I had to look twice. Scrolling through the headlines, amidst the news from Iraq and the latest from Washington last Saturday was the unbelievable line, "Lead Singer From Boston (music) Found Dead."

For a minute, I thought it must just be some singer from the city of Boston, but one click later I saw the news was indeed about Brad Delp.

During Boston's tour behind 2002's "Corporate America," I was invited to photograph the band at a pre-show party for several local radio stations, and hang around for what I hoped would be even a moment of face time with band founder Tom Scholz. Instead, I got to watch one of the nicest guys in rock and roll work some magic offstage.

For about an hour at Connecticut's Mohegan Sun arena, I was front and center for what I gathered was a fairly challenging sound check. The band proceeded through some pieces of new material repeatedly, with Delp and Fran Cosmo switching off or sharing vocal chores on several songs.

Delp was cheery throughout, despite some dark looks from Scholz, Cosmo and perhaps the stage or tour manager, who kept walking from the soundboard to engage in hushed huddles with the band leader and the monitor crew.

Throughout these breaks, Delp sipped water, sat on the drum platform strumming an unplugged acoustic guitar, and engaged the two-dozen or so radio contest winners in a Q&A that quickly became a debate on the finer points of a certain Boston baseball team.

Then, Scholz would appear from backstage, or turn from his huddle, shout out a few words or begin playing and it was back to the microphone for Delp.

The highpoint of that experience was getting to hear several versions of "Amanda" as the sound crew mixed various instruments, sometimes with Cosmo and bassist Kimberly Dahme backing with those tight Boston high harmonies, and other times with just piano and Delp's soaring tenor echoing in the empty hall.

As the sound check wrapped, it was announced that due to the delay in finishing, there would only be "...five minutes, just five!" to quickly herd the two radio dozen listeners through their photo and autograph session. And it was Delp who was the only one offering to hang around for the fans.

So for the next 20 minutes, Delp hung out, autographing every album and ticket stub, taking every configuration of photo with every fan who asked, and chatted up anyone who wanted to share their favorite Boston concert moment.

It was wonderful to see Delp, genuinely enjoying the interaction, not tapping his feet waiting to break away. In fact, he was approached twice by the road manager telling the singer to wrap it up. Delp just turned, smiled and replied, "... I'll be there in a few minutes."

As the radio people shuffled out I turned to follow them, and I heard someone say, "Hey, don't you want a picture?"

I turned and it was Delp, all alone by the backstage gate. I thanked him and said no. But I couldn't bring myself to not tell him how much I enjoyed the band when I saw them fresh on the road and just a few dates into their very first national tour.

He asked me where the show was, and I told him the Palace Theater in Waterbury, CT.

He proceeded to recall details of that show, even describing the unique interior aspects of the room, and the huge plush velvet curtain that hung in front of the entertainers and swept open in grand fashion as the entertainment began.

At that point someone yelled for him backstage, and Delp grabbed the digital camera I was holding, put his arm around me, held the camera at arms' length and squeezed off a shot.

He told me to enjoy the show and hustled back toward the dressing rooms. And I distinctly remember saying to myself, "Wow, he's the nicest guy!"

I know I ebony porn speak for millions of Boston's fans around the world when I say he will be missed.

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