I don’t have any memories that precede Sterling. The earliest, he’d give my little brother a block of wood and a piece of sandpaper when Bart wanted to help Sterling in his refinishing shop by the bowling alley. He maintained a small backyard flock of wild ducks that fascinated me. He was Uncle Sterling to my close friends Diana, Donny & Laura. It wasn’t until I opened The Square Pie that Sterling became a regular part of my life. As most Sterling Stories go, it began with a lick of paint. He was a small man, and wore a noteworthy baseball cap, coated with several layers of paint. I remember it being green and perhaps red, but in later years, it was a pure blue. It must have weighed a good 20lbs. Practically a helmet.
I hired Sterling to paint the storefront at 400 Main in the spring of 1997. As I looked out the big front windows, I could only see the bottom half of the ladder, but I realized that he was moving the ladder, from the very top, by hopping it and shifting laterally along the cracked sidewalk, almost like a po-go stick. When I scolded him for such practice (OSHA would not approve!), he told me that he was charging me by the hour and that it took much, much longer time for him to climb down, move the ladder, and climb back up, so I should just be quiet about it; and so our relationship began.
By way of barrels worth of cups of coffee and loaves of toast, he was a regular at the Pie. He was invited to tables of friends and quickly became part of the group. The regular delivery drivers, lawyers and bankers would ask, “Where’s the Man in the Painted Cap?” and we’d tell them that, “he’ll be in soon.” Sterling told stories and shared the local gossip with customers, staff and myself. He introduced me to the old-fashioned drink called Postum; a malty coffee substitute “popular” during yesteryear. He would tell us how smart his dog was; a pure-bred mutt that could do tricks and sing harmony with Sterling. He’d bring us flowers, making the young staff blush. Old newspaper clippings were often brought for show and tell. Alvis Strazdins and Sterling were a dangerous pair that could dream up schemes, some brilliant, some on the verge of delusional, to pass long winter afternoons: an advice column, for this newspaper: Ask the Man with the Painted Cap, was an idea that should have been brought to fruition. Best was The Widow of the Week Program, a plan to accomplish small tasks in an elderly woman’s home in exchange for delicious meals and warm beds for this certain bachelor never had a chance to flourish. Alas.
Every town has their characters. Some that you would rather not know, others you’d wish to have known more. Sterling will go down in my small-town history book. Yet I will never be able to capture the wisdom, the gentleness nor the character of The Man with the Painted Cap.
— Best, Gina Rae, Goddess of Pie