Steve Ferguson R.I.P.

Steve Ferguson born December 10, 1943 in Knoxville , Iowa died in his sleep with his loyal cat Lena by his side this June 29Th at his residence on Cleveland's near west side. A solid human being of large frame and four square hard working and thick shouldered features , with ever present bifocals riding down his nose Steve was the former editor of the great swamp erie dada boom underground newspaper during the late nineteen sixties , contemporary and friend of poets d.a. levy and Tom Kryss . Mimeograph artist . Water colorist.Creative artist and writer of great gift. Fond of playing piano for the elderly , and at weekly Church services. Ferguson was last employed at the Dave's Supermarket on Bridge Avenue and West 26Th Street , where he worked in the Bakery department. The oldest of six boys who were raised in a close knit family in Cherokee , Iowa , in the 1950's . Steve often pined aloud for the home cooking and daily fresh pies created by his Grandma Elsie's at her Cherokee , Iowa Dinner Bell Cafe. Steve worked here as a young man , and once intimated to me that he never forgot the kindness and simple nature of those days which he numbered among the best times of his life. Nor did he easily forget his radio roots , and often turned to WHO Radio AM 1040 , Des Moines when reception in Cleveland was possible after dark. Steve was a regular at the Wednesday afternoon poker games at Old Erie Street Book Store for many years and was always an honest active player as regular as rain. It was ta these games that Steve bonded with my Uncle Doc Hucek , who hired Steve one summer to paint his one story home. Doc remarked that Steve was the most intelligent man that he had ever had the occasion to meet , and was impressed with his ability to work the New York Times crossword rapidly , and amazed at Steve's capacity for unfiltered camel cigarettes , and plenty of vittles. Both smokes and food being part of Steve's Tom Sawyer like bargain with Doc along with a ridiculous tiny amount of money [ thirty five dollars I believe for a week's work in the year 1990] that he asked for his time. Steve explained it to me as a desire to spend time with Doc , who being born in 1904 reminded him of those old timers that used to warm stools at The Dinner Bell Cafe back in Cherokee, Iowa. Steve served as editor on the first underground newspapers that I wrote articles for , as well as a harsh critic and often thorny muse. Many people took offense to Steve's straight forward ways. I always enjoyed his candor , and we never spent much time picking bones due to this meeting of minds. Recently I had taken to visiting Steve at his place of work on Wednesdays and talking over plans to go fishing at a farm pond or Lake Erie. He worked hard at his labor at Dave's market , and was fond of telling me his joy in having a roof over his head , a meal in his belly , and the good graces of playing piano a few times a week. Tom Ferguson and James Ferguson two of his brother's that I have had the pleasure in meeting on prior occasions showed up at the book store door today , at exactly the old appointed hours for poker playing bearing the news of Steve's demise.Ten years ago at Uncle Doc's for a New Years football afternoon , I cooked two ducks and all the trimmings. We were eating along at the roast birds and as I stood up to fetch more gravy i felt Steve's hand circle my wrist in a rather strenuous fashion. He wanted more duck gravy , and it was all I could do to wrest the gravy boat away from him long enough to make it the stove for more. Later our mutual friend Sloop John B , quipped that " gravy must be considered a beverage in Iowa". Having enjoyed a friendship for nearly forty years with Steve his passing is yet the end of another chapter of local history. We enjoyed intellectual discourse as well as fishing , golfing , and poker.Listening to his tales concerning his late cat Moses to whom he was quite attached was always a pleasure .Steve was a true character in many ways and will be missed.

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