The funeral of Paul Daniel Frehley, known to the world as Ace Frehley, the founding guitarist and iconic “Spaceman” of the rock band KISS, was never going to be a quiet affair. When the legendary rocker passed away at 74 after suffering a severe cerebral hemorrhage, the rock community lost one of its most authentic, unpredictable, and creatively unyielding figures. Yet, the solemn gathering in Morristown, New Jersey, became the setting for one final, deeply tense moment that spoke volumes about the complex, often-volatile relationships that defined Frehley’s life and career.

Amidst the crowd of family, close friends, and bandmates—including his steadfast ally, drummer Peter Criss—a single figure stood out, his presence creating a palpable, shocking climax. Gene Simmons, Frehley’s longtime bandmate, business partner, and most public antagonist, was confirmed as the unexpected sole surprise guest. His arrival broke all expectations, reminding everyone of the decades-long feud over contracts, money, tours, and creative control that had shaped both the careers of KISS and Ace’s defiant solo path. The tension was a testament to a relationship defined by a strange, fiery blend of conflict and profound, mutual artistic respect.

The Feud’s Silent Climax: A Eulogy Forged in Fire

The relationship between Frehley and Simmons, along with Paul Stanley, was notoriously fraught. It was a partnership of explosive creativity mixed with business ruthlessness, where artistic kinship was often overshadowed by legal wrangling. For decades, the disputes were played out in autobiographies, public interviews, and bitter contract negotiations surrounding reunion tours.

Simmons’ decision to attend the funeral, however, marked a dramatic turning point. In his brief, measured speech, he made a clear distinction between the man and the machine, acknowledging the fierce independence that both fueled Ace’s talent and caused so much strife. “Ace was always an unpredictable person, but his talent and honesty overcame everything,” Simmons emphasized. He added, with a rare glimpse of vulnerability, “We argued, we got angry, but Ace always kept the music at the center of everything. I learned a lot from how he stuck to himself.”

This profound respect—that Ace “never compromised his music or himself”—is the key to understanding their turbulent history. Simmons, the ultimate businessman, acknowledged the artistic purity of Frehley, the true rebel.

Ace’s family and friends were present to honor his full legacy. His daughter, Monnique Frehley, delivered an emotional tribute, noting that her father “lived and worked his own way. Music was his life and what he left behind for all of us.” Longtime manager Larry Libman, who navigated the chaotic wake of Ace’s career choices, described him as a “determined artist” who always “wanted things his own way.” The somber event, thus, became a synthesis of his legacy: a combination of raw talent, assertive individuality, and the lasting controversies that surrounded him.

The Fire of Independence: Sacrificing Millions for the Music

To grasp the depth of the conflict with the KISS hierarchy, one must look at Ace Frehley’s unwavering commitment to creative freedom. Born Paul Daniel Frehley in the Bronx in 1951, he developed an early, intense passion for the guitar. His personality—independent, assertive, and straightforward—was evident from a young age, and it became the source of his greatest success and biggest headaches.

In the mid-1980s, Frehley made the definitive statement about his priorities by forming Frehley’s Comet. This move, which asserted his ability to write, manage, and perform independently, was an essential declaration of his artistic identity. While KISS was a well-oiled commercial behemoth, Frehley’s solo work—from the iconic New York Groove to later critically acclaimed projects like Spaceman and Origins Vol. 1—was built purely on his distinctive rock style and guitar virtuosity.

These choices created immediate tension with his bandmates, particularly when Frehley prioritized his own projects over KISS tours and events. Peter Criss once commented that Ace “had a clear vision for his music; he didn’t give in to anyone. That sometimes created conflict, but it was also the reason why his music was special.”

Each time a KISS reunion was attempted, the fundamental conflict resurfaced, focusing on set lists, performance roles, and, crucially, profit distribution. Frehley was accused of being difficult, while he saw himself as protecting his personal and musical integrity from a band that had become too corporate. Simmons and Stanley sought to control the Spaceman persona; Frehley sought to control his music. His consistent refusal to compromise, even if it meant forgoing the immense financial benefits of a full KISS reunion, solidified his image as an independent artist who valued personal creative value above all else. His solo tours were carefully curated to fit his personal brand, a strategic departure that allowed him to maintain his identity outside of the collective machine.

The Price of the Path: Sobriety and the Final Battle

Ace Frehley’s journey toward musical autonomy was heavily shadowed by personal battles. Like many rock stars of his generation, he struggled with alcohol and drug addiction for years. However, in his later life, he achieved a remarkable sobriety, maintaining a stable lifestyle through sheer determination and support from his family and rehabilitation programs. This self-management of his health was a testament to his resilient will, which became the foundation for his final, prolific musical endeavors.

But the decades of tight schedules, pressure, and the inherent stresses of the rock lifestyle laid the groundwork for the medical challenges he faced in his final years. In September 2025, Frehley suffered an accident in his studio that resulted in a severe brain hemorrhage, forcing him to cancel all his scheduled fall and winter tours.

Even facing this critical health event, Ace’s commitment to his art was unyielding. During his recovery, he maintained contact with his collaborators to ensure the completion of unfinished projects. The release of his album 10,000 Volts in 2024 stands as an enduring monument to this determination. In interviews, he emphasized that his solo music was what got him through everything. “Each record is the last of me,” he once said, fully aware of his declining health but refusing to abandon his artistic responsibilities.

His colleagues, including Criss and other industry associates, watched with admiration as Frehley battled on. Criss noted, “Ace never gave up on music, even when things were difficult. He still found a way to finish projects.” Frehley’s final months were a poignant reflection of his life: an active, conscious effort to maintain his creativity and artistic output, balancing critical medical decisions with his undying passion for the guitar.

The Spaceman’s Unspoken Legacy

Ace Frehley’s personal life, characterized by his Bronx upbringing, his German and Norwegian roots, and his relationship with his daughter Monnique, was always kept separate from the Spaceman theatrics. His divorce from Janette Territolah in 2001 did not sever the family connection; he maintained a close bond with Monnique, who describes her father as straightforward, opinionated, and willing to take on challenges.

His eventual sobriety was a crucial choice that stabilized his personal life and enabled his final creative surge. Frehley understood that his mental and physical health were inextricably linked to his ability to create and maintain his unique artistic style. Furthermore, his social conscience was evident in his charitable contributions to music education and veterans’ support—a quiet commitment to the community that often went unnoticed beneath the stage pyrotechnics.

In the end, Ace Frehley achieved something few artists manage: he retained control of his legacy. He balanced the monumental reputation of the Spaceman with his distinct personal vision, refusing to be defined solely by the corporate monster that KISS had become.

The tension and eventual, quiet respect displayed at his funeral summarize his entire career. Gene Simmons’ uncharacteristic presence and humble words affirmed what Frehley fought for: that his talent and honesty were genuine, and his decision to pursue his own path was not an act of malice, but an act of artistic necessity. The death of the Spaceman marks the end of an era, but his legacy—one of uncompromising creative freedom and profound personal resilience—will continue to resonate in the history of rock and roll. Ace Frehley survived the pressures, the addictions, and the feuds, leaving behind a body of work that proves the most valuable commodity in art is integrity.