CLEVELAND, Ohio -- The Sax Man has died.
Clevelander Maurice Reedus, Jr., 65, the saxophonist who spent most evenings on Cleveland's streets entertaining sports fans and theater patrons with crowd pleasing numbers, was found dead in his apartment on E. 89th Street Monday.
His sister, Sharon Reedus-Sanders, said he had suffered a heart attack in August and had recovered enough to continue playing music, including Friday night at Playhouse Square.
Family members were unable to reach him Saturday and discovered Monday he had died in his bed, she said.
Maurice Reedus, Jr., the eldest of six Reedus children, was known to his family as, simply, "Man." Nephews called him "Uncle Man." Fans called him "Sax Man."
He was happiest on his horn, she said, wearing flamboyant red clothing, stylish sunglasses and a smile for anyone who wanted to pose for a picture. He did it because he loved to play and because he needed the money. Fans were happy to reward his renditions of TV theme songs with some loose change or a couple of singles.
A highlight of his life was the 2014 documentary film "The Sax Man," which played at the Cleveland International Film Festival. It recounted his life as a professional musician, and how he took his playing to the streets. And it featured a reunion with his former band, "Sly, Slick & Wicked."
The film won the festival's "Local Heroes" award and Reedus, during a Q and A after an encore screening, was his usual self-deprecating and hilarious self.
"I'm thinking this will be a good year for you," a patron said.
"As long as I can pay my cable bill, that's cool," the Sax Man retorted.
He lived at the time in a small apartment in Glenville. He's just moved to a new place on E. 89th street, his sister said, and was excited about it.
The Sax Man is the son of Maurice Reedus, Sr., a grammy-winning musician who played tenor saxophone in the late Robert Lockwood, Jr.'s legendary blues band for 35 years. The son emulated his father, according to Reedus-Sanders, and sought his approval.
She said both of his parents were proud of him, as she was.
"I just remember as a little boy how much he idolized my dad and how much he wanted to emulate him and music became passion and he played it until his last day," she said.
She marveled at his positive attitude, even as he busked on the streets for cash on cold Cleveland nights.
"I don't know if there was ever a time when I saw him angry," she said, marveling at his ability to remember names and faces.
But he was angry in 2013, after one in a long string of citations from Cleveland and Regional Transit Authority police for such things as "misconduct" on public transit, no vendor's license, no peddler's ID and loud noise.
"I'm barely hanging on. I'm 60 years old and a military veteran. All these other people are doing good and I'm doing raggedy right now," Reedus told me at the time. "I don't ask for nothing. I work."
His experiences prompted City Council to clear up ambiguity in city law, passing a the "Sax Man Ordinance" expressly legalizing busking, or playing music on the streets for money.
"What a gentle soul he was. He was so kind," said former City Councilman Joe Cimperman, who represented downtown and proposed the ordinance.
"He was the reason we did it. The truth is real cities have Maurices," he said. "He brought people joy and Cleveland is going to be less because he's not here any more."