Thursday, December 9, 2010
People Remembering "Monk" — aka Tony Cassatta
Posted by Vance Lauderdale on Thu, Dec 9, 2010 at 3:29 PM
Let me explain: Most people living here in the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, and beyond had heard stories about the odd little fellow that everyone called Monk. Perhaps some of you had encounters with him. But nobody really knew much, if anything about him: his real name, his background, where he lived.
So back in 1979, Memphis magazine published a profile of this interesting fellow, written by my pal Susan Turley Dynerman, and it was one heckuva interview since Monk had plenty to say, all right, but not many things that really made sense. In fact, the story was rather cryptically titled "Who Is This Man? — The Secret Life of Memphis' Most Visible Eccentric."
That was before I came along, you see.
His attire was as distinctive, in its own way, as my own. "You can find him bundled in four or five wool shirts on days when the blacktop is hot as a skillet," wrote Susan. "And you can find him bent over his walking stick, an oversized baseball cap cocked on his head, a stub of a cigar protruding from his small, furrowed face, tapping on car windows."
Monk, whom Susan said stood less than four feet tall, claimed to walk 50 miles a day, selling pencils, magnolia blossoms plucked from neighbors' trees, whatever he felt like doing. One reader recalled first seeing him back in the 1950s: "We called him 'Monk' because he looked like a monkey." Not a very nice thing to say, but the name stuck.
Susan somehow determined that Monk was born in Italy in 1905. Now here's the interesting part. Despite rumors that he lived on the street, every night he walked home to a neat bungalow in Midtown, where he lived with his brother and sister, who didn't want their names or address mentioned in Susan's article. When Monk was growing, up, "he always seemed a little bit different," they told Susan. "He's slow, but not dumb," insisted his sister. "He speaks two languages — English and Italian — so he can't be that slow."
Her matter-of-fact explanation for her brother's layers and layers of old clothing? "He gets cold."
Monk's own reason? "Low blood."
Susan followed Monk around for a whole afternoon, but the man who would usually spend his days standing in the middle of Poplar, shouting at cars and banging away at them with a stick, clammed up around our reporter. He supposedly was an expert on baseball, of all things, but at the end of what was probably a very long day, she admitted, "We really know little more about Monk than we did several hours before."
That's a shame. The fellow she called "an eccentric constant in a faddish universe" passed away just a few months later — on October 10, 1979 — at the age of 74. I have no idea where he is buried, and something tells me Monk would have preferred it that way.
Comments (15)
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I worked downtown in the 70s and one evening, as I was leaving work, gave Monk a ride to Murphy's on Madison after he jumped in front of my car demanding a ride. I saw him do this often and that's probably how he got around rather than walking 50 miles a day as he claimed. I believe that he died after being struck by a car. His stick hangs from a portrait of Monk hanging on the back wall of the Rendezvous.
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Who was the man that used to stand on Walnut Grove each morning waving at people? I think his dog was called chooch; I didn't go to work that way and was new to Memphis but it was the late '80s.
In the mid- to late '60s I would see Monk hanging around the Kroger and Walgreens located at Poplar and Cleveland. As kids we had crazy theories as to where he lived (in the underground drainage tunnels around town), what was inside his cane (we figured rolls and rolls of quarters), etc. Of course, we were all warned by our parents to stay away from him. I lived a couple of blocks away on Montgomery. We moved out East in '70, and I never saw him again. He was one odd duck.
The man who used to stand on Wanut Grove each morning and wave was John ______, and his dog was "choo-choo" I can't recall John's last name, but he was a retired railroad man.
John Martin was the waving man at Walnut Grove and Holmes. He was a retired railroad man, and not a street character like Monk.
Anyone remember "Dancing Jimmy"?
Dancing Jimmy's finest hour came when Lamar Alexander was playing piano at the Sunset Symphony and somehow Jimmy got up on the stage and stated dancing across ... with security guys coming from either side to remove him. What a sight!
I remember John Martin and Choo-choo. And I remember Dancing Jimmy. Never met Monk though. Too bad. He seems like he would have been interesting.
At least Monk, Jimmy and John were their guinuine selves.
Mongo normally just acted crazy to collect on the insurance policy.
The "blue" lady at Overton Park was an urban legend.
Elvis is a living myth.
University of Memphis bat boy Stan Bronson is a living legend in the Guinness Book of World Records
No one knows who's Vance Lauderdale because no one has placed a finger on that yet.
Monk hung out at Ellis Auditorium where I spent a lot of time on Saturdays in the '60s. I also saw him often (as someone mentioned above) at Crosstown during the late '60s. I also lived on Montgomery across from Tech High School. I was in my teens at the time and never felt intimidated by Monk nor was ever warned to stay away from him. He was harmless.
Tom Prestigiacomo was Dancing Jimmy's claim to fame. He would say, "Good night, Dancing Jimmy, wherever you are" every night at the end of his show on FM 100. He can let you know about as much as anyone about him.
I've given Monk rides on Poplar, bounced Dancing Jimmy from a club on Madison, and watched a diaper-wearing Mongo chase a baby chimpanzee across Eastmoreland the evening before MLK Jr. was murdered.
God, I miss the old Midtown.
Tony hated being called "Monk". I grew up on the same street, was friends with all his neices and nephews - wonderful family. Yes he was a character - but also a very nice man. Nice article - none of us really knew Tony.
When we was kids , growing up in Lauderdale Courts, we would go up to Monk and ask him if he would have change for a penny. He would chase us. lol... yes Monk was a character.
My husband always gave Monk a ride, whenever he saw him, and when our kids were in the car, Monk was always so nice to them. The first time I ever saw Monk, was downtown. He was pouring a large cup of water on an anthill in the crack of the sidewalk, muttering, "Die,die"
