Shocked and saddened beyond words to learn of the untimely death of my good friend Paul Mullen, who was killed in an auto-pedestrian accident late Friday night a few blocks from his home.
But not surprised, to be honest. Ever since I’ve known Paul he’s had a rough time of it. Frequent bouts of depression, a weakness for spirits, bad luck, and worst of all the betrayal of those he trusted, gradually wore Paul down until the fight in him was just about gone.
Our initial meeting, ten or twelve years ago, was not an auspicious one. At that time we were competitors in a pretty tough business. His was the better established business, PC Guru, while I was the upstart.
But a run of bad luck forced him to close his location on South Lamar, a short distance from my shop on Thornton Road. I had the bright idea to place a sign on the door of the now-closed establishment directing would-be customers to my shop, with a map. I assumed he had gone under, so no harm no foul. He got wind of it, tore my sign down, and called me up to complain, brusquely. A bit of a pissing contest ensued. I won’t go into detail but it was pretty rough.
A year or two later, completely out of the blue, Paul walked into my shop one day. His manner was that of a man chastened. Things had not gone well for him since our first meeting. The latest location of PC Guru had failed, and he was out of options, out of time, and looking for work, any work. He apologized for the unpleasantness of our previous encounter, and handed me a copy of his resume. I said something like, Dude, no big deal, and meant it.
I found out later that a mutual friend, who knew of Paul’s plight, had urged him to contact me. She was familiar with the nature of our earlier encounter, but also knew that I bore no particular grudge because of it, which she relayed to Paul.
Even so, I can only imagine how difficult it was for him to walk into the lion’s den and ask for help from a former competitor. I was genuinely moved by his display of courage, and told him, truthfully, that although I did not have any work at the moment, I would call him as soon as I did.
It wasn’t long before events allowed me to to fulfill that promise. One job led to another and then another, so I was able to give him enough work to keep the wolf from the door.
After a time, Paul became a regular around the shop. He was an exceptionally bright and well-informed guy, just different enough in outlook to inspire spirited, wide-ranging conversations. We joked about doing a podcast. Working title: A Couple of Old White Guys Talk About Stuff. When Paul got into a jam with one of his girlfriends and had to vacate his house for a couple of months, I gave him a place to stay. When, in a fit of spite, another girlfriend drained the oil from his car, leading to a spun bearing, I loaned Paul one of my numerous spare vehicles.
In his later years, Paul became a homeless advocate and volunteer. Countless people benefited from his kindness and generosity. Alas, some of those people mistook his kindness for weakness, and preyed on Paul’s good nature. Those of us who knew him could only watch in dismay as he suffered insult after betrayal after indignity at the hands of those he sincerely wished to help.
In a world full of pretenders, Paul was the genuine article. He is mourned, and will be missed.
Leave a light on for me old friend. I’ll be along after a bit.