Midget, uh “little person” with a gun in Columbus OH.
Made famous for sticking up college students on their way to and from class at OSU… a fiery individual if I do remember correctly.
Yes, indeed:
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This is the Construction Clwon. His outfit varies but it always follows the same theme of construction worker type clothing–often with a hard hat–mixed with various clown accessories–clown shirt, clown nose, etc. He seems harmless but is very vaguely creepy. I think it may just be because of the similarities to John Wayne Gacy (sp?).
tsarina you’ve met him?? wow.
thought of a couple of others:
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a guy, about 30 or so, straddles his bike and watches as cars drive by a busy intersection (Grand River and 127 in Lansing, by Frandor). He claps every now and then. Does not respond to people waving to him. Seems damned happy about something.
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For many years (haven’t seen him lately) there was a guy who’d made it his life’s goal to get the state of Michigan to “light the dome” - as in have different colored lights shining on the dome of the capitol building. like red and blue for 4th of July etc. He’d write letters to the paper, have petitions, but mostly would stand in front of the building for days on end with his sign up saying “Honk to light the dome”.
In Nashville, we have a War Memorial Building that resembles an ancient Greek temple. The memorial atatue in the central courtyard looks like an idol.
This homeless guy used to stand in frony of it with upraised arms, head thrown back, & pray in a droning & sonorous voice for hours on end, every day at noon.
The Nightshirt Woman is usually seen around Crystal City, specifically the intersections of 23rd Street, Clark Street and Jefferson Davis Highway or at Ballston Metro. I’ve always seen her in what appears to be a nightshirt, possibly the only piece of outerwear she owns. When she’s had enought in Crystal City, she hops a 23 bus and gets of at Ballston. In both locations, she asks for money. She claims the money isn’t for herself but for her “homeless friends”.
The Mutterer on the 23 appears to be at least 60 but dresses as if she’s 30-something. Although she owns a white Vega with a GB sticker, she seems to prever travelling by bus, usually the 23. She has a tendency to mutter to herself, but also sobs sometimes.
In Santa Maria, CA, we used to have The Purple Lady. She was just a nice elderly lady, but she dressed entirely in purple all the time, and she had purple hair. Her house, mailbox, car, etc. were purple. She had little lavender visiting cards that she would give out that just said ‘The Purple Lady’ on them (I have one), and always volunteered at elections. This was before that poem came out, and I think whoever wrote it lifted the idea from her. We had some Japanese students staying with us once, and I took them by her place as a tourist attraction; they were very impressed.
For local weirdos, you never have to look further than your friendly neighborhood library. In Gilroy, CA, I encountered the following:
Small-headed Guy was very tall and had a distinctive tiny head. He would try all the car doors in the parking lot, and then sit in a car until told to get out.
Chicken Man (who was never caught, whoever he was) would eat an entire chicken in the bathroom, leaving all the bones behind. Was he the same as
Peanut-butter Man, who smeared PB on the shelves and books? We may never know…
(And then there was the unknown villain who put a live duck into the bathroom. The police had to be summoned to get the enraged duck out.)
Seattle, Washington,
Really only two “regulars” that I can think of:
[list]
[li] The white dreadlock guy who seems perfectly sane. He walks cooly and calmly, yet with a sense of purpose. He has always intrigued me because he seems so clear headed, like he has consciously chosen to live on the street, not just the result of a mental illness. I seem to run into him wherever I go, be it north or south Seattle.[/li]
The old Cuban guy who stands on the corner of 4th and Pike. This guy has been around so long that he was the centerpiece of a four-page article in The Stranger, Seattle’s major alternative newspaper(the one that will print the word “fuck”). He holds a sign that is written in barely legible English, and stands and shouting in Spanish at the cars stopped at the traffic light. He is perfectly harmless, at almost 70 years old, and reports everyday for duty from roughly nine to five.
Brighton tends to be the home of the weirdo, so it’s hard to think of any that stick out. However . . . walking through town the other day, there was this guy who had had his . . . LEGS . . .pierced. There must have been several hundred little spikes coming out of each leg. They weren’t glued on from what I could see (and I spent a little while following behind him to get a good look!). They genuinely appeared to be coming out of his flesh. They were definitely metal, and they had points on them. Ever since I’ve seen him, I’ve been trying to work out how he could sit down, sleep, take a bus . .do anything. However they were fixed.
We also have the Tattooed Man - every part of his body covered bar his eyelids. And he’s had his clothes off in the local paper often enough for us to be sure of this.
My best local weirdo story happened a few years ago, when the company I worked for was handed over to a huge French company. The (incredibly senior and hugely important )Directors all duly arrived in Brighton to meet and greet their newest purchase, and we set off to the function in the Royal Pavilion. Even though the Pavilion was only a short distance away, a fleet of minibuses and coaches had been laid on to ferry us there. So we all started to climb on board. Unfortunately, what no-one realised - at least, not in time - was that the Russian Lady was lurking nearby. I hadn’t come across her before, but she was just some slightly batty old lady, who dressed flamboyantly in black and tended to make a nuisance of herself. And in the midst of our boarding coaches, and trying to make polite conversation with the people who would be paying the people who should be paying our wages . . .the Russian Lady snuck on board the coach with a collection of our French directors.
We realised what had happened too late, and the coach was away. I do hope these incredibly senior directors of a huge multinational company (annual turnover £11 billion) had a nice chat with our bag lady.
And they’ve always thought we were strange in Brighton ever since!
In Orlando (specifically the Paramore area), there exists a character affectionately known as the “lick the wall guy.” As you might have picked up from the title, he, well, licks the wall. If you drive or walk by him, you can just yell something to the effect of “hey, you would be doing me a great disservice if you don’t lick that wall” and the man will lick the wall. Spectacular.
Berkeley, CA has a pretty good collection of eccentric folks:
The Hate Man: Famous for apparently letting loose with unrestrained invective at people who tried to talk to him. Supposedly if you started out by saying “I hate you” he would accept that and speak with you intelligently and amiably.
Hate Boy: A youngish Hate Man imitator. Always dressed in women’s clothing.
Joke Man: You’ll find him on the streets near food outlets. You can buy a joke from him. They’re not terribly funny, but at least he has a great laugh.
Paul the Pillar: He would harangue people from a barrel stuck on the Free Speech Movement Circle on Sproul Plaza in front of the administration building. I never stayed to figure out what he was haranguing about.
Chuck the Preacher: He was a fire-and-brimstone type preacher who would assail the sins of Berkeleyites (real or imagined). I think he punched some guy who argued with him.
Y’Shua Guy: Known for shouting out “Y’Shua!” at random times during the day. Wears a blue shirt with that on it. Otherwise probably mostly harmless.
The Naked Guy: He made big news for a while going to class naked (or in briefs or a hankerchief). Said it made him feel great to have the wind on all his skin and had some incomprehensible arguement about not being able to wear clothes because of an LSD experience. After he was kicked out of school, he stayed in Berkeley, still naked. No idea if he’s still there though.
I’m sure there are more. Any current Berkeleyites want to add to this list?
The Fly Man
A man who walked around wearing black, head to toe, and a black leather and metal mask which made him look like a fly. He walked(s) around town. Thats it. Hmm I talked to him once tho, he seemed pretty nice, if not nuts.
in SLO cali, a relative unknown loony (who wanders in the hills behind my house) simply…um…wanders.
Well, we have a few colorful folk here in Savannah, Ga. One older gentleman is seen almost every single day in the downtown district, strolling around with a large sign that says “Stop the Lie!” on one side and “Down with the evil empire!” on the other. I have NO idea exactly what he’s talking about, and everyone I know who has asked him still does not know. I think he’s onto something though.
Then there’s the man who legally changed his first name to “Pro-Life” (I forget his last name). He parks his car, which is covered in anti-abortion literature and pictures, in various locations in downtown. Always seems to take my space, too.
When I lived on the Presidio of San Francisco, we had all shorts of wackos. These occured at Night, mostly. These were the most prominent:
** Steal Porch Bench Guy** Someone would come and steal and benches the good residents of Infantry Terrace had on their porches. At first, it was just any cushions, but then it expanded to knocking down swing-benches and running off with them (With a Lt. Col. in either the Army or Marines shouting and chasing them)
** Stare through the Window Guy** These only happened to me once, but it got to be such a problem residents complained to the Presidio Trust (The Junta that Ruled the Presidio Nat’l Park). I guess since there are more windows that you can walk up to on house on the Presidio than there are in the city, this i why he did this. He always walked up and just peeked in, and you wouldn’t have noticed him unless you looked out the window. One time me and some friends were in the basement playing the N64, when I foolishly glanced up to the little window and saw a face staring back at me. I almost had a heart attack at age 16.
So, I got your Lunatic fringe beat.
I remember her well, I was working out of office on Lawrence just off the DVP. I used to see her on overpass blessing the traffic on the DVP… I used to wonder how many accidents she caused by people paying attention to her rather than to the brake lights in front of them…
Mount Vernon, NY has a man who thinks he’s Jesus. He’s got long hair and a beard and bandana around his head. he looks very much like the This man comes into the 5:30 mass every Saturday and during the consecration kneels in the center aisle performing I guess his own personal ceremony. I had no problem with it but my mom always thought it was disrespectful.
57th & 6th in Manhattan has (among other people) a man Screaming at the top of his voice “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia!” and handing out pamphlets, by the time you start to wonder where he’s gone, there he is again. 57th street also has its very own ‘homeless’ man who has a CELL PHONE!
Woodlawn section of the Bronx has this very round, very blonde lady. She’s spikes her hair on top of her head to (no exaggeration) about 5 inches. To help create this effect, she takes a barrett and clips all the the hair from the back of her head to the top.
How about the guy who wanders down Market Street in San Francisco, with a sign saying “IMPEACH HARDING!” Then it goes on to say something about stopping 7 galaxies or something. I can’t remember. Anyone remember the rest of the sign?
Even small towns have their weirdos.
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Newark, DE has the Cat Guy, a slender and moderately grungy man in his late 20’s or early 30’s. His clothes are rather battered, and he can be found downtown, usually on main street, with his bicycle (off which depend several bags full of stuff) and his cats. Two cats, on leashes and apparently quite content to be so. They wait for him at his bike when he goes into a store, sit with him when he takes up a perch on the sidewalk, or ride on his shoulders when he’s going places. All three of them seem reasonably fit, if a bit on the skinny side, and I’m not sure he doesn’t have a residence somewhere, but he certainly stands out.
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Havre de Grace, MD (Not a typo: That’s how it’s spelled) has (had?) a number of odd-ball characters. Crazy Paul was a scrawny old man, indeterminate in years, but appearing at least 60. He’d wander into the 7-Eleven my friends worked at and sit down on a stack of newspapers. He always wore the same thing: Cowboy boots (no socks) and a pair of pale blue running shorts. Nothing else. Not even in the dead of winter. I understand that he died recently, about 15 years after the first time I saw him. The Knife Guy was rumored to be an outpatient from Perry Point VA Hospital. About 35 or 40 the last time I saw him, he’d hike all over the area with a knapsack full of knives, hatchets, and other edged implements. Totally harmless, gentle to a fault, and scary as all hell. Wheedle is about my age, is totally unconcerned with his life, and lives for the sole purpose of bumming smokes off people. He doesn’t care if it’s been smoked already, if it was soaked, or what kind it was. If it’s tobacco, he’ll light it up.
I’ll agree that the small towns have their whackos, too. Here in Greenfield, MA, there’s a woman usually called the “bag lady.” This isn’t simply because she appears to be homeless - she actually wears a full suit, complete with hood, made from white plastic trash bags and masking tape. she has real clothes on underneath this, but I’ve never once seen her without her plastic head-to-toe suit on. She rides her bike around town and collects cans. I’ve seen her riding her bike in some of the surrounding towns, too, but she tends to show up mostly in Greenfield. I’ve never actually spoken with her, but been close enough to her to see that she has a pretty lucid look in her eyes, and she doesn’t do a lot of the whacked-out things that other mentally disturbed homeless people do. She doesn’t talk to herself, shout random things at people, or anything like that. She just quietly goes about her business of collecting cans. I’m not even entirely sure she’s homeless.
A couple years ago she was on a stretch of road with little or no shoulder and got hit by a passing car. She was in the hospital for a while, but apparently healed quite well and got right back to collecting cans.
From Boston:
Butch – I think that was his name, anyway. He was an older black guy with dreads who hung around in Kenmore Square. The local used-record store had a coffee can by the register where you could donate money for him.
Guitar Man – Homeless Hispanic guy who “played” a crude cardboard cutout of a guitar. One time some friends and I were walking by and he jumped out at us, yelled something in Spanish, and took off.
Helmet Lady – Just a little old lady who’d walk along Comm. Ave. while wearing a bike helmet.
Crazy Tricycle Man – This guy would ride his homemade tricycle up and down Comm. Ave at breakneck speeds and to get people to move out of the way, he’d be hollering the whole time.
In the town where I live now, there’s an well-dressed older gentleman who goes to the center of town and watches the traffic go by all day long. Sometimes he sits on a convenient bench, other times he brings his own folding chair and uses that.