Maati Stojanovich and I were walking to some gig in North Beach around 1979 or so, and this wild-eyed, disheveled homeless-looking guy came up to us, saying, "Hey! Do you guys like Captain Beefheart?" And then he introduced himself as Wild Man Fischer, went into a long tirade of how Frank Zappa ripped him off, and asked us for some spare change. I think we gave him a couple of dollars, and he took off in search of more punk rock hipsters to panhandle.
Kind of surprised he lived this long. Farewell to a troubled soul.