"MERLIN"...... THE WIZARD OF THE BOWERY

  One of the last flop houses that still remains on the Bowery, where Merlin
was rumored to have stayed at between stints doing his magic act and
his disappearing routine. It still looks seedy and run down, but now it’s a
  "hostel" for foreign travelers.




The first one minute and 20 seconds of the classic Leon Russell song "This
Masquerade" has a catatonic effect on me. Echoey, eerie, and macabre, it
also evokes flashbacks to the scenes from the film of my life in Manhattan,
whenever I encountered "Merlin".

Merlin is perhaps the most elusive and strangest character actor that I came
across in all my anonymous years in NYC. He was even more elusive than
that mysterious legend the Will-O-The-Wisp. He was six foot two and looked
like a giant Wishnik troll doll. He wore only black from head to toe—his
frame very slim. He had a huge mane of white hair that went below his
shoulders, only to be offset by his long pointed white beard. This was all
topped off by what looked like a home-made tin crown that Merlin always
wore on the top of his head. He was seemingly attached to his long metal
laundry cart. It was filled with dolls and scarves, bedecked with plastic
necklaces and beads, and a mish-mash of other oddities. Merlin also wore
strange home-made looking jewelry and had a walking cane by his side.


Merlin was frightfully reminiscent of 1940's film actor Rondo Hatton, who played the gruesome. madman character "The Creeper", in several horror movies. It was so strange. He would only appear in the early hours of the morning
between 1am and 5am and only when the streets were empty. His appearances
were unearthly—as if out of thin air. I never saw Merlin in the
daytime—ever—despite the fact that I must have observed him several dozen
times between 1996 and 2005. I would always be taken aback at the very
sight of him on those desolate nights. I would turn the corner off Bowery,
and Merlin would be sitting on his concrete throne there with all of his
laundry cart goods displayed on the pavement around him. He never spoke or
even acknowledged my presence. Merlin only seemed to whisper to himself
and smile and nod to his invisible audience. He would simply continue to
adjust the starry tin crown on his head as he sat waiting for only he knew
what. You see, the other bizarre thing about Merlin was that he wasn't
selling this junk. He was merely displaying it, as if it were a treasure.

My closest encounter with Merlin occurred on a very late night in May of
1999. I was coming home from clubbing when I spotted the Will-O-The-Wisp
moving quickly up Bowery towards the east side. I felt utterly compelled
to follow him, I could not resist. He seemed disturbingly oblivious to my
tailing him, and I did nothing to hide from his vision or awareness. It
fed the realization that Merlin was truly living in—and a part of—a world
that I could not see or enter. Yet enter it I would—and the spectacle that
unfolded as I continued to follow him took on a nature of the surreal.

He began to move faster—suddenly seeming to rush. He turned onto a side
street and stopped below a black door with a tiny orange light shining on
it. I watched him open the door and vanish down the stairs that I could
see from across the street. Naturally, I dashed to the same door and threw
it open. He had just turned the corner down the hallway, which was also
bright orange with black trim. I caught sight of him again as he was
buzzed through another black door by a pudgy little man behind a
bulletproof glass window smoking a cheap-smelling cigar. Curiosity gripped
me. I knew that I had to get into this place to see what was going on in
there. It already smelled of mildew and ammonia when "Pudgy" buzzed that
black door open for me (after I paid the six dollar entrance fee, of
course). I entered the underground maze trying to spot Merlin, but he had
already disappeared amongst the low-watt red and blue light bulbs and the
shadows of the very dark corners. It was an odd-looking place with large
plastic replicas of Monstera plants and parlor Palms. There was a strange
mélange of old retro sofas, chairs and coffee tables and there were also
some broken video game machines and framed movie posters. I stumbled upon
what looked like rows and rows of little "cabins" with beaded curtains
draped here and there.


After the initial shock of the place wore off, I concentrated on finding
the Will-O-the-Wisp again and started a search for the bathroom. Once I
found it, I found Merlin, too. I could hardly believe my eyes as I watched
him admiring himself standing in front of a giant mirror in the latrine
with all of his toiletries displayed atop the sink area. He was standing
there like he was in front of a private vanity dying his hair and beard
with black liquid shoe polish and a large comb, courtesy of a dollar store
on 14th street. I was dumbfounded by the view. Once again, he carried on
like he was playing to an invisible audience, and he did not see me. He applied the liquid shoe polish to his hair slowly, while smiling to himself
in the mirror. I watched him finish his dye job, and then put his tin
crown back on his head. He then swept by me, like I wasn't there and
proceeded to enter the "cabin" zone, which was occupied by some very
unusual looking chaps. The whole situation truly looked like a dungeon
scene from a fantasy film—albeit a bad one, with a cast of elves, trolls
and ghastly Nosferatos. I watched as he entered one of the small rooms and
started to set up shop, so to speak. He lit a candle on the room’s bench
and then began hanging necklaces and beads on the walls inside his new
squat. I decided not to stick around to see what would happen next. I had
had enough. I rushed out of that pit and was relieved to be back up on
ground level…seemingly returning to earth. The experience was unnerving
and I was glad to leave it behind me. I’ve never told another soul until
now.

Merlin did turn up several other times after this incident, with his usual
white hair (of course) and always in the middle of the night, in a dark
corner. The last time I saw him was late May of 2005. I was coming home
late from work and stumbled upon Merlin on the corner of Charles and the
West side. He was sitting lotus style on the ground, with all his cart
contents around him. For the first time ever he looked right at me and
smiled that peculiar smile that he had. The connection was brief, as Merlin
then started whispering to himself and began surveying the area from his
perch like an old hoot owl on a lumber jacked cut tree stump. I turned and walked away, not knowing that Merlin would do his disappearing act for the last time. I
walked by early the next day on the way to work and was surprised to find
all of his belongings still there on the pavement, but Merlin was gone.
That was nine years ago and I have no clue as to what really happened to
the enigmatic and elusive Will-O-The-Wisp.

"Merlin".... last seen on Bowery Street. Disappeared .... late June, 2005.

Copyright 2014 by Fritzvonludwigslust. All Rights Reserved