Remembering Ed Wille (aka Brother Ed)
By Hollie Gibbs
The familiar laminated Devil Free Zone sign hung over one of his polyester suit ensembles — a pair of his duct-taped drumsticks in the pocket. Somehow they seemed less powerful without Brother Ed brandishing them as a cross above his head, though. The megaphone he sang through sat silent on the floor next to a single snare drum emblazoned with a cross. There was no need for the rest of the cardboard barrel and steel milk crate drum set as it would have seemed no more than trash without Ed banging them to life.
Half of the spurious fundamentalist rock duo Uncle Scratch’s Gospel Revival, beloved local legend Eddie Wille was diagnosed with lung cancer two years ago and proceeded to combat it with the passion and vigor of his alter ego Brother Ed battling the devil for lost souls. However, he lost the fight on June 26 at age 46. Lines of musicians, friends, family, and fans stretched through two rooms to say goodbye to Ed on a past Saturday.
From their beginnings playing spontaneous shows on Lakewood sidewalks, in lobbies and next to public restrooms, USGR went on to open for national acts like The Cramps, Reverend Horton Heat, The Head Cat, Clutch, Nashville Pussy, and Puscifer — where they staged tongue-in-cheek protests of the shows before performing as the opening act. Ed would play drums, leaning back in an old aluminum webbed folding lawn chair next to a cross wrapped in Christmas lights, unapologetically proclaiming such lyrics as, “I banged a sinner; I feel bad” through a megaphone microphone attached to a harmonica holder around his neck. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame will soon display Ed’s megaphone as part of their permanent Cleveland Rocks exhibit.
The band, that was as much about performing a slapstick evangelical spectacle as it was about playing its lo-fi music, had amassed a large cult following over the last decade, and cult is one thing Ed knew well. Not only did Ed perform as Froggy and other miscellaneous characters on the campy horror television program The Ghoul Show in the late ’90s, but he and his wife, Natalie, owned B-Ware Videos and Books on Madison Ave. in Lakewood for eight years. The store, which carried more obscure horror classics and cult B movies than most people knew existed, was not just a place to rent a movie — it was the mecca where fans would pilgrimage to get their copies of Silent Night Bloody Night signed by Lloyd Kaufman himself.
So much more than an insipid red box or generic storefront filled with the latest Hollywood tripe and staffed with clueless teens, devotees would pour into the cult memorabilia-draped store and actually talk to the knowledgeable proprietors who would have valid suggestions about what to rent based on individual interests. More than just a merchant, Ed also performed in local low-budget horror flicks by Old School Sinema including The Horror Convention Massacre and its sequel and The Spookshow.
The Wille family possessed the intrigue of a cult film in everyday life, complete with a 1959 Cadillac hearse as their family ride. Sometimes the hearse would carry a coffin and other times their son Angus’s stroller, groceries or the occasional Christmas tree. More recently, you could find Ed cruising in his rat rod as a founding member of the Cleveland car club The Rumblers.
Ed made absurd antics and schlock look tough, earning the respect of everyone in the scene. Instead of complaining about what this town lacked, he created what was needed to fill unique niches — all the while also filling the traditional roles of devoted husband, loving father and loyal employee for a building supply distributor for 26 years.
Many people don’t bother to attempt something different for fear of being knocked down. Ed threw on a frog costume and volunteered for the blows — laughing all the way.
Memorial contributions can be made to Angus Wille’s college fund through the Edward Wille Jr Cancer Fund. More info can be found here.