2007-07-13

RIP Mr. Butch

Mr. Butch died yesterday.

Homeless, usually inebriated, always fascinating.� Butch was a gentleman in every sense of the word.� For years, Mr. Butch was a fixture in Kenmore Square, until the complete suckification of that area drove him further out into Allston.� He wore a black leather jacket on which he'd painted the title GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING MR. BUTCH.

There's no real way to describe Mr. Butch to those who aren't familiar with him.� It's too pat, too easy to call him a "local character" when he was, truly, so much more than that.� Nearly all of my friends around here have a "Mr. Butch Story."

My friend Corin used to conduct those "trolley tours" around Boston.� He'd frequently disregard the usual Freedom Trail antics by regaling his tourists with tales of Mr. Butch, so that by the time the trolley reached Kenmore, they were practically craning their necks out the windows hoping to catch a glimpse of "The Mayor of Kenmore."� One day, Corin actually let Mr. Butch onboard, whereupon he pulled a steak out of his jacket pocket and ate it in front of the appalled sightseers.� WAY better than a cruise down Newbury Street, in my book.�

Butch introduced himself to my friend Nettie's then-infant son one evening.� He took Liam's tiny hand with one of his fingers and said, "Hey there, little man.� My name is Mr. Butch.� I'm a NEGRO!"

In the mid-80's, Butch found a wallet with $500 dollars in it. He went around giving it away to random people on the street, as well as others that he remembered having given him money in the past, totally getting off on freaking people out by giving them money. Within a few hours it was all gone, and Butch was broke again.

It's hard to believe he's gone.� I don't think it's needless exaggeration to say that we've lost the soul of this city.� I have spent so much time wrapped up in my own drama lately, wondering what "lessons" I am to extract from circumstances, when the truth is that I am mortal, we are all mortal, but we all of us have the ability to touch the lives of others.� Mr. Butch did it.� He did it for years and expected nothing in return; if you didn't have any change to spare that day, then, no problem.� Next time.

My only instructions today are to be the best goddamn motherfucking LisaMcC I can be.

Rest in peace, Butch.

lisamcc at 10:28 a.m.

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