Not everyone walked by Pedro Moreno, the former semipro soccer player and house painter who died on a sidewalk in Sag Harbor, age 64, homeless, on Jan. 29.
For many, Mr. Moreno was a friend, always ready with a happy greeting, kind, and unfailingly positive, despite his circumstances.
He was also a ghost, passing in and out of spaces undetected. Many said he knew the village better than the police, better than the Public Works guys.
He haunted the American Hotel. Different versions of the story exist, but the gist is similar. In one, a patron saw a ghost when he went to use the shared hallway bathroom late one night. In another, the ghost was at the bar, well past closing, silently sipping a drink.
“No spirit, just Pedro helping himself to some spirits,” David Falkowski, a friend, said. “He studied the way they closed. When the second-to-last guy left, he’d sneak in the back.”
According to a police report, Mr. Moreno was found unresponsive after falling asleep in front of Sing City, the Chinese restaurant. First responders performed CPR, hooked him to a defibrillator, and transported him by ambulance to Stony Brook Southampton Hospital, to no avail.
“He knew every single doorway in the village,” said Bryan Downey, a friend and frequent employer. “He knew when every bathroom opened, which restaurants were open, and when. He knew where he could find a warm doorway. Sing City was his latest place because he learned they kept their back door open 24 hours a day.”
He was born in Hialeah, Fla., according to Patrick Milazzo, a retired Sag Harbor Village police officer. “His mother was a French-Cuban Jew. His father, pure Cuban.” He spoke three languages. “I met him when I was working at Ace Hardware in 1995,” Mr. Milazzo said. “He wasn’t homeless then.”
Mr. Moreno came to the East End in 1980 to play soccer in the competitive town league and decided to stay. In 2005, Jack Graves, writing for The Star, listed Mr. Moreno as part of “the pre-eminent amateur team in the metro area in the 1970s and early 1980s.”
Until roughly the year 2000, he found work as a painter and paid rent. Those who worked with him spoke of his skill.
“He was an exceptional painter,” said John Manning, who worked with Mr. Moreno at Charles Bateman Painting and was a soccer teammate.
“I never met anyone who could sand and repair wood better than Pedro, and I’ve been doing this a long time,” Mr. Downey said.
Exactly when he became homeless is unclear, but it seemed to be near the turn of the last century, after a breakup with a summer girlfriend.
“It really broke his heart when that girl left,” Mr. Manning said. “He started to drink more and basically got to the point where he couldn’t function as a worker.”
“The alcohol just got ahold of him,” Mr. Downey said.
Both men said that Mr. Moreno babysat their young children. That’s how trusted he was.
Apparently, he left behind a troubled family life in Miami.
“He never talked about his family,” said Frank Venesina, a friend who owned the Sag Harbor staple Conca D’Oro, which closed in 2017. “I asked him several times.” Mr. Moreno was widely rumored to have slept behind the restaurant.
“He had a sister,” Mr. Manning said, “but he was a mystery guy. He liked her and lost touch with her.”
“He had a long list of friends who would let him sleep at their places for a few days at a time,” he said. “He would just get up and leave after he decided himself he had intruded for too long. He always had this independent streak and didn’t want to be a burden on anyone.”
“Pedro was at ‘Conc’ all day,” said Mr. Venesina. “If I was in a bind, he would go into the kitchen and wash dishes. He stayed at my house several times. A lot of people looked out for Pedro. He was a hard worker. He was going to help me out here today,” Mr. Venesina said of his current restaurant, Slice, on Shelter Island, where he is doing winter renovations. “I spoke with him just last week.”
Mr. Moreno was also a movie buff. Catherine Creedon, the former executive director of the John Jermain Memorial Library, said Mr. Moreno’s knowledge of foreign films had enhanced the library’s collection. “He would call me Ms. Minnesota. He really always was so kind and gracious.”
“When we were in the temporary space, I would open early so he could come in, get warm, and use the restroom. One morning I had to run into the village and as I passed by where the bus lets off, he was disembarking. When he saw me, he said, ‘I’m right here!’ He believed I was worried that he hadn’t shown up at the library and was out looking for him.”
She admitted to catching him drinking in the biography section once, “but he somehow transcended that.”
“He had dignity,” said Alvin Hollander, a substance abuse counselor who was active in the local Alcoholics Anonymous chapter.
“I’d give him $5 or $10 every time I’d see him,” said Keith Douglas, a friend. “He’d always pay me back.”
Mr. Moreno was known by the village police, and he did occasionally get into trouble. In 2008, he was charged with reckless endangerment and third-degree criminal trespass when he accidentally set fire to a mattress he was sleeping on in the basement of Whalers Cleaners.
“Lately I had seen him at Page sitting down the end of the bar, totally together,” Jim Larocca, the village mayor, said. “In the warm weather he’d live under the bridge, on one side or the other, in the foliage. As soon as we developed Steinbeck Park, we’d find him at a table. The police would walk through, ask him to mind his trash, and, depending on his condition, he would apologize.”
“He repeatedly attempted to accept help,” Mr. Hollander said. “He knew it was bad for him. He knew it was ruining his life. He knew that he should stop. We had these discussions for years. I made it clear to him that what I was seeing in him was the way I used to be. There was enough trust that he was willing to try to go back to meetings again.”
“If he wasn’t ashamed and full of self-loathing before going on a bender, his shame and self-loathing were exacerbated by getting his ass kicked by alcohol even though he knew better. Intellect alone is insufficient to stop alcoholism.”
“There was nobody else in our town that had less to be happy about than he did,” Mr. Hollander said, “but he was always happy. He helped us realize how blessed we were to have the lives that we have.”
Mr. Moreno’s body is with the Suffolk County medical examiner’s office. Friends plan to have him cremated before spreading his ashes below the bridge.
Because no one knows the status of his family, the process could take months, Mr. Venesina said.
Friends have suggested a donation in Mr. Moreno's memory to Maureen's Haven, which offers outreach services to the homeless.
