The Tremendous Loss of Buzz Wilson

The following is important to me because it shows how living a good life, full of generosity is so rewarding. By helping others you feed your soul. His generosity of spirit was uncommon, and to lose a person with those qualities is a loss greater than the obvious physical and emotional void. It's a loss of humanity. He will be deeply missed.

Founder of the Traverse City Film Festival, Michael Moore writes:

It is with the deepest regret that I tell you of the passing of our good friend, Buzz Wilson. Buzz died unexpectedly on Monday on the beach of Lake Michigan, a place he truly loved.

I first heard of Buzz Wilson when Deb told me a few years ago that someone had just offered to sponsor the nine films for which we had no sponsor. They were the "difficult" films -- controversial, experimental, or forgotten: a film where Kevin Bacon played a pedophile released from prison, a documentary that questioned the Christian Right, a Stanley Kubrick classic that remains banned in some countries to this day.

Buzz just called up and said, "I'll sponsor all of the films that don't have a sponsor." And he continued to do that each year. He was a big believer in the First Amendment and he knew the importance of never backing down in the face of censorship, bigotry, or fear.

I need to tell you that there were moments early on when I asked myself if it was worth all the trouble -- the initial opposition to the festival, the "counter-fest," etc. After all, I came up here to live in peace and quiet, to have a place separate from the more public life I live. Then I undertook a grueling two-year-plus negotiation/pleading/cajoling with Rotary Charities to take a leap of faith on the Guy from Flint, to allow me to re-open the State Theatre for the community. At the Ciccone's opening festival party for sponsors in 2006, I asked one person -- one "angel" -- to please step forward so we could re-open the State. And one person came forward. Buzz Wilson.

But Rotary still wasn't convinced, the talks dragged on, and I went off to make my movie. It wasn't until Buzz Wilson asked to speak to them privately that things turned around. As a Rotarian for many years, he knew what assurances they needed and they responded positively. Within weeks, we sealed the deal.

There were a few times when I wanted to say, "Forget this. Who needs the grief?" And there was one man who wouldn't let that happen. He kept his eyes on the prize, he believed that right would prevail -- and within months after Buzz got involved, the State Theatre was open again! He oversaw its entire construction with me. He wrote checks, he supplied workers from his business, he sent over the materials we needed. I'd say, "How 'bout a balcony?" and he'd say, "Done!" I am convinced there would be no State Theatre -- and no sponsors for the truly provocative, edgy films at the festival -- if it weren't for Buzz.

For a 67-year-old guy, Buzz played heavy metal music louder than anyone I know. I hadn't yet told him of the big heavy metal surprise we were going to announce for the festival this Friday. I was so looking forward to getting him up on stage with one of the great original metal bands in a few weeks, right there in the auditorium of Central Grade School!

And after of all his months and years of work on the festival and the State, for him not to see our first film fest that will take place in the new State Theatre, it only deepens the sadness I feel tonight.

Buzz has suffered for many years from Parkinson's, a disease he often said had a chance of being cured through stem cell research. Last year, Buzz and I were at dinner with his wife, and good friends, Thom and Becky. He told us how hopeful he was on election night 2000 when it was announced that Gore (who supported stem cell research) had won. "I went to bed thinking, 'I'm going to get to live.' When I woke up and heard that Bush had won, I realized my death sentence had been sealed." Upon hearing this, tears came to my eyes. I was now face to face with the results of decisions I made back in 2000. I told him how sorry I was. He would have none of it. I won't repeat his comments here; let's just say the man respected those who stand up for what they believe in, and he was a living example of that to all who encountered him.

I last saw Buzz a week or so ago when his 1949 Packard Woody stalled outside the State Theatre. I went outside and pushed the car down Front St. with Thom and a few others, Buzz behind the wheel, until it finally started. As he drove off, the people dining outside at Amical gave him a spontaneous round of applause, and I gave him a wave, never thinking it would be the last time I would see him. Monday morning, just hours before he passed away, he was at the State, working on the sprinkler system we would soon put in. Yeah, he was paying for that, too. "I'll take care of that," was his mantra.

Buzz had a wonderful wife, and three grown sons he adored -- He didn't know how much longer he would have in this life, but he knew he had lived it fully and without regrets, and he will continue to be an inspiration to all who knew him.

I'm sorry I never got to sit and watch "2001: A Space Odyssey" with him. He wanted to watch "Spartacus" at the State with me. It didn't happen. I will never forget Buzz Wilson, and we as a community are better, much better, for having been graced by his presence.

Yours,
Michael Moore

P.S. In lieu of flowers, the family has asked that people make a contribution to the Michael J. Fox Foundation. I would also ask that people contribute to the ballot initiative this fall that would allow stem cell research in Michigan. Buzz was thrilled that the public will finally be able to vote on it. And we will plan a celebration of Buzz's life in the State Theatre sometime soon, in conjunction with his family.