Edward McMichael aka Tuba Man

Of all the wonderful, screwy, «different» things I have in my heart as my touchstones for this city, Edward the Tuba Man was one of the dearest. In my years as a Seahawks season-​ticket holder, I became accustomed to listening, as came down the hill from Temple Billiards, for that low, farty sound of his horn, played with surprising skill, burbling under the general hubub of game day. I always loved, as we got closer, concentrating so I could pick out his tune of choice. I loved watching him work, his eyes squeezed shut as he reached for a note and then open wide as he breathed.
It was… RIGHT, somehow. It said «Seattle» so clearly to me that I’m not sure that anyone or anything will ever replace him. When those stupid kids decided to beat the gentle, musical, «homeless» (which he wasn’t) guy just for «kicks», they killed a part of our culture, our heritage, something that makes this area special and unique. I miss Edward, now; every time I walk down by Qwest Field, I listen for the horn… and don’t hear it. Now, what’s in my heart has to do. Fortunately for me, I listened. I shared the gift he gave.
Bye, Ed. Thousands of people may have walked by with barely a thought for you but many, many of us loved what you gave us… and will always carry you with us to the game.

You’re in my earliest ball game memories, and as much a part of this city as the team I was there to watch. You’ll be missed.
(Story:
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Thank you for brightening up our day whenever we walked into any Seattle sporting event. When I worked for the Sonics, I was always happy to see you in the crowd cheering on the team after your «shift» was over. You’ll always live on as part of my happiest Seattle sports memories.
A memorial fund has been set up for the Tuba Man. You can go to any Bank of America branch or send donations to…
Edward the Tuba Man McMichael Memorial Fund
P.O. Box 4985
Federal Way 98 063
RIP Tuba Man — You will definitely be missed.

Good idea Jessi.
The Tuba Man was something I always looked forward to on game days, even as a child, he always made me smile. It was just something you came to expect from a trip to one of the stadiums, there he’d be, bumping along on his tuba, and it’d kind of make you smile on the inside.
It’s one of those things that just won’t affect you until next time you’re down there, and you suddenly find an internal moment of quiet and realize there is no tuba playing somewhere in the area. He was part of the whole experience for me, he created part of the ambience for game-​day. He was part of the backdrop of all the chatter and voices and then there was always the tuba.
I’ll miss him, even though I never even knew him :(

You were at every game my Dad ever took to me to, and that I took my kids to.
This city should do well by you and memoralize your life and your contribution to the enriching of all of ours.
Play on gentle spirit, play on.