Paul 'Andy Noise' Anderson was a man of many hats

May 16—Trying to get a sense of who a person is during his life can be difficult at times. That's especially true for someone like Paul Anderson, who made an impact large enough for two people.

With that in mind, it's fitting that Anderson, a married father of three boys, was better known to most everyone as "Andy Noise."

Born out of the name of his popular, subculture record store of the 1980s and '90s, Anderson — Andy Noise — made an impact on many fronts. For one, as a husband, father and friend. And to countless others as a coach and mentor in the local music scene and long-distance running.

Diagnosed with a heart condition last year, Anderson died in his sleep on May 4, just two days after celebrating his 58th birthday.

"Everyone has just been wonderful," said Anderson's wife of almost 31 years, Blanca. "He did make a lot of friends and he was able to do what he loved. He was passionate about music. He was passionate about running ... coaching people ... he got people to do things that they thought they never could."

Born in Kittery, Maine in 1963, Anderson's father was in the military and the family moved around the country quite a bit. Eventually they settled in Bakersfield about the same time "Andy" was starting junior high.

A graduate of Highland High, Anderson developed a love for music, with a special fondness for bands with more of a rebellious nature. Recognizing he wasn't alone, and that there was a demand for music and other items not available at traditional music stores, he decided to invest in Andy Noise Records, a store that eventually became a staple on 19th Street between K and L streets.

"When he started, there were other independent music stores around, plus the chain (stores) ... but when you either do or do not want to find that stuff that was going to raise your parents' eyebrows or turn that music down or it has that parental-advisory sticker on the cover and that's why your kid wants to buy it ..." said Joe Wirt, a former writer for The Bakersfield Californian. "Anything like that, from late British Techno from the '80s to early gangster rap to the kind of metal that's not Metallica, just alternative to everything. Plus he had the T-shirts and the posters before you had Hot Topic in the mall. It was before everything got co-opted and sold somewhere else. He had kind of the one-stop shop for it."

Anderson's involvement in the local music scene didn't stop at selling merchandise. He became a part of the fabric of Bakersfield, selling demos of local bands and even providing them a stage for concerts in his store.

"Where his niche was, during the week you'd find him there," Wirt said. "He knew where everyone was playing, he knew who was who. He had great opinions about people after they had found opportunity or notoriety or success. But until then, if you're going to perform, whether you're good or bad, someone ought to say, 'check this out.' Someone ought to say, 'that person's making an attempt,' 'that person's trying.' ... You've gotta start somewhere and he was glad to help out those that were starting out in Bakersfield."

In addition to his impact on the music scene, Anderson himself experienced a life-changing event during the fall of 1989, when he met Blanca, who had visited his store looking for a live cassette of The Cure after attending the band's live concert the night before.

"I thought it was some kind of hard-core punk rock place, but I hadn't actually gone down there," Blanca recalled. "The concert was on a Friday, I went in there on a Saturday, I wore a Cure T-shirt that I had gotten at the show. I remember the first thing he said to me was, you know you're like the seventh person to come in here with that shirt on, is that the only shirt that they had at the show?"

After a brief conversation, Paul told Blanca to come back Tuesday. She did, paid for her items, and left the store.

"And I was leaving and he ran outside to ask me for my phone number," Blanca said. "And the rest is history. I met him at his record store and nine months later, we got married. Who would have thought at that time?"

Over the next 30-plus years — the couple was due to celebrate their 31st anniversary next month — they had three children, Christopher, Nicholas and Michael.

During this time, Anderson's other passion, running, began to gain momentum. As the music business began to change, Anderson began to compete in several long-distance races. From 5Ks and 10Ks to marathons and eventually ultra marathons, Anderson became a staple in events across California and beyond.

It was a family affair, with Blanca supporting him at every turn, while her husband competed in a style unique to him.

"When he'd go to his running events, he'd always have these plaid shirts, short-sleeve plaid shirts," Blanca said. "I asked him why he wore those shirts and he told me 'because it has pockets in it.'"

He was also known for his favorite beverage.

"He was known for always having a can of Diet Dr Pepper," Blanca recalled. "I remember at the Bakersfield Marathon, I met him along the bike path somewhere with an ice-cold can of Dr Pepper. I was his portable aid station."

In a similar style to his music mentorship, Anderson began coaching and offering advice to several local runners.

"I met him several years ago when he was a coach and a mentor to many recreational runners here in town," said Bakersfield College history professor Olivia Garcia. "Whether it was somebody who was just learning to get into the whole learning community and learn how to run a mile or two to someone who was a really good marathon runner and was trying to move over to ultra marathons."

The relationship grew into a friendship, one that Garcia says remained strong even through work and family commitments.

"He touched so many people's lives in not only Bakersfield but everywhere," Garcia said. "I ran six marathons, all through his coaching and his advice. But it was more than that. It was just his friendship. He was just someone who could have a profound impact in your life. He inspired people, he made you laugh ... he was very upfront and honest with you."

Although his heart issues had slowed his running career, Anderson continued to stay active by walking and hiking. At the time of his death he was preparing to run a virtual event across the state of Tennessee and back. His podcast, "The Andy Noise Experience," and his presence on most every social media platform helped keep him more connected than ever, even with the COVID-19 pandemic changing the world around him.

In the hours after news of his death began to circulate, condolences began to pour in on his social media accounts. As of last weekend, there were 285 messages from well-wishers. A memorial 5K race was organized for Saturday morning to remember "Andy Noise" and serve as a fundraiser for his family. More than 80 participated, many wearing plaid shirts in his honor.