didn’t, but Casey said I am happy to help you, and the two collaborated on a jazz compilation.
Yet beneath the wit lay fierce loyalty. At Blue Bear School of Music he fought for health care for staff, while at the legendary 181 Club he was quick to give unknown acts—including Miss Carol Doda—a chance to perform.
Casey rising to Vice-President of International Sales for Hearts of Space Records, Concord Music Group, and finally Mack Avenue Music. Over the years he help shape the career success for many artist who came to consider him a friend in the business and not just another “suit”.
In 1993 he met his future husband, Byron Beach. Together they travelled widely, notching up visits to 48 countries, always convinced that seeing life from another perspective was the key to joy and understanding.
Outside of work, Casey was a keen amateur athlete: he played in GLTF tennis tournaments, later took to tai chi at the Sunset Senior Center, and could as easily be found swimming laps or taking up archery—delighting in whatever caught his fancy.
He is survived by Byron Beach, his husband of 32 years, his siblings Joanette Hansen of Mineral Point, Wisconsin; Lisa VanProosdy of Menomonee, Wisconsin; Jennifer Hicken of Oregon, Wisconsin; John Conroy of Los Angeles; his bestest friend Susie Lee of Daly City CA and by a legion of friends around the globe.
