Forgive me for being slow to contribute to my friend Clay’s memorial. I needed time to gather my thoughts.
Charisse and I, with 2 year-old Jacelyn, moved to Liberty in 1991. Shortly thereafter, with no room for an office in a small apartment, I rented a space in the Kretsinger building at Franklin and Water streets. Clay had an office at the end of the hall, and the day I moved in, actually, as I was moving in, Clay strode into my small space, flashed his warm smile, extended his hand, and welcomed me to the Square and Liberty. No one will dispute that Clay was gifted with enormous charisma, and we quickly became fast friends. It soon became apparent, that not only was Clay gregarious, but was possessed of a sharp wit, a spirted laugh that sent his head back and tears to his eyes, plus a deep, thoughtful intelligence formed by innate curiosity, an excellent memory and a lifetime of learning and experiences.
Clay and Barbara were the first people we met in Liberty, which was certainly advantageous, considering they seemed to know everyone, and not being from Liberty, it was through them that our network of friends began to grow. As couples we enjoyed each other’s company at restaurants and other social gathers hundreds of times. As a buddy, Clay and I enjoyed sports together, and shared season tickets several years in the Chief’s less successful era, nonetheless enjoying tailgating, smoking an occasional cigar, consuming ample libations (mostly me), and suffering through more than one miserably cold, disappointing game. Pointing to field, while uttering “oh no, flag,” (when none existed) after a great Chief’s play, would always crack us up, whether the perpetrator was him or me. The joke never got old, and seemed to always work.
Clay credited me for having saved his life in 1998. Complaining of having chest pains all morning, I prodded him persistently to allow me to take him to the ER. This happened when I unexpectedly popped into in his office just to return an item I had borrowed. A random, unannounced visit which resulted in emergency triple bypass surgery during one of the rainiest nights in KC history. I state this not as self-congratulation, but to express just one of the events that bound us together.
Clay and Barbara were frequent visitors and supporters of The JEM, the short-lived, (2010-2012) but popular night club and restaurant I owned with partner Joel Davis. A vigorous supporter of the Square and all things Liberty, Clay’s presence was sure to bring others to his table to discuss the politics of the day, the latest fiction or non-fiction best seller, or simply to laugh and enjoy good company. It is known by all that Clay could speak intelligently on countless topics, not with hubris, but rather with a quiet confidence that he was well versed in the subject at hand. Clay was not a “know it all;” but If he didn’t know it all, he knew much.
With the needs of a medical illustrator, Clay modeled for me numerous times, occasionally reluctantly considering the subject matter. Nonetheless, he would always put aside his work, strike the pose, and tolerate my many instructions and clicks of the camera. Some were indeed of the “please don’t show my face” variety, but when the assignment called for a distinguished, handsome middle age or older man, he not once failed to oblige. I would always remind him with a smile that a royalty check would not be forthcoming.
Many have written about Clay’s unique and fascinating life. We met Clay when he was more settled, with Barbara raising a young family, so I can’t speak to Clay’s more youthful ventures. Charisse and I learned about many, if not all of them well after the fact. To say Clay was an interesting person who lived an interesting life is a huge understatement.
No one should suffer the indignity of Clay’s last year following the surgery, but he fought stoically with tempered complaints. Not zero complaints mind you, as he was not known to have unlimited tolerance, but his courage and determination following setback after setback was inspiring and spoke to his character. I will never comprehend the medical mystery that was his quick decline following what seemed to be encouraging progress. The irony and tragedy of having passed the surgery apparently cancer free, only to never recover from the surgery itself, will stay with me forever.
I have good friends that I have known longer, but who’s first meeting I cannot recall. But the day I met Clay in that Liberty Square office 33 years ago, I remember distinctly. He was a man who left an impression. I will deeply miss my dear friend.
My sincere condolences to the family.
Mark Miller
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