The Murder of Rue Morrow
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by David Gilton Soma 1997 marked the end of an era, and the end to the life of one Rue Morrow—Egyptian immigrant, songwriter, sax player, and crack smoker. Who shot Morrow down on a Tenderloin street corner on a cool November evening in 1997?.. and why? Was it…mistaken identity, drugs or turf rivalry? (Morrow was a street performer at San Francisco’s Fisherman’s Warf) THE BRIDGE Rue Morrow died that night…. but his music and his artistry refuse to be silenced, and until his song is published, the melody will continue to haunt the Third Street Bridge. Rue Morrow was one of the few people I knew who didn’t mind being homeless. To Rue every day was an adventure. He lived at a homeless shelter at 5th and Bryant Streets in San Francisco (M.S.C. South). In the morning, at 5am, a staff member would walk between the rows of mats lined on the floor, yelling for people to wake-up. "Turn your blanket in for a breakfast ticket. Up and Adam gentleman …now!!!" Morrow would skip breakfast; instead he and his trumpet playing-partner George Stockton would head to the Third Street Bridge four blocks away to practice. In the mid-1990's there were no apartments in the area, no live-work lofts, no dog walking yuppies to disturb the scenic backdrop of city lights, China basin, the bridge, and two homeless people making beautiful music. In fact, the only witnesses to this spectacle were the people who worked at the marine salvage company that was nestled in the spot now occupied by Pac Bell Park, and the bridge operator, himself a sax player. The marine company workers would show up at 4:45am for work as the boys were warming up on the bridge. "Once they began to play the music was great…it was a kind of a light jazz that seemed like it floated across the water. Man I used to look forward to it. ", remembered Charlie Basset, one of the marine boat crew members. The boys would rehearse on the bridge four or five days a week before going to Glide Memorial Church for a free breakfast. THE WHARF At about 9am each morning Fisherman’s Wharf can be seen teaming with tourists. They come from all over the country, and world, and they are there to see the sea lions, the Bay, Alcatraz, and yes, the street performers. The robot man who moves when you drop a coin in his cup, the spiky haired punks who, for a few bucks will take a picture with you, and of course, the music. To hear them tell it, Morrow and Stockton, were the best, and made the most money. Each day the two could walk away with 200 dollars in their pockets, sometimes more. George Stockton was an excellent trumpet player, while Rue was only so-so on the sax, but Rue wrote the songs and was a master at working the wharf crowds. Rue Morrow could have been a superstar. He loved people and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for you. The problem was he also loved crack and even though the boys got professional offers they could not seem to make it to their appointments. THE WHITE HOUSE The White House was a nickname for a small, X-rated movie house in the Tenderloin. White was the color of the product that one was to bring, share, and consume once you arrived for the party. The White House was known by so-called deviants worldwide, and they would come from all over the globe for the sex, drugs and partying that took place right out in the open. After they would finish their performance both George and Rue would buy some crack and head to the theater. They would smoke, party and share stories. When the dope would run out, Rue Morris would make the run to the dope man on Leavenworth Street for more. It was on one of these runs that Morrow met his fate. Rue Morrow went out to get some drugs for himself and some of his friends. And while on that mission he was shot, gunned to death in the street. Since that time the theater has been closed, and at least for a short time the community felt the impact of the death of Rue Morrow. Four days after Rue’s death, his partner George killed himself in an auto accident in the Tenderloin. THE MORAL Six day before he was killed, Rue Morrow handed me a notebook full of stories. It was filled with experiences that he and many of his friends had gone through. Morrow was a great observer of people. He would point to a group of homeless folk and say, "They look like no good, unwashed, beer drinking, drug taking, mentally unstable bums don’t they? Well they are…but each one of them is a human being and each one has their own story to tell." I’m gonna get that story out if it’s the last thing I ever do. Rue’s war stories are quite a collection and since he didn’t have the chance to tell the story, I have taken up the banner. I am in the process of writing a screen play based on Rue’s notebook, his music and his life on the street. I am calling it "Quicksand". THIRD STREET BRIDGE (HAUNTED?) For some time now people have used the Third Street Bridge and area to practice their horn playing. Most days you will see people standing at the bridge playing a riff…enjoying the resonant sounds of China Basin. What surprised me was hearing one of Rue Morrow’s tunes in the wind. As I walked by the new ballpark and on to the bridge, no one was to be found. I am not the only one who has heard Morrow’s sax. Charlie Basset, one of the marine workers who used to listen to Morrow play in those early morning hours, said the music continued after Morrow’s death. In fact they continued to hear the music up until the marine workers were relocated to make way for the new Pac Bell Park. The times, well they have changed, and the party it has ended, but now the story has to be told. |