Tapout’s ‘Mask’ remembered at Crystal Cathedral
Everyone seemed to feel it: “Mask” was in the house -- or in the Crystal Cathedral, more precisely -- Tuesday, when more than 350 friends, family, business associates and employees gathered for an 11 a.m. memorial service in Garden Grove to remember Charles “Mask” Lewis Jr., co-founder of the mixed martial arts clothing brand Tapout, who died in an auto accident last month.
He was there on a three-story-tall tapestry photo, hands clasped as if in prayer, wearing the familiar streak of paint down his cheek and a top hat perched on his head, the words “Simply Believe” written below. His cremated remains were there, in a silver urn surrounded by flowers on the altar.
He was there on special memorial Tapout T-shirts, some bearing his photo, others emblazoned with a pair of angel wings. His voice was there: A recording of it resonated through the loudspeakers at the beginning of the service, and at the end a video clip of his final interview -- given to DUB magazine just hours before his death -- played on the monitors.
But mostly, Mask was there in the recollections and anecdotes of people whose lives he touched, including business associates such as his CAA agent Howie Nuchow, and film director Gavin O’Connor (who had cast him in the upcoming movie “Warrior”) and artist Mister Cartoon, as well as Dan “Punkass” Caldwell and Timothy “SkySkrape” Katz, the men with whom he took the brand from car trunks to mainstream.
People described him as a kind of human exclamation point who could make anyone feel special and make an instant connection. The kind of guy who would call three of your phones at once (the “Mask hat trick,” someone called it) or barrage your cellphone with dozens of text messages.
The last to speak, Katz remembered his friend fondly. Then, choking up, he motioned for someone from the audience to join him onstage.
Lewis’ girlfriend, Lacy White, who had been a passenger in the car with Lewis the night of the high-speed crash in Newport Beach, gingerly stepped to the stage, her left arm wrapped in a bulky cast. She was wearing a hard plastic brace from neck to pelvis -- with a black Tapout logo sticker stuck to the back.
“She made a huge difference in his life over the last two years,” Katz said, his voice quivering. “We love her -- and you guys should love her too.”
Also at the service were fans who had never met the man behind the face paint, people including Tracy “Cage Candy” Tate and DeDe Deschenes, who drove in from Hesperia and taped a cardboard sign to their van that proclaimed: “We ♥u Mask, Cage & Candy,” and Ruben Calderon of Buena Park who took off work and took his kids Evanie, 12, Benee, 9, and Joey, 4, out of school to attend.
“Everybody has a dream -- he followed that dream,” Calderon said. “We should all be able to do that. I thought it was important for my kids to be inspired by that.” In memory of Mask, Calderon said the girls 12-and-under softball team he coaches decided to rename itself “Team Tapout.”
The most touching moment of the hour and a half long service came toward the end when Pastor Bobby Schuller began to repeat the phrase “I believe,” a variation on Mask’s oft-repeated mantra.
A burly, bearded man in the back of the cathedral rose to his feet and said in a clear voice: “I believe.” A few rows away, another man rose to his feet and repeated the line. Then two more stood and said, “I believe,” then six on the far side of the church, then a handful in the center. Suddenly the entire room was on its feet, nearly 400 people in all, repeating the words “I believe.”
As the crowd dispersed, and the sun remained free of gray clouds for a few seconds, one couldn’t help but believe that up there somewhere, the grinning giant with the face paint and the top hat was smiling wildly.
