As a passionate fan of the Band, Stephen T. Lewis had watched the concert film “The Last Waltz” numerous times and devoured autobiographies on Levon Helm and Robbie Robertson, the Band’s best-known members.

Despite those acclaimed accounts of the influential group’s story — the early days as the Hawks backing Ronnie Hawkins, its role as Bob Dylan’s band and its own roots-rock albums that inspired scores of bands ever after — something was missing, Lewis says.

“I felt like there was a big gap,” he says about the story of the Band, which included Richard Manuel, Rick Danko and Garth Hudson. “There was a big empty space there, even with Robbie and Levon’s memoirs, that really needed to be filled in some way.”

Then Lewis saw the documentary “Once Were Brothers: Robbie Robertson and the Band” after its February 2020 release and had an epiphany.

“It just clicked,” he says by phone from his Rochester, New York, home. “I had this moment where I’m like, you know, (Robbie’s) got his memoir, and he’s got this film. And I’m disappointed with the lack of Richard-centric material because he was my favorite member of the group.”

At first, Lewis, who has written and talked about music for years on his “Talk From the Rock Room” website and podcast, thought he’d write a long article on Manuel for the website blog, or maybe a series of stories.

“Then I started talking to people in Richard’s hometown, up in Stratford, Ontario, and in particular, John Till,” Lewis says. Till was the guitarist in Manuel’s first serious band, the Revols, when they were teens, and later led the Full Tilt Boogie Band, which eventually became Janis Joplin’s band.

“After that conversation, I walked away and I’m like, all right, there’s more here than just something on my website,” he says.

“Richard Manuel: His Life and Music, from The Hawks and Bob Dylan to The Band” is the book Lewis wrote after deep dives into archival materials and original interviews with old friends and family members, and musician pals and collaborators such as Eric Clapton, Van Morrison, John Sebastian and John Hammond Jr.

His goal in the book: to shine a light on the life and music of Manuel, who sang lead vocals of many of the Band’s songs, played piano on most and drummed on some too, yet also struggled with alcohol and drugs and died by suicide in 1986 at 42, a final act that for some came to overshadow his music and humanity.

“This is basically the book I wanted to read about Richard,” Lewis says. “From a blog piece, for lack of a better term, to a full 400-page tome that I’m proud of that Richard has now.

“That makes me feel so good,” Lewis says. “That it encourages you to go out and find this music and revisit or discover it.”

In an interview edited for length and clarity, Lewis discussed tracking down Manuel’s oldest friends in Canada, learning what Manuel and Dylan bonded over, and finding surprises as he dug into the history of Manuel and the Band.

Q Tell me about your early interest in the Band and Richard, in particular.

A I saw “The Last Waltz” (director Martin Scorsese’s 1978 concert film) and I remember wondering about all these guys. And as I revisited that movie, Richard, as he did to a lot of people, there was just something about him that was like, wow, man, what is up with this guy? I mean, he’s silly. He seems a little, like, elegantly wasted. What’s up here?

So I think the seed (for the book) was planted way back in my early 20s. Then, as I matured as a writer and learned a little bit more, it was like, let’s take this someplace and see if my assumptions about the guy are correct. And there was a lot more to this guy.

Q His earliest years were mostly unknown to me. How did you make your way into that world?

A The most important thing early on, I felt that I didn’t need approval but that Richard’s family, especially when you’re talking about a painful subject, needed to be aware. Again, not permission but just an awareness of: This guy’s doing this, this is what his intentions are. And that I could be trusted.

And I went up there and explained it to his family in Stratford and John Till and the Kamulskys. Kenny Kamulsky was the bass player in Richard’s band the Revols, and his brother was instrumental in connecting me with a lot of these people.

Q And his family in particular?

A They never doubted me, whether it was his son, whether it was his daughter, either of his wives. They trusted that my intentions were not to write something salacious because I wasn’t interested in that.

Q Other than his Stratford youth, what were some unexpected discoveries you found in later life?

A It’s said that Richard stopped writing music. And that never happened, no matter the condition he was in. He always tried to record and write music. That being said, he may not have presented it to his bandmates for fear of vetting and some self-confidence issues that started to crop up with him.

Q It’s also clear in the book how much Richard’s vocals meant to the Band.

A I’d heard Levon say, “Richard is our lead singer; we thought he was the lead singer.” But no joke, he was the guy. I had people telling me that when they were playing at Tony Marts in Atlantic City, that guys were driving up there because they heard about this skinny dude with the big nose who was singing James Brown.

Q After Dylan hired the Band when he went electric, they eventually ended up near each other in Woodstock. What did you learn about their relationship?

A After “The Basement Tapes” (which Dylan recorded with the Band), I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Bob Dylan’s singing on “John Wesley Harding” and “Nashville Skyline” was completely different than it was on “Blonde on Blonde.” I think working with those guys, Richard and Rick in the basement, it went back and forth. They all taught each other things.

The collaboration with Richard on “Tears of Rage” too. Bob wasn’t really a collaborator at that point in his career. I was told by Rob Fraboni, who produced “Planet Waves,” the Dylan album with the Band, that Bob and Richard really bonded over humor. They both had a really kind of dry, odd sense of humor.

I really wish I could have spoken with Bob. His camp was very kind and contributed photos. The best line I could use was from his “Theme Time Radio Hour,” where he referred to Richard — I’m paraphrasing — as a beautiful voice with an unquiet soul.

Q You do eventually address Richard’s suicide after a show in Florida in March 1986. How do you understand that darker side of his life?

A Richard was the kind of guy if he met you on the street, especially in Woodstock in the ’60s, and someone’s like, “Hey, I’ve got this, let’s go party at your house,” Richard’s like, “Yeah, who else wants to come? Let’s all go.” That was part of what people treasured about him, but it was also his undoing.

Then on the second and third (Band) records, once he realized that the most popular songs were being written by Robbie and sung by Levon, not that he had anything against them, I just think his self-confidence took a hit.

There were just a whole array of things. He had a baby, and all these things just piled on. You throw a bunch of alcohol into the mix and it’s nothing really good. He tried to quit drinking and turned to other things. Those grabbed ahold of him.