Coffee Ice Cream, Billy and Me: A Tribute to a Quiet Advocate – Winter 2009

Billy was never quite sure what year he was born, but it was in New York City about 55 years ago.   His name was William McManus, though everyone called him “Billly.”  His mother died while he was quite young and Billy’s alcoholic father did not provide for him and younger brother Robert.  In the 4th grade, Billy quit school to run numbers to make money for food.  Later on, Billy joined the Air Force and when he was discharged came to find his brother in Sacramento, CA.  According to Billy, Robert’s wife was not open to him staying with them and he ended up homeless on the river.

Occasionally, Billy lived inside, was married a few times, and held small jobs, including working part time for Loaves & Fishes where we met.  He lived in a bush near the American River bike trail.  His four dogs were his “kids.”  I was always amazed at how he controlled them without ever raising his voice.

Billy was a pioneer and humble advocate for those living outside.  When cited for unlawful camping, Billy took the challenge and chose to stand up for what he believed was right.  He asked for a jury trial so others like him could live in peace, free from harassment, from park rangers, and local authorities.  In 2003, this small, scruffy homeless man sat in court with his attorney and faced the polished Sacramento City attorney.  It created a lot of media attention.  Billy went through several trials and retrials, calmly doing what he felt called to do.  It was stressful.   He was severely harassed by officers on the river, one time having all his possessions destroyed.  In spite of it all, he persevered.

I accompanied Billy to most of his court dates. At the conclusion of each trial we celebrated at Leatherby’s Ice Cream Parlor with his favorite:  coffee ice cream.  He won his first case, but eventually was fined and told to stay away from the American River where he had lived for most of his adult life.  He moved across the county line to live on the Sacramento River.

I continued to visit Billy in his camp on the Sacramento River, checking on him and his dogs, bringing food and candles.  Every time I visited, Billy was the most gracious host.  He offered me a rickety chair or a milk crate salvaged from somewhere and we would sit and visit.  He always let me know that God and he were talking and things were OK.  Then he would escort me down the levee road to my car, telling the dogs to stay put gave me a hug, and saw me off.

Eventually, I brought a few friends out to meet Billy, including my husband-to-be.  Each one was welcomed with humble grace and openness.  He had a certain wisdom about the world, even though he never ventured very far.  When I visited, he always asked about staff and people he knew at Loaves & Fishes, and seemed to know how they were before I told him.  He was tuned in to all that in some mystical way.  Billy came to live like a hermit, yet was surrounded by friends who camped within shouting distance.  They were like family, closer than some families I know.  They watched out for each other.  Young men came to him for advice and women friends poured their hearts out to him.  One man said Billy led him to God.

Of course, Billy did not live an exemplary life, but who has?  Billy taught me about acceptance of what is.  He taught me courage and gentle confidence in standing up for what I believe.  He showed hospitality even in the midst of squalor; grace in simplicity of living, and in just being exactly who he was.  He touched my heart.

Billy thought he had lung cancer and resigned himself to dying on the river in his camp – that’s what he wanted.  He told me he was not afraid to die.  One day in late October, he struggled hard to breathe.  His friends convinced him to go to the emergency room and 911 was called.  His first day there he asked me to bring him coffee ice cream.  The next day they put him on a ventilator.  Billy was in ICU for two weeks while we tried to find his brother who had moved to Texas years ago.  He could not be found.  On Monday, November 9th, with several friends, a Loaves & Fishes staff person and I, we prayed and sang Amazing Grace as the ventilator was turned off and he took his last breath.

I cried many tears for Billy, my friend and teacher.  It was my honor to officiate at his memorial service at Loaves & Fishers on November 20th after which coffee ice cream was served.