He pulled a forty ounce bottle of beer from a rumpled paper bag, unscrewed the cap, took a swig, and placed it between his feet.
I hope you don’t mind if I drink.
I sort of did mind. A couple of my former high schoolers were in the circle.
The event was a discussion of the 1960 film Psycho, directed by Alfred Hitchcock.
Yes, THAT Psycho:
The shower scene with Vivian Leigh.
The all-string instrument soundtrack.
Anthony Perkins in his mother’s clothes.
The first popularized portrayal of a criminal psychopath.
My dad’s decades-long aversion to showers.
The thirsty man was a surprise guest named Chuck.
Bill, the discussion leader and former teaching colleague, was accustomed to distractions. This trait would come in handy.
“Town character” is a compliment
The Row House Forum was in its infancy, and Chuck must’ve seen a poster I had pinned up in the library announcing the Psycho talk.
I had often spied him at The Dispensing Company (DipCo) on Market Street where he sat at the back of the pub at a small table with a glass of wine and a small book. Occasionally, he’d peer around the room through large wire-rimmed glasses.
He was well-known enough in the Dipco to earn his portrait above the bar where other notable Lancastrian’s faces hung, collages by local artist Justin Jones.
What was Chuck reading back there? We found out in the film discussion: poetry or film scripts.
As a science librarian at Franklin & Marshall College for 34 years, he swam in books, literately speaking, mind you. He also curated a film series and wrote reviews of plays.
Until that evening in 2011, I knew him only by glimpses. He was often seen strolling in Lancaster’s West End, one of those harmless fellows who seemed to gain energy from the urban vibe.
I’d nominate him as a Certified Town Character.™️ Chuck nailed at least one of the criteria: Presence.1
Everything in moderation
The movie discussion moved in fits and starts with Chuck interjecting discourses, Bill trying to shoehorn the disruptions back into the subject, and me fingering the trigger of martial law.
As the evening went on the Forty went down.
At one point Chuck declared something like
I’ve read a lot of scripts and books in my lifetime, and believe me, there’s some real dark stuff I can’t even repeat in front of these young people.
The discussion entered the realm of SNAFU.
Picture a mommy opossum running full tilt with ten joeys in various stages of clinging or being flung. In the pouring rain.
As host and moderator, I had to do something.
I looked directly at him and reluctantly said
Chuck, you’ve been interrupting Bill all night. Can you please just let him make his points?
I don’t usually have to assert myself that way. It worked, though; Chuck toned down. It also worked to generate saucer eyes on the students!
Poor Chuck couldn’t help himself.
As it turns out, Psycho was one of his favorite films.2 He was more of an expert on its screenplay, history, and impact than Bill and I combined.
I suppose each of us have treasures in our corner we feel we have to defend.
I know I do. Whenever I overhear this comment…
Corvairs? Ha! The worst car ever made!
...it takes all of my Dr. Jeckyll to restrain my Mr. Hyde.
Maybe we’re all glorious, complex, and broken experts at times.
I’m reminded of Flo in my favorite Progressive Insurance commercial. She and her team are having a beach day, intentionally not selling products. She overhears this discussion:
Guy: I wish I could group my insurance stuff: the house, the car, the RV.
Flo (under breath): Bundle!
Gal: Like a cluster, an insurance cluster.
Guy: (scoffs) I doubt that exists.
Seething with suppressed zeal, Flo breaks her silence:
A bundle! It’s a bundle! It saves you money! etc. etc.
Chuck Full of Surprises
In our disucsion, I wish now I had given Chuck less of the boot and more of the floor. There’s no chance for a sequel, though. He was struck by a car late in the evening at the intersection of West Lemon and North Mary streets on Jan. 18, 2015. He died two days later.
His obituary pulled back the veil on his character:
He was a deeply spiritual,3 intelligent, gentle man and was very knowledgeable about art, literature, politics, music and film. He would carry lively conversations with many people in the Lancaster community and enjoyed engaging in long talks with his sister, nieces and nephews.
Lively conversations, indeed.
On the surface, we use this phrase for someone who’s unwell at best, but my goal is to flip the perception toward a person with deep, civic virtue. I’m working on a list of scaled attributes found in true town characters that includes longevity, joy, and contribution. One day, thousands of officially designated Town Characters™️will be recognized in our neighborhoods if I have anything to do with it!
On his tribute page, a friend wrote
When I was a teenager in the early 1980s, going to Barr-Hurst Bookstore and talking with Chuck about movies was part of my Saturday afternoon routine. He sold me my first book about Alfred Hitchcock, and we shared the same favorite movie: Psycho. I will never forget asking Chuck to name his favorite shot or camera move in Psycho. Chuck surprised me by mentioning a brief dolly shot in the movie's first scene, a camera move I hadn't even noticed. (His) observation split open my teenage brain, and it forever after shaped the way I looked at movies and appreciated the subtleties of film direction.
A friend told me that Chuck was an active member at a sister congregation of my own church, Wheatland Presbyterian.