Memorials abound and I’d like to number myself among those who knew the guy, but I can’t. I was an undergrad in Ann Arbor for 2.5 years in the 90s and didn’t get into town much. During another 2.5 years as a grad student who got out more I saw him a handful of times, but I don’t recall any more than a few sentences of conversation with him. However, you could see right off that he was one of those old time Ann Arbor characters who are in increasingly short supply.

It’s interesting — so many of the tributes seem to be half patting Ann Arbor itself on the back. Hey, remember the Jazz and Blues Fest? He played there! You know Afternoon Delight? He ate there free! You know public housing?! He lived there! *background hissing*. Well, guess what — there’s a multi-year waiting list for public housing and rental vouchers now, so don’t try to move to Ann Arbor if you’re poor. The Jazz and Blues Fest? Who knows. Afternoon Delight — that’s a pretty good breakfast place, but Jake could never have afforded to eat there on his own.

There’s still the King of Pop, who dances in the alley by the Michigan Theater, several people remind me. As Todd Leopold noted, once the Fleetwood is gone, that’s about all the character Ann Arbor ever had. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.

Reif invited Woods to play at the Ann Arbor Blues Festival in 1973. He only played for five minutes, but he made an impression. After the show, Reif said, women and girls headed backstage to fawn over Woods, thinking he was a blues star.

“I ain’t never going back to Saginaw,” Reif recalled Woods saying.

And he never did. Instead, he became a street legend in Ann Arbor, Reif said.

Many mornings, Woods arrived at Afternoon Delight before the Liberty Street restaurant opened for the day. He ate breakfast for free - oatmeal and wheat toast.

“He used to eat clam chowder, but we talked him into oatmeal because it was better for you,” said longtime employee Kim Bewersdorf.