 |
|
Bill Sackter, with his harmonica,
in a 1983 photo.
photo by D.R.
Miller
|
On a campus where the vending machines sell Coca-Cola exclusively,
Wild Bill's Coffee Shop in North Hall is one place you can still
get a Pepsi.
You can also get a sandwich, a muffin, or a fifty-cent paperback.
Hardcovers cost a dollar. A backpack will run you ten dollars.
Forty gets you a chair.
A lot of people come for the coffee. That was Bill's drink. Wild
Bill Sackter was the mentally retarded counter man who reigned
here for ten years. Until Bill died in 1983, people mostly came
to be near him. In the years since his death, his friends and
fans have kept his memory alive by observing the annual Bill
Sackter Days, this year on Nov. 13 and 14.
"Bill blossomed like a flower," recalled Tom Walz,
professor of social work and the driving force behind Wild Bill's.
"He attracted everyone to him as if he was some sort of
beautiful rose. Students, faculty, community people would just
sort of seek him out. He was such a special person, and that
didn't have anything to do with his retardation."
The story of Wild Bill's began in 1973, when Walz came to Iowa
as director of the School of Social Work. Walz was keen to hire
one of his former students, Barry Morrow, to bring some creative
new blood to the school through expanding the use of media in
instruction. But Morrow had just assumed guardianship of an elderly,
mentally retarded man who had been institutionalized since the
age of seven. Morrow wanted the job but told Walz he could only
take it if there was a job for Bill too.
"He was functionally pretty slow but was a very nice man,"
Walz said. "We had Bill making coffee."
 |
Tom Walz, professor of social
work and author of The Unlikely Celebrity: Bill Sackter's Triumph
Over Disability, in Wild Bill's Coffee Shop.
photo by Rex Bavousett
|
In the course of time, Bill proved himself to be more than
very nice. His unique blend of innocence and good cheer drew
people into the closet-sized shop for coffee and popcorn. At
the time, the College of Education operated a day care center
on the second floor of North Hall, and Bill received daily visits
from the children. He became something of a cult figure in Iowa
City. As his entourage grew, the coffee shop moved into its present
larger space on the third floor of North Hall.
All of which prompted Morrow, Bill's young guardian, to write
his story. He did it in the form of a screenplay called Bill.
The script was made into a television movie in 1982, starring
Mickey Rooney as Bill Sackter. Both Rooney and Morrow won Emmy
awards. The film was rebroadcast twice a year for several years
after its initial showing. According to Walz, over 150 million
viewers saw it.
"That brought a kind of visibility for the University and
for Bill," Walz said. "The letters poured in. We had
to hire a secretary to answer Bill's mail."
But celebrity was brief. Bill died in 1983. The shop did not.
"There was a woman with mental retardation," Walz explained,
"from the Evert Conner Center for Rights and Resources for
Independent Living who said, 'I knew Bill, and I'm not going
to let you close down the coffee shop. I'm going to replace Bill.'
She worked there for two years before she too died. At that time
we made a commitment to expand the work opportunities for the
adult disabled."
Since then, Wild Bill's Coffee Shop continuously has employed
adult persons with disabilities. The workers receive food and
a stipend, the maximum amount allowed without jeopardizing their
federal supplemental security income. In exchange, they must
be willing to interact with students in the School of Social
Work as part of the students' training in working with the disabled.
It's never been a financially winning proposition, and in an
effort to keep the losses down Walz added books, antiques, and
other collectibles to the shop's wares. And where does this bric-a-brac
come from?
"I get done with my class at 8 p.m.," Walz said, "and
you know where I go? I go to an auction. I buy a truckload of
goodies and bring them back. It's my hobby. I refinish furniture."
Bill's memory lives on not only at the coffee shop, but also
in the annual Bill Sackter Days. Most years it's a quiet affair,
a chance for the disabled and the abled to meet for supper and
to honor Bill. Last year there was a harmonica festival, in memory
of Bill's favored instrument. This year, there are some special
events.
At 7 p.m. on Friday, Nov. 13 in Shambaugh Auditorium, there will
be a free screening of the film Bill. Morrow, who is now a full-time
screenwriter living in California, will be on hand to answer
questions. The film launched a screenwriting career that includes
the movie Rainman, for which Morrow won an Oscar. He's now at
work on a new film, also on the theme of the disabled, in collaboration
with Steven Spielberg.
From noon to 2 p.m. on Saturday, Nov. 14, at Prairie Lights bookstore,
Walz and Morrow will sign Walz's new book, The Unlikely Celebrity:
Bill Sackter's Triumph over Disability, for which Morrow wrote
the forward. That evening from 7:30-9:30 p.m. in the Space Place
in North Hall will be an event called "Wild Bill's Chautau-qua,"
an evening of music, Sackter stories, and desserts hosted by
Dan "Dr. Science" Coffey. Also present will be Rabbi
Jeffrey Portman, who bar mitzvahed Bill at age 67 and served
as one of his guardians.
Walz sees the shop, the celebration, and his book as ways of
keeping Bill's life and his contribution alive. In a university
community, where students, faculty, and administrators come and
go, it's important to remind people periodically that once there
was a man like Bill here. The Unlikely Celebrity recounts some
startling tales.
"A million stories built up around him," Walz said,
"including a very powerful one in which Bill goes to University
Hospital. Barry Morrow's daughter had encephalitis and was in
a coma. Bill wasn't allowed into intensive care because he wasn't
family. When he was finally allowed in, he fell on his knees
and started praying in tongues. He walked over to her crib, and
she came out of it then and there."
Walz hopes the book will generate some revenue that he can put
toward the maintenance of the shop. Currently, Walz donates not
only his time but also the salary he earns for teaching an extra
freshman seminar on Gandhi to keep the shop afloat.
It's a worthwhile labor. There's something inviting about Wild
Bill's, a pocket of quiet in the middle of the bustle of campus.
Wooden chairs and banquettes invite guests to read, study, converse,
and sip rather than slug down their coffee. For students, the
learning experience has been consistently invaluable. Bill's
benevolent presence lingers there.
"I'm trying to explain to the world why this person became
a celebrity, given all the limitations," Walz said. "It
wasn't because he was retarded. It was because he was a gift
to the world."
by Sam Samuels
|
