I first met Eddie Marshall when I was 15 and working at Cazadero Music Camp.

The dude was already a legend in jazz circles and a giant of Bay Area music. But I knew him simply as Al, Andre, Gabe and Reevan’s dad, a kindly soul and concerted parent who also happened to be to go-to guy for jazz drum lessons.

I’ll never forget his mythic Caz jam sessions with Ed Kelly - or the time he was hanging out during Jazz Camp, or Family Camp - I can’t remember which - and saw a bunch of youngsters walking up. If memory serves correctly, it was me, Dave Ellis, David Elliot and a few other Bay Area folks.

“Here come the young lions,” Eddie said, respectfully. It was years before I understood the significance of that remark, which somehow, always stayed at the forefront of my memory.

I remember hanging with the Marshall kids. That they inherited talent from their father was unquestionable. They were all heartbreakers, no doubt. We used to call Al, who followed directly in his father’s footsteps by picking up the jazz drums, “Cool Al” for his exploits with the opposite sex, but Andre was no slouch in that department either. Gabe later became a featured dancer with Madonna, rocketing to fame after appearing in the documentary “Truth or Dare.” At that time, his sexuality wasn’t known; he was a heartthrob for numerous young women.

Later on, as I progressed into music criticism and cultural commentary, I came to understand how significant Eddie was, not just to the Bay Area scene, but to jazz in general. I'll admit that I took him for granted, accepted the fact that he knew his stuff, but never wondered about how he acquired that knowledge. To me, he was always the cool dad of some hip kids I knew - not some famous musician who had played with this one and that one.

Over the years, however, I got many chances to hear both Eddie and Al play live with various bands. Eddie’s influence on Al was always obvious; even through the younger Marshall occasionally gigged with funk, soul or even reggae bands, his first love was jazz, and he always returned to that. I last saw Al playing at Michael Parayno’s underground garage jazz venue Birdland in December 2010, backing up pianist Tammy Hall. He sounded as solid on the skins as his father, and I knew the future of jazz was in good hands.

My last Eddie Marshall sighting was in February. The elder drummer appeared with his trio as part of the Oakland Museum of California’s event, “The Drum.” Nobody knew it at the time, but that was one of Eddie’s last public appearances. Eddie, as always, was dialed into the jazz groove. The pictures I have of that gig reveal a man whose relationship with rhythm long ago blossomed into a romance, and never stopped being loving.

Today, we lose one of the giants of Bay Area music - and of jazz especially - yet we continue to be blessed by Eddie Marshall’s legacy, both in his musical contributions and the fact that he has furthered the jazz tradition by passing it on to his son Al.

Rest in peace, pops. You deserve it.