Robert F. Guernsey passed away on October 14th, 1997, 2:12 p.m., at the age of 84. Mr. Guernsey was quite infamous as the resident cat-person in his neighborhood. Hailed as ‘The King of the Cats,’ or as some of the younger less indiscreet locals called him, ‘The Crazy Cat Guy,’ needles to say Mr. Guernsey was quite the attraction during his 2-3 decade period of stay on forty-third street. Although he was never quite the center of attention, he could always be picked out of a crowd, and was always able to somehow appear in numerous conversations, even if he was silently biding his own time in his quaint home. He also had an invariably ‘eccentric’ dressing manner, consisting of vermilion blouses, tie-dyed shorts, frilled cardigans, and other oddities which may have helped boost this typecast. Unlike the rest of the tight-knit families along the block of his Manhattan home, Mr. Guernsey’s past was a rather vague one, and was only brought up in speculative debates. With the younger residents, there would be times when they would craft vibrant stories from the small scraps and pieces that were collected over the years. While some argued the possibilities of a long lost adventurer that had scoured the world on a mishapful journey under the supervision of the U.S. army, others theorized his incredible participation as a spy in the vestiges of the cold war. These were all, of course, exaggerations from miniscule bits and pieces tossed in minor sizes into the massive speculating bin. All they really knew, in all boundaries of the truth, was that Mr. ol’ Robert Guernsey had served during the time of the cold war, had a wife at some point in time, and had traveled to a number of places during his hayday. His profession was never quite unveiled clearly in the gossip-tinted windows of forty third street, but that didn’t really stop anyone, including the adults, from thinking that Mr. Guernsey was more than just a seclusive, peculiar, anti-social cat person.