A man heart
To people hurrying by he was just another familiar streetie. But there were hidden depths to Sam Hogg’s life and death, writes Denise Irvine. ‘‘Sam was a delight to work with. Despite the trauma he experienced and periods of homelessness, he always had a
Sam Hogg was a familiar figure in Hamilton’s CBD, the man with a smile on his face and a guitar on his back. He’d be busking, or catching up with his mates, his black cap pulled low on his forehead.
Sam’s music and his optimistic spirit are now missing from the central city. In August, he was diagnosed with aggressive pancreatic cancer.
He died not quite four weeks later at Hospice Waikato with his beloved older sister Rose Fryer, her daughter Sheree, and a core of family, at his side.
Sam was one of a number of streeties interviewed three years ago for a Waikato Times series about The People’s Project, the Hamilton agency dedicated to getting rough sleepers into housing. Sam had spent several years living in the CBD.
He said: ‘‘I kept myself neat and clean, my life’s possessions were on a trolley. Bags and blankets.
I slept in doorways in Bryce St, it felt safer there and not as noisy (as the main street).’’
In the winter of 2015, he came off the street into a flat where he was warm, sheltered from the rain at night, and happily cooking boil-ups for dinner.
‘‘The People’s Project helped me into a home,’’ he said, ‘‘they worked alongside me.’’
Managing the change wasn’t easy. Money was tight on a benefit, there was rent and bills to juggle, and it was lonely at first. Sam missed the camaraderie of the CBD but he was determined to stick with the flat.
He said he might write a book on street life. He’d had plenty of experience.
He estimated he’d lived rough, on and off, for about 18 years. His street nickname was Rat, because he once had a pet rat (it got eaten by a cat).
‘‘All homeless have their story, and their opinion, and their complications,’’ he said.
‘‘I’ve been there, done that, and made a good choice.’’ He had a message for those who speak harshly about streeties: Don’t judge us; you don’t know anything about our life.
Sam’s story began in Palmerston North, where he was one of 11 children raised by their grandparents.
It was a troubled, difficult childhood and Sam was a runaway from age seven, just a little kid when he had his first experience of sleeping rough. He attended five schools and was expelled from four. All bar the last one.
Later in his youth, Sam was committed to a psychiatric hospital.
His sister Rose says he suffered terribly there and he was given Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT). She attempted to rescue him but she was only a girl herself.
‘‘I wasn’t old enough to protect Sam.’’
She says he was too young to understand what was happening to him, and the treatment had a lasting impact. He talked to Rose about it only briefly, not long before he died.
Sam found Rose again after he was released from the psychiatric hospital, they renewed their bond, and there was always a bed for him at
‘‘All homeless have their story, and their opinion, and their complications. I’ve been there, done that, and made a good choice.’’
Sam Hogg
her house.
But Rose says her brother was a free spirit. Life on the street – despite the hardships – offered him huge freedom after the psychiatric incarceration, as well as subsequent periods he spent in jail.
So he’d come and go. Sometimes months would pass without contact and then he’d turn up on her doorstep with his smile, his guitar and his backpack, happy to be in a place where he was loved. There were just two rules for him at Rose’s: regular showers and no drugs.
Sam loved to work and he’d had quite a good run in Palmerston North doing rubbish collection, traffic management and maintenance work for the city council. He came to Hamilton (where Rose was living) in about 2010 and was proud of various jobs he did in the city.
Sam stayed off the street, in his flat, for about 18 months. Then some bills mounted up and it all became too hard. So he moved in with Rose; he was easy to have around and he was her Mr Fix-it Man. But then he broke her rule about drugs in her house – he’d struggled with that – and he was back to the streets.
Rose was resolute on her rule, yet worried sick about her brother.
The People’s Project stayed close, staff members worked with Sam, and about six months ago they helped him into another flat. Rose says these were better days, although Sam seemed increasingly unwell.
After an appointment at The People’s Project’s GP clinic, he was admitted to Waikato Hospital in early August.
He never got back to his new flat. He spent time in hospital, then home to Rose’s. A couple of days before he died, the siblings went to a karaoke session at a Chartwell bar. Sam was in a wheelchair, and very frail.
He sang his old favourites, Purple Rain (by Prince), and Rod Stewart’s I Don’t Want to Talk About It.
Rose has a video of his poignant performance, and the crowd cheering him. Sam spent his final night at Hospice Waikato, for help with pain management.
Family and friends later gathered at Rose’s home to honour him, and People’s Project staff and supporters carried his casket to the vehicle that would transport him to the family’s Kauangaroa Marae, near Whanganui, for his tangi. Sam was dressed in a suit that he’d bought for a job interview.
Rose is especially thankful for the efforts of The People’s Project.
‘‘There are no words to describe the unconditional love and support they have given Sam, and all of us. They were his other family.’’
People’s Project manager, Kerry Hawkes, says it was a privilege for the team to be a small part of Sam’s life in Hamilton.