Bruno Johnson spreads the two-page note on the bar at his Palm Tavern in Bay View and stares at the worn paper, folded and refolded countless times, passed from hand to hand, friend to friend.
Johnson stares at the words, instructions about bank accounts, credit cards, computer passwords, next of kin, a giant collection of jazz recordings and a neon-purple 1997 Plymouth with 107,000 miles parked north of Grand Ave. in Chicago. And that final chilling sentence, the one that still gets to Johnson: "sorry about the mental-illness thing, it's not something I would have chosen for myself."
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Ritscher, a maintenance engineer at the University of Chicago, became something of a fixture on the Chicago jazz scene. For years, he set up microphones and recorded gigs in smoky bars, Johnson says. If bands wanted the master, Ritscher gave it to them at no charge.
Johnson, who runs a small record label named Okka Disk, distributed some of the works.
Ritscher, who changed his first name from Mark to Malachi in 1981, lived a life filled with highs and lows, according to his self-written obituary, titled "out of time." A marriage ended in divorce. He was estranged from his son. He battled alcoholism but was sober for 16 years.
He explained his opposition to the war in a rambling "mission statement" in which he implored the reader to "judge me by my actions."
"Maintenance Engineer" is PC for "Janitor"!