16 December 5 - 11, 2024 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents and 216 comments. He didn’t go to jail, but the conflict has since made him apprehensive about police. Luckily, it seems like today’s pa- trol is more interested in hearing one of his songs than giving him a hard time. “This is another one of our stragglers,” says Hause as a young woman with blond hair joins the seated circle. Her name is Kitana. She looks no older than 19 and wears thick black headphones at least 10 years old over her ears. She says she’s been hanging out with Hause since she met him last summer. “I saved his ass,” she says, before recalling the story of a drunk, depressed Hause just needing someone to talk to on the street corner. “But he saved me as well.” Stories like Kitana’s litter the city. It’s hard to speak with Hause for more than a few minutes without being interrupted by passersby, updating him about their lives or requesting a song. “I met Dash when he came into Spoons one day,” says a Spoons waitress named Celina. “He’d come in and I’d make him an ‘anything.’ Every time I’d make him something different to drink. I’d consider him a good friend. Every time I’m in the square and see him I always say hi.” “They are a staple of the community,” says another resident named Jude. “They make the town more lively and homey.” “Our first date was at Dempsey’s,” says Shawn Worman of his partner, Christi. Dempsey’s is a corner store just off the square, to which Shawn and Christi re- turned earlier this year. He proposed to her in February, and she said yes. Just out of view, and unbeknown to the couple, Hause strummed into a whistling rendition of “La Vie en Rose.” “On cue I heard Dash strumming,” Shawn recalls. “She thought I hired him.” The moment was caught on camera by one of Shawn’s friends, prompting him to introduce him- self to Hause and in- vite him to their wedding. He showed up and even got a pro- fessional wedding photo with the bride and groom. Hause loves to re- call this story, among the countless other memories made on the square. On this random Sunday, the audience is larger than usual, including three fellow buskers, a couple of his signa- ture stragglers, a McKinney police offi- cer taking a break from patrolling and a Dallas Observer writer re- cording everything he says. Hause then tells the story of Mize’s run-in with the cop, boasting about the way he “held his ground.” As Hause finishes the story, the crowd disperses a bit, including the cop. “Don’t you think that could have some influence on how he treats me from here on out?” Mize asks angrily. “No,” Hause replies. “That guy likes us.” “That wasn’t my question,” Mize says. “You don’t think that could have any influence on how he treats me from here on? Knowing that?” “That’s valid,” Hause concedes. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, it’s just a good story. You stood up for yourself, you did a good job. I’m proud of you.” Mize isn’t having it. He’s taken his guitar off and walked behind the bench. For as loving as their operation is, this is a battle they have to fight every day. “Here’s what I’m gonna do,” Hause says. “If you don’t like a thing that I’m saying, you can snap at me. I am giving you explicit permission to tell me to shut the fuck up. But I like talking about you. You’re cool and you’re my friend.” Mize softens up a bit, sitting back down on the bench where the rest remain in the circle. “We’ve been calling it honey and lemon,” Hause says. “I’m super chill with the cops, and then we got Stephen who is lemon over here. But we end up in a posi- tion where, that cop over there, I’m ampli- fied and we’re technically breaking the rules but he just kind of gets it. We’re just here to play.” Busking from p15 Andrew Sherman The busking band has had run-ins with local police enforcement. The 100 bars we can’t live without. view this years full list
