Farewell To A Beloved Man of Substance

October 16, 2022
4:45 PM Sally, O’Briens Bar, Somerville, Massachusetts.

I arrive a few songs after the band hit the stage. Something feels off.

Something beyond the usual, late Sunday afternoon vibe with the Natural Wonders singing their usual set list in the order that feels like Sunday catechism. Rather than incense and the ringing of altar bells we have hip shaking rock 'n roll, smokey slow drag blues, and a dollop of do-wop. No wonder that the faithful call this gathering “choich”.

If energy had a color, this afternoon’s would be the iridescent purple of a priest’s vestments at High Mass.

  The late Jesse Burkhardt, Jennifer Hawkins, Fred Griffeth

A scattering of men and women I’ve never seen here before sit at the tables and occupy some of the seats at the mahogany bar. I can’t see it, but I feel a form of energy not usually in the Sunday vibe.                                                                                              

Maybe they wandered in from the three blocks of vendor tents cheek by jowl lining Somerville Avenue in front of Sally O’Briens and every other establishment on that side of the street. It’s a bit of a retail madhouse out there.

Maybe they were swept in by some kind of retail fairy dust and floated in like dust motes and settled themselves into the tables and shares around the dance floor.

That must be it, says I.

Wrong.

Some men and women join the crowd on the dance floor. They clearly are not dancers. It’s as if some unseen spirit is bidding them to get up and do something that is not a natural response from them. A gesture to make their presence felt for reasons known only to themselves.

The Natural Wonders finish their set. No one moves. A man steps up to the microphone on the stage. The crowd turns to listen. I walk from my seat at the bar to the middle of the dance floor to hear what’s going on.

A man is speaking with a muted sense of urgency The kind that makes people stop their conversations out of respect and curiosity. I have no idea what’s happening, have never seen anything like it at this place where high octane music is an answered prayer to absolve any of our shortcomings. Or at least my shortcomings during the week. If dancing to high and high octane music is my penance, I will come here to confess every Sunday afternoon. But I digress.

Begorrah... I realize that I’m in an emotionally charged Irish wake in which stories about the deceased are meant to greases the skids for his trip to the great saloon in the sky. At ground level, richly detailed stories about the man assuage our grief and bid farewell. For those who didn’t know him, they’re a window into a man whose kindness and eccentricities were legend.

By the third story, I realize that he was the tall thin character who wore an oversized cloche cap, perfect sartorial choice for the thin-as-a-rail man with a carefully trimmed Van Dyke beard. By every story told, Jesse Burkhardt was a social fixture in the Cambridge scene known for his kindness. And the conspiratorial mischievous glint in his eyes.

Jesse was a Plough and Stars presence then a regular Sunday parishioner at St. Sally’s. And in the best Irish tradition, after each story about this man, we raise our glasses in thanks for the memories.

I didn’t know him personally but I sure do remember his incandescent presence. And the energy vibe that surrounded him like a halo.

By every account he was the witty fellow with the gift of uplifting the spirits of everyone with whom he encountered.With a mix of humor and stoked grief, every speaker added a story that certified the man's presence, as outsized as his cloche cap.

Jesse loved the music. You couldn’t miss him on the dance floor. He danced like a stork out of water with intention and immense joy. He’s one of those guys who perfectly fit the saying “Dance like nobody’s watching“ as he danced like a long-limbed stork out of water. Watching him express it was a joy in itself.

This afternoon a mighty cloud of grief was softened by heartfelt stories told by his dear friends, one after another, about the man’s gift of connecting and uplifting every one in his considerable aura.

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

Credit to Susaan Straus for forwarding the photo of Jesse Burkhardt, Jennifer Hawkins, and Fred Griffeth and Susan Sullivan for photo montage of Jesse

Comments

[George Landers]

What a wonderful piece you wrote to express what we all thought of Jesse. He was a constant presence at Sally’s, and we will miss his spirit.

[Paul A Tamburello, Jr aka pt at large]

Thank you, George, We often refer to these Sunday gatherings as going to "chioch". On Sunday October 16, Sally O'Briens became sacred ground as friends of Jesse eulogized him and the many ways his demeanor touched our lives and those of so many others.