Alone in the world and full dark is falling soon, and he listens to the stupid cars and trucks pass by, their low rumble, the severity and austerity. He leans in toward the traffic from just behind the curb, motionless and expressionless. The tortured pistons, the sonic crush of city buses, the precise whir of hybrids, all create a hypnotic drone. Birds chirp counterpoint during lulls. Melody is everywhere, and he gets it, for hours.
The wind rustles eucalyptus leaves and palm tree fronds, lifts his sighs away, to somewhere far beyond that one barking dog. The wind runs through the thinning platinum hair on the sides and back of his shiny black head. It moves the dirty gray fleece draped over his straight-backed, soft-in-the-middle body. He tastes dust, car oil, exhaust.
His dark eyes stay mostly motionless too, as he sees obdurate cityscape of wire and poles, bowed chain-link and high cinderblock fences, sometimes a roadside altar to the dead. He’s set back from the road on Swan between Fifth and Broadway, in front of the Poet’s Corner neighborhood, where it’s easy to imagine all the dreams, hopes and money long ago pumped into this area. He searches for beauty on streets designed solely for automobile comfort. It can’t be easy.
At first glance he appears feral, frightening, but easily frightened too, long dismissed an autistic pity case. After some time, I became obsessed with him. It’s like he’s exuding a secret, like he’s communicating with the dead. Maybe he’s beaming himself elsewhere. Or maybe he’s contemplating some deep-seated hurt involving dead loved ones who maybe once attended Rincon High School, which he stands and faces, motionless for hours.
(I’ve seen him many times, in the same exact spot—different week, different time. Sometimes I’d spot him a mile away, still leaning forward slightly, and completely motionless.)
I brought him lunch a few times. I’d hoped to hear his story or learn what his secret could be. I’d edged around his silence for hours, getting little from him, but understanding more, and I took his silence as a respectful way of saying he’d rather be by himself. It felt rude and insensitive to hang around him long, like pestering a praying man. But watching him inspires dreaming. One day he got to talking, saying very little, but enough. It was tentative, free of inflection, and never with eye contact.
His name is Arthur Conlee.
I ask, “Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“Yeah. They’re, um, somewhere else.”
“Parents?”
“They’re on the other side of Arizona.”
“Can I ask your age?”
“Um. I guess 38.”
A good while passes. He stands facing away from me but into traffic. Cars whiz by and it’s humiliating. Then he reluctantly offers up a comment, the only one in the hours I’ve spent with him that’s not a response to a question.
“I kind of enjoy life.”
“That’s enviable,” I say.
“That’s what I do. Ever since I can remember.”
More times passes. He adds, “I go with the flow.”
I reach my hand to shake his and he jerks his right arm back and his entire body turns away. He’s embarrassed, shamed. Me too, for thinking it strange. He lives mostly on his inside. I get that, and it makes me more of a fan of him. I feel a sudden, boundless tenderness for him.
I get his address, and he says it’s cool if I come by at 2 p.m. the next day.
When I arrive, Arthur’s sitting on a dinette chair placed in the middle of the floor, waiting. He’s wearing the same clothes as the previous day; they hang off him like the unloved garb of a big brother’s hand-me-downs.
He lives in a boxy but spacious two-bedroom guesthouse, clean and sparse. It’s situated behind a halfway house near Fifth Street and Swan Road.
Place smells earthy, of sparingly showered bodies and cooked carbs. An episode of Bonanza flickers on a TV atop the refrigerator. Someone in another room stirs restless under a brown blanket in a bed. A closed door hides the second bedroom. A pink, hand-scrawled placard above the kitchen sink reads: SHOWER: Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday.
Arthur is hardly living on juice and Dumpster swag. No, somebody works hard to keep the dust and dirt and dread out of the place. (“It’s a pretty nice home,” he says. “Some days there’s really something to talk about.”)
I tracked down Ruth Dempsey, whose company, Dempsey’s Adult Care Homes, owns the residence in which Arthur resides, as well as a number of other such places in Tucson. She explains that Arthur lives on Social Security benefits, and a monthly government stipend of $60 for toiletries. A caretaker arrives daily to cook and clean for the three folks living there, reminds them to shower.
“We help people with low incomes,” Dempsey says. She herself was raised an army brat in Mexico, moved to Tucson to train as a nurse.
People come and go from the homes and care that Dempsey’s company provides. She has helped to look after Arthur for 15 years, after he arrived in one of her homes from a Tucson health center. She’s emotionally invested in his wellbeing, and talks about him with personalized detail, avoiding the programmed syntax of a jaded caretaker. There’s love, laughter and concern. In that 15 years, she says, they’ve attempted to locate Arthur’s family but “there was no one.” And he suffers from haphephobia, a fear of human touch.
“His sickness keeps him away from people,” she continues. She says Arthur hasn’t really changed in 15 years. “He just likes to walk, and stand. It’s what he does.”
She doesn’t attempt to explain his behavior. Arthur just is. He’s on time for his meals, and for bed sleep and rest.
“He doesn’t try to make friends, really,” she continues. “I only had one complaint about him in all these years. A neighbor said he was standing in front of his house.” She laughs, “I told Arthur, ‘you can’t stand right in front of people’s houses.’ And now he doesn’t.”
“And the other day I watched a woman give him popcorn.”
Back out on the street, processions of cars shimmer in sad November afternoon half-gloom. Arthur’s leaning slightly into all of it from the side street along Swan Road. He’s not addicted to a screen assigned to a satellite hanging far above the earth. He lives in the moment, addicted to his surroundings—the shadows growing taller, the sounds from front yards and alleys and ditches, and kids trudging home late from Rincon High School. He’s really watching time, as some might say, from the edge of lunacy, which is I always figured, the very best vantage. I say he has better sight and listening skills than most anyone I’ve ever met.
Who gazes that hard anymore? I try to always do that. It’s a form of meditation. So I’m watching a man stand completely still, watching time move for long stretches, trying to see what he sees.
“Everything changes,” he says, “in every second that goes by. That’s beautiful. But it’s really nice. This is basically what I do. I look around. Just outside looking at the scenery.”
I catch confused expressions on faces in passing cars, probably just like mine the first time I saw him. One approaches and slows, eases slightly over toward the curb. Its driver hits the horn and a tubby white blob of a face with small eyes nudges out from the passenger window and shouts disturbing racist horseshit at Arthur, and speeds off.
But Arthur doesn’t budge. He doesn’t seem to care, doesn’t even appear self-conscious. But I know he hears it.
Does racist shit happen often?
He shakes his head. Then he turns and moves cautiously up the gravel-strewn street, hands in pockets, looking down ahead of his feet. He stops and turns to face the street again, leans in almost enough to fall over forward, and stands tree-still. A half hour passes and he adjusts his stance, but only slightly.
This article appears in Nov 16-22, 2017.
This is a strong and very interesting and revealing piece of writing.
As revealing as it is, I am curious, but feel somewhat intrusive regarding Arthur’s identity and privacy.
The story leaves me wanting more, but feeling somewhat embarrassed about my selfish curiosity.
Arthur seems like a sensitive man who by simply being himself, could teach us all something of significance and spirituality. He is comfortable in his own skin…how many of us can say the same?
I am left feeling completely confused. I want to feel sorry for the man, yet he is happy. Changing him may make him miserable, but how hard will it be not to help him?
What a great piece of writing. Thank you so much for writing about Arthur Conlee. For the last two years, I’ve passed him nearly daily standing — leaning into traffic — on Fifth Street between Swan and Columbus. I’ve always wondered what his story was and have often felt compelled to stop to see if he may need anything, but he seemed fine and as if he didn’t want to be bothered. I also see him in a form of meditation when he’s out there. He always seemed such a mystery and I thought I’d never know anything about him. I’m grateful for just the pinch of who he is and find it satisfying.
It was a dark and stormy night…
Thanks for the article! I live in Poet’s Square and see him almost daily. On one particular occasion I got up the nerve to try and talk to him. It was in the evening and he was watching kids play soccer across the street at Rincon High School. As I walked toward him I noticed him looking at me out of the corner of his eye. I asked him, “Do you know who’s winning?” He responded with a low, guttural, “No.” I was too nervous to continue and didn’t want to bother him so I told him to have a nice night and walked away. I too have developed a fascination with him and love that you took the time to give us a beautiful piece on a beautiful human being.
Thank you & God bless you for sharing this most heart-touching story about Arthur. I cannot but wish I could meet him. I think of something my mama would tell us. She would say “Always be nice to everyone, cause you never know if they are one of God’s Angels on earth. Is Arthur one of God’s Angels? God Bless & Take Care of Him…
Wow Brian. I loved reading this article. I feel a bit of jealously at his simple life. Could I live like that? Maybe? Anyways, thank you my friend.
I’m so happy to know about Arthur’s story, I too have seen him over the years. For about 4 or 5 years he lived near my neighborhood around Golf Links and Kolb and I would see him observing life. He disappeared and then a year later I saw him in his new neighborhood, it brought me happiness to see he was still safe.
I have always been curious about this man. Thank you for sharing this beautiful story about his life.
I live in the neighborhood and see Arthur everyday. On nightly walks, my husband and I have approached him and said, “hi,” we never get too much response. It is amazing to read a piece on someone so many of us have wondered about.
Thank you for writing this story. I hope that it will help people be less uncomfortable around him and more generous. From an observational standpoint, I think that you missed talking about his military bearing during his long watch or the exotic nature of his phenotype. He looks like an Ethiopian prince or at least a palace guard. I rarely see as disheveled as he is portrayed but perhaps that is just my romantic view. In any case, I hope you will continue to maintain contact with the Seer of 5th St. You are his family now.
For years, since his time in the Golf Links Pantano area, I too, wondered what Mr. Conlee’s story might be. I thought he might be an old friend from high school and wanted so much to know , so thank you. I do worry about him when he’s out in 110 degree heat wearing a sweater but he seems to be living his life just the way he wants to.
I have seen him so many times, my kids wave hi and he has smiled once our way… This is a great story and I’d love to see if he opens up more, I bet he has an amazing story. Thank you for sharing
Really enjoyed this article. Arthur used to be in our neighborhood and it gave me a smile to see him again near Rincon. Makes my heart happy knowing he has people looking out for him and his needs.
Thanks for the article! I see him often and have always wanted to know his story. Glad he enjoys the simple things in life. <3
Arthur used to live near my work.My friend and I were so worried when we didn’t see him.Then one day, driving down 5th, there he stood…like Morgan Freeman in Bruce Almighty.I was so excited, I called up my friend and shared the good news.There is something foreign to those with special needs to the rest of us.But, God is in those details of our misunderstandung.Arthur just brings me joy.He stands through noise and hurriedness, still and serene.If only…..
He lives near my parents. Ive seen cops pulling up and harassing him on a couple different occasions. Dude is chill. He doesnt want any problems. Just wants to do his thing.
Thank you for this story! Arthur is a part of our daily commute. I am so glad to know he is taken care of. We often see him with a snack while watching traffic like many watch tv in the afternoon, now I know we are his curiosity as much as he is ours.
I’ve seen this fellow standing, looking at traffic on Swan many times. I’ve been tempted to stop and talk to him. I’m glad you did.
Wonderful to know more about this gentleman. My husband and I see him daily and when I don’t see him out there I worry. I’m also very happy to finally know his name. Always wondering if he’s ok and now I know he’s simply enjoying life in his own way. Thank you!
Thank you for this heartfelt article. I used to live in the neighborhood and see Arthur everyday. I worried when he would stand for hours in the hot sun and wondered if he had sunscreen for his bald head. Drove by and gave him some one day and wondered if he used it. The only times I felt sorry for Arthur is when I saw him standing in the rain. It’s nice to hear he is being well taken care of. Thank you Brian for curing our curiosity.
Thank you so much for sharing. My daughter and I have wondered about his life story and his well being. We are all in such a routine in our lives that when we see someone just standing still, watching time pass by, we are either curios or suspicious. Some of us are sincerely concerned. God Bless Arthur! A simple man just listening and watching as the rest of us rush and chase the all mighty dollar and what we perceive to be the dream. Im sure he could teach us all things from his years of watching us! Who is really watching whom?
Im sure many have asked… how can we help? Food? Clothes? Blankets? Mattresses? Anything. He appears to be a humble man but the cold takes a beating on the body. Please let us know if we can help him and his roommates?
Hope to hear a response,
Sincerely, Starr
Always look forward to Tucson Salvage and this is one of my very favorites. How much better would the world be if we set aside our own narrative and just listened – to the wind, to the traffic, to each other. Thank you, Brian, for reminding us all of the beauty and wisdom that awaits when we close our mouths and open our ears.
Beautiful. I often wondered. I will say hello next time.
Thanks for this! I see Arthur almost every day and every time I drive by Swan / 5th I look for him and wonder about his story. Glad to put a name to the face.
Arthur is certainly a gatekeeper between worlds. How he sees life and the beauty in simple things is awesome. Reminds me that I need to smell the roses in my own life. Good piece of journalism here. Tired of hate and crime. Humanity is precious.
I’m very emotional right now god bless Arthur he was at golf links road before hadn’t seen him for about a year. Glad to see him ill stop by not much he will say but glad too hear is ok .
I’ve seen him around town for years as I’m driving home from work each day, and have always wondered and worried about him. I’m glad that he’s okay and has care. Thanks so much for this article — beautiful work.
Thank you so much for sharing. Im So glad to hear that he opened up more to you than we were able to get out of him. My husband worked around the area where Arthur stands and Ive always been fascinated and curious to why and how he could just stand there staring for hours. On one cold winter night as we were driving by after grabbing dinner we saw Arthur doing what he always does, but he had no jacket on and hands in pocket as if he was cold. So we drove past him to the Walgreens on the corner and bought him a jacket and a beanie and came back to were he was standing and tried to talk to him but he kept walking further away as we got closer so I told him that we had a jacket for him that it was too cold for him to be out here in just a T-shirt but as I got down to give it to him he kept telling me no thank you! no thank you! as he kept walking. I didnt want to persue it, but I did tell him we had some food and then he stopped. I said are you hungry? and he shook his head yes! We gladly handed him our food left from dinner. I told him to have a good night and as we drove off I saw him open the box and start eating it as he kept walking. Our encounter with him was very humbling and beautiful. I always look forward to seeing Arthur standing on the corner, it always puts a smile on my face.
I pass him every day too. Glad to hear that he is alright and taken care of. I have waved and made eye contact with him. What a wonderful soul. Thank you for telling us his story.
Wish there was a fund-raising page for him for some grocery and things.
What a beautiful story. My mother is Ruth Dempsey and shes dedicated so much of herself to her residence and to read this puts better perspective in her purpose . The amount of love she shares is beyond me. Arthur sounds like an amazing man, his views on the world is touching and inspiring. Thanks for sharing
I see him alot and wondered about him, now i know thank you
There is honor in the strangest of places. Thanks for a story that brings awareness to the other side of Tucson.
Your writing is beautiful and your reporting is important. You are helping to build community. Thank you.
What a great piece. I’ve often seen this guy and wondered about his story, and it’s admirable someone took the time to find out and share. We need more writing like this in the world!
I pass him a number of times each week, usually standing near the Quick mart in our neighborhood. Always I wave and smile, just to show a friendly face. I talked to the Quick mart employees once about him, worried the first time I saw him a few days in a row standing in the heat of summer. They said he’s always quiet, didn’t like it when people got too close to him, and that he lived nearby in a good place. People set water bottles near him, too; it seems he’s known all around. Thank you for his story.
Ive seen him many times and have always wondered about him. Thank you for this great article.
Thank you for taking the time to try and get to know him. He used to live near Pantano and Golflinks off of Mark Street. He stood there every day and my husband and I would be talking and say hey! There’s Marcus!!! (That is the name we gave him) We questioned his situation but didn’t want to intrude. One day we did not see him and then the next and for a few days we didn’t we knew that either something happened to him and we prayed he was ok or he moved. A few weeks ago I was driving past Rincon and was sooo happy to see “Marcus”. We always saw him as being kind, maybe slow, maybe like Lenny from of Mice and Men. But kind. Again, thank you for taking the time to talk to him.
The writer is remarkably gifted. It is one of the most compelling pieces I have ever read. Pure poetry and at the same time introducing us to a fascinating human being whom our hearts go out to. I am drawn to Arthur even though I dont live in Arizona and I have never seen nor heard of him. Thank you for enlarging my knowledge of the human condition. It is a lovely piece.
Thank you for this article!!! I used to see Arthur everyday at the corner of Golf Links & Marc St when I was taking my son to school or picking him up from school. I hadn’t seen him in such a long time and think about him every time I pass that corner. I always think I hope nothing has happened to him. And now I know.
Thank you for that. I’ve always admired him in his stone-like stance. I figured he is probably from an Aboriginal background, and maybe he cam male sense of this world we’ve created. I love the visual of him beaming away, but I love even more the sense of musical traffic. I’ve always wanted to go stand by him and see if he can help me see what he sees. He’s a beautiful figure.
He’s not average. He’s unique! He knows something that we don’t know but if he told us what it was we wouldn’t understand because we’re distracted by the little/big things in life. Television/money/work/school.
I lived in Poets Corner, most recently from 2007-2015. I was raised there, moved away and then went back to care for my Mom until the end of her life. I saw Arthur all the time. I always waved and smiled at him and kind of beamed love at him from a distance. I noticed he was taking care of himself or being cared for by the changes in his appearance…shaved not shaved….clean clothes…stuff like that. I am happy he watched me go by and now feel sure he felt me beaming love his way thanks to your beautiful respectful writing about him. Thank you so much
I see this man often and have wondered what his story was. Thank you for your kind story. Well done.
I love this! We used to call him mark because he used to stand on golflinks right off of mark street every day for years. Always wondered what became of Arthur Aka Mark. Glad he’s ok.
Years ago he used to wear a motorcycle helmet. Does anyone remember that? I saw him all the time when I worked inthat area years ago.
I see him almost daily and am so glad you wrote so eloquently about your encounter. I’m more glad there is a resource for him, a place where he can be safe and taken care of even in a minimalist kind of way.
I see this wonderful, Quiet Man every single day I leave and come back from work he is very polite and bothers no one he never asks for anything. I never once felt uncomfortable around him or even feared him. Whenever I see him at the little corner store I would always either buy him chips and drink or if its 6pm he likes to have a cigar he is such an interesting man with a mysterious history but when he does talk he has a slight of a Southern accent. I also see a couple people come and give them things and even have a little conversation with him the way he lives his life is so free and so beautiful I think we all can learn something from this man.I too worried about people being so rude and disgusting towards him but so far I have not witnessed it myself but if I ever do believe me they don’t want to meet me and I will defend him and it’s just so disgusting that we are still so rude and so racists to one another but in reality we should all love each other.
I am so glad you wrote this peace. My kids attend Rincon High and I drive by him daily wondering what his story was but afraid to stop and offer him some water on a hot day. Or ask if there is anything he needs or is there anything I can do for him. He stands out there for 6 or more hours at a time. I drop the kids off in the am and when schools out he’s still there. I think next time I see him I will know he’s harmless. Good luck to Arthur. To us all.
Great work Brian! Ive passed by arthur since i was in HS on golf links / kolb. Now, im a senior at the UofA and im happy to see & hear his story . My brothers and I always thought he was counting cars like the different types cars or different colors… Im really grateful you wrote this article and i hope to meet him one day! Good luck Arthur you are loved by Tucson natives and all whom see ya! #Arthurfrom5th
My entire family is so happy to learn his name. Its as if we just found out the name of a long-time friend.
#arthurfrom5th
Thank you for article..i always see him on sidewalk..i was wondering if be is allright..sometime I want to stop and check on him if he need anything..i myself am a deaf guy..so thank you for let me know…
I have see him around since I was in high school on the corner praying, ever time I would drive up I street I would hope to see him there just standing, I had a hard times and he always seem to give me hope and believe in something I was looking for I have never met him but he has changed my life since the first time I saw him. I still look for him everyday when driving and he still gives me hope. Thank you for writing this article
Thanks for writing this story. Ive actually stopped and had a conversation with him. I offered him a cold water and we talked a little. I could tell he wanted me to keep my distance so I respected that wish as we chatted. It was awhile back so Im not sure exactly what we talked about. Red, Yellow, Black and White we are special in his sight. Jesus loves all the people of the world. Everyone is different and thats great!!
Thank you so much for writing this article! I have long since wondered who Arthur was, seeing him repeatedly over the last few years. I’ve always wanted a story. A name. A background. An explanation…and you provided an excellent one! He now has a name and I’m truely appreciative of all you have done!
Thank you for sharing this article! Very refreshing! Like many others in Tucson, I have seen him numerous times around Broadway and swan, 5th street, and a few other locations and wondered what his story was and why he just stands and gazes. Now I know! My friends and co-workers and I fondly refer to him as “statue man”. May peace and wellbeing be with you Arthur 🙂
My daughter has worried about this sweet man for months, as she recently took a job on the East side and drives down Broadway daily. She has felt the urge on many occasion to stop and help him. When she read this article, she cried. She cried for Arthur, and for so many like him…for relief that he has a home and someone who cares for him, and she cried for those who are not as lucky. If my Julia could, she would take in everyone and every living thing homeless, lost, or just down and out. She feels Arthur recognizes her and other cars as they pass by. She feels as if she has a friend she’s never met. This was a beautiful article about a beautiful soul. Thank you for helping to ease my daughter’s hurting heart and shedding light on such a special Tucson resident.
I would see him on fifth street on my way home from work. I don’t remember how many years, but many. I told my wife about seeing him and expressed wonder about who he was and why he was just standing motionless along the side of the road. One day we were on our way home from downtown and there he was in a motionless trance. My wife said, “turn around and let’s say hi to him. We pulled in behind him and said “hi, what’s your name?” We thought he said Anthony. I told him I saw him a lot over the years. I asked him if he liked watching the cars and he said yes. We told him we just wanted to say hi and then let him be. That is what it appeared he was doing…just being. Of course we were even more interested in who he was and what his story was, but conseeded that we probably would never know. We are moving to Colorado next week and my wife found this article. What a blessing and thanks so much for sharing his story! I feel at piece for Arthur and grateful we stop to treat him with dignity. Goodbye Arthur. See you on the road. Jeff and Deidre
Lost me 2 paragraphs in with the over exaggerated descriptive writing.
Thank you for this piece of writing. I believe it tells us more about ourselves than Arthur. It shows us the compassion so many people have for someone that appears to have less than us, but it also shows us our interest in someone that lives so differently than we do. It is sad that the last few paragraphs show us the cruel side of humanity, but that is reality also. Some people are genuinely afraid of difference, but some just hold a hatred for anyone different. I think the part to me that can be most disturbing is the indifference to other humans. Thank you for showing me that many, many people care and I have only lived here a few short years, but the Tucson I have come to know has many compassionate and caring people and organizations.
Thank you for this beautiful piece. I have seen this man a couple of times in the past and often wondered. You shone a light on someone that has occupied my thoughts from time to time.
Oh my! I have seen him for years. He used to do this on Golf Links. My family has named him The Man Who Looks South. It was nice to see him today!! If he only knew how many watch him.
I’m so glad you wrote this and everything written is what I thought. It so nice someone wrote a great story about him I wanted to stop so many times
Great piece of writing, and the solution to a long-held question. I live one neighborhood over and see Conlee all the time. The descriptions of him, of his posture and his clothes and the impression he makes are absolutely perfect. Thank you
I used to see Arthur on Golf Links and Prudence, standing on the sidewalk, watching the traffic or just staring into space. I thought he might be an African refugee, because he seemed to be a stranger in a strange land. I wondered what happened to him. Thank you for solving part of the mystery.
The topic is of local interest to be sure, but can we please turn down the delivery? Indeed it was a dark and stormy night…
You broke my heart. But in a good way. I love your stories.
This is beautiful, my boyfriend and I used to see him daily, I was so curious about him, seeing him just standing there always gave some sort of sense of peace, I always worried about him and had a desire to protect him. I’m glad to know more about him, I hope he continues to enjoy life everyday.