‘His life was tempered by his grasp of history, his sense of justice, and his refusal to conform.’
Dick at Belle Isle Park, Michigan, 1987. Photo courtesy AmericanTribune.org.
In writing this remembrance, I had vital assistance from Robert Blurton, David P. Hamilton, Nick Medvecky, bashful members of the Rag community, and others who know who they are; many thanks for sharing your stories and photographs, and helping me recall the tales I’d heard more clearly. Where possible, I’ve relied on Richard Lee’s own writings. Misstatements and omissions are, however, entirely my own, and not all are accidental. – mgw
The e-mail from Richard Lee’s account on December 4, 2014, said what was needed:
Richard Lee, AKA Richard LeClair, AKA Dick Mother Fucker, died today in Boca Raton, Florida. He broke out of the VA Hospice in Detroit on 11/29/14, made a run for the sun and had at least one day of sunny skies and 80 degree weather. He was in one of his favorite hotels and eating food from one of his favorite delis. He began having chest pains… and was taken to the local hospital where he received good compassionate care but… slipped away suddenly.
After he declined treatment for his cancer a little over a year ago he took “a victory lap” across the south, west, northwest and northern United States, putting over 15,000 miles on his car. Over the summer he went east, to his birthplace in Maine, ate lobster, and visited with “my people.”
He was a man who mastered the art of being free. He did not let possessions own him. He belonged everywhere and was anchored to nowhere. He was a loyal and generous friend, a great story teller, and was grounded in humor but was nobody’s fool. He was a traveler, an adventurer, and a seeker of pleasure. His life was tempered by his grasp of history, his sense of justice, and his refusal to conform.
He wanted to let his friends know he had gone.
