Steve Hauk, the author of Steinbeck: The Untold Stories, is a fiction writer and dramatist. Here he recalls the late Bill Clements, the last character in the book of short stories he based on the life and times of John Steinbeck. Fortune’s Way, his play about the Monterey Peninsula artist E. Charlton Fortune, will be performed at Carmel Mission Basilica this Friday and Saturday.—Ed.
We lost another link to the world of John Steinbeck and Ed Ricketts when Bill Clements died peacefully in his sleep last Saturday at his home in Bisbee, Arizona. Bill didn’t know Steinbeck or Ricketts, but when he lived on the Monterey Peninsula he met many people who did. The most important were Bruce and Jean Arris.
Bill didn’t know Steinbeck or Ricketts, but he met many people who did.
Bruce was an artist and author, and Jean was a writer, too. Together they drew Bill into their world when he first appeared on the Monterey Peninsula in the mid-1970s, a young Navy veteran driving an old pickup truck. Bill absorbed Bruce and Jean’s tales of the legendary 1930s so thoroughly that he became a storyteller himself, then an active part of the local scene.
Bill absorbed tales of the legendary 1930s so thoroughly that he became a storyteller himself.
When I came to write stories about this world, I included one on Bill that I simply called “Bill,” the last story in my collection, Steinbeck: The Untold Stories. Like everyone in the book besides Bill, Bruce and Jean were gone, and I was happy to close with a living character. In a sense, Bill’s death is the true ending.
I was happy to close my book with a living character. In a sense, Bill’s death is the true ending.
Bill was born in Philadelphia in 1944. An uncle was a professional boxer named Eddie Cool, a handsome, talented welterweight whose life ended badly. Once, talking about his uncle, Bill began to cry. He could be emotional, and that’s one of the reasons Bruce and Jean loved him so much. But they told him they loved him because he didn’t treat them like old people.
Bill could be emotional, and that’s one of the reasons Bruce and Jean Arris loved him so much.
Bill became a house painter, and though he never took a bad fall, the sandwich shop business he called Philly Billy’s failed and he worked part-time as a bartender. He lived in a rental home in Pacific Grove, and when people got in trouble, sometimes homeless, he rented them a room in his rented house, much like Danny’s boys in Tortilla Flat. This eventually got him into trouble with his landlord and the town. Being evicted convinced him to leave for Bisbee, Arizona, a place he also loved, though in the story I wrote I have him going elsewhere.
He lived in a rental home in Pacific Grove, and when people got in trouble, he rented them a room in his rented house.
Bill had lazy blue eyes and thick blond hair and a look like the actor Richard Widmark. One time he called the author Ken Kesey to ask him about writing One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, about shock treatments and lobotomies. When he got off the phone with Kesey he had tears in his eyes. He had a tender heart and a last name that meant mercy, and he went on helping others, as this Bisbee, Arizona interview showed last December.
About Steve Hauk
Thank you for such a beautiful tribute to my Father Bill. Truly amazing words Steve
Giving homage, engagingly…thoughtfully. Bill would be proud.
A long-standing, founder, and a lifetime member of the Cannery Row Athletic Club has been lost. He was the embodiment of our core ideals – reckless drinking and careless fun!
I knew Bill for many years. Later in life when he had retired he volunteered at Hope Services where he engaged with people with disabilities. Always the optimist Bill brought his upbeat nature, astute observations and genuine connection with everyone he met. During breaks we would sit and talk and Bill would often tell a story about something that impacted his life. I will miss those precious moments. Rest in peace old friend.