Crying Shame

Carl Gholson was a gifted sax player. He was also a paranoid schizophrenic. He became another victim of Phoenix’s scorching heat

"That one I just don't believe," he says. "Carl wouldn't have given up that sax for nothing."

At the August 6 memorial service, Gholson read an elegy he had composed for his brother. It said in part:

Never mean no harm

God must have stamped my soul the Day I was born

Even my grandmamma

Taught me, never mean no harm

Through all the things I've been through

All the times I was by myself

Just me and God who was always true

Even when my mind would raise the alarm

I knew deep inside myself never mean no harm . . .

Gholson says he has an idea what he'll eventually do with his brother's cremated remains:

"My sister has been telling me, 'Just take him to a high building like the Westward Ho and let the wind take him.' I mean, he spent his whole life going here and there, kind of wherever the wind took him. I just might do that."

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