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hip’s on fire.” That was Bud’s catch-all greeting, his friends say, whether it was hello or goodbye or how are you. It was reflected in the way he greeted life, and the way those who knew him are remembering him now.

Even if you didn’t know Bud Krause, you well may have had meals he prepared. Bud worked at several restaurants in Oriental over the past 5 years, mostly at Scoots and the restaurant it recently became, Broad Street Grill. Last Saturday Bud was found dead at the camper trailer that was his home. He was 49.

“He was a loner. A typical Oriental misfit,” says Donna Hanes who describes herself and Bud as “special friends.” “He was gruff. A lot of people had a hard time with that.” Many of those encounters were in the heat of the restaurant kitchen, she says. She herself quit once over such an incident. Amron Eggers, says she quit twice, but that in time she and Bud became friends. She laughs and says he was her “inappropriate uncle. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him.”

It took a while to realize, as Donna put it a few days after Bud died, that “when he called you an idiot, he didn’t mean it.” What happened in the kitchen was business, she said, but outside of there he was different.

Broad Street Grill, where Bud Krause worked.

Paradise Cove Marina owner Rose Del Rio remembers Bud as the “man who couldn’t find his feet.” Their first meeting came the day Bud sailed in to the marina aboard someone else’s sailboat and fell in the water as it neared the dock. He thrashed about in the water, Rose says, and ignored her local knowledge and suggestions that he “‘please stand up’” in the shallow water. Finally, she says “I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder and said, ‘put your feet under you.’” He did and so began his stay in the area.

In time, Rose persuaded Paradise Cove regular Ralf Heit, then the owner of Scoots, to give Bud a job as a cook in his kitchen. Bud moved to Oriental and lived on boats, though not always in the water. For a time he lived on a friend’s boat on the hard in Triton’s boat yard.

The ammo barge that became a houseboat and then a camper and home for Bud. Later, it would be cut up and become the bar at Paradise Cove Marina.

In time, Rose and her husband Paul offered to let Bud stay on a WWII ammo barge that had been converted in to a house boat. It couldn’t float, owing to the hole in its hull. But nestled next to the storage units right across Broad Street from Scoots, it was Bud’s home for a year. Ralf says he got him a membership at the gym and that’s where he showered. He also used the hot tub, but rarely exercised.

Bud was not in good health. There’d been several trips by ambulance to the hospital when dizziness set in. He’d had a triple bypass and numerous stents.

Charles “Bud” Krause.

Paul Del Rio says that Bud “burned the candle at both ends… but all the while enjoying it.” He recalls that on days Bud visited the bar at Paradise Cove, he would smoke pack after pack of cigarettes and drink many Budweisers. He may have taken his nickname from the beer, though Paul allows that the name may have had another origin.

Ralf Heit is less circumspect. “He was a stoner.” And, Ralf adds in the next breath, “a movie buff. He could quote a lot of movies.” Bud also, “had an opinion about everyone,” Ralf says. “And he had names for everybody. Donna was “Donut”. Pam was “Spam”. Amron was “Ham Bone”. Ralf was tagged as “Herr Heit”.

Donut says that Bud’s father was in the military and the family had moved around a lot when he was growing up. He left home early, she says. He joined the Navy. As for the life since then, he once said he wished his family had pushed him to go to college. She remembers him reading all the time — science fiction, mainly — and knowing about the stars in the sky.

At The Broad Street Grill, this is the Mt. Olive pickle jar being used to collect funds for Bud’s cremation.

Ralf says Bud was “street smart” and someone you could have a conversation with. When Bud worked in the restaurant kitchen, the radio stayed tuned to National Public Radio. He didn’t involve himself in local issues, Ralf says, but was more global in his interests. “His horizon was out there in the world.” With the beads around his ankle and neck and the tie-dyed t-shirts, it wasn’t, Ralf says, that he was a misfit, but rather, “kind of a lost spirit.”

A Donation For Bud

Donut Hanes, Amron Eggers, plus Jenny and Eric Stickrath of Broad Street Grill are now working to raise $2,250 for Bud’s cremation. “It didn’t seem right to have him go to a Potter’s Field,” says Donut. She also didn’t want the state to take on the task of cremation because his ashes would not be returned, nor would the ring he wore, and Donut says that Bud wanted to have his ashes spread in the waters where he often went fishing.

Donations are being collected at Broad Street Grill and at The Bean. Donut Hanes says any checks that are donated should be made out directly to Bryant Funeral Home. His friends say they’ll commemorate Bud with a party at a time that’s not yet determined.

Posted Saturday April 11, 2009 by Melinda Penkava

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