Overlooking downtown Jacksonville at the former University Club, EL stood to my left. The setting sun poured an amber glow into the room as guests arrived and drinks began to flow. We were dueling DJs for a party we created called Islands in the Sky. I was just a baby DJ. EL is spinning a tune and is about to hand it off to me. Making a grand gesture, he sweeps his hand toward me as if to say, take away DJ HDee!

While doing so, EL knocks a full drink all over my DJ deck. Oh Shit! The music stops. He grabs the deck and turns it upside down as Gin & Tonic flows out of the slots. I exclaim, “It’s toast. Don’t worry about it. The music’s stopped, just another song on!” The show must go on.

That fateful moment was the beginning of my life as a real DJ.

I met EL in the early 2000s. He was sharing office space with one of my friends who owned an ad agency. Eric comes bouncing up the stairs, and my friend introduces us. This is Eric Leffler, also known as DJ E.L. With his signature hand clasp and smile, he says, “Great to meet you!” I replied, “You’re a DJ?” “Yeah, Imma DJ and also do audio production. “Cool! That must be a fun job. You know my Mom is a DJ.” “Really?” he replies. “She’s kind of a legend in her genre and she’s been playing for decades.”

That was the beginning of our 20-year friendship. I had just started my branding agency down the street in the Riverplace Tower, so we were neighbors. I had a monthly party at my office called C10. Every party had a theme, playlist, and signature drink. At one such party, I invited EL to be the DJ. The theme was 80s Dark Wave. So I told EL Dark Wave is a derivative of New Wave, so think Bauhaus, Joy Division, New Order, etc. I don’t want to hear Madonna, Tears for Fears, or anything like that. He’s like, “Okay, I got you.” He would later tell me, “I was so intimidated by you. You were so specific!” “No way, man. You killed it, man. Everyone loved you.” I was hooked.

And indeed, they did. Everyone loved EL. His energy was infectious. I so wanted to be like him, but I wasn’t a natural performer. That would come later. EL and I began collaborating on various video projects, where he handled the audio production, did the voiceover, and created an original track. I would help him with marketing, and over time, we formed a bond.

Eric had a way of making you feel special. When I’d walk into Lynches Irish Pub, a club, or a party, he’d jump on his mic and tell the crowd. “Listen up, everybody! DJ HDee is in…the…house!” He didn’t have to turn the spotlight on me, but when he did, you felt like the most important person in the room. He made this nerdy designer feel cool. And then he’d invite me up to the stage, and I would watch him work his magic.

He’d say, “Now watch what I’m about to do.” It was always some wild transition where he would set a loop and blend two songs from completely different genres. AC/DC into a Jay-Z song or something like that. I was mesmerized, commenting, “How did you do that?” “It’s easy. I’ll show you later.”

That inspired me to get my first DJ deck. It was a cheap and super basic, but to me, it was the first step into a new chapter of my life. I had no clue what I was doing. So, EL taught me how music is structured. “Most pop, hip-hop, and rock is either an 8 or 16 count. Listen for the downbeat. Here it comes. Now count. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. When you hit the 8, it starts over again. Look at the waveform. You can see the music.” “You can see the music?” “Yes, the waveform tells you everything you need to know.”

Some DJs, I would say most DJs, are never that open. They’re not sharing their tradecraft. But not Eric; he was an open book. We spent many nights together talking shop and talking life. It’s hard to measure the impact he had on my life. He was there for me in my highs and lows and always had a positive view of life despite the many challenges he faced.

After that disastrous set at the University Club, EL said, “I’m sorry, I’ll totally replace your deck.” I told him, “Don’t worry; I was thinking of getting a new one anyway. I’ve kind of outgrown it.” I laughed out loud when he said, “Dude, it’s kind of your fault, too. You never, ever put liquid near your electronics. Because you never know when some drunk chick is going to lean over and knock that shit over.” That was one of many lessons he taught me.

“If you’re serious about this, you should get the new Pioneer DDJ-SX.” “What’s that?” “It’s an all-in-one deck that replaces the old CDj’s we used to use.”

So I bought it, and the journey began.

As I honed my skills and developed my playlist, EL mentored me. We would co-DJ events like Islands in the Sky, and he began to trust me. EL was the resident DJ at many bars and clubs and couldn’t be everywhere at once. I’ll never forget the day he asked me, “Yo, I’m supposed to spin at the Palace Saloon in Fernandina Beach on St. Patrick’s Day, but I have another gig. If you want, I can get you in there.” “Really? Are you sure? Yeah, you’re ready.”

Next to New Year’s Eve, St. Patrick’s Day was the biggest night of the year for a DJ. I didn’t feel ready, but with his confidence, I felt I could do anything. That was my first big club DJ gig. He showed up, double-checked my equipment and settings, hugged me, and said. “You got this. I have faith in you. You’re gonna kill it. And remember, you don’t have to be me. Just be yourself. If you’re having fun, the crowd will have fun. If you make a mistake, don’t panic. Just laugh it off and keep going.”

“Hey Eric, I’m starting to get more gigs, I need a DJ name. What should I call myself?” Eric replies, “How about DJ HD? Short for Harrington Design. But spell it like DJ HDee.” “I love it. Thx!”

In addition to my mentor and friend, EL was my protector. One night at a restaurant, I was on the dancefloor, and this guy started messing with me. Eric could see I was scared. He jumped off the stage and got in this Dude’s face. “You better step the fuck off!’

A lot of DJs play it safe. But not Eric. He was dynamic. He was a risk-taker. He was ballsy. He’d have an idea on the fly and then try it in front of a live audience. This means you’ll occasionally hit the wrong button, and the music will stop. Or the track ends before you pick the next song. And he’d jump on his microphone and say, “Sorry about that, everyone, this is my first time DJing. I’m still learning.” His self-deprecation was endearing. He took his work seriously but never took himself seriously.

His career continued to explode. “Dude, I got the Jags. Dude, I got Nascar. Rockville.” And on and on. His commercials were on the radio; he was everywhere. “I don’t get tired!” he would say. Eric could read the room better than just about anyone. He could sense the crowd building, and at the precise moment, he’d yell, “SOMEBODY SCREAM. Make some noise.”

I don’t know how he managed to work all day and rock all night. He worked hard and played hard. We all now know this would eventually take a toll on his health.

In 2016, we drifted apart. I was going through some big changes in my life, and the club/bar scene wasn’t working for me. I was also transitioning from Jeffrey to Quinn, and I wasn’t sure how that would impact our friendship. It had been so long since we spoke that I felt uncomfortable re-establishing our friendship. A couple of years ago, I discovered Eric was playing brunch in 1937 in San Marco. I said to myself. “Just show up. He’s your brother, he’ll accept you.” So, I showed up and introduced Eric to Quinn. And he said, “Hey, Dude, what’s up, man! Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you Dude. What do I call you now?” “You can call me Quinn, dude, brother, sister, whatever you want.” And just like that, the dynamic duo was back in action.

Except there was a new face—Katie G., His manager, sidekick, and partner in life and love. I was happy for him because he had been alone for so long. And he was happy. Whenever I had the chance, I’d pop into 1937 to watch the Jags game and hang out with Eric and Katie.

One day, Katie wasn’t there. “She’s sick man. Real sick. She almost died.” “How are you holding up?” “I’m just trying to keep it going for her. I gotta hold her down.” He never complained or made it about himself. Devotion, loyalty, and humility were perhaps his best traits. Katie made a miraculous recovery, and I got to see them together at 1937—one last time.

I was at a restaurant and ran into a friend. “Did you hear about EL?” “No, what happened?” “He died. Last week.” “What? No way.”

We go through life assuming our true friends will always be there. Until they aren’t. I’m grateful that there was nothing left unsaid.

There’s a reason he was featured on the cover of Folio. His 30-year career made an impact on Jacksonville and every place he went. I’m just one of the legions of friends and fans who mourn his loss. As I read the tributes pouring in, I learned I wasn’t the only baby DJ he mentored. That’s just who he is. Although he’s gone, his legacy will live on through us.

And now it’s up to all of us to MAKE SOME NOISE!

Here’s a clip of me playing in the same spot at the University Club with my new skills and new DJ deck. EL is taking the video and narrating.