Jerry Jackson died alone in the cold of a St. Paul park, and his family couldn’t initially be found. But people on the East Side knew him and his story.

Jackson, 58, reportedly served in the military. He was living outside this winter and refused offers of help. People who knew him believed he was mentally ill.

On Feb. 21, a man found his frozen body in a makeshift shack in Indian Mounds Park; Jackson had last been seen about 10 days earlier. Preliminary information is that he died of exposure, although an official ruling awaits toxicology results, said Lori Hedican, chief investigator for the Ramsey County medical examiner.

His legal name was Jerome William Jackson, but everyone knew him as Jerry. Jackson’s identity wasn’t released until Monday because the medical examiner’s office has been trying to find his family. Those efforts had been unsuccessful, and authorities asked the public for help. On Tuesday, after the medical examiner’s office got a tip about how to find Jackson’s family, they were notified of his death, Hedican said.

Though the poor and homeless often go nameless and faceless, Jackson had a community that wanted to help him.

“The guy had places he could go, but he just got to that place where, physically and mentally, he couldn’t go about his day-to-day life,” said Nick Heidenreich, a friend of Jackson’s. “He didn’t consider himself homeless; none of us did.”

Jackson was a fixture for decades at the St. Paul Saloon on Hudson Road in the Dayton’s Bluff neighborhood, said Heidenreich, who owns the bar. Until recently, Jackson was at the bar seven days a week, from morning until night.

“He lived in the bar, basically,” Heidenreich said Monday. “We took care of him, and everyone looked out for him. Progressively, over the years, he got worse and worse, and it got to the point that you couldn’t help the guy.”

Jackson had lived in an apartment for years, though he stopped paying his rent and was evicted last year, Heidenreich said. It wasn’t that Jackson couldn’t afford his living expenses — he received federal government benefits, Heidenreich said — but “Jerry would do this thing where he would buy stuff he didn’t need and throw it all in the trash.”

Heidenreich saw evidence that Jackson was mentally ill, and he believed that was the cause of Jackson’s attitude about money. Jackson often bought rounds at the St. Paul Saloon, where he would spend most of his days drinking beer inside and smoking cigarettes outside.

“He would say off-the-wall, obscene stuff that you can’t print in the paper,” Heidenreich said. “But if you knew Jerry, he was a sweet guy. He wasn’t harmful to anyone. Anybody who knew him, loved him. He just had a problem.”

Jackson’s life was a bit of a mystery.

“We all think we have bits and pieces; we’re not really sure what’s right or true,” said Judy Lee, who would cut Jackson’s hair at Mounds Park Barbers, a business she owns that is attached to the St. Paul Saloon. She met Jackson about 15 or 20 years ago.

Jackson used to have a car and go to the Department of Veterans Affairs, apparently to get medication. He stopped those trips when the vehicle broke down in the past few years and “that’s when he started losing it,” Lee said, adding that Jackson was always, “a dear, sweet guy.” He never talked about his military service, she said.

When he had a car, Jackson also used to drive his mother around, but Lee doesn’t know what happened to the woman. Jackson told Heidenreich he had a brother in Florida and a sister in Missouri. Since last summer, Heidenreich said, he’d been trying to call Jackson’s family, though he never had luck reaching them.

Heidenreich also got Jackson in touch with a friend of his who was a veteran to try to get him some assistance. And someone at the bar with a connection to the Union Gospel Mission helped Jackson get into the shelter, but Jackson didn’t spend much time there.

Jackson first showed up at the Union Gospel Mission last March and stayed at the shelter for the month of April. He was otherwise only there periodically, said Brian Molohon, director of development for Union Gospel Mission. Jackson had been at the shelter once in December, once in January and on Feb. 10 for the last time.

It’s common for the Union Gospel Mission to see people who only sporadically use their services, Molohon said.

“There’s a whole bunch of stuff that goes on in a person’s heart and mind when they’re in need like that,” he said. “There’s issues like, ‘I’m too proud to ask for help.’ ”

Jackson’s file at the Union Gospel Mission indicated he talked about trying to get help through the VA, Molohon said.

“It is so sad the number of veterans we see that are homeless,” he said. “More needs to be done for the men and women who lay it all on the line for us.”

Recently, Jackson had been spending time in a bluffside shelter in Mounds Park. The man who had built the shack was a friend of Jackson’s; he found the body, Heidenreich said.

Before winter came, people offered to help Jackson find a place to live, but he wouldn’t accept, Lee said.

“Who knows how his mind works,” she said. “He was Jerry. You sort of took care of him, gave him clothes and boots. He would walk miles a day and stop in and warm up at the barbershop.”

Jackson also had been spending time at the Mounds Park Sports Bar on Hudson Road, down the street from the St. Paul Saloon. Holly Johnson, who works as a bartender and sells pull tabs at the sports bar, found Jackson to be an intelligent man, although not everyone who encountered him knew that, she said. He mumbled and stuttered and talked softly, and some people assumed he was talking to himself instead of talking to them, she said.

“He was really hard to understand,” Johnson said. “I just don’t think he knew how to be sociable.” Jackson typically stopped in the bar in the mornings to drink coffee and watch “The Price is Right.”

Johnson said she was wondering about Jackson because he hadn’t been in the bar for about two weeks before she heard news of his death. The man had been well known on the East Side, and she thinks he was well liked.

Since Jackson’s death, the Ramsey County medical examiner’s office had been unable to reach his family to notify them of his death. In the thousands of cases they investigate in a year, Hedican said, that was unusual.

The medical examiner’s office had worked with the police department, homeless organizations and hospitals to try to find Jackson’s family, Hedican said. Some of their leads indicated Jackson possibly had a brother and sister.

Molohon said Monday he found it heartbreaking that Jackson’s family couldn’t be found to be notified, and he hoped public attention will help remedy that. He also thought Jackson’s story could increase awareness of the need to assist veterans and any members of the community who are down and out.

Over at the St. Paul Saloon, Heidenreich is looking into putting together a memorial service for Jackson.

“We were his family,” he said. “When you’re together that much, you don’t really have a choice, you kind of become family.”

Richard Chin contributed to this report. Mara H. Gottfried can be reached at 651-228-5262. Follow her at twitter.com/MaraGottfried.