By GINNY VAN ALYEA

Tony Fitzpatrick was the kind of friend I never imagined in a million years I would have. I met him within a year or so of taking over as publisher of CGN, when I stopped into his studio on Damen Ave. because I was picking up a framed work by one of his studio assistants, KS Rives. My parents had bought the collage for me and it was really the first work of art I had fallen in love with. KS had said she would be away so it would be ready at Tony's studio. I had no idea what walking in would be like. He had a lot of questions. He wanted to know who I was. How I had met KS. I felt like I a high-schooler meeting the parents before a first date. I said I published CGN, and he said he always liked Natalie [van Straaten, CGN's founding publisher.] Then he said something to the effect of "Too bad her ex-husband was such an asshole." After that I was disarmed. We talked for an hour. I left with my new collage, three books Tony had written, and a promise he wanted to support CGN and buy a full page ad, as he said, "To show all those other fuckers they should be advertising too."

Tony gave me confidence when I was getting my bearings as publisher, and he showed me what it meant to double-down on Chicago and love it no matter what. It's not easy to do, but Tony did it. He always seemed to try to give back to the city what it gave to him and to his art. I really think he also made me deeply appreciate living an urban life where you will never run out of things to see or do or think about, complain about and also appreciate.

Tony found birds and heard their music in the noisiest places. I hope he's listening to all the songs of his beautiful birds among the moths and butterflies now.

*

I told someone a couple of weeks ago, who used to be one of his many assistants, that I count myself very lucky that after 17 years, Tony and I hadn't fallen out – yet. She nodded knowingly. Tony's love was fierce and he wore his big heart on both of his fully tattooed sleeves. You always knew where you stood with Tony. Sometimes it was out, but if you hadn't done something really wrong, he'd welcome prodigal friends back in and admit to others if he thought he'd been wrong. No one could bullshit Tony. However, if you cheated, lied, thought you were better than someone else, that was it. His rules were simple and iron-clad. He was a curious and generous person, and he would tell you when he'd been burned and he'd tell you who'd done it, but then he'd move on.

Tony had a lot of thoughts on just about very topic, and he was so well known, in part, because the man could talk, and talk and talk. He loved to ramble, but he also loved to spar. He could be cool, well-read, interested in whatever came next. He collected people and their stories - inviting dogs into his open studio and making sure to stock their favorite treats. He'd buy 200 copies of a poetry book and give them all away to friends. He changed gallery models regularly, all in the name of making sure artists got visibility, and their money. He would be on his computer, on the phone and on Facebook all at the same time. And he'd be directing an assistant to cut this fragment of paper a little more or place a piece of ephemera just over there. It was magic to watch. On a visit to his studio one weekend last fall my 8 year old son brought him a drawing of a football player, and Tony gave him some advice about using colored pencils because they're so much better than markers. A couple weeks later he asked how his drawing was going.

Tony's artistic resume is well known - artist, writer, playwright, actor, former boxer. He designed album covers - the Neville Brothers, Steve Earle, Big Head Todd and the Monsters. He made art all over town, in restaurants (Yuzu) and tattoo parlors. He has murals from the Old Town School of Folk Music, to Steppenwolf Theater to the town of Glen Ellyn. Tony will always be everywhere in Chicago, even though the man himself is actually gone. At 66 he is gone too soon, but he lived a lot of lives – many more than most. Michele, Max and Gaby - my heart breaks for the three of you. Thank you for sharing your remarkable husband and father with so many of us who were so lucky to have him in our city and in our life.