I looked for Randy Paragary in an alley behind the Sheraton Grand Hotel and found Cesar Chavez. At least I think it was Cesar Chavez. It resembled him, though someone painted the name “Randy Paragary” under the mural.
Mistaken identity happens everywhere. Police lineups and courtrooms are notorious for confusing who was present when the gun went off. Some witnesses blame poor lighting. Or poor eyesight.
Which doesn’t mean I expect street murals to be precise representations of the people they wish to honor. A painting on the side of a building isn’t John Singer Sargent mixing bone black and lead white to produce skin tones for “Portrait of Madame X.”
But let’s back up. I was thrilled when I learned my late friend Randy Paragary was being saluted with a mural near his former restaurant, Esquire Grill.
Randy and I were friends for four decades. We had weekly lunches at Esquire Grill for 20 years. Randy died in 2021 from pancreatic cancer, but I still think about him, especially when I walk by one of his old saloons or restaurants. We were static points in two shifting lives.
This explains why, when I heard Randy’s portrait was painted and ready for viewing, I left Midtown and walked toward the mural in the alley behind the Sheraton at 13th and J streets.
But I turned around at 19th Street.
I retreated because I feared a thousand memories would tumble back. I was afraid the mural—produced as a respectful eulogy—would trigger sadness and remind me how much I miss my friend.
A month passed before I visited the alley. When I finally found the fortitude to walk there, the experience left me neither sad nor proud nor humbled by my friend’s honor. I didn’t feel anything. I saw Cesar Chavez on the wall.
Murals are tricky things, massive public canvases with weird perspectives, cheap fodder for criticism. Murals are easy to screw up and tough to get right.
Usually, the people who run Sacramento avoid big challenges. This town has low tolerance for risk. But when it comes to murals, Sacramento lives dangerously.
See the Johnny Cash mural, standing about 130 feet tall on a building at 15th and L streets. The mural evokes Cash performing at Folsom Prison in 1968. Nobody mistakes Johnny Cash for Cesar Chavez.
The artist Shepard Fairey hoped his Johnny Cash mural would promote prison reform. Cash didn’t pose for Fairey. The artwork is based on a photograph. The artist didn’t witness the prison concert. He was born two years later. (My father was there, but that’s another story.)
Artists don’t need to stand before their models to capture a stunning image. The beauty—the genius of artistic representation—flows from beyond source material. Sometimes artists nail it. Sometimes they swing and miss.
A big problem with the Paragary mural is the location. Unlike Fairey’s massive Johnny Cash canvas, the Paragary mural is shoved into a generic Downtown alley, a shadowy, power-washed Louvre of delivery trucks, dumpsters and concrete.
When I visited, the alley was empty. Couples weren’t lined up for wedding photos. Alleys are backstage workspaces. Hanging out isn’t advised.
Sacramento has an awkward relationship with alleys. In 2011, the City Council tried to enliven its alleys with clever names arranged alphabetically.
Alleys between I, J and K streets became Improv, Jazz and Kayak. But nobody calls them that.
At least Randy has good company. He’s next to Biba Caggiano, next to Darrell Corti, next to Lina Fat. The murals celebrate local restaurant titans. Corti, who runs a market and counsels restaurateurs, is the only honoree still alive. Maybe that’s why his likeness shines as the most vibrant.
There’s a bright side to this bizarre affair. On these cold winter nights, the alley behind the Sheraton has Randy, Biba, Darrell and Lina watching over it.
And if you look close enough, there’s Cesar Chavez, too.
R.E. Graswich can be reached at regraswich@icloud.com. Follow us on Facebook and Instagram: @insidesacramento.
