CLARK GILLIES
If you had any brains, you didn’t want to mess with Clark Gillies.
Never mind that the rugged forward measured 6’3” and weighed in at 215 lbs.
A lot of players were that big.
Gillies was the quintessential power forward, “the cop” on a line with the elite pairing of Bryan Trottier and Mike Bossy.
And although he never amassed 100 penalty minutes in any of his 14 NHL seasons with the Islanders and then the Buffalo Sabres, Gillies’ ‘Gentle Giant’ nickname–his wonderful personality and keen sense of humor aside–was something of a misnomer.
We could ask the Bruins’ Terry O’Reilly or the Flyers’ Dave “The Hammer” Schultz about that.
Both very tough and physical players who rarely turned down the opportunity to mix it up.
In fact, each created the opportunity to fight…at any–and every–opportunity.
No need to even ask, by the way.
Gillies demolished O’Reilly during the 1980 playoffs.
Schultz, renowned as one of the game’s greatest enforcers and who still holds the single-season record for most penalty minutes–472 in 1974–fared no better with Gillies.
He was pummeled by ‘Clarkie’, five years earlier during the ’75 playoffs.
Not even close, in either case.
However, to quote legendary hockey writer Stan Fischler, aka ‘The Hockey Maven,’
“Mention the name Clark Gillies to anyone who coached, played with or simply met the man nicknamed ‘Jethro,’ and, guaranteed, you’ll get a smile.
Because, more than anything, Clark was a fun human being.”
[In the interest of full disclosure, I am the same age as Clark Gillies was when he died on January 21 at 67, and the reference to ‘Jethro’ must have been borne from his likeness to the handsome character Jethro Bodine, played by Max Baer Jr. on television’s “The Beverly Hillbillies.]
A “fun human being,” who knew how to throw ’em.
He could also play.
Big-time.
The captain of the Islanders (1977-’79).
Clark Gillies was inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame in 2002 after scoring 697 points (319 goals; 378 assists) in 958 NHL games and winning the Stanley Cup four consecutive times with the juggernaut New York Islanders (!980–1983).
And according to the venerable Fischler, he scored, perhaps, the first really important goal in Isles’ history on April 11, 1975.
It was 1974-’5.
The franchise was in its third season.
The Islanders had reached the Stanley Cup Playoffs for the first time.
They faced their archrival, the New York Rangers in a best-of-3 series in the first round.
After splitting the first two games, the Islanders were big underdogs against the Rangers in Game 3 at Madison Square Garden.
Gillies, a rookie, scored the first goal of the game at 16:00 of the first period, and the Isles raced to a 3–0 lead after two.
They won the game (4–3) and the series, when J.P. Parise scored 11 seconds into overtime, following a furious 3rd period rally by the Broadway Blueshirts.
As goalie Glenn Resch–known as ‘Chico’ to his pals, a very close one of whom was Gillies–remembered,
“Clark first got a penalty a little past halfway through the first period but we held off the Rangers and then, a little more than three minutes later, he put us ahead 1–0.
That was big, very big.
It was Clark that got us going.”
It would be five years until the Islanders would begin their run.
But that initial series win against the Rangers put them on the map.
And Gillies was integral.
Way more than that.
He was the face, the heart and the soul of the on-ice product.
And the entire operation, as a result.
Not long after Gillies died, the hockey community was all over it, and naturally, Fischler was involved.
Two Hall-of-Famers, yes.
But much bigger than that.
They were good friends.
Fischler recalled that when veteran broadcaster Budd Mischkin asked Gillies if either Trottier or Bossy ever asked him to fight for them, he said, “no.”
But there was this one time…
Apparently Bossy was having difficulty with Sabres defenseman Jerry Korab, a large, physical sort who was known as, “King Kong.”
“So, Bossy told Gillies that the next time they were in the corner, Bossy was going to leap up and elbow Korab in the face.”
Completely out of character for Bossy.
A mild-mannered sniper, as in goal scorer.
Fighting was not his thing, but he had to do what he could do to defend himself.
He continued his dialogue with Gillies, a plea really.
“When I land back on my skates on the ice,” Bossy continued, “I would like to see you standing there.”
Not a problem.
He was.
He dissuaded Korab–in his inimitable fashion–from taking any further action.
And that was that, punctuated by Gillies’ trademark hearty laugh.
Which remains indelibly etched into Fischler’s memory.
Fischler was dispatched to Gillies’ Long Island home in the early 1980s.
It was mid-summer, so it was decided that a poolside interview would be appropriate.
Fischler was sporting a brand new suit.
This did not escape Gillies.
Not for a second.
Fischler knew that Gillies–his pal–was a great interview subject.
And also, that he was a jokester, a prankster.
Oh-oh…
A new, crisp and finely tailored suit.
Silk tie.
A pool.
???
The left wing, dressed casually, simply took note.
Fischler was sure it was gonna happen and tried to prepare himself for the inevitable drop into the drink.
It didn’t happen.
Later on, over a few beers, Fischler asked, “Were you going to dunk me in the water?”
A broad grin creased Gillies’ hockey mug.
“Damn right I was going to push you,” he replied.
“But then I took a look at your suit and tie and only wished you had been wearing a bathing suit.
So, I changed my mind.”
If only Schultz, O’Reilly and Korab had been the beneficiaries of Gillies’ kindness.
Coach Al Arbour, a Hall-of-Famer himself, was not spared.
Recalled Gillies, “One afternoon we had finished a practice and I got the notion to slice Al’s socks.
After I had done the job, I got into the physical therapy whirlpool and was looking straight across at Al’s locker when he walked into change.
Sure enough, he pulled on the socks, and they went straight over his feet.
You should have heard him yelling, ‘Son of a bitch, I know you did it!’
Of course, I denied it.
‘No Al, it wasn’t me.’
Arbour was a very steady player and a wonderful coach over a long and distinguished career, who thought he was perhaps the smartest guy in the room.
So, he didn’t suffer fools–or foolishness-gladly.
… He picked up all my clothes and dumped them in the whirlpool.
‘That’ll teach you,’ Arbour said to Gillies.
Finally, I asked him, ‘How did you know it was me?’
Then he told me something I’ll never forget.
‘You can’t fool me. I know everything.’
And I learned that it was true.
Al knew everything!”
Well, if Al Arbour knew everything, he certainly recognized the greatness of Clark Gillies as a human being as well as a hockey player and the consummate teammate.
He wasn’t alone.
[Editor’s Note: This piece was written by Mr. Kaplan in February 2022.]
