Jerry Steinmann was a multiply divorced ("I've been institutionalized five times, and that institution is known as 'marriage'.") packrat of a Metro bus driver (he looked just like Santa, especially when he wore a Santa suit to work), who (if one doesn't count near beer) had been sober over a quarter of a century when he left for the AA meeting in the sky (or maybe the one down under—he had Aussie connections, too). He was in the habit of introducing himself with this litany (minus, until the last few years of his life, the cancer clause):

I am a loving God as I understand Her, and I understand Her to be Consciousness, Beingness, or Spirit. She is traveling in the body of a fat, paranoid, schizophrenic, diabetic, arthritic, cancer-ridden alcoholic by the name of Jerry Stonebender.

He rented out rooms, to dozens of Fremonsters over the years, in his clear and present fire hazard of a house at 40th and Densmore. He is fondly remembered by many, and emulated by some.