Wilton Hugh Thomas, longtime L5P fixture known as ‘Wolf,’ has died
‘He was absolutely devoted to being free’
- Calvin Kimbrough
- Wilton Hugh ‘Wolf’ Thomas
On one of your many visits to Little Five Points or trips along Ponce de Leon Avenue, you might have encountered the man with a blonde mane, black tank top, and tight jean shorts. Sometimes he carried a guitar. Or he’d be selling magazines and laughing with a friend. You might not have ever known his name, but he was a familiar face, and one of Atlanta’s recognizable street personalities.
To those who knew him, he was a friendly, kind-hearted musician who spent most of his life living on the streets and helping other homeless men and women navigate the city and find food and shelter. His name was Wilton Hugh Thomas, but he was known by most as “Wolf.”
On Tuesday, the Winter Haven, Fla., native died at Grady Memorial Hospital. According to Pastor Paul Turner of Gentle Spirit Christian Church, where Thomas was a longtime member, he was 72.
Thomas came to the city from Vidalia around 1963, and first worked at Morrison’s Cafeteria in Hapeville, according to an audio interview conducted by Bill Horrisberger. He joined the other hippies in Atlanta on “The Strip,” selling copies of the Great Speckled Bird, the famed and unabashedly liberal alternative newspaper, among other publications. Wolf recalled seeing the Allman Brothers Band and other musical acts play in Piedmont Park during that period, telling Horrisberger it was the “best time of my life.”
Steve Wise, who worked at the Great Speckled Bird from 1968 to 1976 — ”sometimes on the paid staff, usually not” — remembers Thomas as a prolific vendor of the newspapers, selling hundreds of copies week after week. Thomas was rivaled only by Tom “Birdman” Millican, Wise recalls.
“When the paper came out Thursday morning, we had a good-natured competition to be the first to get down to Georgia State’s cafeteria, where at lunchtime you could sell 60 to 75 papers in an hour — a very high rate,” Wise says. “He was a very quiet guy, didn’t talk much, but always friendly.”
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When Turner moved to Atlanta 20 years ago to join a church, Thomas was already a member.
“Being a young obnoxious arrogant pastor, I decided it was my job to get him housing,” Turner says. “Wolf taught me 100 lessons, in addition to not be arrogant. Wolf said he wouldn’t have anything to do with it. He was allowed to use someone’s porch so he could get out of the weather.”
Turner noticed early on that Thomas, whom he and others say did not drink, was a resource for the homeless community.
“People who were newly homeless found their way to Wolf,” he says. “He showed them where to eat, how to get out of the weather, how to avoid the police, all that stuff. It was just amazing to me... We will never know how many lives he’s actually saved.”
He adds: “It’s very touch and go on the streets. One day you’re here, one day you’re not. And then you’re running. You’re almost like in a pinball machine. In that regard, Wolf was a prince. He kept a lot of people out of harm’s way. There are a lot of people who owe their life in one way or the other.”
Thomas was a familiar face at the Open Door Community, the homeless outreach provider on Ponce de Leon Avenue, and his photo hangs on the center’s wall.
“The Open Door Community has been on Ponce de Leon Avenue for 34 years,” Eduard Loring, the ODC’s founder, writes CL in an email. “Wolf was one (very few remain) who greeted us when we opened our doors. He has been with us for meals, showers, and our medical clinic since we opened... He was very friendly and always enjoyed being at the Open Door Community, and we with him,” Loring says.
But in addition to being a familiar face around Little Five Points who sold magazines to survive and a friend to homeless men and women, he was a musician who sometimes played at Star Bar. He loved bluegrass. Turner says Thomas would come early before church services and pop in cassettes of old recordings. He was a walking musical encyclopedia.
When Thomas turned 65, Turner says, he decided it was time to leave the streets, telling the pastor that he didn’t think his body could survive another winter outside. The church paid for a room at the Clermont Hotel for several months while Intown Community Assistance helped him apply for Social Security disability benefits. Three months later, Thomas moved into the Salvation Army’s William Booth Tower off Ponce de Leon Avenue.
Over the past weekend, Thomas was admitted to Grady. He had become ill with double pneumonia and was experiencing extreme difficulty breathing, Turner says. Doctors called the pastor on Tuesday morning to say that they’d “lost his pulse.” Attempts to resuscitate him were unsuccessful.
When asked why Wolf had become beloved by people, many of whom probably never learned his real name, his life story, or heard him sing a song, Turner says it was because of his kindness and outgoing, gentle nature.
“It was his heart,” Turner says. “I’ve been in ministry almost 30 years. There was not a kinder, gentler man on the face of the Earth. He just exuded that. He never talked loud. He was always ready to befriend you. And he was always ready to tell a story.”
Adds Neill Herring, a lobbyist for the Sierra Club’s Georgia chapter and former Great Speckled Bird staffer who handed off magazines to deliverymen including Wolf from his Midtown home: “He was a serious student of world events and an intellectual scholar of the streets. He was absolutely devoted to being free.”
According to an online obituary, funeral services will be held on Saturday at 2 p.m. at Pinecrest Cemetery. Interment will follow. The family will receive friends at the cemetery starting 30 minutes before the service.
Turner says Gentle Spirit Christian and the ODC are planning a memorial service for Thomas here in Atlanta, tentatively scheduled for May 3 at 10:30 a.m. in Candler Park. We’ll update when we have more details.