News : Beloved area musician Frankie Buhr dies at age 82

A beloved singer and musician whose name and songs have been heard on the radio and in dance halls, lodges and care centers for decades has died.

Frank "Frankie" Buhr, 82, of Keystone, passed away Sunday at University of Iowa Hospitals in Iowa City. He had been battling health issues for several months.

Frankie Buhr played for decades with the band that bore his name. He also played with many other Iowa musicians, including some well-known names. He also played at nursing homes in Vinton, Keystone and other towns, as well as other senior citizens venues including the HACAP Fourth Street Diner in Vinton.

"We worked together about 15 years," said Leo Greco of Cedar Rapids, who continues his Sunday morning "oldies" show on WMT 600 AM Radio. "He was one of the nicest guys I ever knew."

Greco remembers Buhr as a very talented but humble musician.

"Frankie was a very humble person," Greco said. "He could play just about anything. He had a terrific ear — he could hear a tune one time and he could play it."

Greco and Buhr played together at venues throughout Iowa. At one event in 2006, at Albrecht Acres in Dubuque, Buhr's biography included this brief history: "Frank picked up the accordion in 1948, and started a band to perform professionally in 1954 for dances in ballrooms, clubs and lodges throughout the state."

‘The kind of guy he was’

Buhr was scheduled to go to the hospital last December, just before Christmas.

But Greco recalls how Buhr delayed his operation so he could go to the hospital as a performer, not a patient.

"Our last show together was just before Christmas at Mercy Hospital," said Greco. "The doctors, they wanted him to have his operation, but he held it off until January."

The two played together for the final time for hospital patients that holiday season.

To Gene Mealhow of Vinton, that Christmas story is an example of the great and generous person Frankie will be remembered for being.

“That is exactly the kind of guy he was,” said Mealhow, a rock and roll drummer who learned to play fox trots and waltzes and polkas with Frankie.

“Frankie was the kind of guy who would call from a pool of musicians when he would have a job for his band,” recalls Mealhow. “He got my name from somebody — I think it was Larry Beatty. Larry was busy on his farm, so he told Frankie to call me.”

The whole purpose of Frankie’s music, Mealhow recalls, was to give the listeners a chance to dance.

“When I started playing with Frankie, they would play three songs and then take a break for 3-5 minutes. We would play a set of three waltzes, then fox trots, then polkas,” recalls Mealhow. “And after every set, the band would take a break for three to five minutes.”

Finally, he asked Frankie why the band took so many breaks.

“We have to let the people rest,” Frankie replied.

That, Mealhow said, was because when the people danced to Frankie’s music, they really danced.

“When that 3-set started, they would all dance in a circle, and boy oh boy you better know how to dance in a circle or they would run you over. They would wave at Frankie and the musicians as they danced by us. Frankie appreciated the fact that he knew I played in rock and roll bands, but that I could also play the beat for fox trots and waltzes so people could dance.”

While there was a gender gap and a difference in musical preferences, Mealhow and Frankie had one important thing in common: They were members of bands with all kinds of stories to share about traveling and playing.

“We used to have long talks on the road about the places we played and the musicians we played with and the things that happen,” said Mealhow. “It was enjoyable to hear him reminisce about all the years he played.

Mealhow also recalls Frankie’s generosity.

“He did a lot of work at care centers. “He'd play by himself and a lot of times he wouldn’t take any pay — he just wanted to play for the older people. He was a kind man. I don’t think I ever heard him say an unkind word about anybody. He always had a positive attitude,” recalls Mealhow.

Once Mealhow asked Frankie when he would retire.

“I may slow, down, but I will never retire,” was Frankie’s reply. “As long as there's a place to play I will play.”

Frankie always loaded his own equipment into his van because he knew exactly where each instrument had to go in order to fit.

“He carried all that equipment in his van,” recalls Mealhow. “I tried to help him but he wouldn’t let me — it had to go in just a certain way.”

Mealhow played about three or four shows a year with Frankie. He most remembers the annual Valentine’s Day Dance at a Moose Lodge Charles City, sponsored by a bank there for its customers.

But mostly, Mealhow says, when he thinks about Frankie, he remembers their travels, and the shared experiences.

“You know, when you travel with a band and you do it for 48 years there is always something — a flat tire in the rain, or a place where the electricity goes out. We shared all kinds of weird stories back and forth. There is kind of a camaraderie among musicians — we all go through the same thing. It does not matter if you are rock-and-roller or polka person you go through the same thing, and there were a lot of them,” he said.

Greco, who played with Frankie for many years, and often mentions Frankie’s name and plays his songs on WMT on Sunday mornings, agrees.

"There are so many nice things, I could say about Frankie, but I would not know to describe him," said Greco. "He was just a very beautiful person, that is all I can say."

Barb Riggle, a musician and long time employee Vinton Lutheran Home, also remembers seeing first hand the effect Frankie and his music had on residents of the nursing home.

"Every time he came, the residente were excited," said Riggle. "A lot of them got up to dance. Frankie was very nice person and a very good musician."

To hear Frankie singing with Leo Greco's band, click HERE.