 |
| Poet Rubens Francois, 29, lit himself on fire downtown after becoming obsessed with Aviva Caiserman, 38, seen here as a young woman in a casting call for an Otto Preminger film |
-Rubens Francois
**
Rubens Francois was born in 1946 and left Haiti with his family for New York City where he had a brief association with the Black Panther movement before moving to Montreal to avoid military service.
Rubens found work washing dishes and became a familiar downtown figure in cafes and bars around Bishop, Crescent and Stanley.
His main haunt was the Bengal Lancers, an Indian restaurant at 1187 Bishop, which later became Darwin's Pub.
Its owner, referred to in one article as P.K., likely Eftaib Khan, noted that people liked Francois and the poems he sold.
"We always made him welcome, gave him free dinners. But when he bought himself drinks he always paid by cheque. They never bounced," said P.K.
Fellow scenester Esmond Choueke confirmed that Francois was well-liked. "Nobody gave him flak."
Rubens had ambitions as a poet and managed to get one budget-edition, My Soul in Tears, onto shelves at Classics bookstore on St. Catherine.
Rubens, in his late 20s, had a girlfriend for about two years. He changed somewhat after she left town.
"He didn't seem sad but he became a bit careless," PK recalled.
One day in 1974 Francois bumped into acquaintance Aviva Caiserman, aka Aviva Herson from marriage to Jewish religion teacher Benjamin Herson, who moved to California in 1969.
Aviva was a well-known stage actress who was 16 years older than Rubens. He was about 28 and she was aged 44 when they met.
She had acted in a couple of episodes of Shoestring Theatre, a Montreal-based TV drama show that aired from 1959 to 1964. She was described as one of the 100 most beautiful women in the world in an event at Man and his World in 1968.She had two children, Ilana born in 1954 and Johannan. They were living in Israel and the son, at least, was estranged from Aviva and refused to take her phone calls at one point.
Caiserman shared her feelings of distress with Francois, reporting that she felt bad about her recent divorce and from being far away from her children.
She promised to help translate some of his poems into English and the two embarked on a fling. "He did love me, though he knew I didn't love him."
Caiserman had been an aspiring actress before marrying a noted Hebrew scholar and told Montreal Gazette reporter Betty Shapiro* that the NFB once did a documentary on "her method of being."
Francois was determined to help Caiserman in any way he could and soon actively buttonholed people to see if they could help her.
Francois dedicated poetry to her and quit his dishwashing job early that summer.
He quarreled with his roommate, who asked to leave. It's unclear where Francois stayed after that, although he might have been homeless.
On July 4 an acquaintance reported seeing Francois who appeared normal.
Sometime that sunny summer morning Francois purchased a can of gasoline.
At noon Francois sat down in the middle of the the sidewalk at the busy corner of Crescent and St. Catherine, one of the city's liveliest hubs and not far from Classics bookstore where his poems were on sale.
He placed some of his poetry volumes nearby, then doused himself with gasoline while mumbling incoherently.
He then lit himself on fire.
He told police and ambulance attendants that he lit himself because he's a poet.
Staff at the Montreal General Hospital treated him for third degree burns to 80 percent of his body.
While painfully coping with his wounds, Francois whispered Aviva's name and phone number.
He lived in agony for three weeks.
Aviva was at his bedside when he died, while trying to remove tubes from his face.
One nurse who got to know Francois rejected the the narrative that Francois killed himself as a result of romantic passion.
Aviva herself said Francois lit himself for a different cause.
"He did the Buddhist thing. He felt he had a mission, to bring attention to man's inhumanity to man,. He wanted to bring unity to the world," she said.
Choueke, however, pointed out that Francois never spoke of religion or Buddhism.
Francois told a nurse before dying. "I did it for nothing."
He left behind his parents and eight brothers and sisters, all living in New York City.
*Info mostly taken from Betty Shapiro's article "Make a deal with darkness" Montreal Gazette 12 August, 1974 p. 13.
She promised to help translate some of his poems into English and the two embarked on a fling. "He did love me, though he knew I didn't love him."
Caiserman had been an aspiring actress before marrying a noted Hebrew scholar and told Montreal Gazette reporter Betty Shapiro* that the NFB once did a documentary on "her method of being."
Francois was determined to help Caiserman in any way he could and soon actively buttonholed people to see if they could help her.
Francois dedicated poetry to her and quit his dishwashing job early that summer.
He quarreled with his roommate, who asked to leave. It's unclear where Francois stayed after that, although he might have been homeless.
On July 4 an acquaintance reported seeing Francois who appeared normal.
Sometime that sunny summer morning Francois purchased a can of gasoline.
At noon Francois sat down in the middle of the the sidewalk at the busy corner of Crescent and St. Catherine, one of the city's liveliest hubs and not far from Classics bookstore where his poems were on sale.
He placed some of his poetry volumes nearby, then doused himself with gasoline while mumbling incoherently.
He then lit himself on fire.
He told police and ambulance attendants that he lit himself because he's a poet.
Staff at the Montreal General Hospital treated him for third degree burns to 80 percent of his body.
While painfully coping with his wounds, Francois whispered Aviva's name and phone number.
He lived in agony for three weeks.
Aviva was at his bedside when he died, while trying to remove tubes from his face.
One nurse who got to know Francois rejected the the narrative that Francois killed himself as a result of romantic passion.
Aviva herself said Francois lit himself for a different cause.
"He did the Buddhist thing. He felt he had a mission, to bring attention to man's inhumanity to man,. He wanted to bring unity to the world," she said.
Choueke, however, pointed out that Francois never spoke of religion or Buddhism.
Francois told a nurse before dying. "I did it for nothing."
He left behind his parents and eight brothers and sisters, all living in New York City.
*Info mostly taken from Betty Shapiro's article "Make a deal with darkness" Montreal Gazette 12 August, 1974 p. 13.
I saw him on fire It was during lunch hour on St Catherine street people where screaming he was running on fire two men jumped out of truck and threw a carpet on him and stopped the fire he was on the ground.It was the most beautiful sunny day and suddenly the the sky just became so dark.I was 18 years old it was so surreal.
ReplyDeleteThe way I remember it was construction workers who put the flames out.
ReplyDeleteI was half a block away when I saw flames rise into the sky, I knew there was construction there and thought it was related. Then I get there and he's on the ground. I could have reached down to touch him, I think he was still on fire because my memory is wanting to help, but worried that I'd make things worse.
I was 14.
The only reason I knew more about it was because it was in the news, one of those times when it was just "filler" for most people, but for people who knew him, and those of us who saw it directly, the news mattered a lot.
I certainly remember it as "early" afternoon, but I also know it was obviously close to Classic Books. I did think it was more mid-July, it's interesting how we distort things in our minds.
Michael