I’m taking my family back to SF for a visit this summer and I know that it just won’t be the same without Mark there. I still think about him often and I would imagine that I always will. We had many misadventures together.
There was the time that we worked as extras in the Doors movie. We were standing in front of some shop on Haight Street and every time that the cameras started rolling, we would light up the pipe and partake in it. SFPD officers stood across the street looking at us but could not bust us because they were dressed in their ’80s uniforms. After each shot, Oliver Stone would walk over to us and just stand there (taking in the herb, I think), then whenever Mark or I would begin to talk, Oliver would take off.
Then there was the time that Mark and I went around the neighborhood with spray paint cans in hand beautifying the neighborhood. We were doing a work on a nearby house when we saw a cop car heading in our direction. We dropped the cans and ran back home and laughed as we got to the front gate of 708 cuz we felt that we had outrun The Man, but as we fumbled for our keys, our giggles of glee turned into shivers of shock as we saw that we were surrounded by a half a dozen police cars. One of the cops grabbed me by my long goatee, threw me against the car, slapped on cuffs behind my back, and pushed me into the backseat with Mark. We tried to convince them that it was art that we were doing not graffiti but it was to no avail.
At the police station in Golden Gate Park, I gave them my driver’s license but Mark said that he had no ID and gave them a false name. They put us together in a holding cell and handcuffed Mark to a bench with both hands behind his back while I was handcuffed to the bench with only one hand. Mark whispered to me that I needed to get his driver’s license out of his pocket and hide it in my sock. “Why?” I asked.
“Davey, I’m on probation. If they find out who I am, I’m up shit creek.” I then remembered that he was on probation for borrowing the Picassos and Paul Klees from the SFMOMA. I grabbed the driver’s license from Mark’s pocket and put it inside of my sock but it didn’t feel right so I kept pushing it down until it was underneath my foot. Immediately thereafter, the police came back and searched us. Mark was stripsearched and I was searched everywhere except for the insides of my socks underneath my feet.
We were put back into the holding cell and stayed there until dawn singing gospel songs in two-part harmony. We were given a court date and released. I was very nervous about going to court because I knew that Mark had no intention of attending and that I would have to commit perjury and tell the judge that I didn’t know Mark’s identity. Fortunately, when I arrived at the court, I found out that the case had been thrown out.
These are just two of the many crazy times that we had together. What I remember most about Mark, though, was how he would always put a positive slant on things and reassure me that things would turn out well. He was a true friend and is deeply missed.
Uncle Davey
