Michael Wayne Jefferis

Michael Wayne Jefferis — known to nearly everyone as Mike — died on Thursday, March 19, 2026, at Newman Regional Health in Emporia, Kansas. He was 86 years old, and he lived every one of those years on his own terms.

Born on March 10, 1940, in Ottawa, Kansas, to A.J. and Marjorie Paine, Mike graduated from Ottawa High School in 1958 and attended the University of Kansas. The plains of Kansas couldn't hold him for long. After arriving in California, he quickly realized that the Sacramento River was not, in fact, his path to gold. He made his way to the waterfront — and found the sea.

A highlight of his early sailing life began aboard the Te Vega, one of the last of the great windjammers, skippered by the renowned Omar Darr and his first mate John Linderman. From there, Mike's adventures grew stranger and more storied. He found himself aboard the Glomar Explorer — the mysterious Howard Hughes vessel tied to a covert CIA operation to recover a sunken Soviet submarine — signing non-disclosure agreements and asking few questions. Mike didn't talk much about it, which was perhaps the point.

His pride and joy, however, was the Walrus — a handsome white 36-foot wooden sailboat modeled on the classic Colin Archer lifeboat design. Mike lived aboard her, anchored on Richardson Bay in Sausalito, for many years. Later, he moved to a berth in Sausalito and became a beloved member of Galilee Harbor, a maritime and artist cooperative, where he would take friends and neighbors out to fish for salmon, then smoke the catch on his back deck and share it with everyone. His boat was a gathering place — always open, always lively, full of music, salty sea stories, and most important to Mike, interesting conversation.

He was a man of the old school of seamanship, navigating by sextant and stars, reading weather from the sky. He was fond of offering this forecast whenever big weather was coming: "Mackerel skies and mare's tails make lofty ships carry low sails." He knew most people couldn't place the saying anymore, and he liked that just fine.

In his later years, Mike's final boat was the Sea-nile — a name he chose himself, with characteristic glee. His mind, it should be noted, remained sharp until his very last day aboard her. He served for many years as chairman of the Galilee Harbor board, and his neighbors knew the sound of his gavel as well as they knew his laugh.

To step aboard Mike's boat in the evening was to enter a world with just a few simple rules: bring beer, don't be stupid, and don't talk during the movie. On any given night you might find him settled into his comfy chair, an open book in his hands and music playing, or cheering on his beloved 49ers, Giants, or Kansas Jayhawks. He enjoyed his music loud and his B-movies gloriously bad. His scotch was never less than 12 years old, and his hearty laugh could be heard clear across the dock.

Mike had a joke rolodex that seemed truly endless — in six years, one friend recalled hearing a repeat only once or twice. He was always ready with a story or a quip, and just as ready to hear yours. He spoke his mind plainly and directly, and once what needed to be said was said, it was time for a drink. He described Galilee Harbor as "a party just looking for an occasion" — and those who knew him best say that's exactly how Mike lived his life.

When Mike had the good fortune to attend a Golden State Warriors championship game with friends, he asked an impish neighbor to dye his hair blue for the occasion.

Mike also drove a taxi, a job he loved for the simple pleasure of driving and conversation. He once put on his chauffeur's cap to drive a ladies' group from the marina around Napa in style, and played their nasty lady-rap music loudly on the way home. He was later caught playing the same songs for a neighbor, saying simply, "This is what the ladies listen to these days."

He was a devoted reader of whodunnits, cycling bags of used mysteries from the library's book sale to his neighbors and back again — a one-man lending library who kept his dear friends in page-turners for years.

To younger members of his community, Mike was something rarer still. He had a gift for seeing people clearly — their best and their worst — and believing in them anyway. His lights burned late into the night, and those who knew him always knew they were welcome. He had a way of quietly setting aside a special chocolate bar or treat for a favorite visitor, waiting until the very end of an evening to offer it — a small gesture that somehow said everything about the man.

When his health required him to leave Galilee Harbor and return to Kansas to be with his family, Mike sent a letter of resignation to his community. It closed with this: "The twenty-five years I have spent among you have been the best and happiest of my life. Thank you."

Mike is survived by his brother, Jan Jefferis of Emporia, and his sister, Jill Middleton of Emporia. He was preceded in death by his parents.

Cremation is planned, with a private service to follow at a later date.

The ancient mariner of Galilee Harbor has sailed his last voyage. Fair winds, Mike.

You will not be forgotten.