| Spookster more than a sidewalk spectacle (4/03) | | Print | |
| Friday, 17 October 2003 | |
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The Bushman proudly calls himself "a historic legend," comparable to the Ghirardelli Square sign beside which he operates. His fans agree. Hardly 10 minutes go by during his lunch break without a passerby yelling, "Bushman rocks!" or soliciting him to frighten an oblivious relative But he's used to the attention. While the Bush in the White House currently monopolizes the media spotlight, this different breed of bush has garnered international attention for 23 years. The Bushman has appeared in documentaries and newspapers worldwide, from the San Francisco Chronicle to a paper in Germany. Yet the Bushman is more than a trivial media sensation or a roadside spectacle; on the contrary, he considers himself a serious philanthropist. "I make people laugh," he said. "I bring people together from all around the world. We need a lot more joy in the world." The Bushman earnestly believes his mission will earn him the Nobel Peace Prize. "Just watch, I'm gonna get it," he said, smiling with resolve. Despite his notoriety, the Bushman maintains a down-to-earth quality that speaks to his roots as part of a street culture. "I'm everyday people," he said. "When I ride down the streets and see you need a dollar, I'll give it you the same way you gave it to me." As one of the oldest acts in the Fisherman's Wharf area, the Bushman has taken on the role of mediator and protector among the artists and denizens of this street performance mecca. "It's a community out here. See that guy over there?" he said, pointing to a man imitating a robot across the street. "I wouldn't let just anybody set up next to him." The Bushman also looks out for his "girls" — women who search the streets for empty cans; in return, they bring him food and candy. "They're my babies," he quipped. The Bushman is also waging a crusade to keep his business alive in the face of complaints from authorities. "There's a lot of status out here," he said. "They hate to hear the joy and laughter." Police and local merchants have attempted countless times to run Johnson off the Bay Street bridge he calls his office, efforts that prompted him to file reports of harassment. "Why can that business operate, and I can't operate?" he challenged. "Look at my color. It makes a big difference out here." Negative responses from the public are rare, however. The Bushman estimated that only one out of a hundred "victims" may get mad after being scared, and neither economic nor political instability has hampered his success. "Even in war, can't you hear the joy and laughter?" Johnson said. "You can come and forget about all misery, but when you leave, you have to face it all over again." According to fans, much of the Bushman's popularity stems from a widespread need for comic relief. The Bushman "provides a type of entertainment that people need," junior Mel Brooks said. "It's April Fools Day every single time you go down there." The Bushman has perfected his scare tactics over the years and selects each "patient," or target, with great care. "I look at their age, their eyes, how they walk, how they breathe," he said. "It's all in the timing." The Bushman makes it a point to avoid risky targets, including those who are potentially hot-tempered, sick or pregnant, although he enjoys frightening elderly or disabled people. "They need to laugh too," he said. Jokers have persistently but unsuccessfully been trying to give the Bushman a taste of his own medicine for years. "I feel like I almost got my back broken, my neck popped off with people trying to scare me," he said. "But nobody can scare the Bushman." The Bushman bikes to the wharf on his "horse" every day and works from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m., regardless of the weather. His work ethic pays off: In a good year, he earns $60,000. Unlike most performers, who lack a business license, Johnson said he is a faithful taxpayer. The Bushman's unique and lucrative business had a beginning that was equally unusual. After moving to the city from Indiana, Johnson said he opened one of the first shoe shine stands on Market Street and saw admirable success. After deciding one day to decorate his stand with bamboo he found in a garbage can and donning a grass skirt on a dare, Johnson began posing for pictures. To Johnson, "whose imagination ran wild," becoming the Bushman was the next logical step. Once competition on Market Street picked up and Johnson developed arthritis, he decided to move the Bushman to the waterfront and work full time. Having worked as a crane operator, a steel mill worker and a truck driver in Indiana, Johnson was no stranger to a career change. "I love a challenge," Johnson said. While Johnson has a daughter who visits him on the job, he said he finds the prospect of marriage hard to fathom. "Me? Married?" he laughed. "This is my life! This is me." He pointed to the pile of branches at his feet. The Bushman dutifully plans to continue scaring people "until they pack dirt in my eyes," he said. "This is gonna be a hard act to follow." Who and Where: a guide to street performers Union Square: · Tap dancer tapping to trance music on street corner Fisherman's wharf: · One-man Blue's band, playing harmonica and singing · Artists spray-painting pictures of the cosmos to the rhythm of trance music · Full Jazz band with bassist, sax player, keyboard · Reggae steal band Pier 39: · "statue" on milk crate · break dance/ acrobatic pair · native American pipe player · magician performing magic ring tricks Market Street: · Flute player (playing Amazing Grace) · Bongo Drummer Haight Street: · Band with various percussion instruments · Folk band with acoustic guitar and singer Golden Gate Park: · Jugglers Irving Street: · Accordion player Share this article:           |
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to listen.
