Monday, November 24, 2008

Leg Man

From Heather:
"Those are my legs he photographed in the Hoboken, NJ apartment we subleted for a short while. When I was in LA at the memorial, Byron gave me the other picture of the mannequin in red heels when he saw the one of my legs. Apparently it's a shot Peter took in LA, recently."

Photo by Peter Haskell

Photo by Peter Haskell
"I came home once while we were in that apartment to find Peter surrounded by a bunch of burly, angry firemen. He had left some eggs on the stove to boil, they started smoking and caught fire and set off the alarm. There had been a rash of arson fires in the neighbourhood so the fire department was not amused with his sleeping beauty routine. People were on edge. Peter snoozed through the alarm, the sirens and was still passed out on the floor when they busted down the door to get in."

Wednesday, November 5, 2008


Two soundtracks by Peter Haskell (forwarded by Ralph Eaton):

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

From Dick Crane

Hi Gretl,
I'm writing from London.... still trying to get my head around the idea I wont be hearing from Pete anymore. Although I hadn't seen him for 16 years (last time was in France 92) we kept in regular contact either by phone or email - the last email I had was on Monday 8th. That says a lot in itself - as there are many people I have meet over the years that I haven't stayed in touch with.
I'm a good friend of Tyler's. It was Tyler who got in touch with me on Friday night to tell me the tragic news. I met your brother through Tyler when they lived in the same block in Silverlake back in 1990.
I've been thinking about it since I heard about his passing and its fair to say meeting Pete changed my life or least gave me the confidence to follow a path I had convinced myself I no place on - namely being an artist. I left London in 89 disillusioned after an attempt at trying my hand at acting/comedy. Not knowing what to do with myself I knocked around LA for a year or two working on music videos. It was at that time I was lucky enough to meet Pete. We had some truly memorable times together and he showed me a side of the US/LA I didn't know existed. He had written a short film and after we got to know each other he suggested I take the lead role in it. Mainly I guess because he liked the cut of my gib. We shot the film in summer 91. On my return to Europe I managed to earn a living as a professional stage actor and script writer for the next 12 years. It was Pete that convinced me to persevere with the artists way. I have no doubt that my life would have taken a different route if it weren't for Pete. Not surprisingly he has, and always will, occupy a particularly special place in my mind. I owe Pete.
He was an original. A real creative talent. His work was of course outside the mainstream but thank God for that. It was always a joy to receive his emails - his photo's, paintings, songs and tales from wherever - always made me laugh (and I don't laugh easily) and in all his work there where shrewd observations about our species that got at basic truths. In our time together he was a good friend and great company. I remember that last time we were together in Paris. We were sitting on the steps of some house down a side street eating our baguettes and cheese when this little French kid walking by with his mother turned to her and said "Maman, Maman - regardez les clochards'" - we loved that and chomped them sandwiches even harder. All these years later I still carry the sayings Pete taught me around with me and often catch myself trotting them out to entertain myself or others.
I spent an hour on the phone with Ralph this afternoon, who I haven't spoken to for several years, reminiscing of our times with Pete. I hope its some consolation to you that his passing is bringing people from far and wide together again. I'm really happy to hear that Tyler is taking steps to hold a memorial service in LA - good ole Tyler, he's a star. I only wish I had the money to get myself there 'cos as I mentioned earlier I owe Pete.
From what I understand his passing sounds like it was a real tragedy. My deepest condolences to you and your family. But know your brother was one of the most memorable men I have ever met.
Dick Crane