From Andy Smith

I went to school at UW from '87-'91 and just stumbled across the Isthmus' Daily Page forum postings. Most of my Cosmo memories are like other people's, things like seeing him walking down the street saying in that signature voice: "Welcome to Gotham City, Batman! BA-HA-HA-HA!"

But I also remembered a story from a friend that is worth relating.

She worked at Steep 'n Brew in the late '80s, so of course she knew Cosmo well. She was a petite and strikingly beautiful woman and was working alone one night (I don't remember exactly why) right before closing time when a guy, whom she'd encountered before and gave her a very bad feeling, came in and parked himself in the upstairs portion of the cafe and made no sign of leaving. It has been years since she told me the story, so many of the exact details escape me, but I remember her explaining why she had a clear sense that this guy knew she was alone and meant her harm.

She was just about at the point of panic when Cosmo walked in. She said she was never so happy to see someone in her life. She said he immediately read the situation and her fear and stayed in the cafe until the creep left.

It's hard to say that Cosmo saved her, but he was certainly in the right place at the right time when she absolutely needed a friend.

That to me summed up Cosmo, and even though I saw him maybe once or twice in the few times I have been back to Madison in the past 17 years, it always made me so happy to see him still around.

From Jody Mosher

Jody Mosher worked as manager at Steep 'n Brew in the early 1990s. Like me, she's been out of Madison for more than ten years now. She sent me a few memories of those days:

Since receiving the sad news about Cosmo, I've had a rush of memories, bizarre and wonderful, of interactions with him. Strangely, he provided safety for me many a night during closing time at the Brew when he stuck around to help me stack chairs and lock up. Of course it came with a request: "Honey, you got any milk for me tonight?" I'll never forget visiting him at his apartment: the arrangement of stuffed animals, trinkets, candles; the cupboards with canned food he was certain was poisoned and his bare refrigerator with the exception of empty milk cartons. He welcomed me in his way of welcoming.

It must have been difficult for you finding out such news at a distance. You always heard him... didn't you? He seemed to know you were his friend.

Jody and Cosmo at Steep 'n Brew, around 1992.

From Sandy Anton

I worked at Steep ‘n Brew for several years beginning in 1995. Cosmo put up the chairs at night in exchange for coffee. He was a constant source of entertainment and he became a great friend. He always would take coffee from me, but he occasionally believed that other workers were trying to poison his coffee. I remember going to his apartments (across from Amy's and then upstairs from Amy's), seeing a cross floating in the sink with candles around it, a fridge full of milk, his record collection, and his closet full of leather clothes.

After leaving Steep ‘n Brew, I would see Cosmo at St. Vinnies. He would ask me for fashion advice about leather jackets he found. I remember one time he asked my opinion about a women's leather jacket with large shoulder pads inside it. I don't think that he bought it.

I would also see Cosmo at my daughter's preschool, a Methodist church on the west side. He worked there once a week, taking out garbage. He loved to talk with my daughter: he called her “granddaughter.” She was a bit afraid at first-but she was slowly warming up to him. Last time I saw him, I was pregnant and he was so excited about the new baby. Unfortunately, he'll never meet her.

Cosmo had many nicknames for me: daughter, Melissa Manchester, baby, pumpkin, doll. I will miss hearing them all. He was truly a wonderful man and will be greatly missed.

Sandy Anton