Andrew 'T-Bolt For Life,' Tinley Native, 44, Lived Bold, 'Loud' Life

TINLEY PARK, IL — Ask his friends about Mike Watson, and they'll have plenty to say—lovingly, and with a laugh quick to escape their lips. They'll tell you about his "ratty, overly offensive"concert T-shirt collection. Or his "massive, music snob record collection." His deep, "demonic, fevered love" and fandom for death metal, and his dance parties to such with his daughters.

Just 44 years old when he died in April 2023, Tinley Park native and Victor J. Andrew High School alum Watson packed a lot of life into four decades, leaving behind an impression of wit, sarcasm, and an ability to make anyone "laugh so deeply, even in the darkest of situations."

It's that ability his family and friends are leaning into and finding strength in, as they mourn his death following a short but intense bout with a rare throat cancer.

In a captivating obituary of Watson's storied life, his brother Billy paid deep tribute to his little brother in a big way, ticking off the things that made him unique, and so very missed by so many.

"He lived his life so fully, and never took things too seriously, except when it came to providing for and protecting his family," brother Billy wrote. "The guy with flesh-eating zombies rising from the grave sleeve tattooed on his arm, is the same guy that cried when he watched 'Stepmom.'

"He was truly dynamic and had the single most multi-layered personality that anyone could possibly have. His kind, loving nature being at the forefront."

The obituary tells his story, but it's his friends and family who paint a crystal-clear, bright—almost neon—picture of his life.

"You would have loved Mike Watson," said longtime friend Kevin MacKinnon. "As a friend, one of his unique characteristics—you can’t call it stoicism, you’d be wrong to call it stoicism, because Mike experienced joy as much as anybody.

"Mike was nihilistically indifferent to the problems and woes of life."

Father to daughters Georgia Frances ("Frankie"), 5, and Trixie, 7, and husband to Rani, Watson was a devoted family man. Professionally, he was an accomplished chef. A graduate of CHIC/Le Cordon Bleu in Chicago, he went on to become an executive chef with the Lettuce Entertain You group at 28, the youngest in the company's history. He finished his career at Advocate Aurora St. Luke's medical Center in Milwaukee as the Executive Chef/Food Production Manager, overseeing 300 employees.

"He was just such a wonderfully dedicated, committed boss," Billy Watson said.

"He was such a wonderful person, so empathetic and kind, never would get angry. A one of a kind. No one like him."

'My favorite person on the planet'

The sibling relationship between the two was uncharacteristically devoid of conflict, Billy said, the two the best of friends for the entirety of Watson's life.

"We never had a fight, we’ve gotten along thick as thieves since the day he was born," Billy said.

"We could not possibly have ever had a better relationship. I don’t know of any brothers, sisters, who seem to have been closer. So many people through all of our lives have said what a crazy close relationship we’ve had. Absolutely my best friend and my favorite person on the planet."

Like he did with MacKinnon, Watson also shared a fervent love of music with Billy. The brothers frequented live shows together, and it became tradition for each to gift the other with tickets to thrash metal band Slayer. They'd see them together a total of 25 times before his death, Billy said.

His commitment to live music paled in comparison to his never-ending hunt for vinyl records—a pursuit that earned him the title of "super-collector" with his family.

"He’s gotta have at least 1,000 records, if not more," Billy said. "Real deep-cut, super record collector, nerd stuff. He really knew everything about, a super-collector. .... He probably would have started his own little record store. Crazy collector things that no one has."

Watson's wife Rani recalls meeting the mailman at the door almost daily as Watson indulged his habit.

"He had to get out of his truck to bring up a record, and I would just shake my head, and we would just laugh," Rani said.

'I'm STUPID in love with her'

Watson would eventually move to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where he would meet the love of his life—though she would only know him by "Watson" until dating him.

Rani would first encounter him from behind the bar at Wolski's Tavern, where she tended bar.

"'He’s totally not my type,' she remembers thinking about him. In a leather jacket and fingerless gloves, it took persistence for Watson to wear her down. Finally, she agreed to a date watching a movie at his place, but cautioned him that she'd be bringing her dog, and he'd better have the walkway shoveled.

And he did.

"I left and was like, 'No guy’s ever treated me so well. And that was that,'" she said.

Rani made as much of an impression on him, too, Billy said.

"He would say to us, 'I’m STUPID in love with her,'" he said. "And that was that."

Their life together was Sunday dinners, trips to farmers markets, and introducing their daughters to the music and love of vinyl that so gripped his heart.

"Nightly dance parties to Macabre's 'Wheels on the Bus' with his girls in the basement, and fun family outings to 'I Like Big Putts' for mini-golf," his obituary reads.

His family life was so cherished and important to him that he often turned down opportunities to travel with and play alongside Billy in his own band.

"He shot me down 100 percent of the time," Billy said. "... I was always super-proud of him, he always made the right moves, totally selfless always. His head was where it should have been, he always made the right choices."

'He brought everyone together'

Watson had a personality that spanned social circles and hometowns. He loved his Chicago sports. Blackhawks, the Bears, the Cubs. He lived more than half his life in Milwaukee, but he always remained a die-hard Bears, Cubs, Bulls fan. He always stuck to his guns, and he remained Chicago to the bone, but loved Wisconsin and Milwaukee and the life that it gave him, Billy said.

"He was so multi-layered, he had his interests dipped in so many different places," Billy said. "The jocks and the stoners all hated each other, and he was both. He brought everyone together."

MacKinnon first met Watson in high school, where MacKinnon admits Watson was "a lot cooler than me."

"He tried ‘em all," MacKinnon said, of the different social circles and high school pursuits. "He played the jock, he was the long-haired baseball player that had a thrash band ..."

MacKinnon and Watson's friendship would deepen in their 20s and 30s. They regularly attended concerts together, memories that MacKinnon will forever hold dear.

"All the live shows we’ve seen, it would be the moment a shared, favorite song would start," he said. "We’d lock eyes. You’d look over with the joy of a shared song, and the way both of our faces would explode.

"We’d grab and shake each other in the energy of the music. There was always a frenetic joy in sharing live performances together."

Watson often called himself a T-Bolt for life, even wearing his high school T-shirt once weekly up until his death, MacKinnon said. He was beloved by so many former classmates and others in their hometown, condolences have poured in for even the most unexpected people.

"So many people from our childhood, who I didn’t even remember, have been reaching out to say, they never stopped loving him," Bill said. "He held such a special place in their hearts. … to know him was to love him, and it really was the truth. He was such a one-of-a-kind. Every guy wanted to be him, every girl wanted to be with him. Everyone was friends with him, everyone that ever met him, loved him. That is the type of person he was.

"If you didn’t like Mike, you’re an asshole. It’s your problem, not his. He was just the greatest."

The cancer was so aggressive, Watson's family and friends wouldn't have much time to wrap their heads around such a crippling loss.

Watson died just six months after his diagnosis.

MacKinnon's heart aches for the daughters who won't spend a lifetime loving such a dynamic character.

"No time for a bucket list, no 'Disney,'" MacKinnon siad. "None of the things that everyone would have facilitated for him and the girls. At 5 and 7, it’s just the sad part, 7 especially, those are some of the first video memories—the ones that aren’t snapshots, they’re real.

"What breaks my heart the most, is that they don’t have big stuff, but maybe it’s not the big stuff that matters. Maybe it’s the daddy-daughter dance parties that matter most."

A GoFundMe has been started to support Watson's family and daughters. Friends and family will gather June 2 from 4 to 9 p.m. at Dandy, 5020 W Vliet St. in Milwaukee.

There, the band MacKinnon and Watson shared will reunite. Billy will pick up a bass guitar and play in his brother's place.

His family, friends and Rani welcome the chance to celebrate him, and keep his memory alive.

"I won’t ever forget him," Rani said. "I’ll never let the girls forget him.

"... a larger-than-life presence that will stick with me forever."