I work at an art school and, over the years, have become friendly with one of the models, an older man named Rice.
Now Rice was always an unusual guy. He graduated from our school in the 60’s, not that he would ever confirm or deny that decade or, for that matter, his age. His major was apparel design and I know he could sew very well, but I never saw him finish a garment. He bought a lot of gorgeous fabric and used to come show it to me all the time. Occasionally, if we didn’t need it back right away, my co-workers and I, and sometimes students, would give him alteration work. But he wasn’t so great with deadlines.
Even when he wasn’t scheduled to model he was always around. He liked to hang out in the library, the mailroom, some of the academic offices, my former hall neighbor the copy center and my office. Sometimes I had to kick him out because too much company made it less inviting for students to come for counseling, but other times he was a great companion. His mom worked in the NY theater back in the day and he had wonderful stories. He would help me with big projects even though we had no budget to pay him. I’d take him to lunch or allow him to use our phone for calling unemployment or utilities in return. I’m sure he just enjoyed having something to do and someone to do it with.
Many people thought Rice lived in our building because he had all kinds of crap stored here and there and used to set up shop in a classroom and sew. At one time he had commandeered 25 lockers, and those lockers were just the tip of the iceberg. I know that he had an apartment because one time I dropped him off with a box and another time I picked him up when he volunteered for commencement with me. I’ll bet he slept in the building on hot days though because I also picked him at the building on a Sunday and dropped him off there as well.
Recently though people really started to have a problem with the space and liberties he took with the building and they made him get rid of all his hoarded stuff, took some keys from him and turned off card access for all the models after 10pm. I could never figure out why he thought he had a right to all this space, but he wasn’t really bothering anyone.
Although he was a pretty big guy, he used to be a figure skater. He would go to Stars on Ice with my boss and her sister once a year and always wanted me to tape skating for him (which I rarely accomplished correctly). About 10 years ago they tossed one of his lockers and threw away his good skates so I’ve never known him to skate.
He was a great scavenger and brought me lots of yarn and even the Barbara Walker Second Treasury , a classic knitting book which he found in the trash up in the Textiles department.
When he was not at school, he would take the train to Boston, the bus to various fabric stores and that’s it. He never had a private life to speak of in the 11 years I knew him.
At the end of the semester he went missing for awhile, which I was acutely aware of because he was doing some sewing work for a grad student who kept trying to track him down through me. Rice didn’t have a phone or e-mail or anything. His phone number was actually the copy center’s number at work where they would take messages for him. He showed up with the student’s work after about three weeks, left it with me and claimed he’d had a stomach bug. He had no health insurance so he hadn’t been to the doctor or anything, but claimed to be feeling better. I told him I’d been worried because nobody ever went to his home and he had no phone. He said it had only been a few days (which was not true, but then he had no sense of time.) and not to worry.
That was the last I saw of him, that anyone saw of him.
Today the young man who works in the copy center came into my office looking as if he’d seen a ghost. Rice’s landlady called the only number she had for him, the copy center, and said that her husband had just opened Rice’s apartment because of complaints of smell by the other tenants and found him dead. The police hadn’t arrived yet and the lady was hysterical so we don’t know anything else. What I do know is that my worst fear for my friend had come true.
