The Late Great Mr. Butch!

Mr. Butch Dies

Wow. I'm bummed. Mr. Butch, a guy we once called "The Mayor of Kenmore Square" died in a scooter crash. When I saw the headline I thought he probably OD'd, or that his long-suffering liver finally gave up the ghost, but no, he drove a scooter in to a pole.

I loved Mr. Butch. Who didn't? For years the he was the homeless equivalent of a troubador, a balladeer, a minstrel, a jester. He was an ambassodor for life on the streets. He was beloved by the Boston rock family. He had a zest for living that few mortgage-carrying, cubicle-trapped, $60K-a-year drones can claim.

I ran in to him (sometimes literally) a lot between, say, '88 and '95. I jammed with him in front of Planet Records. Well, I "air" jammed with him. For a long while, he had a real guitar and little funky battery-powered amp. The red strat-shaped thing hung behind the counter at Planet, and every day he'd go in there and get it. He was a terrible guitar player. He basically just fisted chords, and strummed with abandon. What came out was fully distorted mud. But with his dreads and clothing, he reminded me of a cross between Marley and Hendrix. The homeless version.

I rode the 57 Bus from Oak Square down Washington Street through Allston and Comm Ave in to the bus Station at Kenmore on a fairly regular basis back then. Mr. Butch rode the 57 bus too. It was on many rides with him that I realized his dedication to his daily life. I'd be on there at 9 am heading in to Town, and Butch was on there, eyes red and watery, going to his "job" in Kenmore. (He often crashed with friends somewhere in Allston). When I'd be riding the 57 outbound back to Brighton late in the day, yep, there was Butch, as if going home from work. I dunno, maybe he just rode back and forth a lot.

My favorite Mr. Butch stoty, by far, was the time he got an actual job, very short-lived, at The Burger King on Boylston. I'm guessing...hmmm...'94? He wore the whole get-up in mustard yellow and ketchup red, complete with paper hat jammed on top of his muddy dreads. Usually he mopped the floor and I'm guessing he had to clean the bathrooms too.

So one day, young Bernadette and I decided to go through the Burger King Drive-Thru. I think I was headed in to session at Newbury Sound. Like a lot of drive-throughs, the BK had two windows, the first for paying and the second for getting the goods. And like most, use of the first window had been abandoned. So we order at the intercom, came around and as we passed the first window, there was Mr. Butch, sound asleep. He was slumped against the wall, among the boxes of napkins and cups, his paper hat askew. We deduced that although WE could see him, perhaps he was postioned in the little bay there, now used for storage, such that he was hidden from the BK staff. Or maybe they knew and just didn't care. He was sleeping off too many "strawberry shakes" apparently.

That was Mr. Butch. A real character. One of a kind.

Of course, as Kenmore went upscale and places like The Rat and Planet Records and The Pizza Pad all vanished, "The Mayor" relocated his office to Harvard Street in Allston. Naturally!

Now that I think of it, in all that time, I don't remember him ever asking me for money. Hopefully he thought of me as one of the Boston music crowd, a dirt-poor rocker, a scenester;

a kindred spirit.

Mr. Butch, "Rock in Peace" Bro! (Say hi to Mikey Dee for us!)