Valley legend 'Wild Bill' passes away on Christmas Day÷

Being Frank, by Frank Ameduri

There are people in every community who are known, either in person or by reputation, by virtually everyone. Some of them are famous, and some are infamous -- some straddle a hazy line somewhere in between. Our own community is filled with people one could describe as "characters," and one of the most well-known of them passed away on Christmas Day.

Going over the potential news Monday morning, a Frontiersman reporter called out, "Hey. It looks like Wild Bill died this weekend." As the news made its way around the building, most people responded with the same words -- "You're kidding."

Bill "Wild Bill" Nelson has been a fixture in the Mat-Su for as far back as most people can remember. He made news as something of a rebel -- he was known by many as a compassionate man, and by others as a terrifying person yelling obscenities in the parking lots of local retailers. He was all those things and more.

You couldn't miss Nelson's place on Hyer Road. It was an open lot with several old vehicles, an RV and a tractor-trailer that served as Bill's home for the last several years. On the vans, cars and buses were large placards emblazoned with various messages, many of them expressing Nelson's less-than-favorable view of lawyers and judges, and some with offensive messages about homosexuals and others. It had been a while since Nelson drove any of those vehicles off the property, but in years past he'd drive around town with them, sometimes incurring the wrath of law enforcement for his extreme application of his First Amendment rights.

I met Bill for the first time in early 2002. He'd heard that the Frontiersman had a new editor, and called me nearly every day for the first several months. He came by to see me once or twice, and one day I went out to visit him at his place. He wanted to share information about what he claimed was illegally dumped hazardous waste near his property.

Bill pulled up with a friend shortly after I arrived. He opened the back of a station wagon and gave the man a case of bananas from several cases stored back there. He offered me a case as well. I declined, and he said it was just as well, the fruit was for the local food bank. He'd be dropping it off there later, he said. He was also cooking food inside for them.

The inside of Nelson's trailer was cramped and cluttered. It was illuminated by several bare bulbs and a couple of shop lights, all hanging here and there and connected by a series of extension cords. There were maybe five bulbs, but it was still dark in the trailer. On the few flat surfaces that weren't heaped with clothes, papers and other assorted oddities, there were hot plates heating pans of food Nelson was preparing for the less fortunate. It was impossible to discern what was going in the plates, some of it was crusted over, and it was all the same gray color. He offered me some to try, but I explained I'd just eaten.

It was like talking to three different people that day, as it often was with Wild Bill. He was at first gracious, calling me "Young fellah," slapping me on the back and talking about how smart I was, he could tell right away. Later he was angry with me for ignoring the important information he'd provided to me. After that he told me the story of how the government had killed his wife and ruined his life.

I found out later that his wife was alive and well, living in another state. He also took me out to the hinterlands of his property to show me a machine he'd invented to lift heavy objects, and he explained the concept of perpetual motion.

That day I learned that there was something intriguing about Wild Bill, but also something of an edge -- something that was even a little scary. It was clear the man's health was going. Shortly after that he'd be in the hospital, needing surgery for complications from diabetes. I wanted to get out of there, but I also wanted to help the man. There were moments when his pale-blue eyes were full of compassion and lucidity. There were also moments when they were distant and full of anger and something bordering on menace.

He gave me some videos that day, and stacks of papers he said were the key to uncovering government abuses and corruption in the justice system. I promised I'd look the material over, and I kept the promise. I'll admit I couldn't make sense of most of the information.

I saw Bill a few times after that, but he stopped calling at some point. I'd see him talking gently to someone in the supermarket one day, and shouting at someone else in the parking lot a day or two later. When he looked as if he was in a good mood I'd say hello, and when he looked angry I'd avoid him.

When someone as well-known as Wild Bill Nelson dies, we're driven to say something. We're compelled to tell something like the truth about them. Wild Bill had no single truth, I think. He was a character in a place where one must work hard to garner that title. Sometimes I think he was trying to perpetuate his own legend, and sometimes I think even he lost track of the line between Mr. Nelson and Wild Bill.

The truth is probably that Bill Nelson had run into some bad weather along the way, and he'd gotten a little off course. Between the moments of compassion and anger in Bill's eyes there were also moments of abject heartbreak. Some people loved the man, some hated him, and some feared him. That's probably true of many of us, but with Bill it seems everything was a bit amplified.

I'm glad I met Wild Bill. If you never met him, you missed something, to be sure. Whatever the source of his troubles and his heartache, I hope he has found peace now, and I hope his family will find comfort. To those who knew him only by name or reputation, Bill Nelson was a Valley legend. Like all legends, to those who knew him personally, he was just a human being, complete with all the strengths and frailties that go with the territory. May he rest in peace.