The editor received an email from Bick Keister in late December '16 informing him of the passing of Pete Blank. Bick sent the same message to a number of classmates, which elicited the below responses.
28 Dec from Bick: Dear classmates and Sis, My dear friend, Pete, has passed. My last visit to his home was in January 2015 and this year's Christmas card prompted the letter below( Ed note-letter from lawyer handling Peter's estate stating that Pete had passed), even though there was no response in 2015. In addition to the letter, I have attached the last picture I took of him that January with my wife, Betsy. (The picture was taken about 50 feet from his backyard) I leave it to our editor, Ken Martin, to add this information to the Wheatley site.
John Moncure wrote: • Second, an attorney is his executor--which usually happens when someone doesn't have anyone close to name in their will. I try to have clients name a family member--or close friend as executor. I agree to be executor only if there is no-one to assist (ethical issues for attorneys named in will). • Third, he didn't keep, or try to keep, in touch--unless Bick was in contact. Petey--left guard on our line--tough as nails--wrestler--quiet (as I remember him) but always wanting to be in on the fun and always there for the laughs with teammates. He went into the Peace Corps and came back a different person--or, perhaps, came back his true self. I don't think I ever had contact with him after his return so I don't know. RIP Pete Blank--Wheatley, 1960 (Ed Note-Monk also added a New Year's greeting to folks and submitted a family photo as well)
I wanted to take advantage of Bick's great e-mail list to wish you all, my dear old friends, a happy and healthy New Year--(I'm the old guy with my beautiful family)-Monk From Eileen Murphy: What a shock to learn that Pete died over a year ago and no one knew. Strange. Wishing everyone a happy, healthy new year. Eileen and Norman From Lucy Mullman: How terribly sad. While I did not know Pete, I remember his handsome face and the few times that we spoke. He died too young and I hope not alone. Gang, we need to stick together! Just underwent foot surgery and right now am feeling my age! Love to you all and John you have a lovely family. We have been seeing a lot of dixie's family- wonderful family ties Love, From Margot Shotter: So,so sad and a real up front reminder that most of us are entering our 75th year this 2017. Yikes! Margot From Linda Sue Beattie: From Paul Hennessy: Bick and friends, Received your sad and surprising news about our old pal & classmate Pete while traveling in the SF Bay area, not far from the Bolinas,CA coastside "farm" where he lived. We visited him there two decades ago when living in the San Jose area. Will never forget that meeting with Pete--still strong, hard-working and organized like the Lafayette-educated engineer he was--wearing a black baret and proud of the charts in his cabin that displayed PRECISELY where he was growing each of the "herbs" on his 10 acre plot. We once visited Pete's Dad & Mom in their home there and talked about the changes in young Pete's life since his Peace Corps African experience and his farming on the distant "other" coast. Pete, Sr. seemed to view his son's unexpected path with a combination of bewilderment and perhaps pride that--although it wasn't engineering-- he was still working hard and making a good, independent living. More to come on memories of Pete in high school and college, but in sum, he was a fine, tough, fun-loving guy, humble and quiet despite his handsome looks, and powerful body. James Dean would have liked him and vice versa. All the best to you, amigos. Hope the season finds you well and enjoying life. Attached is shot of my clan in Carmel--Clint Eastwood territory--as a final salute to Pete. (Clint would also have been a soul bro' of his). Paul H.
From Dixie Howell: Hello everyone, I was stunned and saddened to hear that Pete had passed away. I had always hoped to visit with him; sorry that we never did. I hope I have learned that lesson. Good memories of Pete from HS and college days - we got along very easily together - saw eye to eye. One summer we traveled by car across the country together and then down into Mexico. Remember our anticipation about getting to the west coast and seeing the Pacific for the first time. We talked of going in to take a dip as soon as we got to the Pacific. We were approaching through some very hilly place in Oregon and as we got closer the fog and cold air made themselves known in a very real way - after we stumbled our way down a steep embankment we decided to just get our feet wet instead -shocked that it wasn't the same as the Atlantic. Best wishes to you all for good health and happiness (as for wealth, if we don't have enough dough at our age the lottery is one of the few chances - good luck!) Hope to see you all. Dix/George From Bick to Monk Monk, You are right about an attorney being the executor, but he trusted Jack Siedman and I am sure his sister, Barbara, did not want to handle the sale of his house on a bluff looking over the Pacific Ocean AND Bolinas Bay and his 175 acre fruit farm in the middle oof the State. When Peter Blank, Jr and his wife Marla(?) died, Pete and Barbara inherited and part of it was the summer house on the ocean at Orient Point which was a joy to visit. Pete said he was never coming back east so it went to Barbara. I loved Pete and has parents. His mom was a sweetheart and Mr. Blank always treated me well, but was the strong/silent type. At Orient Point one night, I walked from the main house to Pete's cabin in the woods after getting back from the movies in town. The movie was Psycho and I cannot tell you the fear that overtook me walking in those woods. Pete was ahead of me and I hope he did not hear me sniveling (or was I crying?) I hope everyone is well. From Eileen Hi Again I play Words with Friends on line with Donna Maxwell Chimera. I told her we had Just learned of Pete's passing. Strangely she hadn't seen him in 50 years. He was ill for quite a while. He wouldn't fly; which explains his reluctance to attend any reunions. He had a few long term girl friends over the years and she said there was one taking care of him at the end. I was glad to hear that. Just a bit more to add to the mystique of our former classmate. Eileen From Bick: I met the last two lady friends and they were both very nice. As to sick for a long time, Barbara may mean mentally due to his tendency to be standoffish and quiet. He also was very orderly with everything in its place. You and Bev and I talked to him by phone at one of the reunions as we called in the evening. He did not answer the phone in the daytime unless he recognized the number as he avoided sales calls. He stayed thin the last 40 years as he was primarily a vegetarian, but he smoked so it was probably cancer in the end. Sad story so let's concentrate on all of us turning 75 and having some fun. From Pat Birckhead: I think 75 is a big deal and we should all try to get together to celebrate. Who knows what the future will bring? Let's be merry while we can. Happy New Year to you all! Let's start planning! From Linda Sue Beattie: I agree Pat! Let's celebrate us!!! From Marty Corbett: Sounds good. Happy new year to all. Sorry to hear about Peter. From Lucy: Pat, yes, goes without saying!
From Ken Martin: I really can’t recall the last time I saw Pete. It was obviously in the early ‘60’s, making it well over 50 years ago. My take is this: he was a hardy and introspective individual. He kept to himself in those days, a trait which manifested itself more and more throughout his life’s journey. Pete Blank made a very clear statement on who he was and really did not care what others thought of him. This fierce and true independent streak reminded me much of another classmate whom I admired, and for the same reason, namely Steve (Bucky) Buchalter. They both, in their own way, raged against the machine, if you will, until the end. And from a purely historical perspective, I believe Pete’s family had deep roots in the community. Perhaps some of you long time East Williston residents could help me, but did not his father have a hardware store in the area? I also believe that his father was a WW II veteran or so, I believe, a small monument in the little village park states. The below photo is Pete’s graduation photo that was copied from Pat Birckhead’s yearbook. It was scanned from our website. Below the photo is what Pete wrote to Pat so very, very long ago....
A little less than a week ago I received the sad news of Phil Gaynor’s passing from Peter D Wolf. He emailed me: It is with great sadness that I inform you that Phil Gaynor passed away this afternoon from the effects of mesothelioma. To which a number of classmates quickly replied.
Joanne Festa: So sorry to learn about Phil's death. Prayers for his family/friends. Sincerely, Joanne Marty Corbett: Sorry about Phil. He was a sweet guy. Thanks for letting us know. Robin Rogers: That's very sad. I spent some fun time with Phil at the mini-reunion in Mass a year or so ago. He looked so healthy!!! Life is so short. Art Diamond: Ken, Phil Gaynor attended our 50th and was his usual exuberant self. I am glad I got to spend some time with him at that time. John Moncure: What a shock! Paul and I spent a good deal of time talking about Phil last weekend at Zimmy's. Hoping to see him at some future reunion. Phil and I grew up together in Albertson-he, Ken Goddard and I (along with others) rode the school bus every day-He was Argyle and I was Amherst-we three would go trick or treating on Halloween. His Dad was one of my favorite people in the neighborhood and I think they had TV before we did so I spent a lot of time there. Phil had an easy laugh and was fun loving. What a sad event-and what a strange affliction. Carl Stewart: It is a week since we heard the terrible news of Phil's death and I still am having trouble processing the information. I don't know what to say because, frankly, this is just too shitty for words. We are all getting older and the truth is that we are much closer to the end than the beginning, but that doesn't make this news any easier to take. Phil and I were friendly in high school but our real friendship started much later. I had left the city for a place in northwestern Connecticut, the small town of Salisbury, just a few miles south of Berkshire County in Massachusetts. One Saturday, I was shopping at Shagroy, the much-loved food shop in Salisbury and I heard my name mentioned. I looked up from the plums and nectarines and I recognized the voice but could not immediately place the person but very shortly did. We chatted; I learned that Phil and his family had a weekend house in Falls Village, just minutes away from my place. We arranged to see each other and I got to see his lovely cottage on a pristine pond. We discovered that we were both tennis players and there began nearly 20 years of tennis, dinners, and hanging out, although as the Gaynor boys got older, Phil and Helene spent less and less time in the country and we saw each other less and less frequently. Tennis remained a strong bond, however, and for a number of years Phil and I and 3 other people who Phil brought into the mix, met weekly at the Columbia Indoor Tennis place in way-upper Manhattan. Because our meetings became more sporadic, it was so nice to renew our friendship when 20 or so of us gathered at my place in the Berkshires a few years ago. A group of us played tennis at the outstanding tennis facility at the Hotchkiss School in nearby Lakeville and except for some minor changes in appearance and fairly frequent cries of "oy veh"...or substitute Hennessey's Irish version...time seemed to have stood still. Life will go on, as it must, but this will be a poorer place without Phil. There will, I hope, be some solace for his family in knowing how loved and admired Phil was.
This is shocking news as Phil seemed in the peak of health when we last saw him at Carl's reunion. Paul Hennessy then emailed Peter Wolf: Hi Peter,
Peter responded: Four of us (David Silvers, Gerry Litwin, Harvey Dobrow, and I) have remained close over the years, and have had dinner in NYC together every 4-6 weeks for about 20 years – we occasionally have guests…Lucy Mullman a few years ago, Mimi Golub a few months ago, and Phil, who started as a guest, but became a ‘regular’ over the past year. Paul wrote back: Thanks for filling me in, Peter. I'm cancelling some appointments for tomorrow and will try to get to Phil's service as I'd probably be the only one attending who served with him in Germany.
Peter wrote of the memorial service: It was great to see Paul on this otherwise very sad occasion (Paul really hasn’t aged at all). John Moncure added: Folks-I'm having a really hard time coming to grips with this. It was so great that Paul attended the service-an Irishman, he is a costumed to attending funerals-sort of a National pastime for the Irish. Carpe Diem Paul Hennessy, after attending the service, wrote: Monk &Friends, Peter added: I have read Paul’s recent reply, and would like to add the following: Phil He also called me from Sloan Kettering a few days before he passed away when It is interesting that guys from our poker game, which Phil only attended a Best, Peter Paul Hennessy attended the funeral and wrote the below and had a picture taken of classmates attending the service: I just returned from Phil Gaynor's memorial service in Gotham where I met our fellow wildcats--Peter Wolf, David Silver, Harvey Dobrow & Mimi Golub. The class of 1960 Phil Gaynor-rest in peace.
REMEMBERING HUGH DRUMMOND – Mike Harvey September 5, 2011 In the summer of 1955, my best buddy Marty Mahler and I went off to Boy Scout camp at Camp Wauwepex in Wading River on the North Shore of Suffolk County. Hugh “Bobby” Drummond was also there. One day our camp counselor, Eagle Scout Frank Rudes, huddled us all together in the middle of the camp. He took roll and discovered that Bobby Drummond was missing. We all looked over towards Bobby’s tent at the far end of the camp. There he stood, his forearms and one leg wrapped around the tent entrance pole. Buck naked. He stood there… still as can be…staring at us. What made it even funnier was that he never cracked a smile. Very surreal, which made it all the more hilarious. Bobby had loved science at Willets Road School, and together with his buddy, John Baer, led our class with science-type projects. One time he built a small rocket ship and we all watched as he launched it in the parking lot of the school. It was a semi-successful launch and, in his seriousness, he somehow made us all laugh. I think he was basically a shy fellow who would do interesting things that somehow would make us laugh. Kind of like the understated comedian, Tim Conway, on the Carol Burnett Show. Later on, he was known as ‘Bulldog” and during our last two years at Wheatley he would sometimes defy caution and take reckless chances that would end up with people laughing. I remember feeling a little concerned for him, but caught up in some of the wildness myself, I did little to express it to him. And as we all seemed to spread out after our ’61 graduation, making new lives and friends and swiftly losing touch with each other, I lost touch with Bulldog…..until one night in late 1969 I received a call from Walt Brunner informing me that Bulldog had perished while flying his small aircraft, crashing in bad weather in the mountains of Virginia. Recently I read a paean to Wheatley beautifully written by my good friend, Ken Martin (“Martino” –Wheatley Class of ‘60). In it he poignantly relates how shortly before the crash he and Bulldog had reunited in San Diego. Bulldog was an Air Force Officer stationed in the L.A. area and Martino had been a Lt. Colonel in the Marine Corps and they got together at a Marine Corps Officers Club, where Bulldog met a girl named Carol. As Martino tells it, “Bulldog fell in love with her. He would fly or drive down from L.A. every weekend….He told me one night, perhaps a month before he was to transfer, that he was in love with Carol and had never been happier in his life.” Martino concludes “I thought his friends reading this would appreciate how happy and content he was in his last days.” Thank you, Martino. Though he was lost tragically, it is uplifting to learn that when our classmate and friend, Hugh Drummond, slipped the earth….he slipped it happily bloomed in love. REMEMBERING STEFFI PALL – Mike Harvey September 5 2011 We had a lot of smart girls in our class of ‘61, so I can’t really say that Steffi was the smartest. But she acted like the smartest girl in the class. She got perfect grades and could answer any question asked by any teacher. One time, in one of Mr. McCormick’s Geometry classes, someone had given the correct answer to how high the side of a building was given the factors involved. Mr. McCormick accepted the answer, and then Steffi raised her hand to say that the answer given was off by a silly millimeter or such. Mr. McCormick, who seemed always on the verge of exasperation with her, sighed deeply, and responded. “I really don’t care how high the building is, Steffi, as long as it doesn’t fall on me while I’m walking by it.” I remembered this because I wrote this scene into the ’61 senior skit that Bruce Witkin and I wrote. I never knew if all her manifest pride in being “smart” was her way of getting attention or not. The fact remains that Steffi was smart. And I say, “Good for you, Steffi.” And, yes, you did get our attention…..Smart is a good thing…..and we remember you for it.
REMEMBERING TOMMY BRESCIA – Mike Harvey September 5, 2011 Tommy Brescia was the most focused man I ever knew. During football practice, just when I thought I had cleared the line and could see clear skies ahead…..Woooosht…. like Sylvester the Cat, there was Tommy magically in front of me to cut my flight. And he was tougher in practice than any opponent I can remember in a real game. He bruised…..some in the locker room called him “animal.” But the next morning he would sit like a choirboy in the Wheatley orchestra … blowing soft, classical notes on his trumpet, a band-aid ridged across his bloodied nose. Tom was a gentleman who never had an unkind word or thought towards any one, whatever their behavior. In the Spring of Senior Year, Jerry Mintz brazenly challenged him to an after-school boxing match, which I refereed outside of the boys’ gym on the lawn. The match only went about 3 rounds, and though there was no clear winner, I had a feeling that, in spite of the fact that Jerry was a real battler, Tommy might have pulled his punches a little. Years later he still would never, of course, acknowledge that. He always spoke admiringly and with respect for Jerry as a praiseworthy opponent. And hey…who can doubt the cajones of our Jerry Mintz, a quiet, bespecled violin player, to enter the ring with the fiercest guy in our class? Tommy was genuine. He knew who he was and would be unlikely to drift off base. He was solid. I think back on Sundays when I was invited to real Italian dinners at the Brescia home. His father treated me like a long-lost friend (hey-ey, Mike, how are ya?) and his Mom, Jeanine, was (and is) lively and intelligent like Tommy. This is where Tommy was grounded, where his feet were planted firmly in the ground. He could never, even had he tried, permit his Wheatley accomplishments, his good looks nor his subsequent prowess as a medical doctor stand before the much taller, inner man that he was. And he would never, in his heart, want anyone to mourn him. Well…no matter that some of us have not ceased to mourn him, one thing is certain…..none of us will ever forget him. Remembering Diane (Bland) Brauer –Mike Harvey August 2011 I felt a special tug in my heart when, at the Wheatley 50th birthday reunion in October ‘06, I learned that Diane had passed on. In my memory there was always a slow, sweetness about Diane, a contained quietness that was palpable even to my baseball-muddled young mind. Silent, chemistry-laden mutual glances in the halls of Wheatley…Diane was undeniably sexy. She had, as Billy Joel wrote in song, a way about her.
Another sad demise of legendary Don "Bomber" Kleban, a guy from a lovely EW home who seemed to take the hard road early and wanted to leave Wheatley for the U.S. Navy-- convinced to stay for his undefeated senior year by none other than Coach Jack Davis (Source--'58 website.) I remember him as one of those admirable (if not loveable) swaggering rogues--escaped from BB Jungle @ Mineola High-- among our role models at Wheatley's founding. I recall him crushing me several times at football practices and may be able to trace some of my current quirks to such collisions of unequals (approx. 210 vs 135) His story in the '58 website was certainly among the most fascinating and well written as he realized his considerable talents later in life and became very successful in NYC legal circles, I expect Monk will Google to verify, but agree with my neighbor, Bruce R., that Bomber's story was the "greatest turn-around" I've seen among our alums. I've copied our "ancestors" who I hope will keep us posted on their classmates. What an extraordinary group of pioneers they were! (are?) Cheers, And Don Kleban's obituary from the NY Times: KLEBAN--Donald M. On July 23, 2014 after a valiant battle with lung cancer. Survived by children Daniel and Matthew, daughters-in-law Janet and Rosa; grandchildren David, Abigail, Lillian, Esme and Aaron, and cherished love Deborah Wecker. A graduate of Alfred University and NYU School of Law, Don's career spanned 40 years as a corporate attorney and investment banker in New York City. In retirement, his passions turned to his Florida home, golf and poker. He will be missed every day by his loving family and devoted friends, and he will always be remembered for his larger than life spirit, generosity, and wit. Memorial service Friday, July 25, 2014, 1:15pm at "The Riverside," 76th Street and Amsterdam Avenue. Contributions may be made to the Closer to Free Fund, specifically earmarked for Thoracic Medical Oncology-Dr. Herbst (which supports Yale Cancer Center) and mailed to P.O. Box 7611, New Haven, CT 06519-0611. Published in The New York Times on July 24, 2014
Michael R. Stapleton SHANDAKEN- Michael R. Stapleton, 72, of Ruthenbeck Rd. and formerly of Smiths Landing died Thursday, April 4, 2013 at the Albany Medical Center. Born July 18, 1940 in Mineola, he was the son of the late James and Margaret Stapleton. A Veteran of the Vietnam War he served proudly in the U.S. Marine Corps where he was awarded the Purple Heart, the Silver Star, the Bronze Star, the National Defense Medal, the Good Conduct Medal, and the Navy Commendation Medal. Upon his discharge he was employed by the N.Y.S. Troopers and later as a Corrections Officer for the Ulster County Sheriff's Dept. He was a member of the Shokan American Legion Post, the Rondout Lodge #343 F&AM and a former member of the Olive Fire Department. Survivors include his daughter, Megan Stapleton. His Funeral Service will be held 10 a.m. Monday at the Seamon-Wilsey Funeral Home, Inc., corner of John and Lafayette St. Friends will be received Sunday 2 to 4 and 7 to 9 p.m., followed by services on Monday at 10 a.m. Family suggests donations in his memory be made to the Ulster County SPCA. Expressions of sympathy may be shared with the family on Michael's Memory page at www.SeamonWilseyFuneral Home.com Published in the Daily Freeman on Apr. 9, 2013
Hope you are well. Susan Borger Budge
Thanks for passing along the sad news about Bucky's passing, Ken and Carl. Too bad he couldn't have survived for one last round-up this summer. _______________ Stephen and I have been close friends since the "merger" of the Willets Road School and Northside in 1956. (I think I have that date correctly.). We spoke and visited frequently over those 56 years. In fact, we had lunch less than a week before he died. Bucky was, among many things, a one-off. Up until the end, he was passionate about his eclectic range of interests....politics, books, sports, movies, and most prominently, the theater. My guess is that few of you know that following his graduation from the University of Wisconsin, Bucky embarked on a career in acting. Although the breakthrough part never came his way, he was very good at his craft and always interesting to watch. Of course, there have always been about as many out-of-work actors in NYC as there have been cockroaches so Bucky ultimately went to law school and got to put his acting skills to work in the courtroom. Because he would not have wanted a funeral, there wasn't one...he was cremated and his ashes will be scattered this summer. I know that Stephen's wife would be very pleased to receive a note from any of his Wheatley classmates. The contact information is: Janet Rosdil, 62 MacGhee Road, Poughkeepsie, NY 12603-4345 The thoughts and remembrances of Bucky from any of you would be welcome. I will greatly miss our long and loving friendship Regards Carl Stewart
Memories
of Post Avenue pals
“A long time ago, we knew each other
for a short time”
Nick, “The Big Chill”
With the deadline of our
gathering this week , I’m finally writing this recollection of Jack Langlois
and three class of ’61 “Boys of Summer”--Walt Brunner, Chuck Shaffer and Tom
Kull-- who often hung out with him at my East Williston home.
They were as
different and distinct as they were special and their far too early passing in
the past two years leaves both a hole in my heart and gratitude I had such
friends.
At a February
memorial gathering for Walt in Greenwich Village, I recalled some memories of
my VERY BIG ”little brother” and was somewhat surprised to realize my association
with him--in sports, politics, and social life--gave me a unique perspective on
BOTH who he was and what he later
became.
In a JV football team
photo in the 1960 yearbook, Walt, Jack and I are lined up next to each other,
Chuck is in the backfield and on the page opposite is Tom Kull along with his
good buddy Bulldog Drummond. All, except
me, athletes who died young.
I’ll begin my recall
with the center in that photo-- as
he was in our class--our class president:
At Wheatley: Calm, self-possessed, quietly confident, steady, intelligent
as he was modest, with a dry,
quick wit, it was apparent early
on that Jack was our classmate most deserving of the description “a gentleman
and a scholar.”
He was so
self-deprecating, even shy, it was
at times easy to underestimate him. But NOT if you were running against him in
the half-mile or mile, or trying to get past him on the line of scrimmage. He
was quietly tough--no trash talk from him, unlike the rest of us---and looking
back his later success in highly competitive global business is not surprising.
Jack signed my
yearbook saying “Maybe we’ll see each other, Rutgers is pretty near Princeton.”
Indeed we did, mainly on weekends in that nation’s oldest football rivalry when
he’d introduce me and my RU roughnecks to Princeton elegance.
And Beyond: Our paths diverged after college and
the next time I saw Jack was at Bowdoin College where he chaired the history
department. I got together with Monk and him to play some tennis and for the
first time met his charming wife, Hsin-I (aka “Shinny”) She’d once been his
student and they were married for 43 years when he passed away in August 2010.
We stayed in touch
from time to time after that by e-mail when they were moving from one exotic
Asian location to another--from Bejing to Tokyo, for example.
He was clearly a RARE
American who, as his New York Times obituary said, “spoke Chinese and Japanese with elegance, precision, and wit,
informed by years of classical study and practical negotiation.”
And while his obit
also said “he passed between the worlds of academia and finance as smoothly as he traveled between
Asia and the United States,” it was typical of Jack that in private e-mails he
expressed amazement that a former college professor was recruited so avidly by the world’s top investment banks,
J.P. Morgan and Morgan Stanley.
He held senior
positions (managing director of JPM, China and chair of MS properties, China)
and was one of very few foreigners to serve on the boards of several Chinese
banks.
He did
extraordinarily well, but that doesn’t mean it was a “day at the beach.” I got insight
into that when he contacted me about a 2004 Wall
Street Journal front- page
feature on his work. It covered, as the headline said, Morgan Stanley “chipping
away at a mountain of bad, overdue debt.”
Jack asked my
journalistic/PR opinion as he was concerned the story’s description of him as
“grim-faced” and being forced to play economic-political hardball was too
negative.
I tried to assure him
the context was completely understandable and, if nothing else, showing his
competitive edge might lead to another career chapter--collecting debts for the
Irish mafia in Boston or similar Cosa Nostra odd jobs in Brooklyn, for example.
The feature concluded
with a weary-sounding Jack battling a labor dispute and saying, “Sometimes I
wonder why I’m not retired in Colorado.”
Jack and Shinny seemed headed that way if the reappearance of
a life-threatening cancer that surfaced five years earlier hadn’t
intervened. They owned a beautiful
home in rural Colorado, but unfortunately the long-distance runner came to the
end of his race--calmly and courageously--at Lennox Hill Hospital in NYC three
months after our 50th reunion.
Despite the years and
miles, he remained much loved and respected by his Wheatley classmates and
their visits and communications so touched Shinny that she generously funded
this gathering in his memory.
The breadth of his
accomplishment isn’t easy to summarize, but whenever I read about U.S.-Chinese
relations I long to talk with Jack about the East-West dialogue shaping the
future.
I know we wouldn’t
have agreed on all political and economic issues, but that would have been the
joy of resuming our conversation.
My personal gap--and those
all of you feel--is mirrored in Bejing and Washington where his wise counsel
was valued. We’ve lost an amazing friend and--as was said about Apple founder
Steve Jobs when he recently died of the same pancreatic cancer--“He was the
best we had.”
Whew! For a low-key guy, Jack is
someone whose life certainly requires a long narrative to do it justice.
Walt
At Wheatley:
Ø
’61 class president
Ø
“Baby Huey” blonde gentle giant,
6’4”, 240 (football, wrestling ,shot put)
Ø
Crooner, bus choirmaster(“Oom Pah
Pahs”), Bobby Darin of WHS--“Mack the Knife”-- no encouragement needed
Ø
Natural promoter, impresario,
political campaign manager, kingmaker
Ø
Entrepreneur, selling fried eggs in
locker rooms at wrestling tournaments
Ø
Kindly intimidator, wing man, body
guard--Herrick’s “toughs” backing down at B-ball game
Ø
Mega-laugh even when on the lam from
dad, Col. Hans Brunner, US Army retired--but not retiring
And beyond:
Ø
VMI honor roll plebe to Yale on Navy
ROTC scholarship (future Adm. Brunner in
the making?)
Ø
Unexpected detour--Yale to NYC
nightlife (host/owner of Goose & Gherkin, infamous Britania Mews
Adventurer’s Society Pub Ltd.--his GV living room)
Ø
On to BVI--St Croix & St Thomas
--under the influence of lovely Donna who met tragic fate there
Ø
Three decades of BVI hosting
(Guthrie’s, Rumors, etc. with Dixie, Mrs. Howell, Stoney, other Wheatley-ites)
Ø
Big man on small islands--tv
reporting, media consulting, BVI “Olympic” wrestling team, arts promotion,
tourism
Ø
Sports entrepreneur, athlete’s rep
(Doug Flutie call to me at BC), news junkie, intense debater.
Ø
Return to Greenwich Village roots--hobbled
by diabetes, spin-meister/wheeler-dealer to his end, wrote his own glorious
obit read by sister Carol.
Ø
Most outgoing personality becomes
reclusive
Chuck
At Wheatley:
Ø
Handsome, spirited minister’s
son--haunted by the mythical “clergy wagon” and others’ lust for his “silky thighs”
Ø
Talented athlete (football,
basketball, baseball)
Ø
Blonde, blue-eyed “kooky”
heart-throb, Mr. Popularity
And Beyond:
Ø
Ohio Wesleyan athlete
Ø
Peace Corps volunteer in Africa--living/sharing with tribal
chief changed his dance style and world view
Ø
Return to western civ-- notorious motorcycle
ride through Mannheim, leaving my
Deutsche contacts in shock/awe
Ø
Conscientious objector becomes Pvt.
Shaffer in Germany again.
Ø
Susie’s husband for 40+ years, “great
dad” for two sons, mental health administrator, landscaper
Ø
Great visits with him and family in
Narragansett, RI and Charlottesville, VA
Ø
Difficult final decade of early Alzheimers
in Staunton,VA before passing this year. Nicknamed “Chuckles” by his nurses for
his continual good humor despite multiple challenges.
Tom
At Wheatley:
Ø
Class of ‘61’s Sean Connery---Irish-Catholic
philosopher--the agony & ecstasy of being Tom
Ø
Passionate intensity, creativity, raucous
laughter, howling at the moon imagination with pals
Ø
Athlete (football, wrestling, track),
fantasy-maker who bought the myth of “Bill Swoboda” to our endless delight
Ø
Contrast to future Jesuit brother
Doug ‘58, straight-arrow Student Council President, “Audie Murphy,” 17-years as
priest in Philippine rebel country, now managing Center Club, largest agency
for homeless and people with psychiatric disabilities in Boston
And Beyond:
Ø
Husband of Jack’s sister, Jeanne, for
40+ years; devoted father to daughter Kathleen (a nurse who attended our 50th with her mom and Jack), and artist son Chris, getting married this weekend.
Ø
Built home in Richmond, VA from
scratch, counseled addicts in agencies, using his own experience without a
college degree.
Ø
Kathleen, who has his luminous Irish
eyes, commented: “Dad always had
my back. I felt safe with him.”
Ø
Minimal contact in recent years with old pals he perceived as more accomplished.
Ø
Oncology RN Jeanne cared for him
during several difficult years struggle with pancreatic cancer (similar to brother
Jack). Both deaths occurred within a year between 2009 & 2010.
Final Reflections:
We’ve known each
other longer than the time ahead. Or, as Simon & Garfunkle sang (yes,
prematurely for us) “Isn’t it strange to be 70?”
Insurance stats say
average retirees should get to enjoy “6,000 sunrises” (17 years) and let’s
drink to as many of us achieving at least that in reasonable health and
happiness.
Our four
friends--linked forever in my memory because they were “my brothers” back
then-- were sadly shortchanged.
I feel fortunate to
have known them well in simpler, more carefree times (Was there ever a better
era to be teenagers than ours?)
But though we lost
close connections in later years, those relationships set a standard for
comradeship that has lived with me for a lifetime of associations at work and
play. It has been the basis of camaraderie, esprit
de corps, and, as the Gaels say, Craic
(meaning spirited bonding and fun).
In every place I’ve
traveled and lived since then, close friendships and relationships have been a
high priority. I know many of you also treasure such gifts fostered in those formative
years.
As one writer
expressed this notion, “Everyone carries within themselves a world made up of
all they’ve seen and loved; it is to this world that they return, incessantly.”
Faulkner made a
similar observation when he said, “The past is never dead; It isn’t even past.”
And so, thanks to
Shinny’s magnanimous contribution, we gather on Ken’s shore, to celebrate Jack,
our friends living and deceased, and life in general.
Gertrude
Stein captured some of our motivations when she wrote “We, living now, are always to ourselves, young men and women.”
As we know, “They are
not long the days of wine and roses” so gathering our respective rosebuds while
we may is pretty sound advice for the rest of our lives.
My final wish to you
all is good health, much enjoyment of life’s pleasures and, in the words of an
old Irish blessing hanging at the entrance to my home:
“Give me a few friends who love me for what I am and teach me to be
thankful for life and time’s olden memories that are good and sweet, and may
the evening’s twilight find me gentle still.”
And a last upbeat tip from this chronic late-comer: When
you reach the Inn of Doom, be sure to arrive after closing time.
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
Chuck Shaffer – a Life
of Unpretentious Dignity and Greatness
Even without counting the highly structured Military services at Arlington Cemetery and the Naval Academy, and some number of forgettable burials at sea, I expect that I have attended as many funerals as any other guilt-ridden Italian Catholic boy from Long Island. However, I had never attended a “celebration of life”. That is, until yesterday.
The event started with a chance for family and friends to meet at a campsite near Lofton Lake, a compact but scenic Virginia reservoir near Chuck’s home outside Staunton. That was followed by moving and sometimes tearful reminiscences from the family; a brief but refined religious service followed, complete with vocalist, and then dinner. Chuck’s wife Susie was in charge, along with their two sons, John and Daniel. Chuck’s brothers, Howard and John, were there, along with their sister, Elizabeth, and three generations of an unbelievably loving and closely-knit family. You could see Chuck in faces and attitude of the two proud sons. Paula (Ross) Gladieux was there from our class, as were Paul “Bick” Keister from the Class of 1960 and his wife, Betsey. It was great to see them, too.
To summarize Chuck’s life after Wheatley in a few lines and bullets ill-serves our old friend, but I don’t think he would have wanted too many words anyway.
Guided by the faith of his father as he had been all the years before, the second son of the Reverend Howard Shaffer, Jr. went to Ohio Wesleyan University, graduating with a degree in Economics. Later, he joined the Peace Corps, working for several years in Africa. A tour with the U.S. Army in Europe followed, along with some graduate studies at the University of Edinburgh. In Spain, he and Susie began a life together that would last for 42 years.
When you hear about such globetrotting, you normally think of someone “trying to find himself” or “running away from something.” Not so with Chuck. He had no need to find himself – he knew exactly where he was. Those of us living in the different worlds in which he traveled were blessed to have found him. And we are the better for it.
Back in the States by the 70’s, Chuck and Susie settled in rural Virginia and raised their two boys. Chuck became a social worker, specializing in family counseling. The family values and core principles that he had learned and practiced in his life made him more qualified than most for such an essential calling. He also became a general contractor. Weekends and vacations were for the family and were characterized by family reunions and vigorous outdoor activity. It’s likely that Chuck fixed many broken homes and broken houses in the years that followed; and loved it.
Chuck’s “running back’s” body remained lean and strong well into his fifties – longer than most of ours, I’ll bet; likewise his boyish good looks and ready smile, until the ravages of Alzheimer’s eventually took their toll. Chuck and the family fought the disease for over ten years before he finally went home to The Lord this past July.
The celebration of Chuck’s life was not only tasteful, but had an understated elegance, and buoyancy that says “I know I that I have done my best and that everything will be fine”. In short, it embodied the Chuck Shaffer I remember as he would walk home from the school bus in the afternoon. That confident step and self-assured, shoulders back, head up, stride is what I remember best about Chuck, despite all my memory taxing since word of his death. I’ll leave it to others to wax nostalgic about beach parties, or to add more yeast to the legend of Wheatley’s prowess on the football field. That’s not all that there was to Chuck – only short footnotes in a rich essay.
Chuck had a life of quiet success and unpretentious dignity. Greatness by any standard, Chuck embodies the words of evangelist and author Dr. Robert H. Schuller: “He came to the end of his life with pride behind him, hope ahead of him, and love all around him; who could ask for anything more?” Rest in Peace.
Gene Razzetti Wheatley, Class of 1961
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
The below is a list of teachers who have passed away. Below that are classmates who too have left our midst. May they rest in peace and their families and friends be comforted, and may we perhaps meet them again.
Teachers:Brightman, Fred Goldwasser, Joseph
Davis, John
Devlin, John
Doig, Stewart
Erickson, Audrey
Feindler, Joan Fradkin,
Frisone, Enrico Irvine, Kit
Lawson, William
Loring, Warren Mullen,
Ouchi, Edward
Porcino, Santi
Tierney, Martin
Wheeler, Herbert
Wills, Godfrey
_____________________________________________________________ Classmates:
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||