[This essay originally appeared in the Esotouric newsletter]
Yesterday, we attended the annual laying to rest the ashes of the unclaimed at the County Crematory and Cemetery in Boyle Heights. Since 1896, Los Angeles County has sponsored this sacred ritual, ensuring that no soul shall pass in our corner of the world without a respectful farewell.
This year, the mass grave contained the remains of 1495 people who died in 2014. These are the ones who were so isolated that after three years of looking the social workers couldn’t find their kin, the ones who died without a name, the ones whose families couldn’t afford the cost of a service. Many of them were homeless and alone.
The interfaith ceremony is deeply moving. Mingled together in the soil are the vast varieties of Angeleno, while up above in the sun and the air, a large and varied crowd comes together to honor people who most never knew.
The tender service offers something for all laid to rest and all who mourn them: a Catholic Deacon swings a smoking bowl of fragrant incense, a female Rabbi sings the 23rd Psalm, the Lord’s Prayer is intoned in Spanish, English, Korean and Fiji, a Native American shares a song from the Tule Reservation, then come verses from the Koran, Buddhist and Hindu scripture, and Maya Angelou’s defiant poem “Still I Rise.” (The poet, too, died in 2014.)
We were there to pay our respects to the nameless and the strangers, but also to mourn a lost friend found.
Leo Vaisman was a Westside street performer with a delightful act: he trained cats to stand up on their haunches and take paper money, and exchange it for rolled fortune-telling scrolls, as all the while Leo rattled off a litany of mystical feline accomplishments in a musical, Russian accented voice.
The Psychic Cats wore elaborate velvet robes and had names like Cassandra, Nostradamus and Sister Clara Clairvoyant. On each scroll you’d find a color photo of your elegant seer on one side, their generous, if slightly incoherent, predictions on the other.
Kim was captivated by Leo and the Psychic Cats, and booked them to appear at Scramarama, a music festival held at the old Palace Theater in 2001. A few years later, when we were married, Leo’s cats told fortunes for our guests.
Booking this act wasn’t as simple as calling a phone number or sending an email. Leo could usually be found working on the Third Street Promenade—unless he or one of his cats wasn’t feeling well, business was slow, the weather was bad, or cops were hassling performers. A website was printed on the fortune scrolls (psychicamulet.com), but there wasn’t anything at that URL. So in each case, booking Leo involved several trips to Santa Monica, walking up and down the Promenade asking other performers, “Is the Psychic Cat guy around? Can you ask him to call us if you see him?”
Also, Leo didn’t drive, so he needed a taxi or a ride to the venue and back again after. And his cats had fleas, which is how we learned yes, you can safely flea bomb your Maid of Honor’s car. (Sorry, Cathy.)
And he was worth all the trouble. There was something about Leo’s act that seemed a thousand years old. You could imagine gentle guys with trained pussycats rattling off a similar patter in old Constantinople, Revolutionary Paris, in the shadow of Wren’s churches, on the Ganges or the Yangtze. Suspending disbelief and thanking the cats for their prognostications was a little bit of everyday magic.
After our wedding, we were rarely on the Westside. There weren’t any occasions for booking Psychic Cats. Years went by. And then one day, a friend asked how Leo was doing, so we put his name into the internet. And there he was, on the list of the unclaimed who had died without kin in 2010, and been cremated and buried by the County in 2013.
We wish we had been there to pay our respects to this lovely character on that December day. But he was in our thoughts yesterday, as 1495 other Angelenos were ushered out of our world and into the next. Any one of them could have been as colorful as Leo. May he, and they, rest peacefully and in good company.
For those of you who remember Leo, please spread the word. We did, by telling his story to the reporter from the Times who covered the ceremony. But it didn’t seem enough somehow; we hope this is.
I had seen Leo many times on the Promenade. He entertained many and it is sad no one was there for him in his final days. Thanks for your story about Leo.
I remember Leo and his felines fondly from my walks around the Promenade while living in LA back in the late 90’s. The psychic cat predicting the World Cup winner articles today made google Leo. So sad that he was alone in the end with no family to claim him.
Thank you for writing this story. I wondered what happened to him. I hope someone took cate of his cat.
We hope so, too. Thanks for remembering him.
He is a loving person, kind and quite, I was performing next to him, and we became friends, he always was quite polite and like to be lonely, kind of upset personality, that lost motivation and challenge in his life, even when he was smile, he’s smile was look upsetty and bitter, seems like he struggle of the cost of living in Los Angeles, I saw him once, collecting cans, when I asked him, he just say the bills so high, I can’t make it, I felt upset for him, that his so closed personality and surrender, and have no challenged, he feel like the life already behind him, when I talked to him many times, doing my performing years between 2003 up to 2006, I am Uri free prove psychic and Clairvoyant.1850 760 6122
Oh, thank you for doing this. I loved those psychic cats and Leo. RIP.
We’re so glad you remember, too.
Thanks for this. I met him once. Memorable.
During my undergrad at UCLA, Leo and his psychic cats were often the highlight of my walks along the 3rd Street Promenade. I made a point of looking for them anytime I found myself there and loved to bring friends along so they could experience some mystical feline augury. I remember carrying one of those fortune scrolls around in my wallet for years (the way some people carry little cards of the Mother Mary). It was a good luck talisman with a unique story attached, and I wish I still had it.
It’s now been years since I lived in Los Angeles, but I still think of the psychic cats. That reminiscing is what brought me here today, where I was sorry to learn of Leo’s passing and the end of the famous psychic cats of 3rd Street.
Rest in Peace and Power, Leo. You and your magnificent prognosticating kitties had a positive impact on the world. You brightened the lives of others and you are sorely missed.
You won’t believe this, but I just ran across the Cassandra card. It’s been 30 years and I had no idea what this amazingly weird gift was. Thank you internet.
How magical! Could you share a photo of it, so we can let Cassandra rejoin her pals on this post?
This hurts in a way I struggle to put into words. I would visit my father (who was living in LA) every summer from the age 10-22 (between 95-07). We would walk the Promenade every weekend going to the slam poetry reading at the Midnight Special book store, and I would see Leo and his Psychic cats set up just outside. I wish I had gone up to Leo, and gotten a reading from one of the cats. But I never did, and feels like I missed out on some magic in the world that is lost forever.
Simply by remembering him, you are a part of the magic he manifested.
I live in the U.K. but remember Leo and his Psychic Cats from several occasions I found myself filming segments for various docus on Third Street Promenade. I have photos of Leo and the cats but never had a “reading”. Prob always too busy working… Think/hope I donated though. (Used to enjoy playing pool in that cool pool hall with the copper bar and purple baize.) Sad to hear of his passing and that there was no one there for him at the end. He was a bit of a Santa Monica legend.
Thank you for remembering Leo. Would love to see your photos if you care to share any!
I remember Leo and his cats from a trip I took with my family in 1998. I just thought about him and wondered if I could find him anywhere on the internet. Thank you so much for sharing this information about him. I’m so sorry he passed, perhaps without realizing he was a part of so many people’s memories.
Thanks for writing this- it’s beautiful. I love knowing a little more about Leo, but it makes me so sad to hear that he passed with no loved ones. I got my first fortune in the mid 90’s when I was in high school, visiting my sister in L.A. The first couple of times I saw him I was so moved… it’s hard to explain. There was just something about him- I wondered so much about his life, if he had a home, etc. But I appreciated that he was doing his thing. I wanted to help him so much, but at the time lacked the means to do so. When I moved to L.A. in 1996 to attend USC (and for a while after, while he was still there) I never went to the Promenade without getting a fortune. He always remembered me, even if it had been a long time, and greeted me with outstretched arms, a huge smile and his accented, “Hello my friend!” I loved his voice- he kind of reminded me of a Peter Sellers character. I loved his performance and his schtick about cats, and the broken English of his fortunes. I also loved sharing him with my friends- they always thought he was great, too. One time I saw him waiting for the bus on Fairfax, cats in tow. It was hot, but he still had that fur coat on. It’s hard to explain how much I wanted him to be well. I wondered how he made it to America and where he was born and how he developed his skill. Such an interesting, iconic guy. RIP Leo. Hope you’re with your cats.
Thank you for being his friend.