Wednesday, Apr. 14, 2010

One last ride in Sho Nuff's honor

You never saw a splashier band of mourners than the 70-odd hipster kids sporting septum rings and neck tattoos, pedaling up Hillsborough Street on spindly little bikes with whitewall tires, or in one case, a pink bicycle built for two.

To a bystander, the procession looked like a jazz funeral on spoked wheels, all smiles and celebration, not a black suit in sight. And that's what it was: a good-times eulogy for Russell Lee, better known as "Sho Nuff."

Three weeks after his scooter crashed on Chapel Hill Road, tributes keep coming for the 68-year-old part-time soul singer with the matching leather vest and beret, and the leopard-spotted bicycle with a car stereo mounted on the handlebars, powered by a lawnmower battery.

These are dark days for the young and fun-loving. Between the unemployment rate passing 11 percent, Wake's schools sinking into a $40 million budget hole and The Rockford restaurant shutting down in Glenwood South, it's hard to find a smile in Raleigh. It's a cinch you'd latch onto a senior citizen who coasted through life's daily dung on a leopard bike.

"There was no conflict in his life," said Sherman Jenkins, who sells African jewelry on Fayetteville Street. "He decided that, until he died, this was what he wanted to do. He was at peace, and it took him a long time to get there. Don't mourn. Celebrate."

Few of Sho Nuff's admirers knew him well. They saw him at Sadlack's Heroes on Hillsborough, or working the door at Farmhouse, or walking into Raleigh Times downtown, where he sometimes drew applause.

They shared a treat at LocoPops. They watched his impromptu dances, accompanied by his jury-rigged radio. They saw his stripped-down soul band playing at Berkeley Cafe, and they sometimes jumped onstage to sing along.

"He just seemed like a real old-school cat," said Matt Lowe, riding in his procession. "Sho-Nuff is a show-stopper."

Family lore describes Sho Nuff growing up in the housing projects of New Jersey, working at odd jobs all his life, including as a security guard for United Parcel Service. A brother told one Raleigh blogger that a young Sho Nuff knew and made music with a pre-funkadelic George Clinton.

But wandering through the hipster throng last week, you couldn't find anyone to explain the heart of the man: why he was so meticulous about his leather and spotted get-ups that he sewed them with his own hands, and why, as a senior citizen, he dedicated himself to riding outlandish bicycles. What was the funky engine that fired Sho Nuff?

For me, it's better not knowing. Sho Nuff showed the world what he wanted it to see, what any man could make himself with a little the aid of few tassels and a little embroidery.

And it's fitting that the young, with their hearts still mostly unbroken, saw it best.