The first time Cori Palka met Kent Lawrence Mueller, she admits she was scared and nervous.
At first glance, the two could not be any more different. Palka was the owner of a boutique clothing store in Collegiate Square, off of Collegiate Way near UCF. Mueller was a homeless man living in the woods near her shop.
Day after day, Mueller would stroll by the store, greeting Palka with a simple “hello.”
“I would politely say hello back, but was not interested in becoming his friend,” Palka said. “After weeks of seeing him pass by every morning, we would slowly talk more and more. After a while, we were meeting every morning when I opened at 11 a.m.”
Gradually, the most unlikely of friendships was forged. The short talks before Palka opened her shop soon turned into deep conversations between a pair of people who lived in two completely different worlds.
The two would laugh together, cry together, and vent to each other. Their “therapy sessions” provided a much needed respite from their worldly woes. After a while, Palka started calling the man Bear, due to the fact that he lived in the woods and would always call himself a “bear in the woods.” The nickname stuck; most people who’ve met Bear never knew his real name.
Everybody who works in the plaza agrees: Bear and Cori had a bond unlike any other.
After 14 years, that friendship was cut tragically short. Last Monday, Bear was found dead in the woods where he had lived for over a decade. He was 53.
The medical examiner’s office has not confirmed a cause of death, but says it was not suspicious.
Those who were able to get past the fact that he was homeless long enough to actually have a conversation with Bear knew who the man under the rough, grizzled exterior was. He was a veteran. He was chivalric. He always had an open ear and a nice word for you, whether you were his best friend or a complete stranger.
This is the story of the man who lived in the woods. This is who Kent Lawrence Mueller really was, as told by those who knew him over the years.
Any chance he could, Bear would tell a stranger that he was a “California boy,” and he certainly emulated those chill West Coast vibes. He was known for sticking his head into different shops along the plaza, calling people “bro” or “sister.” He would say goodbye by flashing a peace sign, saying “keep on keeping on.”
“Peace up,” he would say.
Palka said California was one of Bear’s favorite places.
According to Palka, the medical examiner’s office said that she would be contacted if no immediate family members claim Bear’s body after a nation-wide search. If she is able to receive his ashes, she plans to scatter them in the Golden State.
Palka also recalled one of her favorite memories with Bear.
In September of last year, the two best friends were hanging out at Palka’s shop, just as they had always. While she was working late sending some emails, she asked Bear what his favorite song was so she could play it for him.
The answer was “Hotel California.”
While the song was playing, Bear was singing as loud as he could while simultaneously shredding the sickest air guitar solo that had ever been witnessed at Collegiate Plaza. The concert continued late into the night, with several of Palka’s friends joining and all of Bear’s favorite songs being played.
Cori Palka remembers Bear saying to her the next morning, “If I die tomorrow, I would die a happy man! I haven’t had a fun night like that in so long!”
“I thought the next day about how he never gets to listen to music, or dance or sing like he did,” Palka said. “He didn’t live the life we did. I loved his heart and how he appreciated both my friends and I so much!”
Counting a transient population is practically impossible, and the exact number of homeless veterans will never be known. However, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development estimates that 39,471 veterans were homeless on the average night in 2016.
Kent Lawrence Mueller was one of them.
He was an Army veteran, and very proud of it. However, it was apparent he carried some demons after he left military service.
“He had a lot of personal trauma, a lot of PTSD he had to get through,” said Shelby Friedman, an employee at Marley’s Tobacco who’s known Bear for over a year. “Our country’s not really good at helping people with that to begin with. But he did have a really great support system in the plaza.”
“That’s the sad part,” Friedman continued. “He was really a genuinely nice person.”
Christian Kyle, an employee of Marley’s Tobacco, said Bear was always the first on the scene whenever trouble arose at the plaza.
“Any time a girl would walk out of the bars too drunk and a guy was being aggressive, Bear was always there,” Kyle said.
“In a way, he was the plaza watchdog. He would always respond to trouble like a knight in shining armor,” he said.
Bear was a flirt, always complimenting people and telling women they were pretty. If he noticed something wasn’t quite right, he would ask, “has anyone told you they loved you yet today? Well, Kent Lawrence Mueller loves you!”
Every person who worked at the plaza had something to say about Bear, and they all agreed on one thing: he always had a kind word for everybody, no matter who they were and no matter how they treated him.
Christmas Eve a few years ago, Palka told Bear to meet her at her shop. He first responded by saying, “if you are introducing me to a girl, I don’t have a suit!”
She wasn’t introducing him to a girl. Palka walked Bear over to a hotel, where she had rented him a room for the night. On the bed, she had placed gifts for Bear: new shoes, new clothes, and toiletries.
For the first time in years, Bear had the opportunity to listen to music, watch TV, take a shower, and enjoy being able to sleep under a roof.
When Palka picked Bear up the next day, Bear said he didn’t get a wink of sleep.
Instead, he spent the night taking a hot shower, something he hadn’t had the opportunity to do in over 10 years. His usual shower spot was in a lake or under a gas station hose at 4 a.m.
Though he didn’t have much, Bear was always willing to help those who needed it. He would sometimes give his crackers to different homeless men. On Valentine’s Day, he would bring balloons to the ladies who worked in the shops around the plaza.
For what he lacked in material possessions, Bear was rich and gracious with kind words and compliments to anybody who would take the opportunity to talk with him.
Bear was known for his open ear, always partaking in “mini-therapy” sessions with anybody who needed to talk.
Shelby Friedman described one time when she was telling Bear about some problems in a relationship she was in.
“He listened to everything I had to say,” Friedman said.
“He told me, ‘you’ve got to do what makes you happy. I don’t have a place right now, but I am always happy. I don’t regret any of my decisions. If you’re going to do something you will regret, don’t do it,'” she said.
“That’s the thing about Bear. He lived a life that he never regretted. That’s what resonated with me,” Friedman said.
Devin Conway, who works at Civil Vapes, first met Bear years ago when he was a junior in high school.
One night, Conway missed a bus he was waiting for at the plaza. While waiting for the next bus, he sat down in front of Natura Coffee and Tea. Bear sat next to him and began talking.
“I just chatted with him for about an hour. I missed the bus the second time because I was just talking to him for a while,” Conway said. “He’ll be missed. He was a real nice guy, and the plaza won’t be the same without him.”
Cori Palka says all Bear wanted was the love and attention of those he talked to.
“He loved talking to everyone,” she said. “He just wanted attention and to feel loved.”
“Bear would always start a conversation with people first,” Palka said. “He was a lover and loved people. He would start a conversation with anyone at anytime. He was always kind when he met someone for the first time.”
Any person who was able to peel away layers of judgement long enough to talk to Bear would be able to see him for the man he really was.
His favorite things were beer, cigarettes, and his radio.
He loved singing and dancing.
He loved talking to strangers. He loved letting people know how much they meant to him.
He wasn’t just another alcoholic. He wasn’t just another homeless man without a name.
His name was Bear. Those were his woods, that was his plaza.
