SOMBA K'E/YELLOWKNIFE
At the bottom of the hill on Franklin Avenue, tucked away in a part of Old Town known as Peace River Flats, there is a modest shack identified by a plaque with the numbers 4309.

Stan 'The Man' Larocque wails away on his plywood guitar at the Gold Range. He died Saturday at age 94. - photo courtesy of Facebook

Following the numbers is the title of the shack's inhabitant, listed in parentheses simply as 'The Man.'

Up until he was moved to Stanton Territorial Hospital a few months ago, the colourful character who lived there was an Old Town pioneer and one of the area's oldest residents.

Unfortunately, both the cabin and Old Town will be feeling a little emptier these days. Stan 'The Man' Larocque died Saturday at the age of 94.

"He was a fun guy with a true Northern sense of humour, and people will have stories of Stan for years to come even though he's gone," said Larocque's nephew, NWT Commissioner George Tuccaro.

"He was a salty character but he had a big heart," added long-time Old Town resident Mark Rocher.

Having settled in Old Town in the late 1930s only a few years into Yellowknife's existence, Larocque is considered to be one of the area's first squatters.

"He didn't see himself as a squatter. He was there long before there were bylaws or city councillors," said Tucarro.

Growing up in Old Town, Rocher remembered Larocque as someone who always took the time to share a story or lend a hand to those in need.

"His connection to that area was the people and the lifestyle," said Rocher.

Caroline Larocque, Stan's daughter-in-law, added he was known for extending his kindness to Yellownife's less fortunate.

"He was very respectful of the street people," she said.

Larocque was born to a family of 10 in Fort Fitzgerald, Alta., near the NWT border on Sept. 5, 1919. He was sent to residential school in Fort Resolution before leaving at the age of 16. Sometime during the late 1930s Stan moved to Yellowknife where he began working on the Caterpillar (CAT) trains, which supplied lumber for the mines.

"He used to say he was a CAT-skinner for 40 years and never once had a flat," joked Tuccaro, pointing out that CATs have treads instead of tires.

One of the things Larocque will be best remembered for are his marathon air guitar sessions at the Gold Range.

"He was there faithfully at most jam sessions," said Rocher.

He endeared himself so much to the regular crowd at the bar that some people ended up getting together to make him a guitar out of quarter-inch plywood.

"It was almost like he was as passionate about what he was doing as the band was," said Rocher. "In a way he was part of the band."

Tuccaroo added that whenever the band announced they were going to take a break, he would place one on his guitar and raise the other in the air and exclaim,"whiskey time."

"That was just Stan 'The Man' doing his thing," said Tuccaro. "Everyone marvelled at him."

As Larocque got older he started to spend less time at the Range and more time at his home in Old Town. He remained adamant about living a simple lifestyle, drawing his drinking water from Back Bay, while hunting for his own meat up until the age of 83. In his later years people, including those he had so often helped on the street, would go down to his shack to check in on him. Rocher said he would often help Larocque fix his stove. He would also bring him freshly harvested moose and caribou.

"He didn't like eating store-bought meat," said Rocher.

Despite pleas from friends and family he refused to move out of his shack in Old Town and into a senior's home.

"That would have been like slapping him upside the head with the blunt side of an axe," said Rocher.

Larocque ended up living in Peace River Flats up until two months ago, when he was moved to a hospital, where he died peacefully with his family by his side.

He leaves behind his 96-year-old sister Elsie Yanik, who lives in Fort McMurray, three sons, Jay, James and Larry, daughters Ruth and Martha, and eight grandchildren.

Larocque's funeral took place at St. Patrick's Parish on Thursday afternoon. Never one to shy away from making a joke, Larocque always maintained that he would need two coffins to bury his larger than life character.

"Some called him a legend," said Tuccaro.

"And to himself probably a legend in his own spare time."

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