Eulogy for an Old Prick

Eulogy for an Old Prick

By Ezekiel Tyrus

January 27, 2012

Truthfully, it is more of a tribute to an old prick but I simply thought Eulogy was a better title.



When I learned that somebody whom I hated with a passion died recently, I immediately wrote the following on my Facebook status:



"Fascinating when you find out somebody you hated w/ a passion just died. Mel Clay, San Francisco writer, actor, poet, playwright, & former neighbor of mine was one of the biggest assholes I've ever met in my life. My God, the stories I could tell about that sleaze ball scumbag. Rest in Peace, I guess but not before I tell you to go fuck yourself one last time. Seriously, Mel. (EXTENDING MIDDLE-FINGER,) I guess you won't glare at me in North Beach coffee shops anymore & there won't be anymore actresses complaining to me about your sleazy advances. The one thing that kept you from getting your ass kicked was because you were so fucking old. Now you're dead. WIth all due respect, I know you've got family and friends who are gonna miss you but I ain't one of them. Fuck off, Mel Clay. Thinking about you makes my skin crawl. (And before anybody lectures me, when I die, if you hate me, you can come to my funeral in a red dress with tap shoes for all I care.)"



The comments I got regarding this particular status update were mostly amused.



If any of my Facebook friends were taken aback by this status update, they didn't communicate it with me but then again, they are my friends.



A status update like that wasn't out of character for me.



That was pretty much Zeke being Zeke, ladies and gentleman but something interesting started to happen.



I found this asshole's life and death were never too far away from my thoughts.



I no longer live in North Beach but every day that I ever walk into that wonderful neighborhood, I saw Mel Clay, without fail, usually hanging out at one of the coffee shops on Columbus, always scowling at me if we ever made eye contact.



Sometimes his scowls pissed me off and other times they made me laugh but I never went a day in North Beach without seeing him.



Ever.



He died towards the end of September, 2011.



This past Tuesday, eating a lovely Italian dinner with my lovely Italian girlfriend, Michelle, I found myself at Caffe' Puccini sitting by the window looking up and down the street expecting to see that fucking asshole in his tired threadbare thrift shop clothes and tattered leather sandles walking up the avenue, stopping to scope out my hot girlfriend, -as always, and then shooting me a nasty look.



That was Mel and he did that always but he never arrived Tuesday evening to shoot me that nasty look because now he's dead.



Dead, dead, dead, dead.



North Beach is not going to be same for me anymore.



Really.



As long as I'm in San Francisco, it'll always be my favorite neighborhood and having spent so much of my young adulthood there, it will always be my Movable Feast, but somehow, it will feel different without that prick hanging out in the North Beach coffee shops trying to look at me hard like a teenage gang-banger.



Already, I'm thinking about turning him into a character for another project and I'll detail the actual stories I have regarding this man and the time I spat in his face because I knew I couldn't hit an old man regardless of what an aggresive asshole he was being.



Seriously, I couldn't hit an old man, even when one had it coming.



But yes, I did spit in his face once and later, even he acknowledged that if he were a younger man, it would've been a fistfight.



I did write him an apology afterwards but we never became friends and the fact is, he started it and was banking on the fact that because he was elderly, I wasn't going to get physical.



But I did.



Spitting on him like that.



I couldn't help myself.



That was the problem.



(I was rather out-of-control in my mid-to-late 20s and fucking with me would've been a bad idea for anybody.)



(He was a fellow who liked to provoke people but did not always know when to stop, when he had gone too far. He didn't always respect boundaries. ...Again, if he were a younger man ...)



He was also a notorious sleaze when it came to the ladies.



Adapting a particular classic novel for the stage some time in the late 90s, an actress he was considering for a lead role was so uncomfortable by his presence and the way he kept trying to get himself invited to her apartment, that she wrote an editorial about Mel Clay and published it in a San Francisco-based theater magazine warning other actresses to stay away.



(-How do you like them apples?)



Doing research on the man to make him a character in yet-another upcoming novel I'm presently working on, I stumbled upon an online memorial page set up by some long-time friends of his.



Evidently, he had a few.



Looking at the tribute section, which only had two tributes as of 1/27/2012, I decided I'd write one despite the fact that I hated the man.



(At this time, the tribute I wrote is not on the page. It has been written but it has to be submitted to a host who may or may not deem it appropriate to be publshed. I've submitted it and to be honest, if it were me or somebody I loved, I'd be tickled if somebody wrote a similar tribute.)



But what can I say?



“I've never killed a man, but I've read many an obituary with a great deal of satisfaction.” ― Clarence Darrow



Thanks, Clarence.



Here's my tribute: (For those of you who've already read my status update, I do apologize for repeating myself but stick around, you may be surprised at the end but probably not as surprised as I was.)



"I debated leaving a comment but I decided that when I pass, I'd be okay with people expressing how they genuinely felt about me, love or hate. ...So, here goes, (a big sigh,) ...Mel Clay was one of the biggest assholes I've ever met in my life. ...I knew the man for over 15 years, a North Beach neighbor of mine. ...Once, a story too lengthy to print here, the only thing that kept me from beating his ass was his age. ...He was 65 at the time and i was a mere 24. ...The feeling was mutual as Mel hated me and it pissed me off the way he'd glare at me whenever he saw me walking around Little Italy, so I started glaring back and suddenly the hate stares he use to give me ceased. He'd still look at me nasty but all I had to do was simply look back at him and he'd stop, put his head down or look away. ...Oh, how I hated Mel Clay. ...As an actor and playwright in his 50s and 60s, he'd cast himself in lead roles written for men in their 20s and 30s. ...When he was alive, nobody that I knew who knew him had anything nice to say but I recognize he did have friends and family that evidently loved him and will miss him but the man I knew was the biggest prick in North Beach. ...Rest in Peace, Mel Clay but not before I tell you to go fuck yourself one last time. (Extends middle finger.) ...However, I do admit, I think Mel would love and appreciate this 'eulogy' as much as one from somebody who actually cared for the man. ...And I do recognize that he was ALIVE in a way that other people never get to be; a world-traveler, a poet, a playwright, a director, an actor, a screenwriter, a biographer, etc. ...A man who met and knew just about everybody worth knowing that came through San Francisco back when San Francisco was cool. ...And as much as I hated the man, I knew him well enough to know he'd enjoy hearing a tribute from somebody not sorry to see him go. (I take that back, I don't wish death upon anybody but i can't say I'll miss him because I won't.) ...And when I die, if you don't like me, you're invited to state as much at my funeral. ...Bring tap shoes, if you wish. ...And a red dress. ...The opposite of love is not hatred but rather indifference. If somebody genuinely hates you, you've elicited an emotional response. The hater has something invested in you. ...Congratulations, Mel Clay. Maybe I will miss you a little bit. ...(Lifts up a beer in a toast, drinks it.) ...(Softly, sadly.) ...Rest in peace, you old prick. ....The lessons you taught me are ...LIVE YOUR LIFE ON YOUR OWN TERMS! ...LIVE YOUR LIFE ON YOUR OWN PRINCIPLES! ...SPEAK YOUR MIND! ...REGARDLESS HOW OFFENDED SOME PEOPLE MIGHT BE!...BE YOURSELF! ...REGARDLESS WHO MIGHT NOT LIKE YOU! ...SPEAK YOUR MIND! ...REGARDLESS HOW UNPOPULAR YOUR OPINIONS MAY BE! ...CREATE ART! ...TRAVEL! ...YOU DON'T HAVE TO MELLOW WITH AGE! ...LIVE YOUR LIFE COURAGEOUSLY! ...LIVE YOUR LIFE FEARLESSLY! ...LIVE YOUR LIFE AS OVER-THE-TOP AS YOU POSSIBLY CAN! ...SO IN THE END, EVEN YOUR ENEMIES ARE GOING TO MISS YOU! ... You were never boring. ...You were never dishonest. ...Goodnight, Mr. Clay. ...Sleep forever. ...Rest in peace."



I was going to include the link for his memorial page but I think I can actually get in trouble for doing so, therefore, I will just encourage you to google - Mel Clay San Francisco.



(In a soft voice,) Rest in peace, you fucking asshole.



Mel Clay



August 4, 1932 - September 26, 2011.



By the way, my birthday is August 2nd.



-Thank you for reading.