When a young man died of cancer at 33, no grieving parents or relatives mourned his passing. But he is not forgotten.
By JANEL STEPHENS
Published June 1, 2003
ST. PETERSBURG - A five-line obituary summed up Robert Slusher's short life. His ashes are in a container. His life's possessions and papers are in a dusty, black briefcase.
"There are no known survivors," the obituary intoned.
While that's technically true, Robert Slusher had a friend, a person who can tell a bit about a life ended by leukemia at age 33.
Thursday morning, on the concrete steps outside of his white brick home on First Avenue N, Angel Barahona popped opened the black briefcase.
Inside were two bibles, a 1989 diploma from Centerville High School in Ohio, photos of Slusher taken in recent years, a long-ago Christmas card from a potential adoptive family, his birth certificate and a letter from an orphanage where Slusher spent most of his childhood years.
Robert Slusher, 33, died May 12 at St. Anthony's Hospital. When no one claimed his body after five days, he was scheduled for cremation. In the meantime, a county investigator checked addresses, talked to neighbors, landlords and employers, and examined hospital and county records.
The search produced nothing and Slusher was cremated Tuesday. The process cost the county $300.
Cliff Smith, assistant director of the county's human services department, said investigators typically find family members in about 300 cases a year. Robert Slusher is one of the 180 dead who will go unclaimed this year.
Barahona met Slusher in 1990. Slusher had turned 20 and was working at a local grocery store; Barahona had moved here from New Orleans, where he worked in a factory making soft drink concentrate for 25 years.
Barahona and Slusher had individual rooms at a boarding house on Eighth Street and later shared a small apartment. In 1998, they moved into the two-bedroom, two-bathroom house on First Avenue N.
Barahona said Slusher was bipolar, a disorder that causes dramatic mood swings of mania and depression. (Barahona said he has suffered two nervous breakdowns himself and is on medication for panic attacks.)
Slusher feared being alone and insisted that Barahona accompany him to his doctor appointments or go to the store.
"Since he was little, he always worried about who was going to take care of him," said Barahona, 66. "I looked up to him like he was my son."
Slusher was born April 26, 1970, to Charlene Alma Gabriel and Richard Leo Resurreccion at Bethesda Hospital in Cincinnati, according to his birth certificate. At 7, Slusher was placed in St. Aloysius Orphanage under the recommendation of the Cincinnati Center for Developmental Disorders.
"Robert had come from an extremely unstable home environment, marked by alcoholism, abandonment, marital discord and financial bankruptcy," a social worker wrote in a letter dated June 10, 1980.
According to the letter, Slusher was supposed to return home after a brief stay at the orphanage, but four months into his stay at St. Aloysius, his mother and stepfather divorced, the social worker wrote. "This left him very concerned about losing his parents altogether, and not having anyone to take care of him."
Slusher's stepfather thought it best if Robert was placed in an adoptive home. Slusher's mother was described as a needy individual who, despite having "a true concern for her son, was unable to provide him the stability and parenting he needed."
Slusher's mother surrendered custody on Oct. 15, 1979, and Robert became a ward of the state. He was 9 years old.
As an adult, Slusher spent some time looking for his mother, Barahona said. "That was the saddest thing. Whenever he called those places to find family, there was no answer. He died wondering where his mom was and why she never came back to get him."
Barahona has fond memories of Slusher, who loved exercise and professional wrestling. He worked out about four days a week at Bayfront St. Anthony's Health and Fitness Connection on First Street S.
He liked to eat hot foods; chili was his specialty, Barahona said. And although Slusher liked brunettes, he never married and had no children.
Slusher was diagnosed with leukemia during the summer of 1998. He went on disability to cover costs for his medication, Barahona said.
On May 9, with his friend's condition worsening, Barahona called 911. Four days later, Slusher died.
Barahona said his friend wanted to be buried in the shade of a tree, but his ashes will be poured into an ossuary, an underground vault at Sunnyside Cemetery where other unclaimed cremains are co-mingled.
