To any regular at DeWitt Clinton Park in the Hell's Kitchen section of Manhattan, he is a familiar sight, holding court from his spot on the park bench—incense burning, pipe in his mouth.
At age 66, his body is still taut, his graying hair and beard full and kept long. He has that recognizable look of the homeless—bags of belongings, stored food, slept-in clothes—but not the air of the deeply disturbed or desperate.
This is the story of Matthew Kenneth Eckstine, who by chance drifted into a conversation with a reporter one recent evening and soon revealed that he was a stepson of Billy Eckstine, the great jazz singer known for his throbbing vibrato and impeccable style of dress.
“I admit I don't dress like him," said Matthew, who was wearing soiled khakis and a T-shirt that read, “Save Water, Drink Beer." He sipped from a 24-ounce can of Budweiser as he watched corporate teams play softball in the park, swallowed up in the surround-sound of cicadas and taxis on 11th Avenue.
At age 66, his body is still taut, his graying hair and beard full and kept long. He has that recognizable look of the homeless—bags of belongings, stored food, slept-in clothes—but not the air of the deeply disturbed or desperate.
This is the story of Matthew Kenneth Eckstine, who by chance drifted into a conversation with a reporter one recent evening and soon revealed that he was a stepson of Billy Eckstine, the great jazz singer known for his throbbing vibrato and impeccable style of dress.
“I admit I don't dress like him," said Matthew, who was wearing soiled khakis and a T-shirt that read, “Save Water, Drink Beer." He sipped from a 24-ounce can of Budweiser as he watched corporate teams play softball in the park, swallowed up in the surround-sound of cicadas and taxis on 11th Avenue.
