REQUIEM:...In Town, One Last Conversation And "Solid" Electric Guitar Chord With Ben Neece...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

BROWNSVILLE, Texas |...This is a bit late, but only because we'd waited a few days to see what the local bloggers, always the chime-in types, would write about their good friend, Ben Neece, who passed away last week.

Sadly, we saw nothing of note.

They all mentioned his death at the gym and have since followed up with word of his memorial mass and day & time of internment. Pretty cold stuff, yes.

We expected a fitting New Yorker-worthy profile, at least from his old running mate Elderly-About-Town Blogger Jerry McHale, but nothing came. Jerry waxed poetic about Ben's untimely death being a "blow" and all that, but he went nowhere else with a write-up going to an old friendship.

Blogger Juan Montoya, recipient of Ben's kindness when finding himself before Municipal Court, only posted news of the death and, later, that aforementioned notice of burial. Montoya knew Ben seemingly forever, but, no, Juan, didn't get inspired to write something fitting.

Third blogger Jimmy Boy Barton took a backdoor, remembering Ben's downtown club, The Crescent Moon, in what could have been a good anecdote to a longer, in-depth piece about Ben's life in town. It was a noisy, busy, all-out living life of the sort few in Brownsville live.

Barton, not a college graduate and with zero Journalism experience, could be excused for not attempting a more-suitable remembrance of his friend, the one Dairy Neck Barton always referred to lately as the "officiant" of his wedding to the Filipina, The New American.

I didn't know Ben as well as this local trio did. My interaction with him dealt with his politics, that weird abduction in Togo, Africa, his decision to move downtown to seek a seat on the Brownsville City Commission, his campaign, his victory, his time in office, his departure from that role.

In between, Ben lived the musician's life, one that had him spearheading a drive to bring more action to dying Downtown Brownsville. Who can forget Ben's stab at bringing the Big City "Pub Crawls" to town, his pushing of local musicians to perform at his club and others.

Sitar? Ben played it. Irish Kilt? Ben wore it. Chasing eclipses in the Carolinas? Ben did it. Traipsing in the Chiapas outs? Ben was there. There was also life away from the ever-explorer in him. Early-on in his campaign for the city commission, word was leaked that Ben had once been stabbed by his wife when they lived over on Sally Lane, before his move to that downtown loft.

We theorized at the time that the info had been leaked by his opponent, then-City Commissioner John Villarreal, who made no bones about the "fact" that Ben did not actually live downtown and, thus, was ineligible to run for the post.

But Ben prevailed, even as we criticized him often, enough that his sons began contacting us about the fairness issue. We did take some fun while poking at Ben's many, many, many beer pachangas while his happy-as-punch campaign rolled on to Election Night.

And he served the downtown district well, although it is a tough one to advance as the old, attractively-decaying joints wear their age for the magazine photographers - falling buildings in need of repair, abandoned businesses from an earlier era, newcomers that come and go within months. Ben stayed on top of the mess, but his fight to enliven or, really, rejuvenate a Dead Downtown the task of David against Goliath.

As a city, Brownsville adores its history, and old buildings are history around here. You don't just knock down an old theater just because its roof caved-in, as happened. Change is a fighting word to many of the town's Old Guard. But Ben did force a vote on the city commission for security cameras for the downtown district...and he won that fight.

No one questions his desire to be a busy public servant. Ben insisted on looking into things, and some he managed to improve. His politics were middle-of-the-road, we would say. He backed then-Mayor Juan "Trey" Mendez perhaps a bit too much, but his approach was always one that saw the end game, a completed conversation on some issue before the commission.

It didn't always go smoothly.

A gent named Graham Sevier came out of the bicycle-repair and pizza business in late 2020 to get himself a seat on the city-backed Greater Brownsville Incentives Corporation (BCIC) charged with attracting new business to Brownsville. As happened, Sevier was a partner in Mayor's Mendez's pizza enterprise downtown, Dodici's.

When I telephoned Ben to ask about Sevier after we heard Ben had nominated him for the position, Ben said, "I might have (nominated him). You'll have to go to the meeting's minutes."

Sevier would go on to make a name for himself for what he one day said about the Texas governor, which was, "Fuck You, Abbott!" The anger had some connection to the task he had with the city entity. It wasn't long after that that Sevier resigned his position.

Ben nominating Sevier likely had all to do with his friendship with the mayor.

Politics is funny that way. It'll make good, thoughtful men do strange things that later can rarely be explained adequately. Not that Ben ever explained Sevier, but it was one of those things in his public service that actually ensnared him.

Was Ben Neece a politician? Is that his legacy, the portrait he leaves behind?

Of course not. Ben was one of those individuals who is born to action, for himself (his music, that love of rock 'n roll) and for his community (the municipal court judgeship, his time on the city commission).

I do suspect that there are personas like Ben in every town, those residents who hear more than the topical noise, the rumors and bad news. With him, it was as if he did hear all that, but somehow made his way along both the busy and lonely streets of Brownsville.

He deserves better write-ups than the minimal efforts he got from his local friends.

We only wish we could add more, and we say that because we know Ben lived a full life. There was a certain quietness about him. And there also was a distinct desire to fight for freedom and fairness.

When last we spoke in October, it was a chat about the mess Bloggers McHale and Barton had created about some loose-kneed controversy over at the Texas Southmost College welding program.

Ben was somewhat aware, he told us.

We asked for his thoughts about McHale's decision to burn his bridges with age-old pal Tony Zavaleta, the affable TSC Trustee.

Ben told me he'd talked to Jerry and that Jerry had said he'd lay-off Tony but not TSC. He wasn't all that concerned, he went on. I chalked it up to Ben perhaps knowing all-too-well of Blogger McHale's teen-like petulance.  

Endings in Blog postings often simply tail off, as the story always continues.

Here, we'll unapologetically draw on a cliche, yes, but one that fits the moment -

Godspeed, Ben Neece...

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