R.I.P. Derrick 'Juice' McGlashen, Brooklyn Homeless Man And 7th Avenue Institution

PARK SLOPE, BROOKLYN — Over the past month or two, regulars of the Key Food at 7th Avenue and Carroll Street began to notice a big something, or rather someone, was missing. The corner's longstanding fixture, Derrick "Juice" McGlashen — a loud and friendly homeless man who told stories of fighting in the Vietnam War, and who had a joke or smile or nickname for all who passed by — was no longer perched on his crate on the corner, chatting up locals and hoping for a clink or swoosh in his cup.

The quiet he left in his absence was eerie, some said.

Early this week, McGlashen's hundreds of friends in the neighborhood finally found out why he'd been gone.

A laminated memorial poster, printed with a drawing of McGlashen's face, showed up Monday on the lamppost outside Key Food. "1948-2017," it read. "Rest in Peace."

And along the bottom of the poster, his No. 1 catchphrase, which he was known to shout at kids walking by: "Don't forget to read a book"! (Why? "He wanted to see them get somewhere in life," his best friend Irwin Burton, also homeless, told Patch. "He didn't want them to come out here and be like us.")

McGlashen died of lung cancer last week, just a couple months after being diagnosed. He is believed to have been in his late 60s or early 70s.

The lamppost at 7th and Carroll has since been adorned with other tokens of affection from neighbors: A homemade dreamcatcher. A child's drawing of a caterpillar. A flower crown. A Jesus candle. Bouquets of Key Food flowers. A single rose.

And the man behind the memorial — local attorney and law professor Brian Sheppard, who became especially close with McGlashen over the years — is now raising money from neighbors for a permanent plaque.

"When I moved to the neighborhood six years ago, he was already a fixture," Sheppard said. "He was so gregarious that you couldn’t miss him. Then I got to know him a bit more; we would share stories about our lives. And it grew into a friendship."

Sheppard added: "He made it seem so special in a way — but I’m learning now that he had countless people with that kind of relationship."

Indeed. Over the span of a couple hours outside Key Food on a 95-degree Thursday afternoon, dozens of Park Slopians on grocery-store runs stopped to pay their respects and share stories about McGlashen.

"This is so sad," Joy Millman, 65, told Patch. "Even if you didn't give him anything, he would always have a nice thing to say to you."

Another middle-aged woman passing by said McGlashen would always comment on her short, gray hair, calling it "beautiful." A 6-year-old named Annabelle said he named her "ballerina," which she loved — and, of course, would constantly remind her to read. A few people said he'd take care of their dog while they were inside Key Food. One guy said he helped him find his phone once. Becky Voorwinde, mother of soon-to-be first grader Miriam, said he always talked to the 5-year-old about her schoolwork and art projects. "He knew how to boost her self-esteem by encouraging her and commenting on her intelligence," Voorwinde said. He also gave Miriam $10 for her birthday.

"He was an institution," said Ezra Goldstein, owner of the Community Bookstore, an independent shop just down the block.

McGlashen used to come into the bookstore up to eight times a day, employees said — seeking heat, air conditioning, a nap on the couch, a trip to the bathroom, neighborhood gossip, jazz, insights on what he called "great white America" or whatever else suited his mood.

"Derrick was a pain in the a--, but I miss him terribly," Goldstein said.

Irwin Burton (pictured above), a local homeless man who claims the same block, said McGlashen had been his best friend for at least 20 years. "We looked out for each other," Burton said.

Sometimes, he said, McGlashen — better known as "Juice" — would even tell passerby to skip his cup and give their spare change to Burton instead. "He had a good heart," Burton said Thursday, now sitting in the same spot his friend used to sit. "I miss the s--- out of him."

McGlashen was also known among his peers as the most successful moneymaker in the neighborhood — sometimes pulling in five or 10 times as much cash as other panhandlers. "He was one of the best businessmen I ever saw," said Ari Kirtchuk, a local Israeli-Argentinian businessman who owns an AT&T resale shop on the next block over. "He controlled the area."

"He was a salesman," Kirtchuk said. "He was aggressive, so some people didn't like it. But other people respect it."

By all accounts, though, this was a man who made Park Slope a more vibrant, interesting and neighborly place to be — despite a history of personal troubles that likely go deeper than was understood by most whose days he brightened, according to his closest friends and confidants.

"He was ready to go," Burton said. "I know he was in a lot of pain."

Sheppard, the law professor who fashioned McGlashen's lamppost tribute, said he didn't realize how much his friend was suffering until the very end. "He wasn’t one to outwardly show that kind of vulnerability," Sheppard said. "It was more about making people happy in that small moment they walked by."

"He just had this incredible capacity to make a situation happy," Sheppard said.

More than a dozen neighbors have already offered to help fund a plaque for the Park Slope legend.

"Often when walking away from a little chat with Derrick, he would call after the person with an 'I love you,'" one of these neighbors, Mary McLoughlin, wrote in an email to Sheppard. "The thoughts of the past few days tell that we loved him, too."

Care to help with the plaque? Reach out to brian.sheppard@shu.edu for details.

This story has been updated. Photos by Simone Wilson/Patch