Ivan was the clown of the construction crew.

Though he’d been in America for over two decades, he still spoke English with a heavy Russian accent, and his unique cadence and pronunciations were probably what made his jokes, and just about everything he said, that much funnier...

One of the older guys on the crew used to compare Ivan to the comedian Yakov Smirnoff, and one of the younger guys used to say Ivan sounded like Triumph the Insult Comic Dog. Another guy used to call him “Dracula.”

But the Russian took the ribbing in stride. He never got angry or offended. If anything, any laugh he got would encourage him. The man genuinely seemed to take joy in amusing others.

Not only would Ivan crack jokes, usually dirty jokes, but he also had a strangely endearing tic of shouting out curse words. Often at random, like he had Tourette’s. Hearing his Russian-accented cries of “motherfucker” (pronounced as “mutterfucka”) ringing out, daily, around construction sites, brought a smile to everyone’s face...

It could be that Ivan was in a persistently happy and goofy mood due to his drinking. Like many Russians, the man enjoyed his vodka. Though he was never stumbling, slurring, vomiting, Charles Bukowski type drunk. Nah, he was more just tipsy, and always with a faint whiff of vodka on his breath.

That being said, the man was no slouch. Ivan was adept at pacing his drinking throughout the day and remaining functional and productive on the job. An important trait when it comes to construction work. In the mornings, he’d always clock in on time, and always kept his thermos of vodka at an arm’s length distance.

According to his next-door neighbor, the Dominican, Jorge, Ivan would never hit the sauce too hard- until the evening - when he’d finish off whatever was left of that day’s bottle of vodka. Jorge said that Ivan passed out, nightly, on the couch, while watching reruns of Married with Children.

(Allegedly Ivan learned to speak English by watching reruns of Married with Children, and in staccato bursts of broken English he’d quote Al Bundy, as well as Dostoyevsky, around construction sites.)

But despite his nightly boozing, Ivan never once showed up to work with any visible hangover, and he worked just as hard as anyone on the crew and was liked and respected by all.

His work ethic was what earned him his respect. But it was certainly his sense of humor that made him so well-liked. An inveterate joker, Ivan always had a smile stamped on his face. And the distinguished-looking, stout, spunky man just looked jolly, with his tomato red, permanently sunburned skin, and chubby cheeks that glowed like polished apples.

As for Ivan’s background, not much was known. No one knew why or how he came to America. There were rumors that he’d been in the KGB, that he’d escaped from a Russian jail, that he was in a circus, that he was once a journeyman cage fighter, and that as a child Ivan wrestled bear cubs, like Khabib Nurmagomedov.

(Although Kentucky Karl said how everyone in Russia “fucking wrestles bears and shit.”)

Jorge said Ivan had been married to a tall, obese woman, the lady about a head taller than Ivan, the woman the size of a refrigerator, and that one day she’d up and disappeared, and that Ivan never spoke of her. This, inevitably, prompted some to suspect Ivan had murdered her.

Jumpy Jim averred Ivan had probably poisoned her, because “that’s how Russians usually kill people,” but Black Ted said he bet Ivan strangled and buried “the bitch” somewhere out next to Jimmy Hoffa...

But really, almost nothing was clearly known of Ivan’s past. The most he’d confided to anyone was what he said to Jorge, who’d jokingly asked why Ivan was so happy. Ivan, with a smile playing out over his lips, replied, in a sharp tone, that, “Nobody smile (sic) in Russia.”

Ivan, though, he was smiling all the time. And yelling “mutterfucka” and pulling silly pranks, doing goofy voices. Normally no one could figure out what the voices were supposed to be, impressions or what, but they sounded so ridiculous, in his Russian accent, so pretty much whatever he said had everyone in stitches, kept the minutes moving, the atmosphere light, kept everyone’s spirits up. Especially on those hot, dog days of summer.