It's with great sadness that I sit down to try to put together a few words about John Bauldie, a close friends and confidante for over sixteen years. As most readers will have heard, John was tragically killed late Tuesday October 22 returning from one of his other favourite pastimes of watching Bolton Wanderers, accompanying Matthew Harding in the helicopter crash that dominated the news due to Harding's fame. As a mutual close friend observed, whilst Harding's death occupied the headlines in the immediate aftermath, John's untimely fate will have much greater effect around the world in the long run.

I first met John in 1980, around the time when many Dylan fans were getting together more, following the 1978 concerts and the 1979 convention. As a keen new completist tape collector after years of bootlegs and por quality tapes bought from small ads, I immediately recognized John as a man to get to know as a serious collector of ten years standing. Many hours of fun were had going over John's old letters with promises of never received tapes like Paris 1996 (coming next week), and listening to wonderful quality tapes (some not so wonderful) sent by A.J. Weberman, Sandy Gant or Greil Marcus. Even better were his continuing sources like Michael, always sending shows just a few days old, often in remarkable quality. Needless to say, a bond was formed rapidly. Then, with Ian circulating The Wicked Messenger, as a private newsletter, John conjured up the idea of a distribution network to circulate the news and exchange information. So Wanted Man, The Bob Dylan Information Service was born, with John assisted by a group of like minded Mancunians. Even before the first planned mailing, John had moved onto the idea of The Telegraph, showing sign of his wonderful imagination in The Oracle, a wonderfully fictitious super-collector capable of answering everyone's questions about Dylan, ranging from shirts to long rumoured tapes. So the years rolled by through the early 1980's, with John constantly wanting to improve and move forward, with his idea of a serious Dylan quarterly he compared to magazines devoted to obscure Victorians poets. Looking back, it's hard to imagine that he relaxed his editorial control every year to take holiday in Greece with Penny, trusting me to edit the summer Telegraph, knowing it could never meet the high standard he set himself. Harder still to imagine that it was almost a yearly event to talk about packing it all in, being spurred on I think by the vision of what I might make of it without him.

In the end (for me anyway), I opted out first, just as The Tepegraph was blossoming into perfect bound, full colour prodiction, with articles in unimagined depth and interviews and features by undreamed of contributors in past years. A brief period of disillusionment with Bob followed Live Aid, and having decided to depart the Wanted Man fold, and with the Wanted Man Bookshelf ceasing, My Back Pages was born as a Bob Dylan mail order books business. A strong bond between the two was retained, as was the continued friendship that helped us work together.

As The Telegraph continued to improve, it began to gain recognition in journalistic circles, as John discovered to his great delight when he'd managed to get an invite to the Hearts Of Fire press conference, resulting in his move to London and working on Q magazine. In moving away from the North West, we inevitably met less often, but frequently spoke on the telephone, usually with John conspiratorially cooking up some latest scheme. Of course, we always met at Dylan shows, the well dressed and smart John ready to tell tales of his touring exploits, as only he could (with a notably good Bob impression).

By the time the 1990's rolled around, John had received critical acclaim, having published two anthologies of collected Telegraph writings, his incredible 1966 tour project Ghost Of Electricity and Oh No! Not Another Bob Dylan Book with Patrick Humphries. Perhaps the greatest achievment of all (apart from the The Telegraph) was recognition by Dylan's people when he was asked to write the sleeve notes for The Bootleg Series, for which he narrowly failed to win the Grammy award. The stories behind how came about his chance meeting with Dylan in 1986 were wonderful taled to hear, displaying John's great talent as a storyteller and it was a personal pleasure to share a stage with him at the Leicester Convention in 1992 telling of his experiences to a packed crowd. It's especially sad to recall that in our very last telephone conversation John had plans to assist us with a future convention, suggesting hitherto unbelievable guest speakers. John had always said about The Telegraph that it had to move forward, as to stand still was to stagnate, and looking back over fifty five issues, he remained true to that ideal, and no magazine will ever be the equal.

But knowing John was about more than just being Bob Dylan fans and associates. As is always the case, we found many other common interests, mainly in music, usually of the American singer/songwriter variety. Artists like Bruce Springsteen, Neil Young, Roger McGuinn and many more obscure artists. For John, Jackson Browne, Loudon Wainwright, David Blue, Phil Ochs were all equally loved. Like us all he had his little idiosyncrasies like being a Rod Steward fan (even down to the mirror in the bathroom) or a sneaking respect for Don McLean.

Until the days after the accident, I'd forgotten about John's guitar playing and song-writing talents. many happy hours were spent when a youngster called Wes came visiting John and they both sat playing and singing. Wes still at school talking about becoming a star whilsts us older guys sat humouring him, little knowing he would go onto a succesful career as John Wesley Harding.

The only songs I recall John playing back then were more homorous compositions, but I've since learned he had serious songwriter side, and I wish now I'd heard those too.

John's interest in Bolton Wanderers football club has been written about elsewhere, and he was no doubt rejoicing their victory returning on the helicopter. As with everything else he did, he bought a dedication to that aspect of his life to, contributing cuttings and taking an interest in the supporters club. It's hard to believe that the smooth sophisticateds character that most people knew John as, was the guy who named his cat Neil after a Bolton player, and spent what seemed his every waking moment letting it in through the window to go straight out of the cat flap again.

John's great love of all things was reflected by the friends and collefues who spoke, and the music that was played at the funeral at Mortlake Crematorium on 1 November attended by several hundred people. All the speaers in reflecting John's life bought not only tears of sadness to our eyes, but also tears of laughter in recalling the character that he was. On the morning of the 23 October when the news of the accident reached me, I was preparing to atend another funeral, and when the priest spoke of how one's life is measured by the effect you have on those you leave behind, I couldn't help but think how much we've all been affected by his achievements and his presence.

We all suffer the loss of friends and relatives at some time, but when it's so unexpected and sudden, it's harder to bear. Our heartfelt condolences go out to Penny, John's partner for over 20 years.

For me I'll never be able to listen or to watch Bob Dylan again without thinking about John.

Dave Dingle