Gregory Wolf is seven years old and as he sat in an adult world yesterday wondering why his father was killed, his sobs reached deep into the more than 200 morners attending the funeral service at the Washington Hebrew Congregation.
Until last Monday Steve Wolf had it all. Born in Washington and raised in McLean, Wolf, at 34, was one of the country's leading rock concert promoters. In partnership with Jim Rissmiller and Larry Vallon, Wolf had promoted such groups as the Beatles, Chicago, the Rolling Stones and Elvis Presley.
His life was one of glamour, excitement and success, all of which culminated last Sunday, said Rissmiller, when Wolf's "Star Wars" concert at the Hollywood Bowl raised $60,000 for the Los Angeles Symphony.
"THat concert," said Rissmiller yesterday, "was Steve's moment of triumph . . . something he had always wanted to do, combining a symphony with contemporary music. I was in San Diego and when he called me he was really thrilled. That was on Sunday."
And on Monday Wolf was dead - shot down, apparently by burglars he surprised in the bedroom of his luxurious Mulholland Drive home.
"Of course," said Rissmiller, "at first people wanted to hook his murder to some underworld connection, to the whole rock/drug idea, which is ridiculous. Steve and I aren't in the Hollywood scene. Steve is a family man. I think what they say happened to Steve is exactly what happened. Burglars. His house had no burglar alarms, no guard dogs. Nothing like that."
It was a raw, rainy day and yesterday's funeral was far from the California rock 'n' roll glitter world Wolf Family, friends and neighbors heard Rabbi Joshua O. Haberman deliver the final goodbye. Describing Wolf's death as "an eclipse of the sun . . . a sun abruptly steeing at midday . . .," Haberman spoke of the two weeks Wolf recently spent in Mexico with his family to celebrate his father's 60th birthday, and he described Wolf's "natural wit, vision, cool decisiveness and iniative."
It was an opinion shared by New York music promoter Ron Delsener who upon arriving, crushed Rissmiller in a sympathetic bear hug.
"Steve was a quiet, soft-spoken person," said Delsener (who an associate described as "terrifically shaken by this thing. For Ron to come clear to Washington on a Day when we have three concerts, you know he's upset.")
"Yeah," said Delsener. "Steve was a sweet guy and one of the few really bright people in this business."
About 700 people from the music and entertainment business had turned out Wednesday in Los Angeles for a memorial service. Included among them, said Rissmiller, had been the rock group Chicago: Olivia Newton-John; Helen Reddy; Peter Frampton; Sylvester Stallone; top New York record agent Frank Barsalona; Jerry Moss, president of A & M records: and Joe Smith, president of Electra: Asylum records and one of Jimmy Carter's big West Coast supporters.
Following the West Coast service, Dee Anthony, manager to Peter Frampton, held a reception in his Bel Air home.
At yesterday's service, however, the names of The Supremes, The Rolling stones and Presley sounded odd coming from the tranquil setting of the temple altar, even though these were the people of Wolf's world.
And Rissmiller's, who said the name of his company, Wolf and Rissmiller - $6 million business that promotes some 130 concerts a year - would stay the same. "It'll always be that," he said.
"I know Steve so well, I know exactly what he's thinking.We've been doing this together for 10 years and for 10 years we've always shared the same office with desks right across from each other. We figured that way we wouldn't have to run in the next room to tell each other something when it hit us.
"I gues we worked so well because we are so opposite - like night and day," Rissmiller mused. "Steve is logical, methodical,, conservative; and me, well, I'm all emotions."
And yesterday's emotions ran deep. Leaving the temple in the downpour, Linda Grey, the blond public relations consultant who was Wolf's financee, and was in the hourse when he was shot, broke down in Delsener's arms, Wolf father. Dr. Seymour Wolf, leaned heavily on the arm of his former daughter-in-law Iris Rainer, the mother of Gregory.
And Gregory wept.