The icon of the Austin weird, Leslie Cochran died this morning. The thong-wearing, outspoken street person ran for mayor three times (once finishing second). Often seen pushing an oversized cart adorned with various handmade signs and slogans, Leslie came to typify the unusual and strange of Austin. He is so beloved that the mayor has declared today Leslie Cochran day.
I first encountered Leslie in 1997 while riding a downtown bus. This meeting inspired my short story "JohnCalvin," which appeared in Electric Velocipede #5 (Fall 2003).
In honor of Leslie’s passing, here’s "JohnCalvin."
JohnCalvin
by Rick Klaw
The tiara itched his dirty scalp. Not that JohnCalvin noticed or cared. He had bigger concerns. Like how to keep Bobo away from his guitar or why his black hose kept falling.
This was way too early in the morning for Patrick. No one should be up this early. Yet here he was, sitting on a bus heading toward a new job he really didn’t want. He kept trying to focus on the Elmer Kelton novel in his lap, but the brain and eyes were having trouble hooking up. His mind would wander over his life and the mess of the past six months. The separation, the job troubles, illness…all added up to big trouble. Several of his friends marveled at the fact that Patrick hadn’t lost his mind and to be honest so had he. Things seemed to slowly be looking up. Ever so slowly. His improved health and new job brought Patrick some solace. Sure the job was a return to bookstores and lord knows how long his health would hold together. He often felt for every step forward he took two steps back.
“You look troubled, my friend.” He was snapped out of his introspection to an older grey haired, bearded gentleman in a tiara! Patrick did a double take. Not just a tiara but a white blouse complete with a feather boa and a plaid skirt. He wore black hose that sported several runs and drooped down to his knees.
“Excuse me?” He tried to not stare but how could you not. There was so much to take in. The little white purse hanging over his shoulder. The huge teddy bear cuddled in his arms. The guitar case wrapped in a large white trash bag on the seat next to him.
Bobo fussed at JohnCalvin. He hated the way he spoke to strangers like they were his friends or something. They both knew that JohnCalvin’s only friend was Bobo.
Several moments passed and Patrick thought the transvestite had gone wherever crazies go when he spoke up again. “I asked if you were ok.”
The old man leaned in and whispered to Patrick. His breath smelled not of alcohol as you would expect but of poor hygiene. “You don’t understand the risk I take talking to you. They are everywhere. Bobo warned me about you but I like you.” He pointed at the western in Patrick’s lap. “Only a man of culture, taste, and sophistication would read such an important work.”
Despite himself, Patrick smiled at that comment. He though how happy his Papa would’ve been to hear that. He was a man of culture, taste, and sophistication that happened to devour westerns. “Um.. Thanks… Who is Bobo?”
“Hush… they are everywhere.” He leaned even closer and nodded his head toward the bear.
“What? The bear?”
“Quiet. They think he’s just a stuffed animal. But we know better. Don’t we.” He winked at Patrick.
Patrick rolled his eyes and smiled as the old man went on. “My name is…” He shot an acidic glance at the bear. “Shut up! What harm will it do?”
He adjusted his boa and smiled at Patrick. “My name is JohnCalvin.” He said it as though it was one word like his entire identity was wrapped up in it.
“I’m Patrick.”
“Charmed.” JohnCalvin extend his hand curved downward at the wrist in a very feminine manner.
On reflex Patrick reached up and shook it. The hand was cold and dry. Patrick swore he could feel flakes of skin peel off. A shiver went up his spine.
As he averted his eyes from JohnCalvin, he spied the candlestick holder on his lap. “Can I ask you something, John?”
The old man stared off into space as the bus sped a long. His lips moved as he muttered something.
“In the brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight.” Then Bobo joined in as the chant continued, “Change! Change, O form of man! Release the might from fleshy mire.” The pure light of reality splurged forth from the talisman of power illuminating the way and granting JohnCalvin the power to smite the enemy.
His hands stroked the candlestick holder to some private rhythm. Faster and faster as JohnCalvin’s lips moved. Suddenly he convulsed and spit out, spraying the seat next to Patrick.
“Hey! Watch it!” Patrick moved away.
As fast as it started it stopped and JohnCalvin looked at Patrick with a queer little smile. “I’m sorry, my friend. Sometimes the enemy must be expelled. Ya know they send germs out to infiltrate each and everyone of us.”
“Why? What?” Patrick was confused. It was too early for this.
With a gentle nod, JohnCalvin pulled the cord telling the bus to stop. “We all do what we must to find our way. Good day, my new friend.” And with that JohnCalvin grabbed his guitar case wrapped in a white garbage bag, his best friend Bobo, and the candlestick holder. He stepped off the bus and out of Patrick’s life.
JohnCalvin watched the bus slip away from his world. He looked down at his best friend. “Another day.. Another saved soul. Score one for our side.”
Raising his hand, the old man in the plaid skirt, black hose, boa, and tiara flagged down another bus with yet another soul to save.