I was born into an Irish musical family in The City of Brotherly Love. My Dad, a first-generation immigrant, played accordion, and at parties my mother sang along. Dad’s brother, who accompanied him on his roving (as well as on their musical musings), had been one of the finest flute players in Ireland and certainly the best ever heard by people passing the open windows of my childhood home in Collingdale,Pa. Uncle Mike hosted The Irish Radio Hour, broadcast from his basement in Southwest Philly. I remember being taken there on Sundays to watch and listen to what I now know to be my roots…the brogue, the ballads, jigs, reels and sharing a few beers. At 8 years of age, my dad started me on clarinet lessons. In high school I took up the saxophone and formed my first band, a quartet of sax, trumpet, guitar and drums. My trumpet player and I led several bands throughout high school—an all-boys’ catholic confine where no one learned to meet or talk to girls without a horn (or some other instrument) in hand. In August,1964, I was loafing at the Jersey Shore with a friend when his mom asked if we wanted to make some money working a concert at the Atlantic City Convention Center…unfortunately, not as performers. After what seemed like two dozen opening acts, The Beatles strode onstage and played the first four notes of “Twist and Shout” — the last musical measure anyone heard because of the screaming. We were standing ten feet from the stage, our job being to carry girls who’d fainted out to the boardwalk. It was only years later that I realized I’d gotten paid $20 to see the first wave of Brit rock roll onto American shores and meet dozens of their most ardent female fans. When that summer ended, I attended St. Bernard’s College in Cullman, Alabama, played a little music there, and then quite a bit more at Penn State where it was mutually agreed that I wasn’t an ideal student. Hello U of Life, musicology department. My trumpet player and I tried to start a band with Rick Vito who went on to play with Delaney and Bonnie, John Mayall, Roger McGuinn of the Byrds, Dolly Parton and Fleetwood Mac among others. We didn’t suck. We rehearsed, but I don't think we ever played out, with the possible exception of one gig at Rick’s mother's restaurant…all you could eat and carry home. My doowop-gigging friend Keith had a few hits on Mercury Records (98.6 and Ain't Gonna Lie). and got me an audition with his producer in New York (Joe Renzetti), but I wasn't ready to be a solo artist. Around 1967, I formed another band with my old trumpet guy, and that group, Maple Syrup, toured clubs and colleges throughout PA, NJ, MD, DE, and NY. Me on sax accompanied by Jimmy Zaleski and Teddy Tedesco, both well-known Philly players, and Joe "Snake" Hinchliffe, who played trumpet and sang with us but later became a world-class guitar player with Orleans and other major-label bands. Hugh Mc Donald, currently with Bon Jovi, filled in for Teddy a few times on bass, providing rock-solid support for the horn section and Jimmy’s guitar. After Maple Syrup, I put more time into songwriting. I started a small group in ’69 called Thom McIntyre Band — an eponymous attempt at independence in the wake of my college years. As George Thorogood, a local blues comtemporary of ours rephrased the Bo Diddley classic: I was ‘just 22 and I don’t mind dyin’. We played small clubs and coffee houses performing my original material, tunes that we also recorded at Veritable Studios in Lansdowne, Pa. With the support of the owner at Veritable, we produced an album which was never released, but provided us invaluable studio experience. I then hooked up with an old friend named Dancer and pulled something together with guitarist Chip Roberts, bassist Bennett Sykes and drummer Steve Nicely, called the Sky Palace Band. Chip and I started Mac’s truck a couple years later with Chip's brother John on bass and a drummer, Dan Rossi. We stayed together until about ‘75 or ’76 when Chip moved on, subsequently playing with Tommy Stinson of The Replacements, Guns and Roses et al. I moved to Redondo Beach, California in January of 1977 and did some session work with my old friend Keith (Barry Keefer) who was no longer with Mercury but was working with his old friend, producer Barry Oslander, before starting a West Coast version of Mac’s Truck with Dave Logan. Dave had played guitar and sung professionally since the age of 14. Dave’s chops were impeccable even then, and his pedigree now includes stage (Otis Day and the Knights) cable and network broadcasts and videos. As musical director for Dick Clark Productions, he played with the Coasters, Drifters, Mary Wells, the Marvelettes, Shirelles and other Motown phenoms. After Mac’s Truck, he backed B.B. King, John Mellencamp and Stevie Ray Vaughn, as a smart, steady musical stud. With the incredible Doug "Bugs" Anderson playing bass, we did the club scene in Los Angeles for a few years while I tried to shop my songs. A song Bugs and I wrote was recorded by 38 Special and in 1984, the band used the Collingdale Police force to make a video for their song "Back Where You Belong.” Collingdale was where I grew up, and the story going around was that I was the lead singer for the band and wrote the song. Cool props, and I admit I could have done more to discourage the rumor mill. While still scuffling in L.A., I finished a session of one of my songs with Fred Tackett, the guitar player for Little Feat, quit the music business in disillusionment and started a wholesale seafood operation. As the great gonzo journalist, Hunter S. Thompson said: “The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side." So I went from jam man to Clam Man, literally the name of my new biz. In 1989, after a decade of dealing seafood as the Clam Man, I moved back to Pennsylvania and took a job with a Comcast Cable contracting company. I was still wired, but every bit of me but my ears was out of the music business. Four years ago, I started writing songs again, hooked up with some old musician friends, Steve Nicely and Bennett Sykes and began performing; I reconnected with the old owner of Veritable Studios, D.W. Fearn, who now owns a world renowned tube pre-amp company under that name. Eric Clapton and Pete Townsend are but two monster players who use his equipment. Doug no longer owns a studio but he’s shared an arsenal of great mics and recording equipment with me and helped record a new CD of my original material, which is now close to release. So I’ve got a future, which is good, because so many of us lose that hope. I don’t know that I need to wear shades, but life is looking bright. I’m writing better than ever, and these songs, infused with long experience and honest emotions, have real meaning. I’m gigging with great musicians and I’m growing younger and better while doing it. As Preston T Jones prayed: “When I come to the end of my days, I won’t be scared of dying. ’Cause I died many times, many ways and I’ll die just a little then too.” Still playing. Still plyin’. Still tryin’. Not dyin’.