Part of my reason for wanting to go to Costa Rica was for a young teenager named Andreas who was part of the church bringing us down. One day after leaving the church, he and his brother were in a horrible accident. His brother died instantly, but Andreas barely survived.
When we arrived in Costa Rica, Rodolfo Arias, the minister of the church who had arranged for the concert, picked us up at the airport. On the way to the hotel he asked if we could go by Andreas’s house to lift his spirits. Of course, we agreed without hesitation.
We went to his house on the outskirts of town where Andreas was still bedridden in casts, braces and a neck sling from the accident. He could barely move. It was a really sad scene. The family was obviously really poor. The house was run down, and the Christmas decorations that adorned it were made of Popsicle sticks and yarn. Yet the spirit of God was there.
Andreas didn’t even know we were coming. As we all piled into his small bedroom, not much larger than a walk-in closet in most American homes, he lit up the room with his smile. He was thrilled to see us. He was so badly injured his family had to help lift him up so that he could sit upright in the bed. We had brought a guitar and handed it to Andreas to play a few chords. Tears ran down his face as he strummed out some chords.
Everyone in the room was asking me to sing. I wasn’t sure I could keep it together long enough to sing a few lines. It was so sad to see Andreas, crippled in bed yet incredibly thrilled to see us. The house they were living in most likely would be considered condemned by all standards in the United States. Yet here he was propped up against some pillows strumming away the best he could with this guitar.
I started signing “Honestly.” Basically I was singing a cappella, as the guitar was electric and wasn’t plugged in to an amp. Tears were flowing. Parents and relatives gathered around. Even I was getting choked up. I managed to make it through the song, or at least most of the stanzas, and it seemed to really lift his spirits. If ever I had felt God’s Spirit in a room, it was then.
We said our good-byes and went about the evening and doing interviews. The next day, we held a press conference in a Burger King, which may seem strange, but believe it or not the restaurant chain was one of the sponsors. Inevitably, the press wanted to know “Will Stryper be reuniting?” It was a fair question given this would be our first real performance since 1991. Yes, we had played the Expo, but I wore sweatpants at that show and therefore, I wasn’t really dressed for a “real” show.
Regardless of how they would reword the question, I’d give my standard answer that I had been giving for years: “If we were to get back together, it would have to be for the right reasons and God’s hand would have to be on it.
After the press conference, Rich pulled me aside and in his thick New Jersey accent said, “You keep saying it has to be for the right reasons. Did you not feel God’s Spirit in the room at Andreas’ house? If that’s not the right reason, what is?”
He had a point. But little did Rich know there were deep-rooted years of animosity and heartache between the band members. I never have questioned what God was able to do through this band, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to put myself back in a position of reliving the past. I compared the idea of reuniting with Stryper to that of getting back together with your ex-wife after a divorce. Sure, it was great at the time, but something happened to make that marriage end. Why try to relive that all over again? Let it go and move on to other things, I told myself.
No doubt, I did love the idea of once again feeling God move through our music and touching people’s lives. But I wasn’t sure that I was strong enough to knock down the walls that had been built between the members of Stryper. I just wasn’t ready to go back to that place in my life.
Throughout the times, when I would question getting back together with Stryper, it seemed that every time I took one step forward, something would happen to set me two steps back. Prior to the show, I was feeling a little drained so I asked for a doctor to come to the hotel to inject me with a B-12 shot. Vitamin B-12 helps boost my energy levels and can often get me through a show when I’m feeling under the weather. Unfortunately while on site, I got word that Robert had made a request from the Doctor as well, only it was for a supply of prescription Vicodin. Whether it was true or not, it was enough to send me two steps back on the path to a Stryper reunion.
The show went on as scheduled, and despite us sounding pretty rough, we managed to entertain an enthusiastic crowd. It felt good.
After the show, Rich informed me that Rodolfo and his church had lost money. All the unexpected expenses and payoffs had put them in the red.
Upon checking out of the hotel the following day, I was greeted by an enthusiastic Rodolfo who hugged me and thanked me for doing the show. He said he felt many lives were touched and that Costa Rica needed this show to help bring back the peace of God to the community. He didn’t mention the money he had lost.
I pulled him aside and handed him my enormous suitcases full of Michael Sweet merchandise that I was obviously unable to sell due to the police intervention. I told him to take it and sell it for whatever he could get to help offset his financial losses. He was tearful as he hugged me and reluctantly took the merchandise. Despite his financial hit, he didn’t want to see me take a loss either. I felt he needed it more than I did, though.
I have fond memories of Rodolfo, Andreas, and the beautiful people of Costa Rica.
Talks of the second Expo were already in place to be held this time in Azusa, California, in May of 2001. Rich Serpa again was leading the charge. The plan for round two was to be bigger and better than the first, with other bands performing and more vendors selling and trading Stryper collectibles. There was a state-of-the-art sound system and staging in place at Azusa University for what would become Stryper’s second “official” performance as a group. I would not be wearing sweatpants this time around.
Unfortunately after our return from Costa Rica, things had started to go south between Robert and Mike Reynolds of World Gone Mad. Mike had purchased and controlled RobertSweet.com at the time, and I assume Mike anticipated promoting Robert and his new solo project.
In April of 2001, about six weeks prior to the second Expo, I had gone over to my friend Chris Ragucci’s house to record some promotional videos with Rich Serpa to help promote the Expo. While there, Rich received a phone call saying that he needed to look at RobertSweet.com. I could see from the look in Rich’s eyes that this wasn’t going to be good.
Together we went to Chris’s computer and pulled up the website. Wow! Apparently something happened that angered Mike Reynolds, and he hijacked Rob’s website and posted some disturbing comments—most notably that Robert was not actually married to Victoria (or Starri, as we call her). This shocked me. For all I knew, Rob and Starri were married. They had led me to believe, and anyone they talked to, that they were married, and I had no reason to doubt that.
Robert later posted a statement on Stryper.com that he indeed was not married. He was apologetic to everyone and said he had hoped to keep this matter private.
It continued to get ugly between Mike and Rob. It even got to the point where Rob filed a restraining order against Mike.
Two big steps backward.
I was out at that point. Any thoughts of ever wanting to reunite with Stryper were thrown out the window, much less performing at The Expo. I was not about to go back to the Against The Law days of standing on stage proclaiming “Jesus Is The Way” and at the same time having this sort of thing going on within the band.
I only share this story from my perspective. If Rob ever writes a book I’m sure he can share the intimate details of what was going on behind the scenes in his life. There’s probably much more to the story than I know. But what I do know is that I saw Rob admit to not being married, and I saw an ugly and public battle going on between him and Mike Reynolds. I didn’t even want to know how much, if any of it, was true. The drama alone was enough to make me want to not be a part of this.
I told Rich I was not going to play the second Expo. Rich put a halt on all promotions that included me performing, and considered cancelling the Expo all together. Just a few days before the Expo, however, Rob followed through with getting married, which was honorable. Rich asked me to reconsider. Reluctantly, I did change my mind, but by then his entire marketing campaign was in the toilet. He had only a few days to recover from that blow. It ultimately hurt him, and the Expo, financially.
I went to California and played at the second Expo, but it wasn’t like the first time around. There was an impressive crowd of almost 4,000 people, but it was very uncomfortable to me.
Aside from all the drama going on, when I arrived at the Expo site, it looked like a three-ring circus of people selling Stryper merch, including my mom. My mom had not gone to the first Expo. According to Rich it was because he wasn’t willing to pay her or cover her travel to attend. But she managed to make it to this second one, and she brought out the entire attic’s worth of memorabilia to sell off. Brett Christensen also had an enormous booth of Stryper collectibles that he was selling, as did many other people. The whole thing just didn’t feel right.
Throughout the years there have been a lot of people who have tried to capitalize on the Stryper name. Rich, by the way, is not one of them. When Rich first approached me about the Expo he made it about Stryper, not about him. Even in this circus atmosphere, he seemed to be doing things with a pure heart.
The vibe was not good at the second Expo. I didn’t want to be there, but unfortunately I had already planned another Stryper show to take place two months later in July at The Cornerstone Festival in Illinois. I did my best to put a smile on my face and go through the motions of a show.
I left the second Expo with an extremely sour taste in my mouth. Whereas the first Expo led me toward considering a reunion, this second one sent me running in the exact opposite direction.
Those feelings remained as we went to Cornerstone. I put on the game face and played the best show I could, ironically to the biggest crowd ever to attend a Stryper show—more than 30,000 people. And once again, we got paid really well.
But I don’t care how much we got paid. After the last few months of this soap opera, I could say with great certainty that I would never be playing in Stryper again.
I’m done. It was a good thought while it lasted, but the last nine months have reminded me of exactly why I left this band in the first place.
THIRTY-FIVE
In 2002 Michael Sweet Productions was a do-it-yourself operation, and I was beginning to not only feel comfortable but also happy in that role. I felt in control of my life. I still worked part-time at the campground, but most of my time was spent making phone calls trying to book solo shows. At night I would fill orders that had come in through MichaelSweet.com. It wasn’t glamorous, but I was happy.
I would set up shop in the basement and get an assembly line going of stuffing CDs, cassettes and T-shirts into envelopes, addressing the packages, and getting them ready for tomorrow’s mail. I enjoyed the work and the process, and once I had a system down, I actually looked forward to my daily routine. Although it wasn’t what I had envisioned, I took it seriously and did my best to get things out on time, sometimes making multiple post office runs in one day.
Over the years so many good-intentioned people have offered to help me. Some of them turn out to be godsends, but most of them turn out to be folks with big ideas, lots of excitement, but with very little follow through. Nonetheless, anytime someone comes knocking on my door with ideas or interest in helping out, I try to hear them out the best I can. You just never know when you may run into the one or two few people who actually will follow through with an idea.
So in the spring of 2002 when I received a letter from a manager in North Carolina offering to “help,” I took it with a grain of salt. But like with the others who have come and gone with big ideas, I decided to follow-up and give him a call. I will say this, the letter I received wasn’t the typical “Let’s get Stryper back together and you can make big money again and be on top of the world. You should be playing stadiums!”
Yes, letters and emails like that were a regular thing. But this one was different. There were no promises of stardom or riches. It was just a simple letter stating he was a fan and willing to help if I needed anything.
His name was Dave Rose, owner of Deep South Entertainment. We talked on the phone for a while, and while I liked his enthusiasm I had seen first-hand that enthusiasm can only do so much. I was scheduled to be performing in Charlotte, North Carolina, for a Christian festival produced by Richard Young, a promoter who had been (and still is) a longtime supporter of Stryper. I invited Dave and his business partner, Andy Martin, to the show.
When Dave arrived backstage, he introduced himself briefly and I went on with my pre-show routine. As he walked away I asked Kyle “Who is that again?” The combination of my bad memory and me receiving an overwhelming amount of requests from people willing to “help” made it impossible for me to remember the details of names, and because of that, I was embarrassed.
Dave spent most of the time talking with Kyle, but later in the day we all talked for a while in the catering area backstage. He shared with me his passion for my music, but what I remember most is that he seemed sincere in wanting to help, all the while not offering promises of world tours and guaranteed placement back on the charts.
I got a good vibe from him but I was comfortable with my “less is more” place in life and in music. I wasn’t ready to complicate it with business people. Based on past experience, I was pretty much done with managers.
We continued to stay in touch, and in fall of 2002 Dave flew out to Massachusetts where he, Andy, Kyle and I went to lunch at a local Applebee’s. We talked more seriously about some ideas for my career and the possibility of working together. We also spent several hours talking about shopping my music to record labels and trying to get some momentum going again with my solo career.
Just to gauge his reaction, but also in the interest of being honest, I said to him at that meeting, “Dave, I’d like to work together, but I need to tell you that I will never play in Stryper again.” He seemed genuinely okay with that. Normally when I would share my disinterest in Stryper with someone I would see the look of disappointment in their face. Or they would turn the conversation toward why the band should get back together. But Dave seemed unfazed by the statement, which made me even more comfortable.
After our meeting, he sent me a marketing plan and a management proposal. I remember in that proposal, as part of his closing sales pitch on why I should work with him, he wrote, “I’m probably the only guy in the business who has managed Grammy-winning artists and also owns an original cassette of the Roxx Regime demo.” His love for my music and knowledge of my career was evident.
We began working together that summer. Dave starting shopping my material to labels and, just as I experienced, he was met with minimal interest.
Not long prior, I had met Jonathan Harris, a guy who seemed fairly well connected in the industry, and eventually I hired him as my part-time tour manager for the solo shows. Jonathan owns a hat company where he makes custom painted cowboy hats for anyone and everyone. He seemed to know a lot of people and have some good connections. He also had lots of promising ideas. Jonathan had connected with a booking agent, Andrew Goodfriend, and like many conversations when my name comes up, the idea of a Stryper reunion tour was discussed immediately.
I was apprehensive for all the reasons I’ve previously stated, but I agreed to let them put their feelers out and see what kind of interest there might be.
Simultaneously, as these insider talks were going on about a reunion, Dave was continuing to run into closed doors with my solo career. Labels and agents just weren’t as interested as we had hoped. One day on the phone with Dave as we were discussing the frustrating hurdles we were encountering with my solo career, he said to me, “I know you don’t want to do Stryper
again, but it just may be the best way to let the world know you’re alive and well and still ready to make music. Maybe doing a one-time Stryper reunion tour would create the buzz we need to get labels interested in you as a solo artist.”
I desperately wanted to kick-start my solo career again, but it seemed that the only way I could do it would be to get back in the spotlight with Stryper again. This was not at all the solution I was hoping for. I didn’t want to get back in Stryper.
What if I just did a one-time reunion tour with no promises of the future? What if I mended ways with Rob, Oz, and Tim? Maybe that is just what I need to get something going with my solo career again. Maybe it had been too long since Stryper and I needed some sort of spark to get things going again.
I knew, however, in order for a reunion to take place there would need to be a lot of true healing, and without that I wasn’t about to head down this road—solo career or not at stake.
In 2002 I had reached out to Hollywood Records about the idea of a 20th Anniversary Greatest Hits CD, with a couple of new tracks recorded for the album. I wrote two new songs, “Something” and “For You,” and for the first time in almost 10 years the original members of Stryper recorded together. That album, called Seven, came out in March of 2003.
The idea of a reunion was becoming stronger, but I knew a lot of damage repair needed to happen before this could go any further. It started with me calling all the guys. One by one I called and shared my heart about the idea, and my reservations, of a reunion tour.
You often hear bands that reunite talk about putting the past behind them. I took just the opposite approach. Rather than putting the past behind us, I felt we should confront the past. If we put it behind us, it would only show up at our doorstep again. But if we faced the past, dealt with it, and healed from it, perhaps God could work through us again. I wanted to talk about the past and mend the things that broke us up in the first place. We needed to give this band back to God completely. Through these phone conversations with Tim, Oz, and Robert, I began to feel the possibility that we may actually be able to forgive one another and turn this band around.
Honestly: My Life and Stryper Revealed Page 20