
I’ve known Lee McManus for nearly 11 years now. Just after I left the Argus Leader, I sent a portfolio to EROS Data Center, where he worked as a graphic designer. He hired me for some photography there, and we soon discovered that we had a lot in common.
We both liked to hunt. We both liked the Green Bay Packers. We both appreciated good art and good photography.
But there was more than just those coincidences. Lee struck me as a pretty interesting guy, and the type of person who would probably make a very faithful friend.
That’s just what ended up happening. We became fast friends, and enjoyed shooting emails back and forth on slow days, sharing anti-Vikings jokes and lobbing stones at people who thought they were too elite for lowly artists like us. My numerous shoots for EROS over the years were punctuated with lighthearted lunches and plenty of laughs as we giggled like schoolchildren in the cafeteria.
My biggest discovery about Lee was that he was a world-class painter. Yes, tucked away in the attic level of his central Sioux Falls home was a studio where he created some of the most incredible pieces of art I’d ever seen; most of them elegant nude studies with the utmost taste and dignity. He had painted some acquaintances and some fellow co-workers at EROS, and usually gave them an original painting for their trouble.
We struck up a deal when he needed high-quality photo copies of some of his paintings: I would photograph his art and also some dance studio scenes for him (he was dabbling with this subject at that time), if he painted our three kids. Each child would be painted as they appeared at about 8 years old, and their props would be something that they were interested in at that age. He took study photos of Anna with her violin (photo above) and began to paint her about a year ago. 
In more recent years, Lee began to spread his graphic design wings and started freelancing more heavily. We had many lunches and evening beers together to talk about the freelance world, and I urged him to follow his instincts, to leave his day job and enter the world of freelance design. He would get very excited during our discussions, and would email me for days afterward about how eager he was to head out on his own. I was thrilled for him, and whether it was bound to happen soon, or whether it would wait a couple of years until his “retirement” at age 62, I was looking forward to spending more time with him.
I answered the phone on Valentine’s Day morning, and felt a powerful kick to my stomach as Lee’s son Erin explained how Lee had collapsed with a brain hemmorage and was now brain dead. His only remaining link with life was his upcoming role as an organ donor.
How could that be? We still had a lot to do, Lee and I. It wasn’t until I went to his funeral that I realized that there would be no more emails, no more deep discussions about life, art, hunting and football. I’ve been through the pain of losing my grandparents, but until now had been spared the loss of a true and dear friend. The feeling was absolutely terrible.
But did I lose him completely? I don’t think so. I found him lurking in the form of his son, Erin. I had never known Erin other than meeting him once or twice, and when I came to Lee’s house a few days later to pick up Anna’s unfinished portrait, I sat down in Lee’s studio to visit with Erin and his sister Maurine, and Lee’s wife Marilyn. It was a wonderful visit, sitting and talking and laughing about Lee in his cherished private space, and I got to know all of them a lot better. But what struck me most was how Erin looked and acted very much like his father. 
We began to email back and forth, and it was true! Here was Lee all over again, with the same dreams and aspirations, the same bluntness, the same willingness to be a friend. And according to Erin, it’s been very therapeutic to learn more about his dad through a friend’s eyes.
What a great discovery.
On Friday, Lee’s unfinished last piece (ironically titled Last Peace by Erin…it’s a painting of a 60’s hippie with a peace sign hidden among the unfinished details; photo of Erin and the painting at left), was auctioned at the Washington Pavilion’s Arts Night, a fundraiser for the Pavilion’s Visual Arts Center (Lee’s previous two Arts Night pieces were selected for Peoples’ Choice awards). Last Peace was on his easel when he died, and we made a high quality reproduction for the auction. It brought $1,000 and many smiles and tears from our table, where Jodi and I sat with Lee’s family.
It was a bittersweet moment; a chapter on Lee’s life was closing, but we rejoiced in the fact that his art and character would live on in all of us.
For me, I was happy to know that my friendship with him would live on too…in the form of his son.