As a lifetime Chicago area resident, I figured that the deceased was a murder victim whose body suffered the final indignity of being set on fire. The constant stream of sick and senseless crime stories numbs everyone that lives here.
My assumption on the burning body report was wrong. There was a name and a story that belonged to the body, and that name was Malachi Ritscher. Marathon Pundit reader Dave alerted me to this his tale, which can be found in Peter Margasak of the Chicago Reader's "Post No Bills" blog.
On Saturday the Sun-Times ran a small item about a man who had set himself on fire during rush hour Friday morning near the Ohio Street exit on the Kennedy. His identity has still not been officially determined, but members of the local jazz and improvised music community say they are certain it was Malachi Ritscher, a longtime supporter of the scene. Bruno Johnson, who owns the free-jazz label Okka Disk, received a package yesterday from Ritscher that included a will, keys to his home, and instructions about what should be done with his belongings. Johnson, a former Chicagoan who now lives in Milwaukee, began making calls. Police are still awaiting the results of dental tests, but Johnson says an officer told one of Ritscher's sisters that all evidence pointed to the body being his; his car was found nearby and he hadn't shown up for work since Thursday.
Buried on Ritscher's web site Chicago Rash Audio Potential, a compendium of invaluable show postings, artwork, and photography, are a suicide note and an obituary. Both indicate that he was deeply troubled by the war in Iraq and pinpoint it as a motive for suicide (no method is specified), though there are indications that he may have had other issues as well. "He had a son, from whom he was estranged (at the son's request), and two grandchildren," reads the obit. "He had many acquaintances, but few friends; and wrote his own obituary, because no one else really knew him." Ritscher was a familiar face at antiwar protests, and he was arrested more than once for his involvement, including this time this past May. A note found at the scene of the immolation reportedly read "Thou Shalt Not Kill."
Although Ritscher, who was in his early 50s, had played music off and on over the years, he was best known for his devotion to documenting other people's shows. Several nights a week for at least the last decade he could be found at places like the Empty Bottle, the Velvet Lounge, and the Hungry Brain; by his own count he recorded more than 2,000 concerts. Over the years he invested more money in equipment and as his skills improved, many of his recordings went to be used on commercial releases--by Paul Rutherford, Gold Sparkle Band, Isotope 217, Irene Schweizer, and Ken Vandermark among others. Ritscher was fiercely modest about these pursuits--I once tried to do a piece on him for the Reader but he declined, saying he didn't want publicity.
Obviously Ritscher and I didn't have much in common--I support the war, he was bitterly opposed to it. I like President Bush, Ritshcher hated him. All that being said, Malachi's death is a tragedy and the Chicago music scene, and the rest of the world, is worse off without him.
No side in any political disagreement has sole control of truth or virtue. And despite some obvious mental health issues, Ritscher staunchly believed in his causes, but his inner demons consumed his being and his life.
Technorati tags: Jazz Music Chicago Iraq anti-war Activism
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