From The Vault Of Art Shay: The Life And Death Of Dan Blue
By Art Shay in News on Jan 9, 2013 8:00PM
(Legendary Chicago-based photographer Art Shay has taken photos of kings, queens, celebrities and the common man in a 60-year career. This week, Art recounts the life and mysterious death of an old friend.)
The bland inch and a half Chicago Tribune obituary Jan. 7 of my family's dear friend, artist and sculptor Dan Blue, got most of the facts right but missed even hinting at the wonderful man we, Chicago and, um, New Zealand just lost in a mysterious death in his Ada Street home the day after New Year's.
New Zealand? Yeah: He was planning to resettle there in two months and had already transferred part of his considerable inheritance there. "They pay 7 percent," he explained, shrugging his huge, muscular shoulders. Dan, at 55, looked a lot like a taller Harrison Ford in his prime and sounded like him, too. He rarely boasted about his skills as an artist in metal, but was very proud of a device he designed and built for my car—an ingenious holder. (I've included a picture.) My Lexus dealer asked where he could buy some.
There were always obstacles to overcome, enemies to face down. Dan was considering two jobs in New Zealand. One job opportunity was, as a master welder on a secret boat project and as manager of a friend's huge ranch. He was a man of secrets and "huge" projects and friends, myriad friends. He used to send stretch limos for Florence and me to transport us to his four or five farewell-to-Chicago parties. He was flirty with Florence—who was old enough to be his mom—and she loved it. When she was in a nursing home early in her terminal illness and couldn't walk, he'd show up in his signature cowboy garb, put his Stetson on her head and sprawl next to her on her sickbed. When she was about to come home he appeared at our house with a contractor, whom he hired to install two expensive and practical stairlifts. "Every time I ride up or down," Florence would gleefully tell visitors, "I think of Dan- and his joy in supervising the installation" down to doing all the handrails by himself, to Florence's measure.
On Dec. 30 I got Dan's last e mail to me. “I'll be out of Chicago in a month or two and very so-sorry to leave you. but I seek distant shores and a peaceful existence. He was fed up with Chicago politics and had several neighbors with whom he maintained ongoing feuds. "The little clown thinks he's got squat on me. I have bigger, more long range guns and I sure as Hell hit what I'm aiming at with one shot ... Splat! Each and every time."
Was there a plot against him? I could never be sure if he was really that tough.
Now I'll never know, except if his autopsy reveals foul play beyond the first police statement to the family, that he apparently had a cerebral incident (much like Hillary Clinton's), passed out ,fell and hit his head on something metal.
"First shipping container of welding equipment went out this morning. N.Z., Panama or Costa Rica;-can't quite decide yet. Your friend and I should do a lunch if he's still alive, before I leave the country." I was trying to set up a meeting for him with a hobo-intellectual-veterinarian-racquetball champion I've known for decades. I thought they'd hit it off.
He ended his note enigmatic as usual. "Killers are a most notoriously interesting subject, just hate to make it our last meeting. Because none of us could hang out on the beach, unless we work this out. Warmest Regards , D.B." I don't have a clue as to what he meant.
As I suggest, a man of secrets and mysteries. And love for his fellow man. At least for some of them. My son Richard the other day asked him how he had spent Christmas.
Dan replied: "I had a ball. I found a busy spot in the Loop and handed out twenty dollar bills to passers-by. You or Art shoulda been there with a camera."
Years ago I introduced Dan to an investigative journalist. I called her yesterday. She said, "Dan was the kind of guy you hoped would live forever."
Amen.
If you can't wait until this time every Wednesday to get your Art Shay fix, please check out the photographer's blog, which is updated regularly. Art Shay's book, Chicago’s Nelson Algren, is also available at Amazon.