Coyote’s Last Call

The beauty of living in a small town is that you can get to know a lot of people. The good part of that is that you usually share the joys and celebrations and good fortune of their lives. The bad part of small town life is that you also share in the losses and misfortunes. 

Yes, I realize death is inevitable but boy this getting “older” thing is starting to get on my nerves. Friends with major health issues, wasting away or downright dropping. I say all this because, to add to the recent loss of a particular friend, his passing represents the”original Cambria fabric” unraveling just a bit more and it’s got me sensitive to the subject.

He had been in declining health for a spell. At the end, he bamboozled a number of people into thinking he was fine and didn’t need care. It took a strong woman, Patty Leopold, to not take any of his guff and get him to go with the boys next door from the Firehouse/ambulance. She told me she knew that would be the last time she saw him.   

I can’t remember if I met Coyote in Camozzi’s Saloon first or at his and his mom, Ellen’s, store- The Pit Stop. Either way, I liked him immediately. Whether pulling up in front of the bar on his Harley or selling me milk down at the store, he just presented such an image. Did he always have long gray hair and a beard? Think so.

While in his later years he was known to be more cantankerous than ever, he was still always a sweety to me. Miles’ dad often called on the “bank of Coyote” when in need. I think the man helped many more people than any of us realize. The silent angel. Well, angel might not be the most appropriate vision to try and sell…

The old days of Cambria, when people spoke their minds, took care of each other (I know we still do but it was just “different” in those days), didn’t give a damn about what people thought of their cars (think Warren Leopold) or clothes or whatever and when they worked together to get things done. It was a colorful place with a kaleidoscope of personalities. Pre-gentrification. No sidewalks or street lights. We could take care of ourselves, thank you. 

Coyote was there in the days when hippies and cowboys, real estate agents, carpenters (there was a building industry in the late 70’s, early 80’s) and trogs from up in Big Sur met in the “office”, Camozzi’s, to share the latest b.s. and shoot a game of snooker or pool. I lived around the corner on Bridge Street so I know quite well the goings on there. Perhaps too well!

Coyote will be missed by many imitated by none. His memorial will be at the “Church of Coyote” next Sunday. I can’t wait to hear everyone’s remebrances. It will surely be quite the tapestry of tales. 

About Lady Tie Di

I acquired the moniker of "Lady Tie Di" (my old radio name, a twist on my name, Dianne, and my creative side...) for a good reason. I make and sell tie dyes on occasion (amongst other things), my cars are often as not works of art and I do like color in my world. I try to spread peace and love where ever I can and to make people smile. And here I am doing something else I love- writing. Door's always open... come on in!
This entry was posted in bars, Cambria, Coyote, Small town. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Coyote’s Last Call

  1. pat says:

    Sorry to be a stickler but his name is spelled Coyote>>> We will be there to have a drink for Coyote!!! Pat Doroski

  2. Sunset says:

    Well written piece about Coyote – he'd be proud to have read it. He was one of a kind.Loved the "state" of Cambria "Pre-gentrification. It might have caused a stir, though, in the Cambrian.

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