This guy held down the corner of Graham and Withers literally every single fucking day. Hottest day of the year, he was on the corner. Coldest day with the worst windchill ever, he was on the corner, chillin, waiting. 'Oh, it's snowing out'-he was on the corner. If someone was throwing out a chair nearby, he would sit down, but otherwise, always standing. I think he changed his coat each season and that cowboys jacket never looked right on him for some reason.
I never spoke to him but would give him a simple head nod now and then and he would give one back. Just always wondering what he was doing out there all the time.
There used to be an old Italian social club on the first floor of our building; it's where the Al Pacino character from Donnie Brasco hung out and where he kept his tiger or lion or whatever viscious cat he owned in this dug out cave in the basement. The basement was seriously creepy, people were killed down there and it had that feel to it. One day, my roomate Frank was trying to open the storm cellar door that's on the sidewalk and leads to the basement. He was going through a bunch of keys looking for the right one, trying different ones. Someone behind him says "I think this one might work," holding up a key. It was him.
Found out today that he died. Wish I knew what he was watching over. RIP.