The Zinc Bar was packed most weeks, down in the basement of the student union bar, a room that had hosted New Order, the Sex Pistols, The Cure, The Fall and The Clash. As I got to know Marty, he turned out to be one of the most brilliant people I have ever met. He held degrees and doctorates in everything from mathematics to psychology, and was one of the American professors who gave up tenure in the 1960s, seeing it as a privilege that propped up a system that needed to fail.
He lived among artists and poets in the Paris squats of the sixties and on the London squat scene of the seventies, worked on community newspapers, hitchhiked almost everywhere and wrote a book called The Tao of Hitch-hiking (free to download as a PDF). He considered himself a spy for God, gathering all he could by starting conversations with anyone, anywhere, and he gave of himself endlessly to learning and to making the world better in a very human way.
In his last years we lived on the same street and became great friends. I saw him often and recorded him as much as I could; he had something pertinent to say on almost any subject, and an endless store of stories. When he died, the crowd that gathered to say farewell showed how deeply he had touched so many lives.