Friends, homeless mourn Peter Thorpe at St. Luke's
By Nathan R. Huff
Members of Los Gatos' homeless community, along with friends and fellow St. Luke's parishioners, came together Oct. 31, to remember their friend Peter Lynn Thorpe.
Thorpe, a 53-year-old homeless man, was found lying on a bench at Vasona Park in the early morning of Oct. 12. He had died at some point during the night, an empty liquor bottle lying nearby. The county coroner's office has not released a cause of death, but police and friends of Thorpe assume it was a combination of alcohol, exposure and Thorpe's existing medical problems.
Those who knew Thorpe best, however, are quick to change the subject away from his death and focus on his life. Friends describe him as a kind, happy man, who suffered one too many tragedies in his life and never fully recovered. He was a religious man who would cut out articles or comics from the newspaper for friends, tell jokes and quickly express his thanks to those who helped him.
"He always had a sense of humor. He had a great disposition on life," said Bob Cabral, who, with his wife, befriended Thorpe and took him into their home on weekends. "He just had too many demons he was fighting."
Thorpe grew up in upstate New York. He was a bright, fun-loving kid, his only sibling Carol Hanlon said. He preferred to watch people than be the center of attention. He attended Duchess Community College in New York, after placing first in the state on the math section of the college entrance exam. All those who knew him say he was an incredibly intelligent man, and a tattered physics text book kept in his locker at St. Luke's was a testament to the fact Thorpe never lost his science interest.
Thorpe spent six years in the U.S. Navy working on an aircraft carrier before joining IBM. He spent 16 to 18 years with the company, moving out to the Silicon Valley in the mid-1970s after a painful divorce from his first wife.
He was remarried to a woman named Connie, whose birthday he remembered each year by marking it in his datebook. Connie, and Thorpe developed a co-dependent relationship fueled by alcohol, which worsened when Connie was diagnosed with ovarian cancer that eventually killed her.
"He took it real hard," Joe Nigro, a friend who went to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings with Thorpe, said. "He didn't talk to anyone for a long while."
One day, as Thorpe walked out of a Los Gatos Safeway, he was stricken by a Grand Mal seizure. He fell, injuring his head so badly that doctors removed part of his skull and brain. Over a six-month rehabilitation period, Thorpe taught himself to walk again. When he was finally released from the hospital he had no job, no car, his wife was gone, he was unemployed and he suffered from periodic seizures.
"He went from a very normal guy with a high IQ to a very lovable, needy guy on the streets," Cabral said. "Pete was a brilliant person, and I think that was one of the things that led to his inability to cope--he was fragile."
No one knows exactly how long Thorpe had been on the streets, but it had been since early in the 1990s. He took refuge in St. Luke's Church near Old Town, and made frequent rounds, walking all over town and ducking in and out of shops where he knew people.
"People loved him," Vic Sakellar, a Los Gatos homeless man known for his art, said. "He used to always philosophize at the Coffee Roasting Company." Sakellar added that Thorpe liked to read books, do math problems, and was never known to give anyone trouble. Police officers, who picked Thorpe up occasionally for being drunk in public, had similar comments, saying he was one of "the friendly ones."
When Thorpe finished his rounds, he would often end up at St. Luke's, where he would be given sanctuary Sunday nights, along with a hot meal and a shower. At St. Luke's he kept a small bag of personal belonging--toothbrushes, lotion, an old bottle of Advil and Tylenol, a hackeysack and other day to day items.
Also in his bag were wads of newspaper clipping with notes on the top with friend's names. Another clipping came from Ann Lander's column and included the AA serenity prayer that Thorpe had highlighted. There is a story on a series of homeless murders in Denver, and several comics.
In a small Altoids tin, Thorpe kept several prayers, including one entitled "Suicide Prayer" that Thorpe highlighted and wrote "very important" below. A ragtag Gospel of John, entire pages of which are highlighted, was also part of his bag of belongings. Other scraps of paper remind him to pick up medicine, and a wrinkled napkin has a math equation he worked out showing his odds of having a seizure due to flickering lights.
Thorpe had several letters in the bag. One is from Charlotte, a homeless woman and close friend who recently left Los Gatos with her newborn baby. Her letter promises more pictures will come. There are emails--sent via Cabral--from his sister Carol, who lives in Salem, Ore., telling him to "hang in there" and keep trying to "beat the booze."
Finally, and perhaps most telling of who Thorpe was, there is a small seasonal planner, which he received from Cabral. It starts in January, 1999, with a note at the top stating: "Nov. 23, 1998, last drink & seizure." As the weeks go on, Thorpe crossed off each one, noting the amount of time he had stayed sober.
"He was putting up a really good fight for a while," Nigro, who was trying to dry out at the same time, said.
As the weeks go on in the planner, Thorpe notes birthdays of his friend Charlotte, his deceased wife and the memorial service--with a heart and "R.I.P."--for "one-eyed" Joe, who ran a barbershop where Thorpe frequently stopped. Mixed in throughout the books are notes reminding himself of his medication needs, including one that said "walked to Valley Medical and back--21 miles, but succeeded and got my prescription."
In July, Thorpe's life clearly got harder. He marked one day he had a seizure and was taken to the hospital; "walked back" is part of the inscription. He also notes that he had several nights filled with "alcohol fantasies." Sometime in late August, Thorpe stops counting the weeks.
"When we started with him we had him straight for seven or eight months," Cabral said. "But I felt Pete would never stop drinking. He just had too many feelings."
Thorpe's planner had a number of other entries that gave a window into his life. He loved Los Gatos, friends say, evidenced by notes in the planner marking both the tree lighting festival and the Children's Holiday Parade. He also loved his family, though the relationship between Thorpe and his father was particularly strained, Cabral said. On Father's Day, Thorpe wrote: "Owe daddy a letter."
Cabral said Thorpe had virtually no contact with his mother and father in the past 10 years, though Cabral once called the parents in Florida and told the mother that her son was doing alright. He also made the call to tell the family of Thorpe's death.
"Mrs. Thorpe said she had never seen her husband cry, and he broke down and cried when she told him," Cabral said, adding that while the father is extremely ill, both the mother and the sister hoped to make it to the memorial.
"He was just one of those guys you wanted to help because of his honesty," Cabral said, adding that he and his wife looked forward to every Saturday when they would pick Thorpe up. "I'm happy for Pete, because I know that those things that have haunted him have passed away, but he's in heaven now."
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Los Gatos, California Since 1881
Will be missed: Peter Thorpe
