The Chicago Odyssey of Lester Biggs

After decades on the street, Lester Biggs was something of a fixture near Western Avenue. He spent most of each night hunting through north side alleys for discarded treasures, moving like an apparition in faded mismatched sneakers and a stained white lab coat. He was noticed by passersby but aggressively ignored, and his feet shuffled under the weight of their projected guilt and gratitude.

“Hey there doc,” said Gus, propping open the rear door of his diner with cardboard boxes and several black trash bags filled to bursting with kitchen refuse. They began this role-play several months earlier when Lester found the lab coat and showed up at Gus’s door. Prior to that he had worn a broken plastic hard-hat and orange safety vest during his construction worker period. He had been for varying lengths of time, a secret service agent securing the alley, a bible-carrying pastor and an off-duty patrolman, all based on props he discovered in his wanderings. But he took obvious delight at being a doctor. It called to something hidden away inside him.

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