Nearly every day, Kirk Reeves stepped into his white tuxedo, grabbed his trumpet and put on the Mickey Mouse ears that had become his trademark.

Then he headed to the west end of the Hawthorne Bridge, where he played "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" or "Amazing Grace" and did magic tricks for the motorists whizzing by on their way to somewhere else.

“Anywhere he goes he would just stop and pull stuff out of his cart and start entertaining people,” said Brenda Gersch, one of his roommates in Northeast Portland.

But the Mickey Mouse ears and the toy cart he dragged around belied serious health problems and a worsening depression that he talked and wrote about openly.

On Sunday, Reeves’ body was found at the Smith and Bybee Wetlands Natural Area on North Marine Drive, according to Gersch and Wanda Broadous, another roommate.

They said his death was a suicide.

But in a news release on Wednesday, the Oregon State Medical Examiner’s Office said it would not release details of Reeves’ death and asked for help in locating Reeves’ family. He may have a sister in the Boston area and cousins in Los Angeles, the release said.

Friends said Reeves, who was 56, had grown despondent about his flagging entertainment career. He’d gone to Los Angeles in May to audition for the television shows “America’s Got Talent” and “Shark Tank,” but wasn’t selected for either, Gersch said.

And a movie he hoped to make about a day in the life of a struggling family didn’t appear to be going anywhere, said Nour Mobarak, a Portland filmmaker who produced a student documentary about Reeves several years ago.

Last month, Reeves sent a long, rambling email to friends detailing his disappointments, health problems and his desire to kill himself.

“I haven't committed suicide because too many people would be hurt,” he wrote. “But I hate this place and want to leave.”

Reeves had previously been homeless and suffered from diabetes and cataracts. He also had to have a toe amputated, friends said.

He wrote friends that he thought God hated him and that he was often called names and attacked, though he didn’t provide details.

“I think he had a lot of dreams and he was getting very disheartened and he felt things just kept getting worse and worse,” Mobarak said. “He was struggling a lot.”

Moborak, who interviewed Reeves extensively, said he grew up in Boston where he saw violence, drug abuse and death at a young age. He didn’t fit in with other kids.

“He suffered a lot as a kid,” Mobarak said. “He was a nerd and got picked on.”

As he grew older, Reeves got interested in trains and then computers. He told Mobarak that he hung out at a computer club at MIT.

He told her that, ultimately, he got a job in the computer industry and moved to Oregon. But he quit that job because he feared that the Y2K computer catastrophe predicted for the year 2000 would destroy his career.

Instead, he decided to pursue his dream job as an entertainer. He bought the trumpet at a garage sale, started taking lessons and became a ubiquitous figure in downtown Portland.

Reeves also wrote five unpublished novels, Mobarak said. And he hosted a cable access television show with a slapstick theme that was called "Low Comedy."

Broadous met Reeves about 10 years ago when she saw him playing on the street. She runs Broadous Entertainment, which promotes local acts, and booked Reeves to play at a church.

Reeves played trumpet at the base of the bridge even when it rained, and wore a plastic poncho to stay dry.

He also loved doing magic tricks for children, Gersch said. He performed the simplest tricks, which allowed the kids to believe they had unraveled a mystery.

“They’d feel so smart and magical they would tell their parents,” she said.

Although they aren’t related, Broadous said she was the only family Reeves had. She knew he was depressed. He often told her that people were rude to him and that he wished everyone could be kind.

He had been homeless before he moved into her house near Northeast Alberta Street and 18th Avenue about a year-and-a-half ago, she said.

“I wanted to get him off the street,” Broadous said. “He was ill. He needed someone to care for him.”

Friends will hold a candlelight vigil for Reeves on Nov. 18 at 4 p.m. starting near the west side of the Hawthorne Bridge. He’ll be remembered as a sweet man who was full of contradictions and honest about his suffering.

“He was just ultra humane and intelligent and always sad and struggling and very open about his struggles,” Mobarak said. “And at the same time always cheerful and funny.”

--Stephen Beaven: 503-754-4664

Twitter: @SEPDXreporter