EXTRA ORDINARY JOE
A self-styled underachiever comes up big for his alma mater. ILLUSTRATION BY ANTONY HARE
joe clonick is 78 now, so some things don ’t come as easily as they used to. He is content to spend most of his days in the sleek Chicago high-rise where his parents lived since 1957— the same year Clonick graduated from Oberlin. His calendar, once fashioned around his life as a cabaret pianist and musical director, for now consists of more doctor appointments than social calls. And though he fondly remembers his alma mater, he regrets that he hasn’t been there in a while. Fortunately, good humor still flows through Clonick with the ease of a Gershwin melody. “I suppose being not too mobile now finally justifies the way I have been not too mobile throughout my life,” he says, a reference to his many years spent, blissfully, in his Windy City hometown. Chicago is where Clonick was born and raised, and where his father had made it big with an industrial wrecking business—big enough to allow the family’s only son to follow his muse throughout life. Six decades ago, Clonick began studies in composition at Oberlin. A piano player molded by his mother’s love of Chopin, he quickly grew to favor classical improvisation over mastery of other people’s work. Making up tunes, he reckoned, was way easier than memorizing them. And for him, it was much more fun. After graduating, Clonick put his Oberlin education to use back home in Chicago, where he got a job as music director and pianist at a cabaret called the Happy Medium—his first steps down the path of musical theater. By 1969, he made his way to New York, where he became a fixture at the theater workshop of Broadway conductor-composer Lehman Engel. Over the years, he wrote many shows and played piano at countless parties, his world intersecting with a litany of legendary performers. In quintessentially Oberlin style, he also nurtured a great love of puzzles on the side; through a chance meeting at a party, he began a stint creating crosswords for the New York Times, and he enjoyed a four-episode stint on Jeopardy! Through it all, Clonick relished a simple life—a life he never managed to find in Manhattan. “I told everyone for 28
31 years that I was just passing through,” he says. “I always knew I’d eventually come back to Chicago.” In 2000, he returned to care for his ailing mother. He has remained ever since, in that same luxury apartment that his parents called home for so many years. Designed by modernist architect Mies van der Rohe, it boasts walls of glass that offer breathtaking views of Lincoln Park, skirted in the distance by the Chicago skyline. Just a block and a half to the east, the shores of Lake Michigan give way to an endless horizon. “I’m really comfortable here,” he says in a tone that’s practically apologetic. “And I’ve written songs to that effect!” Perched near that great span of glass is Clonick’s Steinway Model L, which he has owned since his days in New York. He still plays it when the mood strikes him, but it doesn’t strike as often as it used to. He still honors one standing gig each month: playing for the folks in the soup kitchen down at his synagogue. He’s missed a few engagements lately, but he expects to get back there soon. “Of course, they can’t match my wonderful musicality with anybody else,” he says with a wink that is quite nearly audible. “They miss me and I miss them, and that’s the way it goes for the time being anyway.” These days, Clonick is a happy man knowing that his resources fuel the education of future generations at Oberlin. For years, he has supported the conservatory through scholarships for composition students, and he was instrumental in the construction of the Bertram and Judith Kohl Building: His remarkable $5 million gift led to the creation of the recording studio that bears his name. Instantly, Clonick Hall became an integral part of daily life at Oberlin, where it is used for student and professional recordings, master classes, rehearsals, lectures, and performances. “I know that people feel grateful for it, and that’s very rewarding for me,” says Clonick, his moment of sincerity quickly undercut by another wave of levity. “If you ever run into them, tell ’em I’m grateful for their gratitude!” And then Joe Clonick breaks into an infectious fit of laughter. “I guess we’ll leave it at that.” —erich burnett