I can say without trepidation that there is no one reading
this biography who has had the honor of knowing Mr. Kurt Schwartz longer
than I have.

We met in fourth grade, attending the First Presbyterian church of
Connersville, IN. His mother was a Juliard-caliber pianist, which allowed
Kurt the environment to assume his position as a child prodigy.

By age 11 we were both setting our sights to become future NFL fodder,
having joined a Pee-Wee football league in our home town. I had the
fortune to become teammates with him, where my pre-pubescent size and his
uncanny ability to seek out and destroy careless wide receivers granted
us a city championship. This was duplicated the following year.

But Kurt's destiny was not the NFL, and he clearly had a passion for
music when his parents whisked him away the to tundra of Plymouth, MI.
Kurt was mentored for years by his older siblings. Karl, the brash,
metal-head who nurtured Kurt's love for underground music, and his sister
Nancy who excelled at dance and school, guiding Kurt towards a degree
from the principles of a fine education.

But this was not enough for Kurt. Emerson, Lake and Palmer were his
inspiration; Iggy Pop his anger. His sabatical in Colorado, meditating in
the high altitude of the Rockies and finally finding his first true
love, lead him back to Michigan, heart-broken, where he started to embrace
the guitar to expose his emotions.

Hence, his final destination towards Free Beer. And as they say, the
rest is history.