BACKWARDS LOUIE: walked everywhere backwards to fool people into thinking he was going the other way, not coming to borrow money from them.

MAYOR OF PIKE STREEt: Jack Thielman, who lived in a 100-room hotel with only his basketball-playing dog Blackie and Oscar, the walking catfish.

FRANK THE BOX MAN: camped out in a storage crate at the north end of Fairview Avenue, wore at least two suits and three overcoats (not to be confused with the guy who wore four overcoats).

KING OLAF: In the 25 years that records were kept before the drunk-in-public law was repealed, Olaf was arrested 401 times and sentenced to 10,680 days in jail (he served 7,711). “Say what you want,” he once explained, “I always had a place to stay.”

LLOYD THE DISHWASHER: peddled around on a bicycle with 40 reflectors, battery-operated turn signals, AM/FM radio, and a weatherproof top; lived at the Y.

LARRY FROM IRENE’S: all-star beer bottle hoarder; at last count, had 488 empties lining his apartment walls, cupboards, and floors.

KID RENO: always asked if you needed to know the time, then rolled up his sleeve showing an armful of hot watches.

CUE STICK: sold pool cues tavern-to-tavern.

ALICE WHO SWEEPS: cleaned up downtown streets and alleys with a straw broom.

JACK THE PAPER-EATER: almost died when William Randolph Hearst’s column lodged in his throat.

BAXTER THE SCAVENGER: prowled garbage cans and owned a $70,000 home.

WHISKEY JOE: One night, a Harborview nurse swung his arm and it went all the way around. “Joe, your arm is broken,” she said. “It is?” said Joe.

JACK NO FACE: unsuccessfully tried suicide with a shotgun.

YOKOHAMA MAMASAN: The walls of her Chinatown tavern were decorated with Christmas wrapping wallpaper; entertainment was chubby B-girl who would grind away to “New York, New York.”

GEORGE AND PANSY: Seattle’s only mother-son funeral-attending team, also regularly attended weddings, baby christenings and private parties (usually uninvited and often taking photos with filmless cameras).