If you saw Philly blues-rock band Woody’s Truck Stop open for the likes of Jimi Hendrix and Cream in the late 1960s, you’ve heard Ron Bogdon.
If you’ve danced to KC and the Sunshine Band’s “Get Down Tonight,” you’ve heard Ron Bogdon.
If you’ve listened to certain records by Al Kooper or chart-topping R&B acts such as George McCrae, Betty Wright and Latimore, you’ve heard Ron Bogdon.
And if you’ve bought records or attended shows by popular Philly R&B band the Buicks at any point over the last three decades, you’ve definitely heard Ron Bogdon.
As the bass player, he was never the center of attention on either records or the stage — and he never tried to be. But the Philly native and longtime Levittown resident was a rock-solid anchor (an appropriate analogy, given his love of sailing) for countless fellow musicians, an in-demand session player for Miami-based TK Records in the 1970s and the consummate bandmate.
“He was there laying down the highway for everyone else to take a ride on,” said Buicks rhythm guitarist Joe Borghi. “He was the quintessential bass player, a groove guy who was there supporting the band, supporting the melody and everything else that was going on. He didn’t like the spotlight, but he liked to be up there, lending his support.”
“Captain” Ron Bogdon died on July 2 in the living room of his home in the Kenwood section of Levittown. The cause was an aggressive form of colon cancer that had been diagnosed just five weeks earlier. He was 68.
His wife of 24 years, Sandy, said he died quickly, peacefully and on his own terms — surrounded by friends and with the music of some of his bands playing in the room.
“If you knew Ron, you know he was the purest, purest soul,” she said. “Very kind and gentle, extraordinarily funny, with no trepidation or fear. Ron was very spiritual — not in the religious sense, but in the way he noticed and appreciated the smallest things.”
Bogdon played on five gold records, including Betty Wright’s 1971 smash “Clean Up Woman” and Latimore’s “Let’s Straighten It Out,” but he never bragged about his success, according to his wife.
“He did downplay it,” Sandy said. “He stated things matter of factly. There’d be a gold record in a frame, and he’d just say, ‘Oh, I got that playing with such and such.’ ”
Bogdon’s immense talent did not go unnoticed by his fellow musicians, however.
“He makes such an impression,” said Buicks saxophonist Mike Reinig. “His bass is so solid, so soulful, so perfect. There were times I’d rehearse with him where you wouldn’t hear him play a note — the note just appeared. His technique was so flawless. He wasn’t the fanciest, but he was just so solid.”
Reinig, a Levittown resident who moved to the area in the early 1990s, said Bogdon is the reason he joined the Buicks. He initially auditioned for a funk band in Trenton that seemed like the perfect fit — the group was polished, and he knew almost all the songs. Then, he auditioned for the Buicks in a band member’s cramped attic and knew none of the songs, but could tell right away this was the band he wanted to join.
“I joined this band because of Ron,” Reinig said. “Here’s this other band, where everything’s ready to go, all I have to do is step in and play, but it wasn’t the same. There was no heart. Ron was so solid on bass and played with such soul. I couldn’t believe how much soul (the Buicks) had.”
Bogdon, from the Bridesburg section of Philadelphia, was a born showman, playing saxophone with the Mummers as a kid and traveling to Cuba to perform with them at age 11. He left the area for Florida in the 1970s, touring with the likes of Sam & Dave, before ending up in Boston and playing with the James Montgomery Band. It was there he met Danny DeGennaro, the local music legend who encouraged Bogdon to come to Bucks County.
Bogdon’s musical talent wasn’t the only quality his bandmates appreciated. They were drawn to his quirky sense of humor and, as Reinig describes it, his penchant for “saying something completely out of left field and off the wall.”
“He totally didn’t remember that he recorded with Al Kooper,” Borghi said. “The only way he found out was when he Googled his own name. Who wouldn’t remember recording with Al Kooper? That’s a real rock ’n’ roll story.”
Both Borghi and Reinig fondly recalled the legendary car rides Bogdon would share with late Buicks guitarist and founding member Matt Gusz. The two would bicker the entire time, and were deemed “The Odd Couple” by the rest of the band, who would greet them by humming the theme song when they got to the gig.
Area bluesman Mikey Junior, who got the Buicks to play his 30th birthday five years ago and has sat in with them plenty of times through the years, said he’ll never forget the mischievous grin Bogdon would flash him when they shared the stage.
“He had this smile, man, that would make you feel great and warm, this childish smile like you were about to get in trouble together,” he said. “I loved looking back at him and seeing that look, like we about to throw an egg at someone. What I’ll remember most, other than his musicianship and kindheartedness, was that look.”
Bogdon’s talents and interests stretched far beyond music. In addition to his aforementioned passion for sailing (he owned a sailboat at the Anchor Yacht Club in Bristol), he was an accomplished chef (Sandy said he did all the cooking), an avid reader (especially espionage novels) and a handyman who built everything from beds to doghouses around the house.
“He was good at every single thing he tried,” Sandy said.
He was also blessed with unexpected good fortune, as evidenced by a story Sandy tells. In 1969, the day of the first moon landing, Bogdon lost his prized bass, which he called Luna D., when his car was stolen. Thirty-eight years later, he was contacted by a man who said, “I think I found your guitar.” The instrument was returned to him, and he would occasionally play it around the house (although he never used it at gigs).
Bogdon’s legacy will live on through the records he made and the musicians he played with — the Buicks will no doubt pay tribute to him at their next gig, scheduled for July 31 at the Five Four Bar & Grill in Levittown.
“He was such a big part of my life the last 24 years. I feel like I’ve lost a brother,” Reinig said. “There was nobody else like him. Not to say there weren’t other good bass players, but his combination of personality and talent was first-rate.”