Edward Scott McMichael was a busker with perfect pitch and an improbable horn whom most people in this city knew by another name, Tuba Man. He wore funny hats and said funny things, but his mission was to make money by making music in the streets. Outside the stadium. Outside the opera. Wagner? Iron Maiden? Sure, and it could cost you.
I was like Five bucks? Lorin Sandretzky recalled of the time he ordered up Chicagos 25 or 6 to 4. But it was worth it. Mr. Sandretzky has his own outsized alter ego, Big Lo, Seattles Biggest Sports Fan. For now, he said, he is Seattles saddest sports fan.
Last month, Mr. McMichael, 53, was bludgeoned late one night near downtown. He died several days later. He was not carrying his tuba at the time, and it appears that the three teenagers who have been arrested in the case did not know Mr. McMichael. Most of the rest of Seattle surely did.
More than 1,000 people turned out for a memorial service on Wednesday night near Qwest Field. Large men wore their favorite teams jersey the Seahawks, the Mariners, the departed Sonics or the Washington Huskies and many held their wives hands and cried. The president of the Seattle Mariners, Chuck Armstrong, spoke through tears when he read a line he said his son had written: It was just impossible to be sad while he was playing that tuba.
An impromptu tuba ensemble played Salvation is Created, followed by When the Saints Go Marching In.
Some people say losing Tuba Man puts losing seasons in painful perspective. Some say he was a martyr, a victim of urban violence that must be stopped. And some say Tuba Man represented the increasingly smothered soul of this city, more substantial and strange than its clichd sheen of coffee and computers. He was an analog mystery, they say, basso profundo.
Others say Tuba Man was just being Ed.
