A controversy brews in Lewiston.
And in Auburn and Portland and on every street that snakes between them, because that is where you find the famed peripatetic we call Magic Man.
He wanders at all hours and in all places, carrying his bags of bottles and cans and wearing the iconic doo rag upon his head. Sleeveless T-shirt? Check. Tattered windbreaker? Check. The scowl that makes you think he may be a 17th-century pirate blown back as a street wanderer? Oh, yes. He wouldn’t be the Magic Man without that.
I’ve been writing about the fellow as long as I’ve had a column in this newspaper. His name is Punk Icee, but I’ve always called him Magic because that’s what he is. You will spot him walking near Kennedy Park at 11:52 a.m. and then see him far out on Center Street in Auburn six minutes later.
The Magic Man has no use for physical law. Everybody knows it; everyone accepts it. Some people even revel in this great mystery. If anyone is a folk hero around here, this is your guy.
In recent months, a Facebook page has sprung up with the awesome title: “Where is Punk Icee?” It’s a place where locals can report sightings of the enigmatic wanderer and that’s exactly what they do: I saw Punk over near Kmart! I saw Punk being arrested on Court Street! I passed Punk near Victor News today and I swear, he actually looked at me!
Some say it’s the highest form of adoration, this outright indulgence in the movements of a man nobody knows a thing about. Others have deemed it cyberbullying.
“Doesn’t he have rights under certain laws that protect him from being exploited on FB?” wonders one woman.
“You all are disgusting judgmental pieces of s***,” declares another, “to laugh at someone and stalk and harass a man because he lives less of a life than you may.”
Others promptly defend their positions, and in a way, they defend the Magic Man, as well.
“You are the one judging,” says one of the original members of the Facebook page. “Why do you say he lives less of a life? To me it sounds like you are calling him a low-life. I think he does what he wants and has freedoms other people don’t have.”
“He’s an iconic figure,” another man weighs in. “A public figure representing L/A. He deserves recognition.”
The debate has raged for days. Some accuse the page members of outright stalking the man, taking photos whenever they get a chance. Is this a tribute? Is it exploitation?
“This page is disgusting!” a woman insists, after prowling the page. “Finding humor in other people’s struggles is sick and twisted.”
“No one is making fun of him!” comes the response. “If you see a beautiful flower in the meadow, is it hateful to photograph it and share with others? Or a person in their natural preferred habitat, this is bullying? The hell you say!”
This goes on for pages, with equal parts for and equal parts against the weird local fascination with a man whose only claim to fame is that he appears to be everywhere at once. And like all battles fought on the Internet, it gets ugly in places: name-calling, accusations of hatred, a lot of cyber spittle flying and Web hair being pulled.
I blame myself.
Years ago, I won a snazzy New England press award for a column I wrote featuring the Magic Man and several other notable locals. “Phantoms of the Street,” it was called, and Punk Icee was at the center of it. I’ve written about his travels many times since then and yet the sad fact is that I don’t know a damn thing about this star of my literary stage.
Where does he come from? No idea. What does he do when he’s not out gathering bottles and cans? I haven’t a clue. What compelled him to legally change his name to one that sounds like it should belong to a rap star? Don’t know.
Is the Magic Man aware of all this fuss being made? Beats me. I suspect he doesn’t give a damn what the rest of us do, but I really don’t know that for sure.
A few years ago, Punk was set upon by some downtown bullies — real-world bullies, that is — who attacked him and took his beer. The Sun Journal wrote a brief story about that incident and the readers, who know even less than I do, rallied around the Magic Man as if he were family. It was inspirational. It was moving. And I don’t think Punk had even an inkling of it.
Not that I didn’t try to get his thoughts.
“Hello, Mr. Icee. I was wondering if I could get your thoughts on the recent …”
But Punk wanted no part of me. Like he had in earlier encounters, he sort of grunted and hurried away, wanting no part of my trite questions and clumsy approach. Should I have tried harder? Should I have given chase and demanded that he submit to my petty questions?
The Magic Man has always astounded me, but I’ve never been compelled to poke too deeply into his history or inner workings. Maybe I simply prefer that he remain a mystery, rather than expose a truth that may be gloomy and mundane.
What’s funny is that the people presently bickering on Facebook are really on the same side. The people who support the Punk Icee page insist they are paying tribute to a man they admire. Those on the other side don’t want to see an innocent fellow abused, and that is admirable. Each group is, in its own way, rallying around a person they have never met. It’s something you see over and over. When ordinary folks perceive that someone like Punk or the other phantoms are being abused, they rise to his or her defense.
“To all those that hate this site,” writes the creator of the Facebook page, “instead of complaining, get off your righteous bum and go ask Punk Icee if you can buy him dinner. Or do something nice for him.”
It’s a kind thought. And what would The Magic Man think of it all?
Probably nothing. I have a strong suspicion that our wandering friend has no interest in the doings of mere mortals.
Mark LaFlamme is a Sun Journal staff writer. He and Punk Icee have never been seen together, which makes us wonder about that doo rag on Mark’s desk. Email him at mlaflamme@sunjournal.com.
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