You overly attractive Young People...Now that's what I'm talking about...
Show me your Hands... Who knew?!

 I met Dennis (only two N's in those days) in 1973 when we were both students at the School of Visual Arts in New York City. Our lives took different paths but we kept in touch. I lost contact completely when he left California in 1990 or 91. His mother had died, leaving him a substantial inheritance (her pension fund). I was living in the Santa Cruz area at the time, and he had come out from New York to stay with me and clean up. He was straight for a while but it didn't last, and eventually he wandered away, landing in Tempe.

Thanks to the Internet and Google, I found Dennnis again a few years ago. I really enjoyed reconnecting with him, especially resuming our visual dialog. Modern technology enabled this and we sent digital photographs back and forth. We talked about how technology had changed photography, that the computer is now the "darkroom". I think we both missed the smell of Dektol (black and white print developer) though. I hadn't picked up a camera for "serious work" in 25 years, but Dennnis inspired me to return to photography, and I've been doing some work that I like a lot. I don't think that would have happened if I hadn't reconnected with him.

Dennnis had a huge heart in the metaphorical sense, but his years of drug abuse certainly weakened the physical heart. Like many others, I wish there was something I could have done, but Dennnis was in a private hell, and none of us could go there.

Dennnis was an artist with the camera, and when things were good, his life itself was was a work of art. I loved Dennnis, and I will miss him.


John Wilkes, friend of Dennnis.
 Dennnis,
Thank you for being a good friend to my mom. I appreciate the chance to get to know you and the times I'd run into you on Mill during the art festivals. I do drink like fish sometimes, but I will always swim and not drive.
Show us your hands from above!!

 Kara
Dear Dennnis,
I just want to say thank you for being a friend to my family over the last 5 years.

I've enclosed 3 of my favorite photo boards that you made for my kids. Each one was made without any request from me, and without you expecting anything in return. You just did them because you had a soft spot for my kids and you were a good person.

God Bless you Dennnis, you were a great friend and you will always be okey-dokey with me!

-Marcus
I am very sorry for the loss of the life of my friend. He was the last spec of color that Mill Avenue had.


David
Dennnis,

I am very grateful that I got to know you in the past couple years and shoot the Miss Avenue Guide with you. You always made me laugh and sometimes made me uncomfortable! You are truly an individual and I will never forget you.
Your friend always,

Jennifer
(Miss Mill Avenue!!!)
 
Letter to the Editor, AZ Republic.

Your "Enslaved by his own freedoms" was the best piece I have seen describing the untimely death of Dennnis Skolnick, the "Mill Ave Food Critic." As the owner of the Mill Avenue Fatburger, I knew him well.

While Dennnis certainly antagonized many during his early years on the streets, his last three were the ones that he should be remembered for. He was a character, a fixture not unlike the red bricks or ornate street lamps. He was what tourists were seeking when they came. Not a fancy hotel or stamped-out restaurant chain but a touch of personality that money can’t buy and banks can’t build. Dennnis became a promoter for the business, people and character that made Mill Avenue unique. He loved being a part of it. While he certainly liked to brag about having lunch with the Mayor, his real pride came from standing on the street corner, sharing a joke or some dining advise with a family visiting from Minnesota.

As heartless steel, cement & glass buildings invade the north end of Mill Avenue, there is still a warm friendly soul haunting it’s red-brick way. It is the ghost of Mill's individual spirit tilting at the windmills of the encroaching mega-sized corporate America. Dennnis, you will always be Okey-Dokey with me.
 
Hello Dennis, my name is James. I am a manager at the Z-Tejas on 6th St. I have read all the articles on Dennis the past week. I am a little embarrassed to admit that I am one of the ones that that Dennis was a nuisance. I won't get into why I thought that, it is no longer important. But what I can say is that I suddenly can't stop thinking about this guy now. I suddenly have a soft spot in my heart for the guy. I hadn't seen him in about 3 months or so, maybe a little longer. The last time I saw him I had to tell him that we couldn't serve him due to how busy we were. I told him to come back at 2pm, and I would get him some food. He never came back that day, and I never saw him again. As much as he got on my nerves, I wish I would have known he found himself in trouble again. I couldn't have done anything, but maybe I could have found somebody who could. 

James
 
Dennnis will be immortally part of the Mill Avenue zeitgeist.

Dennnis, accept this elegy:
Thy enemies are my enemies.
Sleep, o'sleep without sorrow—caidil e caidil e 's dhiot gach bron—and I am going to freaking miss thee. Among the great tide of people who have passed in and out of my life, of Tempe, of Mill Avenue… Dennnis has always been an undying light shining in flamboyant and vivid color. When I think of Mill, I will always think of Dennnis. Monuments built by human hands that last the years, wear and tear, and become a fixture against the skyline come to be known as landmarks. With his regal charisma and brilliant personality, Dennnis has always stood-out against the cultural background of Mill—he has always been and will always be a culture-mark.

Watching his exploits, following his deeds, and listening to the tales told by everyone who has in any small way touched his presence among us; a puzzle played out in light and shadow. The light of his public works, his outreaching spirit, and the memory of his brash presence—the dark of his struggle against addiction, the almost-romantic fatal flaws of his character, and his journey along that razors edge.

Kyt Dotson, author of Mill Avenue Vexations, Mill rat, admirer.
I sit here, tears streaming down my face, in memory of the Mill Ave Food Critic. You see, when I was just a snot nosed little 14 year old genius, attending ASU (yes, you read right) and riding my bike from my 24 hour quiet dorm to Mill Ave, I knew Dennnis. That was 10 years ago. I remember silently cheering that even though he was, yes, panhandling...he was, as the AZ Central's Dick Foreman's article states, doing it with style. First, I remember the homeless magazine that he sold on and off for years. I'd walk by nearly every night on my way to the The Graffitti Shop, give him a hug and a cigarette. We'd BS for a few minutes, and I'd be on my way. Later, I might see him walking by at Plantation, and we'd sit and BS a little bit more, and he'd be on his way. On Saturdays, I'd inevitably be at the Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Valley Art Theatre, and he always made sure I knew I'd dressed the part of wannabe goth well. He knew my friends, he knew my dad, he knew all the T.E.A.M. members, he knew all the cops, he knew all the shop owners and was there for every M.A.M.A. drama. He was there when Coffee Plantation changed ownership about 1000 times and shop signs at least 3 other times. You almost always parted ways with him laughing--at least in my experience. I took a break for a few years, and my visits to Mill came infrequently. I remember when I ran into him just a few months after he began his food critic campaign and books. Hell, I might even still have a bright yellow copy. I was very strangely proud that he had really succeeded in turning his escapades into something so very cool for him and for Mill patrons. So, a toast to an icon, from those who remember an older Mill Ave, from those who still frequent the new Mill Ave, from those who can't stay away for terribly long no matter what yuppie stores come in and go out, and from all those who can conjure a memory of our Dennnis for he was there for so very much of it.

Cheers and RIP, my friend.

Annie
"Finding our way through life isn't easy--The path is often confusing and the destiny unknown. But, true friendship leads us in the right direction and reminds us that we are not alone." --Andrea Tachiera
 

Dennnis
I first met you last year when I was driving a limousine and usually parked at the Mission Palms. I must say you are quite the fella. Entertainment, information, and very much a real person. I did not mind watching your lot when you had to get something to eat or drink. I did not mind delivering your posters or magazines as the people waited patiently for them as they too respected and liked you. Annoying to some and appreciated by others, you will always be remembered by me. I am just sorry that you never had the chance to meet my wonderful wife, who wondered about this guy I spoke about was. Take care on your journey my friend, and I hope to see you again in the afterlife. It was a pleasure meeting you in this life, as you always made me laugh see life in another perspective. You will be missed by all of us whom had the opportunity to share a slice of life with you. Bill
Bill & Susan
Dennis,

Someone told me once "Evil lurks in the heart of all men. Sometimes it's more than we can do to keep it at bay".
Some people use tools to help them keep it away, and sometimes the tools invite it in.

If just one person remembers you then you did something right. For good or bad, I won't forget you.

Sleep in peace Dennnis.

"When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, "Come!" I looked, and there before me was a a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword"

Jeff