Mess Press, Issue 1, Winter 1991
I knew Bobby Black for ten years. I never saw him down. He had a superhumansense of optimism. There are only a few like him on this planet.
When I was brand new in S.F. Bobby and I worked at 480 5th St. One afternoonLittle Joe gave me a filing. It was a pick-up at Richard Kalish Ste 4135,555 California, going to Room 317, City Hall: File by 4:30.
I picked up the package at 4:05 and Joe said"Clean it up"
But like the over-eager rookie I was I got my bike crushed between twobusses at Sutter and Kearny. What was I gonna do? Here I was with thisimportant run from a major legal tenant of the biggest building in townand I didn't have a bike to ride to the destination. There was no way Icould walk it in time.
Just then Bobby rode by. I ran in front of him.
"Take this package to Room 317 at City Hall," I said.
It was 4:20. Bobby didn't make it. The filing failed to be properlyfiled and the lawyer's case was seemingly lost. But it turned out if Bobbyand I came in to the lawyer's office and signed affidavits detailing theaccident and subsequent hand-off, then maybe the lawyer could get his clientoff the hook.
I was scared shitless. Imagine a 19 year old twerp called in to the41rst floor office of a big city corporate lawyer. But Bobby was laughingthe whole way.
"How can you laugh?" I asked.
"Cause it ain't nothing but a big joke," said Bobby.
Well hey Bobby, I hope you're headlining that comedy club in the sky,tonight and forever, cause when I get there, if you are, I'll know I livedlife right.
- A Friend
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