Fragile Idol -- Kurt Cobain -- Disbelief, Anger From Forlorn Fans

From the first reports yesterday morning that a body had been found in Kurt Cobain's house, word spread through the city with a sickening inevitability.

Friends called disbelieving friends. Radio stations trickled out the information as it became known. By midday, the death of Nirvana's lead singer was a front-page headline, undeniable.

An enigmatic star in life, in death Cobain continued to puzzle. His fans and those who knew him struggled yesterday to understand why the talented young star apparently took his own life.

The scene outside Cobain's Madrona home yesterday afternoon was subdued as fans showed up in small groups of three or four, speaking quietly among themselves while standing in the rain.

Aimee Dewitt of Kirkland said she showed up to make sure "it was real."

Seeing it on television or hearing about the death on the radio somehow did not seem enough, Dewitt explained. "I wanted to see where it happened and try to find out why it happened," she added, standing among a group of friends.

With emotion in his voice, John Pruner, 27, of Seattle, spoke softly of his encounter with Cobain at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport where he and a friend, 16-year-old Josh Wren, went to greet Cobain when he was returning from a concert about three months ago.

"He let us take his picture," Pruner said, showing off several photographs of himself and Cobain at the airport. "He was gracious and real appreciative that we were there. It's a real experience we'll never forget."

A fan who identified himself only as Neil paced unhappily under an umbrella.

"Most of the music you hear is `product' that is designed to be entertainment for people, product for them to buy," he said. "This was just three guys playing the music they wanted to play, and they didn't care what people thought. It was a lot more genuine than a lot of the stuff that's on."

Soon after the first radio reports of a body found in Cobain's house, people started calling record stores and radio stations for information. There was a run on Nirvana records at most stores; at least one was predicting it would be sold out by the end of the weekend. On his lunch hour, Craig Finkle flipped through the record bin at Tower Records in the University District for a copy of "Bleach," Nirvana's first album. "I don't know if I was surprised," Finkle said. Angry was more like it. "I was looking forward to more music from the guy."

The receptionist at Sub Pop, the independent label that launched Nirvana into fame, answered the phones yesterday without emotion. The lines rang nonstop, and in a cool, professional voice, she told most everyone the same thing: "We have no comment. We're not affiliated with them anymore."

As the phones continued to bleat late in the afternoon, Jonathan Poneman, the label's co-founder and partner who decided to cut the group's first record, rode the elevator to the penthouse office downtown, looking weary and sad.

"I'm trying to keep a cork on my emotions," he said softly. "And then tonight, I'm going to lose it."

At the office of The Rocket, the rock-music bimonthly, news of Cobain's death halted production of the current issue as the shocked staff scrambled to put out a new one featuring Cobain. Charles Cross, the editor, worked at a frenzied pace while national and international media descended on his office. At one point, said Cross, he was on the phone explaining "grunge" to CNN talk-show host Larry King.

"It's unbelievable. They were a great band, he was a great songwriter," Cross said. "I'm really sad. Their music is going to have a long-lasting legacy. They had a lot to do with the music scene getting all the attention it did."

Every time Karen Dyson looked over to the rack of Nirvana's compact discs yesterday, customers were eagerly buying the group's music. The scene reminded her of when Elvis Presley died and fans bought whatever they could find, she said.

"People have been buying Nirvana stuff all day," said Dyson, new record-sales manager at Tower Records and Video in Seattle. "What we have is flying out of the door."

Traci Schlag had heard the news before she stopped at the Tower store. "You wonder what was so bad in life that he couldn't live for his little girl," said Schlag, 28, of Seattle. "He's too young to die."

In Aberdeen, where Cobain spent his youth and his mother Wendy O'Connor still lives, an acquaintance of hers was concerned. "I feel bad for his family, and for his Mom," said Jeanne Ellingsen, who has known her for about 10 years. "She's been going through a rough time, and this is only going to make it worse."

And at the Pourhouse Tavern there, where both Cobain and Nirvana bass player Krist Novoselic played in bands, Jeanne Emerson said Cobain fell in with the wrong crowd.

"He belongs to Aberdeen, but when he made it big, he was from Seattle. And that's unfair."

A man walked by, listened to Emerson as she said: "Promise me one thing - make him out to be the nice guy that he was, because he was a nice guy."

"He was a drug addict," the man said.

"That's your opinion," she answered.

"No, it's the truth."

There were two Kurt Cobains, it seemed - the artistic loner who grew up in this timber-driven town, and the famous rock star. Seattle Times staff reporters Dave Birkland, Vanessa Ho, Marc Ramirez, Daryl Strickland and Geordie Wilson contributed to this report.