A service of love,
reflection and precious memories
to celebrate the life of
Maurice Walter Stevens
 
22nd February 1931 - 22nd September 2019
 
Hastings Crematorium, Tuesday 8th October 2019 at 2.45 p.m.
 
 
Music on arrival:
‘Wade in the water’
Ramsey Lewis
 
Words of welcome
 
Good afternoon on this dull, sad October day. My name is Louise and I would like to welcome you here as we unite in friendship and in sorrow, to say goodbye to Maurice, to give thanks for his life and to celebrate the life of a man who will always, always be loved, honoured and so sadly missed.
 
 
A tribute to Maurice
 
We shouldn’t be here today. For a number of reasons. Maurice shouldn’t have left those who love him so suddenly and without warning, with no time to even begin to come to terms with losing him. And though he had no control over this, and would no doubt be heartbroken to know the grief and shock that remained when he left his warm and comfortable home so unexpectedly, we shouldn’t be here for a second reason and that’s because, when the inevitable did come about, he hadn’t wanted a funeral. Maurice and Ann had both wished that, when the time came, they would disappear quietly and be taken to whichever medical school wanted them...giving enlightenment and practical encouragement to the next generation of surgeons. But it couldn’t happen that way, so here we are, in this chapel, with its hard wooden seats, for a service that nobody wanted, least of all Maurice.
 
We should be in a bar somewhere, or a twilight jazz club with a glass of Canadian Club. But we can’t be. So we’ll make the best of it, and into the shadows of mourning, attempt to shine some of the light that Maurice brought into this world through all he did and all he was.
 
Whatever I say about Maurice cannot begin to match the eloquence of his own legacy of expression to be found in his work. So, quite simply, I shall briefly tell the story of his remarkable life. But then, without me prattling on, insight into Maurice’s outlook is there on his website, so I really needn’t say anything, but I will. But for me, Maurice’s glorious watercolour of Brighton West Pier on fire...his illustration of a totally strokeable Fat Cat...just two tiny examples of a lifetime of work that I have been privileged to look at in the last few days...this was a man of such humour and vision and energy and...there’s just not time to pay a proper tribute to Maurice. So we’ll cut to a brief biography and then you can leave this sad place.
 
Maurice Walter Stevens was born in Tottenham on 22nd February 1931. He grew up with his parents Reg and Edith and alongside his sister Eileen, in a happy, working class family which together, survived the war which began when Maurice was just eight. He remembered heading for the Anderson Shelter with the family dog, Squibs, in tow...he recalled his father’s allotment and the fact that, hostilities over, his dad found a subsequent use for his gas mask, and donned it while grating home grown horseradish.
 
Maurice was a clever kid. Creative, funny, imaginative and exceptional. Having passed for Grammar School, he was fished out of school early, having passed an exam which took him to Hornsey Art School, where the fire of his potential was gloriously lit. Duck to water didn’t come into it. Maurice had found his own tribe...and, with the encouragement and friendship of one of his tutors, Allin Braund, in his spare time he became an amateur weightlifter, competing in North London pubs. He even competed against a young, yet-to-be-discovered Sean Connery, a fact he loved to recount.

With his course at Hornsey completed, he had his sights set on the Royal College of Art, but it wasn’t to be - National Service scuppered this opportunity. Maurice was due to be sent to Korea, but his exceptional physical fitness pointed in the direction of a different destiny and he stayed in England and became a P.T. instructor for his obligatory two years of service.
 
He met, fell in love with and married a girl called Iris and they had a son, Colin. Sadly, the marriage did not last, and, having finally left the forces, Maurice got a job doing rather mundane technical illustrations for an engineering company. This is not where he wanted to be. He managed to escape and got his foot in the door of the advertising industry – It was his ambition to emigrate to Canada and in 1957, having met Pauline and decided that their future belonged together, he set sail on a passage to New York.
 
 
From New York to Montreal, spending his time phoning ad agencies from a phone box near his digs, and talking his way into interviews, he quickly landed a job in the art department of a major ad agency. Pauline joined him and they married in Montreal. There was then a move to Toronto...the arrival of his and Pauline’s two sons, Mark and Glenn...and then onto Chicago.
 
Maurice worked at the top ad agencies in the world, at a time when advertising was at its most exciting, creative, humorous and inspiring. No thought, no idea, no concept was forced through the sieve of political correctness, to emerge as a filtered mush...creatives were allowed to think freely and some of the best work ever done was produced during the glamorous and exciting era in which Maurice was a prime mover. In years to come, a family friend who happened to be a prop master on the set of ‘Mad Men’ would use Maurice as her sounding board for authentic detail...and he was happy to advise about a time in which the world was at his feet.
 
In his spare time, Maurice would shoot film. He was as good at this as he was talented as an art director and in time, inevitably, a production company asked him to shoot a commercial. He joined the Chicago Company, ‘Filmmakers’ and then back to London to a company called Filmfair.
 
In time, Maurice decided to strike out on his own and start his own production company. He needed help on the production side for a commercial and as luck would have it and a young & efficient production secretary called Ann was working in the same building in Greek Street, looking for a reason to move on from her current employer. Ann went on to become Maurice’s full-time production secretary. His marriage to Pauline was failing and eventually, they decided to part and divorce.
 
In the summers of 1973 and 1974, Maurice and Ann spent time in Los Angeles, trying to decide whether or not to take the business to America or return to England. They decided to settle in England, and in 1975, they were married.
 
Maurice directed ads and documentaries, he worked as an illustrator of everything from book jackets to greetings cards, he painted portraits, he wrote film scripts, he was a jack of all trades and master of everything he put his mind to.
 
Maurice and Ann were to have one son, Toby. They were destined to be very happy, and Maurice and Ann would be married for over forty years, their happiness blighted only by the tragic and untimely death of Mark, who died in America in 1982, aged just 24.
 
In 1999, Maurice and Ann left Teddington and moved to Hove. Maurice was by this time semi-retired, technically at least, though he never slowed down or attempted to reduce his workload or limit the number of projects to which he was committed. He started teaching at Brighton Film School, he returned to his roots and got back into life drawing, painting and so much that gave him satisfaction, inspiration and joy.
 
At home in Bexhill, to where he and Ann had moved in 2013, he loved to cook, he enjoyed going for pub lunches, he liked watching the moods of the sea, he enjoyed Christmas and spending time with his family, he enjoyed his computer and exploiting its potential to the full, he wrote, he sketched, he never stopped. And then, suddenly, he did.
 
Maurice leaves a sad wife. He leaves Colin and Glenn and Toby; Zoe, Barnaby, Rosie and Kitty; he leaves five great grandchildren and to them all, he leaves a legacy of love.
 
For those who loved Maurice and will always love him, he leaves his heart and soul in his work. It is there for you, forever. He is there in every brush stroke, in every detail, in every image you will be able to see through his eyes forever more. He will never be gone. Never.
 
Music:
‘Oh, good grief!’
Vince Gueraldi Trio
 
A moment for reflection
 
Everyone here will have their own precious memories of the time you spent with Maurice. We will now pause for just a moment of quiet reflection.
 
Music:
‘Take 5’
Dave Brubeck
 
 
Final thoughts
 
The evenings are getting much darker, acorns are falling from the trees and blackberries are ripe on the bushes. But sometimes still, the sun is strong and glitters on the sea and on some days the sky is still blue...but not for long. In the blink of an eye, the trees will shed all their leaves, spreading a thick golden carpet at out feet and these same trees will raise bare branches to a cold, grey winter sky. Time moves on, as it must. We move on, as we must. But in the days and weeks and months and years ahead, there will be times when, all of a sudden and out of the blue, a sweet, vivid memory of Maurice comes to you unbidden and reminds you of how much you miss him. But I feel sure that, at these sad times, all those who loved Maurice and will always love him will feel able to reach out to each other, to comfort each other, for the sake of Maurice and all that he meant to you.
 
But now we come to the time in this service when we have to prepare to say our final goodbye to Maurice. Painful though this is, please remember that this is Maurice’s body which we are committing here today, not his personality, his spirit, his soul, because these will live on. Maurice will live on in the hearts of all those who loved him – and will always love him - and his dear memory will be with you always.
 
Please stand
 
The time for farewell
 
Maurice. May the light of love shine forth upon you, on those for whom you care and on those who care for you. In grief at your death but in gratitude for your life and for the privilege of sharing it with you, we will commit your body to be cremated. We honour the way you live your life. We honour all that you were and all that you achieved. Most of all, above all, we honour the love that you gave; to those dear ones who have gone before you and to all your sad, sad family and your friends who stand before you at this moment, their hearts full of love and sorrow. Maurice, as we say farewell to you now, it is in the certainty that your dear memory will be loved and cherished forever. And may you rest in peace.
Please be seated.
 
Probably the highest tribute to Maurice is not grief, but gratitude. The gratitude that Maurice’s dear, sad family feel today for the love that he felt for them all and for all that he did for them during his life.
 
Maurice took not a second of this life for granted. He love the life he had built and those he shared it with loved him. He left ‘work in progress’, life in progress. And quite simply, what better epitaph could there be than that?
 
 
Music:
‘Girl from Ipanema’
Stan Getz and Astrud Gilberto