Mike Kilen

mkilen@dmreg.com

Randy Kong is the Des Moines skywalk musician with the booming voice, rattling the glass windows with cover tunes such as the Monkee’s “Daydream Believer.” He has long black hair and wide-set eyes. Many assume he’s a homeless Native American. He’s not.

“At first, you pass off judgments — ‘Who is this bum?’ But what struck me was how happy he is,” said Kasey McCurdy, 35, of Des Moines. “Damn, he’s happier than 90 percent of the people that walk past and judge him.”

On Friday, nobody was judging Kong. Instead, they filled the skywalk bridge by Capital Square and loudly applauded. The crowd came to support him after nearly dying. It was a surprise gathering organized on social media.

“It’s an opportunity to show him we care,” said Kristen Taylor, who works downtown.

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Kong is a 61-year-old bachelor who got some songs and a tattoo out of broken engagements and instead spent his years working by day and playing rock music at night. The half Chinese, half Hispanic guitar player just loved playing music.

“He used to be in these crazy shock metal bands, and clubs wouldn’t let him play because it was too vulgar. Now, he’s in the skywalk doing John Denver covers,” said McCurdy, who finally came to know him a year ago.

McCurdy passed Kong many times until one day the software engineer stopped and asked if he could film him with his new camera equipment. The two became friends through the months. He found a new side of Kong, following him to the home of a terminally ill person who he played for once a week. He saw the man day after day, interrupting his own songs to loudly holler, “Thank you very much!” whenever a passerby dropped a dollar in his guitar case.

Even though he often only sees the backs of people as they quickly pass him, Kong says he sees humanity at its best.

“I’ve learned so many lessons about life from him. Being kind to people. Being content,” McCurdy said. “My entire life, so many people around me are chasing a career path, and they get there and are no happier. Here’s Randy. Is he world famous? No. He just wants to play music.”

Then, Kong disappeared.

He has no telephone or car. He lives frugally downtown and survives on the tips in his guitar case.

McCurdy found him days later at a Des Moines hospital.

“I was bleeding internally, passed out in the bathroom and broke my arm,” Kong said. “The doctor told me I should have died that night.”

An abdominal aneurism, congestive heart failure and other health problems left him out of commission and not able to play in the skywalk or on the street for three months.

Kong reeled off all the big events he missed, including the Iowa State Fair, when he can make enough to survive on. But it’s not all about the money.

“I usually keep my expectations low. If I can make a dollar for a soda, I’m OK. My theory is: Sustain a positive attitude through negative expectations.”

Then McCurdy decided to step in. He had been putting together all his footage of Kong with the hope of making a documentary him. But he felt like now he needed to do something for him. He posted an event on Facebook to support Kong on Friday over the lunch hour.

“Just people being there will give him a shot in the arm,” McCurdy said.

Slowly, a crowd began to gather. Randy ripped off a song called “Waterfall,” and told a story of falling down and how he has to remind himself to not fight the waterfall. Just go with it.

Twenty people turned to 40 — then more than 100.

Even his competition took a backseat, abandoning their skywalk spot to watch.

“He was our inspiration,” said Tyler Frazier, another skywalk musician. “He didn’t know us, but told us we could do this.”

After each song, loud applause rang out. He called out, “That’s very generous!” as the case filled with cards and dollars and $20 bills.

“I’m surprised by the people he has touched,” McCurdy said. “For everything going on in the world, it renewed my sense of hope in humanity.”

McCurdy came up to slap his shoulder and whisper the surprise in his ear.

“You are full of surprises, brother,” Kong said.

Kong was a little dazed.

“I’m going to do this until I die,” he said. “If I have to play with a machine hooked up to me.”