You remember Davis standing tall, clutching a football in his massive right mitt.
Movie-star coiffed hair. Chiseled jawline, protruding ever so slightly as a half-smile graces his face. The fading picture makes his jersey look closer to Alabama crimson than Mississippi State maroon, but there’s no mistaking Davis’ Bulldog roots.
The photo of Davis, taken in 1955 for a spread in “Look” magazine, has circulated widely of late. It appeared in an article from the Mississippi Sports Hall of Fame in 2014 soon after the death of longtime MSU play-by-play man Jack Cristil as part of an ode to his and Davis’ lifelong friendship.
Recently, the photo reemerged as a reminder of days past and the harrowing realities of mortality.
On Jan. 29, Arthur Ganong Davis died after a nearly four-year bout with Parkinson’s disease. He was 86.
Davis’ legacy will forever be tied to his time on the Starkville gridiron. It’s there in the faded maroon tops and white bottoms that he won Southeastern Conference and national player of the year honors as he rushed over, around and between would-be tacklers with his hulking frame.
But in the Cristil household, Davis holds a more sacred place in the lexicon of lives past and present.
Shortly after her father’s funeral in 2014, Kay Cristil Clouatre received a letter. Clutching a piece of white stationary, she began to read. The letter was dated Sept. 11, 2014, four days after her father’s death. Pressed into the top center of the unexpected note in pristine cursive lettering was a name: Art Davis.
“I woke up this morning thinking about your daddy,” the first of Davis’ three notes to Kay read. “So I write to you in the wee hours.”
Country boys from Clarksdale
Before Jack Cristil and Art Davis were the Jack Cristil and Art Davis, they were two country boys from Clarksdale.
Moving to the Delta after a spell studying broadcast journalism at Minnesota and a stint calling minor-league baseball games around the Deep South, Cristil took on a local radio gig in Clarksdale. He served as the voice for Clarksdale High School football, where Davis carved a niche as a star running back during the early 1950s.
There was a close camaraderie between do-it-all halfback and vivacious play-by-play man. For years, Cristil spoke on Davis’ behalf. He said he was among the grittiest and most prolific runners he’d ever seen. Davis long reminisced on the importance of Cristil, just nine years his senior, in his own life.
“Your daddy’s name and voice were synonymous with Mississippi State,” Davis wrote in his initial letter. “And how proud we all were to be associated with that name and voice.”
Kay was always aware of her father’s and Art’s ebbing and flowing relationship. It’s part of why she felt compelled to write Davis back.
As a ninth-grader, she recalled boarding a chartered plane to the Bulldogs’ 1974 Sun Bowl date with North Carolina in El Paso, Texas. Kay and Davis sat next to each other on the trip, chatting the whole flight.
Three years later, Kay was an undergrad at MSU. She crossed paths with Davis outside the student union. Kay always introduced herself in any conversation. This time was no different.
“Mr. Davis, I’m Kay Cristil. I’m Jack’s daugh–” she said, forced to stop mid-word.
“OK, yeah!” Davis responded through his all-American smile. “How are you doing? So good to see you.”
“All I could think about was telling Mama and Daddy I ran into Arthur Davis,” Kay said later. “That made my day.”
As the years went on, so too did Davis’ and Cristil’s professional lives. After injuries cut his NFL career short, Davis worked at the Mississippi School Supply Company and as the director of MSU’s Development Foundation. He later took on public relations posts for United Southern Bank and First National Bank of Clarksdale.
Cristil became a fixture in Starkville and across the SEC, honing his skills as a play-by-play man. His time calling Bulldog sporting events spanned 11 presidencies, 58 years and 636 football games.
Davis and Cristil were two towering Mississippi figures. One was driven by his otherworldly strength between the tackles. The other was known for his booming yet calming voice. Neither could escape the inevitability of mortality.
On Feb. 23, 2011, Cristil signed off one final time following an MSU men’s basketball game against Tennessee. Three years later, the longtime Bulldog commentator died in Tupelo, his body ravaged by kidney disease and cancer and his voice grown a touch more gravelly since his youth.
“In my opinion,” Davis wrote, “Jack Cristil’s name will forever be one of the most recognized and respected names in our school’s history. I’m proud to say he was my life-long friend.”
‘Life is a struggle’
Kay unfurled a yellow piece of legal pad paper. Dated Feb. 23, 2019, the two pages’ worth of cursive lettering was imperfect. Eraser smudges appeared in the first sentence and four of the five paragraphs. The writing was recognizable and legible, but the crispness had tailed off.
One hundred and twenty-four words into the letter, she learned why.
“Kay, I have Parkinson’s,” Davis wrote, “and life is a struggle.”
After moving to Oregon with his wife Francis to be closer to their son and grandchildren in 2001, Art’s condition deteriorated in his later years. He was diagnosed with Parkinson’s, a neurodegenerative disorder that affects the brain, in late 2017, though his son Doug said he’d shown some symptoms prior to that.
Age took its toll. The once sturdy, powerful tailback grew weaker. Simple tasks, like writing a letter, became increasingly difficult as Parkinson’s-induced tremors persisted.
A devout painter throughout his life, Art took his first class while living in Starkville in the mid-1970s. As he grew older, it became his outlet. He toyed with acrylics and oils, but watercolors were his weapon of choice. With sweeping brush strokes and brilliant colors, he painted lighthouses and landscapes, barns and boats. He was a talented painter, perhaps as talented an artist as he was a football player.
Doug helped him set up a website for his work. Art Davis Art. Some paintings sold; others didn’t. It didn’t matter. The site was a source of pride for Art.
“Just something on the internet he could go visit and say, ‘Hey that’s my stuff. That’s kind of neat,'” Doug explained.
Nine months after Kay received news of Davis’ diagnosis, a Thanksgiving card came in the mail. It was from Art. On the cover was a print of one of his paintings, “Autumn Fishing Village.”
Inside was a scripted message printed onto the cardstock. A personalized note was penned in blue ink below the etched inscription, but the handwriting wasn’t Art’s. A small sticky-note sized piece of paper was also packaged in the letter.
“Since my painting days are behind me, I wanted to let you know this will be my last one with original artwork,” the note read. “I have loved sharing them with you. Have a wonderful holiday season and thank you for your lasting friendship. Art.”
Last link in the chain
Wandering through the varying storefronts of Tupelo in early January, Kay felt a sudden tug in her mind. She owed Art a letter back. It had been nearly two months since his last note, and she felt time fleeting. “Next time I’m out,” she assured herself, “I’ll get that letter written for Mr. Art.”
That letter never arrived.
“I certainly told him in (my) Christmas card that I wanted to make sure that when COVID had passed through, and we were all done with it, that I wanted to go visit with him,” Kay said. “And, of course, I didn’t have the chance.”
In 2018, Davis made his second-to-last trip to Starkville to see his name enshrined in the Ring of Honor at Davis Wade Stadium. On the flight in, as the plane crossed the Mississippi River, the family enjoyed a 30,000-foot view of Clarksdale.
At George M. Bryan Airport, Davis sat on the tarmac in a wheelchair, a product of his illness. Surrounded by friends, family and signs celebrating his arrival, he posed for pictures. Even as Parkinson’s waged war on his health, his million-dollar smile fought back.
Tuesday, Davis, a son of the Delta, was laid to rest in his collegiate hometown at Odd Fellows Cemetery. He’s buried alongside Francis, who died in November 2014, and just a stone’s throw from the stadium that bears his name on its interior; the same stadium in which Jack Cristil made his first touchdown call on a 38-yard Art Davis carry 67 years ago.
In Starkville, Art will forever be remembered as the strapping all-American on the pages of “Look” Magazine. To the Cristils, he’ll forever be family.
“He’s like the last link in the chain to that generation,” Kay said. “… That’s my last connection to my daddy.”
Ben Portnoy reports on Mississippi State sports for The Dispatch. Follow him on Twitter at @bportnoy15.
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