RIP Tuba Man

A Seattle icon has died, and the details are grisly.

Tuba Man is inextricably linked to my very first memories of going to Mariners games back in the mid to late 80’s. The team was terrible but I didn't care. Stealing one out of three when the fearsome Oakland A's came to town was all I really wanted.

I always brought my mitt (with the crossed out "Jose Canseco" signature where I wrote in "Lyman Bostock" instead) even though we were sitting up in the 300 level. By the second inning, it was easy to sneak down to one of the prime seats along the first baseline. I came across the ferry from Bainbridge Island and walked down through Pioneer Square to the stadium. My friends and I laughing and feeling the thrill of the "big city" the whole time.

Tuba Man was a fixture of the carnival atmosphere outside any Seattle sporting event. I can’t remember a game when I didn't hear him from at least a block away from the stadium. I remember Mark James and I asking him if he would play Stairway to Heaven. He had this baritone chortle of a response… "How does it go?" It was the only time I ever actually talked to him.

He seemed like one of those eccentric and committed fans who you can’t help but love. It seems grossly unfair for him to leave this world in such a way. He was mugged and beaten by teenagers, and died in the hospital shortly thereafter.

I wish that those kids could attend the funeral… and that there would be thousands of people there... and eulogies by long-time public servants like Ron Sims or Seattle historians like Greg Palmer who might explain the value that such people bring to our city… so that their eyes might be widened.