Walton “Walt” Amey, 69, Died; Staples, Ithaca Grad; Musician

February 1, 1953 - July 3, 2022

The thing that made Walton "Walt" "Wallybill" Amey happiest was music. And with music, Walt made everybody else happy too.

The first time we ever saw him with his wild red hair and goatee, it was in our Hilliard dorm lobby at Ithaca College back in '71. He was playing Crosby, Stills and Nash's "Helplessly Hoping" on his acoustic guitar while singing the (hard!) middle part of the song's 3-part harmony with his naturally great baritone. His over-the-top enthusiasm was genuinely infectious. And you could tell the guy was happy. So, the other night, and although his hair and beard had turned wild gray in the ensuing 51 years, it was a joy to join him just as happily playing that very same song on his guitar... right up until just a few hours before he so tragically, unexpectedly, and suddenly died in the early hours of Sunday, July 3rd.

Now, don't get me wrong. It wasn't that that was the only song Walt knew. In fact, he knew thousands of songs. From Elvis to Dan Hicks to Leon Redbone to Steely Dan. He happily played them all his life because, well, music was his life's passion. And because he wanted to share this love with others, Walt got many reluctant music lovers to sing out ... and the unwary were likely to be cornered for an exciting lesson in music theory.

Walt was already singing in the Orphenians Choir and lead parts in Staples High School theatrical productions in his hometown of Westport, CT as a teenager. His high school band, Tribe, was better than some of the bands at Woodstock, no kidding. Then, at Ithaca College (where he majored in music/theater), Walt was playing with his high school pal, Brian Keane (who became a well-known guitarist and composer), when we first saw him in the Hilliard dorm lobby. I'm pretty sure the only reason they let me later join them in (the deservedly short-lived band) Bub Fuf & Jigs, was because I had a car with a trunk big enough to fit all the amps.

But the best was yet to come. For, despite the fact that Walt always hated the group's name (and was constantly in search of a better one), he next went on to lead Desperado, Ithaca's most beloved band. With Walt as dryly comic band leader and M.C., (he used to gleefully horrify audiences by "accidentally" dropping his "best" guitar in the middle of a soulful ballad) and the ridiculously talented Doug Robinson, Jeff Dowd and Carolee Goodgold beside him, Desperado made many people happy for a pretty long time. They even made a couple of pretty good albums: Desperado and Out on a Limb. (If you're lucky, I think you can still find them on eBay!) Walt's wedding bands played tons of happy weddings too.

Not surprisingly, like many working musicians before him, Walt liked the occasional vodka-tonic and never got out of bed before noon... unless it was to play tennis with his buddies in Greg Chapin's tennis club in Syracuse... guys who still loved Walt despite the fact that he regularly defeated them on court with his devious drop-shots, etc. (Walt was so competitive that - although his tennis record against me was 957 to 3 - it really annoyed him that I had somehow managed to win at all.)

Another thing that made Walt happy was the laugh of a good woman. And around 2008, Walt found one when I artfully reconnected him with Elizabeth Schenck, a thoroughly delightful gal we all knew back in college. She made Walt very happy... and he made Elizabeth very happy too. She turned him on to her Virginia friends (who Walt humorously called: "the naked communists") and they exuberantly embraced him too. They all happily went camping and sang at festivals and, I've heard, drank more vodka.

Walt and Elizabeth also grew to love our beach house in Atlantique, Fire Island, New York, where Walt - for some reason -- agreed to play in our dubious local band, appropriately named: The Disappointments. A rare character with a devilish Irish charm in his DNA, Walt made everyone here happy too. He came often and, sadly, this is also where he and Elizabeth were when he so suddenly left us forever to sing and play rhythm guitar for the big band in the sky. But at least he was surrounded by grand old friends playing guitars, laughing, and, yes, having the occasional cocktail. Our great friend, Wallybill, was happy right to the end. If you have to go, I'm hard-pressed to think of a better way.

Walt leaves behind his big sister, Margaret Smith, and her husband, Chuck, out in Des Moines, along with their two kids Caro (Colleen) and David (Nikki). He leaves behind his devoted Elizabeth, and her son, Emrys Juniper. And he leaves behind all his many musician pals, tennis pals, camping pals, his adorable pooches, all the couples that were fortunate enough to have had him play at their weddings, and all our loyal band of "Hilliard Hummers" from the historically under-achieving Ithaca Class of '75.


Walt always used to say: "Good is good." He was talking about music, mainly, but I think he was also really talking about life. He knew what was good when he had it and, thanks to everyone mentioned above (and many more), he had it. A lot.

And because he was so good at making everyone happy, I'm pretty sure people will happily be telling Walt stories for as long as we still have old Desperado albums for sale... which is to say, for a very long time to come.

Well, that's about it. In lieu of sending flowers, just put on some good music, find a bottle of vodka, and pour one out for Walt.

- Stephen "Schnitz" "STEVE" Schneider

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