Remembering George 'GZ' Zelenz

It is with much sadness that I come here to post the passing of a rather unique and eccentric member of the tribe. George Zelenz, former resident of Joshua Tree, passed away from "an aggressive form of cancer" last October. To many, George was an engima....an often lost soul, but one with a big heart. Here's the backstory of how I became friends with GZ.

I met George in 1986, at Nomad Ventures, in Escondido, California. George was a skinny 16 year-old then, and was looking for someone to teach him to climb. Having recently lost his father to cancer, George was floundering. With a mother who took to alcohol to deal with her grief, George left home, dropped out of school, bought a REALLY beat down old VW microbus, and began a life of couch surfing and dirtbagging. I was climbing with my friend and future Best Man, Earl Phillips, from Vista, and together, we took George under our wing. Very quickly, George immersed himself in the climbing lifestyle, and was always full of stoke to tag along with us old guys. He didn't have any money, but we always made George feel welcome with us.

In spite of his lack of schooling, George was an extremely bright young man, as well as a fiercely talented musician....a self-taught drummer. He wasn't a headbanger type.....George was into jazz, fusion, and some really unique amalgamations of sound. In a word, he was brilliant. Like.....almost a savant. When I got married in 1988, we put a small group of musicians together to add to our day, and George was our drummer. 

In 1989, I moved to the eastern Sierra, and it wasn't long before George began to show up. Thus began a pattern that would go on for the next 30 plus years. Long bouts of time would pass, then suddenly, George would call....or more often than not, just show up on the doorstep. He'd spend a few days....sometimes climbing, but mostly just looking for friendship, food, and a comfortable place to hang for a bit. Each time I'd see George, he'd fill me in on his latest plans. His move to Joshua Tree inspired him to begin designing homes and building them, initially using an inheritance he received from his late father's estate once he turned 21. Once that was exhausted, George would scrape by, or enlist the help of friends. He told me about wanting to start a gourmet food truck service, a brewery, and numerous other dreams that he was certain would bring him the income that always seemed to elude him. A lot of those dreams never panned out, and you never knew when or where George might turn up next.

In his 40's, and with his weight becoming a hindrance to the climbing he enjoyed in his youth, George discovered motorcycling, and bought himself a sleek BMW road bike. When I received a call one day from my son saying, "Dad, I came home and there's a motorcycle in our driveway and some stinky guy asleep on the front porch", I knew that George was back. After a couple of days of food, hot showers, and a warm bed, George roared off chasing the adrenaline rush once again. George melted into a new tribe...guys and gals he called "Iron Butts".....motorcycle rally riders who would get together and due INSANE amounts of miles straddling their rockets across the countryside. I remember the last time he roared off from my eastern Sierra home....I smiled and wondered how long it would be before he was back on my porch. Of course......he'd be welcomed.

Last week, George suddenly popped into my head. It had been years since he raced away from my home, so I decided to Google him. I found a post from his fellow Iron Butts, announcing his passing. George died in Los Angeles....the Coroner had his remains cremated and filed in storage. His Iron Butt brothers raised the $450.00 the Coroner wanted to have his remains released, and at a rally a few months ago, they celebrated George with a bonfire, then scattered his remains to the wind as they roared down the highway.

It wasn't always fun with George....at times his life choices and scattered existence was hard to take, especially when you just wanted nothing more for him than to succeed. Every time I felt as if I'd had enough of all that came with George, I'd think about his young life, and the challenges he faced at a time when kids should just enjoy being kids. George was robbed of those things, and that fact made my heart open to him. His life is a reminder of that saying you hear from time to time....."Everyone is going through something....just be kind."

May our cup of grace for the GZ's of this world always be filled to overflowing.

Climb on...and ride on, George.

Dean Rosnau

Dean… Beautiful tribute to your friend. I like! 

Thanks for sharing this touching story.  He sounded like a cool, unique individual.

Thank you, Guy and Beck. George was certainly one of a kind. In spite of the odds being against him right from the start, George lived his life on his terms and did some extraordinary things. Sadly, cancer cut his life far too short.....and we are all the poorer for what could have been.

I was blessed to know him.

Nice memorial for GZ.

I spent time with him in the Valley in Camp 4, mostly at dinner (which I would make). I can't remember the year, '94 or '95 most likely. He was good company and if I remember correctly mostly into aid at that point, which was funny with him living in Josh at the time. I never ran into him in Josh but still see his name in the guidebook from time to time. I can't remember if he ever played drums with the Cactus Pricks, I thought so for a time, no?

Heyzeus,

Thanks for sharing your memories of GZ.....sounds like classic George, and made me smile.

I'm not sure if he ever played drums with that crew, but wouldn't be surprised. I know that BITD, he used to get together with Bachar for impromptu jam sessions. When he was still a kid and riding out to Josh or Tahquitz with me from Escondido, my dashboard always got a workout....he'd be banging on it with some cool rhythms that came out of that head of his from a place only he knew. Then he would hold forth his diatribe against "predictable rock and roll" beats that were completely a bore to him...his creative musician's mind was light years ahead of most. It was mathematics on another level...and it always blew my simple mind. 

Cheers,

DR