Everyone knew him Stanley Lewis as Stan The Record Man, but I like Stan The Music Man better. Vinyl could hardly contain him.

I had the pleasure of finally meeting him about 20 years ago when I went to his nice brick suburban home for a visit to write a story for The Times. It was mid-afternoon. He met me at the door with that thick white hair folded back, smelling fresh and in a bathrobe. A nice, nice bathrobe.

If I were to greet anyone in a bathrobe anywhere and at any time of day, but especially in Shreveport in mid-afternoon, I’d get beaten up, on the spot. Same thing if I tried to wear one of those French berets like some people do.

But I’m not Stan The Music Man. He can pull this sort of thing off because … he’s him. If he ever sweated, he sweated “cool. I always thought of him — I believe this is correct — as Steve McQueen if Steve McQueen had owned a record store and mail-order record service when rock ‘n’ roll began, like Mr. Stan did.

Some guys got it, some guys ain’t.

Down the hall at his home that day were pictures of him with various Elvis Presleys and Jerry Lee Lewises. Lots and lots of pictures, and a story with each one. It took us 40 minutes to get from the front door to a couch.

Awesome is what it was.

But my favorite picture of him is the one posted, in black and white, right after the end of World War II, not yet 25, young and hungry, full of optimism and good lucks and charm. It’s a confident and hopeful look, and he carried that well and spread it around and made people smile and, man, we can always use more of that.

Mr. Stan passed away July 14 at 91, which is a long time to be on the charts. His funeral Thursday ended the way you might expect, with a song soulful and black and full of joy. If you’ve never heard Andrea Crouch’s “Soon And Very Soon,” do yourself a favor and listen to it now. And thank the good Lord, but thank Stan The Music Man too.

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