I was in Chicago on business last week and nearly missed the news that Kenmore Sq. / Allston fixture Mr. Butch had been killed in a motor scooter crash.

Whether you were a Red Sox fan or a patron of the Rat, Storyville, the Pizza Pad or Radiobeat Studios during the early to mid 1980’s, there’s no way you could’ve escaped the gregarious presence of Mr. Butch.  I know my mom wasn’t able to — he pissed on the side of her Volvo while she was double parked on Commonwealth Avenue.

At the height of hardcore’s popularity, Butch briefly fronted a band, Mr. Butch & The Holy Men, whom if memory serves correctly, were once invited to open for Flipper at the Channel.   To say the band’s scuzzy charms were few and far between should in no way be viewed as a slight on the late raconteur.  Though he stunk up the joint (literally and figuratively), Mr. Butch was a pretty special character.