By Jon Bream Before there was Maxwell, D'Angelo or R. Kelly. Even before Luther Vandross. Soul music's great lover man was Teddy Pendergrass. He was Marvin Gaye, Al Green and Otis Redding all rolled into one big tall body. And he came along just as Al had become Rev. Green and Elvis Presley, that washed-up lover man, had died. Teddy could seduce – in a PG way by today's standards – with his sexy ballads, swiveling hips and that hoarse but heavenly voice. He turned Barry White pillow talk into music. His in-concert medleys and entire albums were like irresistible foreplay that could make women melt. I have indelible memories of Pendergrass performing at Northrop Auditorium in 1979. He was dynamic and athletic-looking, sweating like a prizefighter. He did songs from his days fronting the fab Philly vocal group Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes – "If You Don't Know Me By Know" and "Bad Luck," which had been part of the soundtrack of my college years. And he had women swooning with his so-slow-he's-almost-rapping-not-singing medley of his hits "Come Go with Me," "Close the Door" and "Turn Off the Lights." After the show, I went backstage to meet Teddy Bear. By his side was Sara Rogers, probably one of the most gorgeous women in the Twin Cities (she still is; you know her, the trends specialist from Mall of America). Still, Teddy managed to flirt with my girlfriend while I tried to make music-biz small-talk with him. You might have heard the rest of the story: A 1982 car crash left Pendergrass paralyzed from the waist down but he continued to sing and record. He died Wednesday of colon cancer at age 59.