Oh Clarence. He was a trip.
I have his socks on as we speak.
Possums screaming “Aaaaaaaaaaaa!”.
Thanks for remembering him.
Near where I grew up, there was a rural crossroads. The place is labeled “Doolie” on the map, and IIRC there was a sign identifying it as such. But really all that was there was an old abandoned gas station on the corner and maybe a couple of houses*. And a nearly ever present fixture in front of that old gas station was an old man with a long, white beard, wearing overalls with no shirt under them, sitting in a rocking chair, waving at people as they drove by. That old man earned the nickname “The Mayor of Doolie” from locals.
*That is, that’s what was there when I was in high school 30 years ago. Looking at Google Maps now, now there are shopping centers an subdivisions and an actual traffic light, as my hometown expands outward in an ever growing mass of suburban sprawl. The old gas station has long been demolished.
The language on that photo looks like it was generated by AI but the photo is from 2011.
I heard that Jed (RIP as of 2022) and Cindy sometimes showed up at the University of Iowa. If they did when I was there, I’m glad I never saw them.
Does your city have a “character”?
Lexington, Kentucky has horses, bourbon, and a character named Demetrus Liggins.
Brother Jed (and Cindy) used to be regulars during Spring quarter at UC San Diego, too. In 1979, he apparently got thrown into the fountain on the Revelle College plaza. In 1980, he got heckled about being thrown into the fountain the previous year. He took that in stride, saying something like, "Yes, I got thrown in…but I came up a-preachin’!"
To my knowledge, their circuit did not include UC Davis, at least not while I was there.
Long before your time (I am guessing) Georgetown had the Balloon Man at the corner of Wisconsin and M Streets. “Get your balloons, they are big, they are beee-a-utiful!”
Much preferable over loudspeaker preacher jerk.
I used to live in Jacksonville, N.C., which had the Jacksonville Ninja. Despite the name, he was generally quite easy to spot, dancing or doing martial arts on the side of the road. It looks like he has been dealing with some pretty significant health issues in the decade-plus since I lived there, including needing a heart transplant. But, according to one person on Reddit, he was still doing his thing as recently as three months ago.
In my hometown of Bristol TN/VA we had Shamas, who rode his bicycle around town and stopped by various businesses. His father was a wealthy real estate agent, and the story was he made a donation to the school to get them to give his son a high school diploma (which he never could have gotten on his own). He’s still living, but I read recently he’s experiencing dizziness and isn’t able to ride his bike anymore. I don’t think “beloved” would be too strong a word to describe him.
Chicago has two more that haven’t yet been mentioned:
The State Street Preacher has been preaching on State Street in the vicinity of Marshall Field’s for literally decades. He’s infamous for telling passersby, especially smokers and those he thinks are LGBTQ, that they’re going to hell. Mind you, he’s been spotted more than once in an alley off State smoking a cigarette. Which has caused some to wonder… 
“FBI Daily Rape Me” sign guy. Like it says on the tin, he carries signs prominently including the phrase “FBI Daily Rape Me”. Of late he hangs out by the Adams Street riverside entrance to Union Station. I’ve interacted with him once or twice, as he tries to be helpful to people hailing cabs there, and he seems nice and polite despite the bitter invective of some of his signs.
I’d meant to mention him, as well; back when I was commuting into the city, I’d see him there at Union Station every morning (and sometimes across the street from Daley Plaza in the afternoon). I had no idea he’d been doing his thing for as long as he has.
I just thought of another one, who I’m sure is long gone. When I worked in downtown Los Angeles in the mid-80s, there was a guy who, from all outward appearances, may as well have been a green eyeshade accountant or anonymous civil servant, but every day from about 11am to 1pm, he’d stand on the east corner of 1st Street and Spring Street with a styrofoam cup balanced on his head. He’d bellow scripture at a volume so high that if you were standing right next to him, you couldn’t make out what he was saying - you had to be at least 25-30 feet away. Every now and then, he’d reach up, grab the cup, and take a sip. Then he would place it back on top of his head and resume bellowing. Nobody really paid him any mind, and I never saw him engage with anybody, either.
Our paths may of crossed @ricepad. I worked at 7th and Grand in downtown LA
about that same time. I recall there was a crazy old worman who would stand on
the southwest corner of 7th and Hope screaming and holding a large yellow carboard sign.
She had some sort of obsession against president Regan and his wife and would
yell things like “Nancy Regan is a whore!!” Her signs contained an almost
incomprehensible rant against the Regans and his government. This went
on for a couple years until one day when I was out durring my lunch break I
saw her surrounded by cops. She no longer appeared on the corner for several
months but then came back for a short period before dissappearing completely.
Wow, I’d forgotten about Hubert, thanks for the memory! He seemed to have a permanently crimson complexion from his histrionics. He could really make the spittle fly, too. Always dressed in a suit, though often a very tatty one.