When he arrived in Oxford, Mississippi, it was a quiet college town shaped by the towering literary legacy of William Faulkner, with little in the way of a living, breathing arts scene. What Ronzo created instead was the Hoka Theater — an arthouse cinema, live music venue, and café that would become the beating heart of Oxford’s creative underground.

With eclectic film programming, live performances, poetry readings, and an open-door spirit, the Hoka evolved into something much bigger than a theater — it became a cultural phenomenon. Students, locals, acclaimed writers, and touring musicians all found themselves in the same room, part of the same conversation. Nobody had to explain themselves. Everyone belonged.

For many, Ronzo was more than a curator — he was a catalyst. A witty, unpredictable, and deeply empathetic presence, he saw something in people before they saw it in themselves. Musicians who would go on to shape bands like Widespread Panic and Wilco passed through the Hoka early in their journeys, drawn by its energy and possibility.

A Vietnam veteran, political gadfly, literary chauffeur, and self-appointed cultural ambassador, Ronzo helped transform Oxford into an unlikely creative crossroads — a place where music, literature, and counterculture could thrive.

Today, that spirit lives on through Hoka Days, a month-long celebration of art and community that culminates in a second-line parade around the Oxford Square.

Ronzo is a funny, heartfelt, and unexpectedly moving portrait of an accidental muse — and a reminder that sometimes the people who change everything are the ones who never intended to.