In late 1966, I managed to drag a colleague from work along with me on a lunch hour sojourn to a couple of Madison Avenue galleries, visiting Milch and Knoedler. Knoedler Gallery had a flashy exhibition of somebody I didn’t know and I rather critically concluded couldn’t draw or paint very well— kind of “bubble” figures. But Milch had some really good work: crashing surf pictures from a place called Monhegan Island. Full of my rapidly developing critical eye, I immediately told my friend that I knew who this guy Jay Connaway was. I had recently had the good fortune to meet and talk with an imposing and gifted marine painter, Phil Schumaker, who lived in Rockport but occupied Jay Connaway’s former studio on Monhegan. He told me about Connaway’s rugged approach to life living on Monhegan through twenty winters. According to Phil, painting for Connaway was a combative experience, as he “attacked” the canvas. I stepped up to my wealth of knowledge, acquired this piece for $175, and impressed my friend as well. My friend, now retired, eventually caught the bug and has acquired a nice collection of American art. I occasionally revisit this “collecting story” because the Knoedler show was Maurice Prendergast, who time has proven can draw and paint.