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Martin and Ruth Krumm were adamant that their son would grow up no different than any other kid in their San Bruno, California, neighborhood. The fruit of that implacable decision was evident 25 years later as their offspring, Thomas Martin Krumm, performed intricate ballets of determination on the grass of Eugene’s baseball fields. Snagging a grounder to the outfield with the mitt on his left hand, Tom deftly snapped the ball and mitt into the air, quickly snatched the ball with the left hand and accurately slung it to the infield.
Unless you went to shake Tom’s right hand, and he offered you his left, instead of the curled and atrophied right, you would never know he was born with cerebral palsy. Tom was always on the move, out for a run or rushing to a baseball game or, most frequently, driving to any stadium or hole-in-the-wall that featured live music.
Tom loved music and shared his passion for more than four decades at KZEL, KAVE, KRVM and KLCC, where he retired in 2011 after hosting “Fresh Tracks” for 10 years. His kind heart and laid-back vibe became our community soundtrack. Everyone we knew listened to Tom and considered him a friend, even if they had never met him. His ingenuous enthusiasm for a power ballad or a sentimental song with a well-crafted story was infectious.
Bruce Springsteen’s primal poetry provoked a visceral impact on Tom. In October 1975, when the KZEL staff took a charter bus to Springsteen’s Portland debut at the Paramount Theatre, Tom was baptized in his three-hour immersion into the Church of Bruce, or as the nascent superstar would later proclaim, “the power, the glory, the ministry of rock ‘n’ roll!” Blinded by delight, this was the first of many communions to come.
Tom’s faith was rewarded on Dec. 19, 1978, stage right, in the fifth row at the Paramount. He had brought two posters he commissioned from an artist friend that superimposed Springsteen’s lyrics over the cover of the “Darkness on the Edge of Town” and “Born to Run” albums. Tom enlisted a friendly roadie to get the posters backstage and, in those simpler times, Springsteen actually offered his thanks 40 minutes into the show and dedicated the next song, “The Promised Land,” to his unknown acolyte. Two songs later, reflecting over the plaintive piano intro to “Racing in the Streets,” Springsteen said:
This guy that sent this poster back … he took lines from the songs from the album and stuff and I guess he took his favorite lines and that’s pretty good ’cause he took the best ones, he didn’t take none of the, y’know, stinkos … but anyway, I guess his favorite lines were my favorite ones …
A few weeks before Tom passed away on Jan. 14, at the age of 78, he sat uncomfortably in his room at an assisted living facility in Gresham. He was surrounded by framed concert posters that his wife, Terri, hung in an effort to provide some sense of the familiar, something he loved. Tom had moved north in October 2025 after suffering a stroke earlier in the year.
Tom was confused about where he was and not sure if his mom or beloved younger brother, Joe, were still alive. He did, however, recall deep album cuts, precise details of setlists and various venues he visited. And, yes, reminisce about the story behind the Springsteen posters that hung on his wall 47 years later.
Some of us had grown old and cynical, carping about our heroes selling off their catalogs, embracing dynamic pricing and choosing commodification over community. Tom, ever guileless, kept the faith for music’s capacity to spark joy, to unite and heal us.
Tom often said that radio was the only thing he could do and how grateful he was to have a job he loved that never felt like work. Half-seriously, he would add, “I’d do this even if they didn’t pay me.” Tom was different, and we were the better for it. All he gave us was the good parts. None of the stinkos.
A celebration of Tom’s life will be held at The Shedd Institute’s Warren Court, 625 High St., Eugene, on Feb. 28 from 2-5 pm. RSVPs to 541-513-4099 are encouraged.
