Joybubbles
I met Joybubbles as he was planning to move to Minneapolis in the early ‘80s.
That city’s downtown skywalks offered easy walking in the winter. He was a featured speaker at a Mountain Bell meeting and fascinated the audience with his tales of whistling and chirping into a telephone handset. His perfect pitch fooled the phone switches and he was able to place free calls anywhere in the world.
It dawned on me that, Joybubbles was a renowned “phone phreak,” one who self-incriminated himself to get a job with the phone company.
At the meeting, Joybubbles said one night he routed a renegade call to a US Army sentry outpost in the DMZ separating North and South Korea. I guess the guard and Joybubbles had a delightful chat as the soldier invited him to call again.
Other calls made were completed inside the White House.
His love of telecommunications networks was evident – when Joybubbles described these shenanigans, his smile lit up his face and he became joyfully animated, like a wondrous person telling you how a magician accomplished an astounding trick.
Joybubbles completed his story with a demonstration on how to play a touchtone phone pad. He asked for a popular tune and promptly ripped off the melody, pressing the phone’s keys individually and simultaneously. What a version of “Happy Birthday”!
I offered to buy lunch and Joybubbles accepted.
As he was blind,I took his arm to guide him through the lunch crowds on 17th Street. He quickly and firmly uncoupled my grip and put his hand in the crook of my elbow.
Joybubbles told me that holding me was the right way to help.
Over lunch of bbq ribs, I asked him why (at the time) they called him “Highrise Joe”? That same beatific smile appeared on his face as he told me that he loved living in apartments that required an elevator trip and put him in the sky.
Rest in peace – sometimes holding others is the right way to help.
This letter has not been edited.