He had a loft here in hipsterville (portland oregon) in the 80s and 90s...maybe even later. I too had a loft in the same neighborhood, at the time it was the warehouse district...until the ferengi figured they could make a buck exploiting the legacy that the artist community created there...
There was a diner not far where I could be found several mornings a week. One such morning there was a guy sitting at the counter not far from me...he caught me looking at him as through I was trying to place the face, which I was. He just said "I'm not him." then smiled.
The voice gave it away. I'd see him periodically, he'd wave or I would, but I always respected his privacy and he respected mine.
He was a gentleman. Possessed grace and dignity in an industry that has none. In my world it's simply called class.