One of the Guys

Early this past year of 2025, Barbara and I attended a 76-year birthday party for an old friend from her days growing up in the 50s and 60s in Manhattan Beach, California. I sorta knew him, having met Bruce Clayton at about the same time that I met Barbara in 1979.

Bruce had somehow tracked her down, finding her in a funky neighborhood in the Westside of Santa Cruz. I just happened to be living across the street from Barbara. That particular day we were hanging out at my place, which had all the charm of a lost cabin the in the redwoods. A stand of tall trees hovered over one side of my place. Bruce showed up at the front door.

An obviously easy-going guy with a smile that never left his face, Bruce launched into a "remember when" conversation with Barbara while I listened and silently protested his presence, selfishly thinking he was stealing time from me getting to know Barbara. I had a “crush” on her.

How could I have been so stupid.

Today I understand there is no better way to get to know someone than meeting their friends, especially one that goes back into their history of grade-school antics and friends and the stuff that molds a young person.

Bruce was slightly chubby that first day I met him. At his 76th birthday party last January, Bruce was, well, the word to best describe his body, is "obese." He never left his chair located in the middle of his very cool house in a semi-rural neighborhood near the most protected wetlands on the West Coast -- Elkhorn Slough -- with a distant view of Monterey Bay. He and his spouse, coincidentally named Barbara, shared this prized location.

Bruce was as jolly and charming as ever. His white beard hung low on his belly. His eyes literally twinkled. He made me feel important to him. Friends of his milled about the house, reconnecting and talking story about Bruce and their lives.

His spouse Barbara acted the perfect hostess, making sure everyone felt comfortable with her casual, accommodating manner. It was obvious how much she loved him and wanted to celebrate his birthday.

2025 has been a tough year. Adding misery to pain, it was also the year Bruce Clayton passed into the next world. A couple of months following his party, we received a note from "his" Barbara giving us the sad news. She had included a history of Bruce's life that blew me away. I had no idea of the extent of his talents and hobbies and generosity. He never let his body get in his way.

Reflecting on my spotty memories of Bruce, it occurred to me how easy it is to judge a person by their appearance overlooking their essence. When someone you know continually talks about themself, they become tiresome. When a person expresses mostly humor and warmth, he or she becomes easy to accept and enjoy, yet their modesty doesn't reveal their accomplishments, as simple or profound as they may be. You have to ask.

Over the past 40-plus years, I had random meetings with and sightings of Bruce, often on the DeLaveaga Golf Course in the woods above Santa Cruz. I recently learned that he had heart issues most of his life and perhaps that had something to do with his increasing weight. Still, he played golf with talent and agility. He had a sailboat and invited "my" Barbara and me to sail with him many times. We never took him up on his offer.

Being the class clown who performed silly dances and played funny jokes, Bruce left a memory with my Barbara that made her leery of sailing the rough waters of Monterey Bay with him at the helm. 

I wanted to sail with him but it never happened. I'm sure he was an expert sailor. 

Bruce was a super talent hidden in an unlikely body, especially as his beard grew whiter and longer while his body continued to expand. Although he never lost his sense of good humor. Reflecting now, I think he may have been a messenger or even a guru.

He made his living as a mason. He created a brick stair-step motif leading from our house to our patio. Barbara had saved feature pieces of tile from her grandfather’s house in Los Angeles and asked Bruce if he could incorporate them into the brick steps he was building for us. 

That was like asking Picasco if he knew how to draw. He had the knack of an artist. The steps he created are a beautiful tribute to his talent and aesthetic flair. Over the years I have often thought of him while passing through our patio.

The evening of his 76th birthday, I was surprised to see a guitar hanging on his wall. I have since learned that he played guitar and saxophone in several bands, including Captain Reefer and the Jungle Sirens, The Intruders and the Stuks. I can see him hamming it up on stage.

A high-powered telescope sat on a tripod next to the south-facing window with the expansive view, a clue to his curiosity about the heavens and distant shores.

Bruce and his brother Mike were raised by their father, or at least resided with Reed Gilbert Clayton during his youth when my Barbara knew him. Reed worked for Disney, as Barbara remembers. The house became a hangout for neighborhood kids while Reed was at the studio. 

Manhattan Beach at that time was a middle- and working-class enclave of families with kids. Bruce was quintessentially one of the guys -- played sports, surfed and goofed off. Some kids never grow up. And never lose touch with their old friends.

One story I remember: Bruce and my Barbara were speaking by Bluetooth phone while we were driving on Highway 1 near Elkhorn Slough, perhaps on our way south to Manhattan Beach to visit her mom. The subject was dental care. Bruce may have had a toothache or something like that. He said that his Barbara was a flosser -- she believed strongly in regular flossing of her teeth.

"I never floss," he said. "Are you kidding? (laughter by Bruce). He made it sound as if no one in their right mind would take the time to run dental floss between their teeth. I didn't know whether to believe him or not. I still don't. 

But I do remember him fondly from the bits and pieces, the rare moments, we crossed paths.

"2026 has got to be better than 2025," said his life partner, Barbara, who misses Bruce terribly.

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