Paul Courter
I am greatly saddened to learn of the passing of my old pal. When I first arrived in St. Clair in 1950, Jay was among the first to welcome me. That began a lifelong ffriendlship, and I was looking forward to seeing him before and during our 60th class reunion this July. We spent many summer days swimming in the River at Palmer Park with friends and classmates.
In the fall, we'd hunt pheasant and rabbits in the fields around town, sometimes skipping school to do so. On one such occasion, Jay, Coffee Hendrick and I were strolling along on our way out of town with .22's in hand when who did we meet coming the other way but Miss Moran, one of our teachers. She could be strict, but to our great relief pretended not to see us and didn't report our transgression.
Jay was a wonderful friend and an amazing outdoorsman. When he was about 14, his Dad took him up north for his first deer hunt. On opening day, he brought in not just his own buck, but the camp deer as well. After that, he told me he wouldn't be going deer hunting any more because it just wasn't enough of a challenge. He tracked fox not to kill them, but to observe and learn about their life and habits. Jay knew the outdoors better than anyone I know, and had an uncanny knack for unearthing Indian arrowheads, artifacts and fossils. He amassed an impressive collection of his finds, and taught me more about ancient brachiopods than I could possibly digest.
Though we saw each other only occasionally after careers and life took us on separate paths, I miss him already.