The Street Roots vendor was known for his compassion, his sense of humor and his chess skills; memorials are planned for July
Beloved Street Roots vendor John Davis died suddenly of a heart attack on June 10 – not long after his vendor profile was published in the May 31 edition of the newspaper. His death has rocked the Street Roots community, where he had many friends, chess partners and fans. John was 39 years old.
Street Roots will host a memorial in John’s honor at its office at 211 NW Davis St. at 9 a.m. on Tuesday, July 2.
John’s girlfriend, Jill Breshears, will host a memorial potluck for John at Dawson Park at 2926 N Williams Ave., from 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. on Saturday, July 6. All are welcome to attend both memorials.
Jill remembers how John would wake her up with a kiss on the cheek and a jubilant “Good morning!” every day.
“John never woke up in a bad mood,” she said. “He was one of the most humble, loving, kindest person I ever met. Not one time did he ever call me a name. We didn’t fight, we didn’t argue. Too fast gone. He was big as a bear and as loving and gentle as a lamb.”
It was only after obtaining the blessings of her two children that John pursued a romantic relationship with Jill. Over the past two and half years, Jill’s daughter, Charley Breshears, said John “took the time to build friendly relationships with my brother and me. While John stayed with us, we learned a lot about his cultural values of respect and daily living.”
Charley said she can’t believe that John is gone.
“It is so hard going for a walk in our neighborhood or even just sitting outside our building,” she said. “I find myself hoping to see him ride up on his bike. It is sad to think that he won’t be doing that anymore. The one memory I will always cherish is every time before I would walk out the door, hearing him yell out, ‘Proud of you!’ It always made me feel warm let me know that he cared for me.”
John’s long-time friend and fellow Street Roots vendor Donald Short remembers John’s sense of humor.
“He was quite funny. He always had a comeback or a one-liner to make you smile,” Donald said. “John was also a beast on a chess board. I only defeated him once. I’m not totally secure in the fact that I beat him square and that he didn’t just let me win.”
Eva Forrester remembers her brother John as “one of those people who was so funny, he should have been on stage ... People don’t know how sensitive and loving he was, he was very heartfelt. If he loved you, he loved the shit out of you, front, back, side to side, right or wrong,” she said.
“He endured a lot to be where he is,” Eva said. “All we had for a long time was each other. I had never loved anybody like my brother until I had my own kids. I thought we would be old people together. I miss him so much.”
To honor the memory of John Davis, many speak of how his kind spirit and happy nature filled a room, making all glad for his presence. They can remember how he made everyone laugh and his amazing chess skills. But the difficulties John experienced and expressed eloquently can’t be glossed over.
John would often speak passionately about how racism had affected his life.
He described how nervous he was around the groups of police who gathered for coffee on the porch of the Starbucks near his newspaper sales post. He was worried he might be accused of something, with no way to defend himself. He spoke of his exclusion from jobs and his reluctance to seek health care because of how he was treated as a black man, and as a poor man.
“I don’t read the paper because it’s going to make me sad,” he once said during an interview. “I don’t do politics, because no matter what I do, I’m still going to be a black man in America, and they still don’t like me. That’s why I started growing my beard and dreadlocks because it doesn’t matter what I do, no matter what, they are going to shoot a brother in the back, unarmed. That’s how I feel. I’m nervous. You put your hands up, they still are going to shoot. I don’t use health care because they are going to be rude to me. I only go in if it’s a real emergency.”
He said growing dreadlocks was an act of defiance against a system he felt would never accept him.
According to Eva, “He knew if he looked different, more people might listen to what he had to say.
“My brother is a perfect example of how broken our system is,” Eva said. “This man could not go to the doctor to get help. His ankles were swollen up, and he wouldn’t go for help. It was not necessary for him to die like that.
“They just told him he was too young to have a heart condition. If it was a white man, 30 years old with swollen ankles, would he have gotten the same treatment? His death didn’t have to be like it was.
“He was a real kind of person,” Eva continued. “He was not afraid. That is the one thing he impressed on me in life. If John was going to give a takeaway for everyone, it would be stop being afraid, because it doesn’t matter. Life is too short. Stop being afraid, what do you have to be afraid of? If they don’t like you, forget about it. Live your life.
“I wish I could have seen him one more time, tell him one more time I love him. He just wanted to be free. He didn’t like the confines of four walls. He liked to be out among people, that’s exactly what he wanted to do. He made decisions differently than most people, but John was a happy man. And above all, he wanted to make others happy, to make them laugh.”
Here at Street Roots, we will miss you, John Davis. Thank you for all you taught us. We wish your mother, your sisters Eva and Alesha, your beloved daughters Makida and Iris, and your family and friends peace and our heartfelt condolences.
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