Embedded Files
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Cadle-Era In Memoriam
Cadle-Era In Memoriam
Bill Allen'64 Dennis Brown'68* Don D. Cadle* David Casey'63* Eugene Dean Conley'64 G.Joseph Creed'67*
Bill Allen'64 Dennis Brown'68* Don D. Cadle* David Casey'63* Eugene Dean Conley'64 G.Joseph Creed'67*
Dan Ebert'64* William Farrell'61 Jerry Foust'65 Bob Frederick'64 Frank Carl Galauski'67
Dan Ebert'64* William Farrell'61 Jerry Foust'65 Bob Frederick'64 Frank Carl Galauski'67
Louis (Drew) Gerber C'61* Jack Hardigg'65 Lincoln Hoffman'65* Fred King'66* Tom Largay'64
Louis (Drew) Gerber C'61* Jack Hardigg'65 Lincoln Hoffman'65* Fred King'66* Tom Largay'64
Fred Maletz Roland Marcotte'67 Richard McCooey'51* John McGuire'63 Dan McEvily'66* Jim Mietus'63
Fred Maletz Roland Marcotte'67 Richard McCooey'51* John McGuire'63 Dan McEvily'66* Jim Mietus'63
Bill Prest'61* Robert Remuzzi'61* Jack (John Richard) Renfrow'67 Peter Reyburn'65* Paul Ritter'62
Bill Prest'61* Robert Remuzzi'61* Jack (John Richard) Renfrow'67 Peter Reyburn'65* Paul Ritter'62
Brendan Michael Ryan*67 David Salentine'65* John Walsh'63 Michael Walsh'67 David Weir'66* Vito Zambelli'61
Brendan Michael Ryan*67 David Salentine'65* John Walsh'63 Michael Walsh'67 David Weir'66* Vito Zambelli'61
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* = Tribute below (alphabetical order)
* = Tribute below (alphabetical order)
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Remembering Dennis Brown ‘68
Remembering Dennis Brown ‘68
By Ed Witman ‘67
By Ed Witman ‘67
Dennis Brown came to Georgetown’s School of Foreign Service in the Fall of ’64 from Msgr. McClancy HS in Queens, New York City. He learned to row that fall, and in the Spring held the three seat in the first freshman heavy-weight eight. He stood 6’3” and weighed about 190 when he rowed three in the varsity boat at the Dad Vail in ’67.
Dennis Brown came to Georgetown’s School of Foreign Service in the Fall of ’64 from Msgr. McClancy HS in Queens, New York City. He learned to row that fall, and in the Spring held the three seat in the first freshman heavy-weight eight. He stood 6’3” and weighed about 190 when he rowed three in the varsity boat at the Dad Vail in ’67.
“DB” became a close friend during the two years of our varsity eligibility when he was always a contender for a starboard seat in the “engine room.” During the Summers of ’65 and ’66 Dennis rowed with Mike Vespoli and myself in the small boats as well as the eights, and in August of ’66 was joined by his younger brother Terry who coxed our Intermediate Eight in the Nationals in Philadelphia.
“DB” became a close friend during the two years of our varsity eligibility when he was always a contender for a starboard seat in the “engine room.” During the Summers of ’65 and ’66 Dennis rowed with Mike Vespoli and myself in the small boats as well as the eights, and in August of ’66 was joined by his younger brother Terry who coxed our Intermediate Eight in the Nationals in Philadelphia.
After graduation, Dennis joined the Peace Corps. After his training out on an Indian reservation somewhere in the Dakotas, he was finally assigned to run a plantation in Kenya. After the Peace Corps he went to work for CARE in Vietnam where he ended up in DaNang in April, 1975, just in time for the collapse of the ARVN forces and the “Fall” of South Vietnam. There was some irony in the fate that placed the Peace Corps vet in the midst of the chaos and anarchy of those final days of the war. He wrote a detailed account of his journey south to Saigon that is a brilliant description of one of the major events of the 20th century. He was one of the last evacuated by helicopter on April 26, 1975.
After graduation, Dennis joined the Peace Corps. After his training out on an Indian reservation somewhere in the Dakotas, he was finally assigned to run a plantation in Kenya. After the Peace Corps he went to work for CARE in Vietnam where he ended up in DaNang in April, 1975, just in time for the collapse of the ARVN forces and the “Fall” of South Vietnam. There was some irony in the fate that placed the Peace Corps vet in the midst of the chaos and anarchy of those final days of the war. He wrote a detailed account of his journey south to Saigon that is a brilliant description of one of the major events of the 20th century. He was one of the last evacuated by helicopter on April 26, 1975.
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Tribute to Don D. Cadle
Tribute to Don D. Cadle
by Jack Hoeschler '64
by Jack Hoeschler '64
Cadle Memorial Service, December 7, 1996, Cosmos Club, Washington, DC
Cadle Memorial Service, December 7, 1996, Cosmos Club, Washington, DC
We can consider ourselves blessed if we have known one of two individuals in our lives who have truly challenged us to substantial accomplishment. For most of us here, and for many more who could not join us today, Don Cadle was such an inspirational force.
I am Jack Hoeschler. At this celebration of Don's life, I speak primarily on behalf of those fortunate members of the Georgetown Crew who were so greatly propelled and firmly guided by Don. While he served as our coach for only a few years in the early sixties, his influence has lasted throughout our lives, even touching subsequent generations. I am fairly certain that my remarks about our crew experiences will also resonate with others who knew Don in other venues, at other times. For he was always, at heart, a coach.
Don came to coaching naturally and with limitless enthusiasm. He found us through a singularly inauspicious vehicle--probably the only classified ad he ever answered. The Georgetown Crew was a wholly volunteer and woefully under-funded club. It had been started a few years earlier by Fred Maletz, the George Washington University coach who was seeking some local competition. When Maletz, who also coached Georgetown, moved away, the club, in its amateur way, resorted to the classifieds to find a successor.
The position provided no pay, no budget, no tradition and no recognition. It required long and early hours of work, personal funding of a launch, gas, and other costs, and a compelling vision. Don, who had rowed for both Yale and Oxford, provided all of these and more. He developed a fraternity of fanatics who reveled in the pre-dawn assembly of boats, the anonymity of individual effort, and a sense of camaraderie known only to initiates. He quickly established important traditions that reinforced the perverse pride of rowing: Welsh Rarebit at the 1789 Tavern, boat burning after an undefeated season, the enigmatic Balliol valediction "Never Row." He rightly predicted that our closest friends and best college memories would involve the crew.
Don not only provided ritual and tradition, but also insisted that these be coupled with substantial accomplishment. Thus it was that he promptly coached the crew to national small-college dominance, achieving a 19-win/3-loss record during his tenure, giving us the prospect that we could seriously compete for Olympic team designation. The Cadle contributions are memorized in an eight oared shell named "Inge" and the Cadle Cup, the continuing emblem of Potomac rowing supremacy.
The sense of family Don and Inge fostered among the rowers included meals at their home, babysitting for Caron, and summer jobs at NASA. Don was also an advisor and editor for Rhodes Scholarship and other graduate school applications. He wrote countless letters of recommendation for us then and throughout our lives. And for those of us who were lucky enough to visit Don and Inge in Germany, he taught German history and politics while driving us around the countryside.
In sum, Don broadened our horizons of and beyond the sport. As important, he and Inge served as godparents to a new generation of our children, continuing as coaches, counselors and guides.
What was it that made Don such a force in the lives of so many? I believe it was his habit of investing everything that interested him with a sense of gravity. Whatever Don was working on, he had a way of making it seem like the most important thing in the world. This import would justify, indeed require, double time and overtime effort. It attached not just to NASA's effort to put a man on the moon. It included the crew's continual effort to collect the T-shirts of vanquished opponents until we had enough to polish silver and automobiles for 20 years. It extended to number crunching at Chase and the collection of porcelain and textiles later. Don was temperamentally unable to do the trivial.
At this distance, nevertheless, one needs to ask: Was Don too intense? Was he too driven? Is the Pope too Catholic?
The truth is that, had Don been left to his natural, Teutonic tendencies, he might well have gone over the top. But happily, he found a true American wife who counterbalanced some of his dogged Germanness with a sense of easy grace and informal hospitality that made them, together, such a delightful couple.
Both Don and Inge passed on a strong appreciation for proficiency, scholarship and good career choices to the crew as well as to their four score and seven Godchildren. Who else would invest so much time and energy, to say nothing of cost, in turning what for most is a mere formality into a significant relationship. These courtesies were extended to our own offspring who, even though they were not formally designated Godchildren, enjoyed many formative weekends and talks with Don and Inge.
Don has left to each of us a wonderful living legacy. His example as a coach--leveraging good works for and through others--will live at Georgetown and wherever his students go. A complex person, we will always remember him with that elusive phrase, "Never Row."
Ave atque Vale, Don! Hail and Farewell!
Above:
Don Cadle in the early 60s
Below:
Inge Cadle in 2009
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Remembering David Timothy Casey '63
Georgetown Crew 1959 – 1963
Georgetown Crew 1959 – 1963
Captain of Boats, 1962
Captain of Boats, 1962
President, 1963
President, 1963
“Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay. . .”
by Ed Witman '67
Housman’s lines are too cool to suit the warmth of emotion conjured by the memory of Dave Casey. In the pantheon of Georgetown Crew, Casey stands alone as the personification of our athletic ideal: an exemplary oarsman, an indomitable stroke, a natural leader, and a beloved friend. To those who rowed with him, and even to those who know him only through the stories they tell, he still stands as a heroic and legendary figure. His death in a car accident on November 4, 1963 was a loss that endures throughout the lives of all who loved and admired him.
Trying to eulogize such a person after the passage of fifty years is difficult especially for one who encountered him only once and very briefly. Dave was the first guy I ever spoke to about the Georgetown Crew, and at that moment I did not know who he was or what he meant to those who rowed with him. It was at the boathouse, when the Crew was hosting interested freshmen. There was an eight set out on slings and I asked the guy standing next to me whether I was too tall to fit in such a craft. He smiled broadly and pointed to Peter Blyberg and said to me “See that guy? He’s six-seven. He fits, so you’ll fit.” Dave’s friendly smile assured me that I would indeed “fit,” and more than just physically. He had made up my mind about rowing. Only later, when I saw his photo after the accident did I recognize the guy who had spoken to me that afternoon. It was a momentary exchange, but somehow Casey had made an abiding impression.
Trying to eulogize such a person after the passage of fifty years is difficult especially for one who encountered him only once and very briefly. Dave was the first guy I ever spoke to about the Georgetown Crew, and at that moment I did not know who he was or what he meant to those who rowed with him. It was at the boathouse, when the Crew was hosting interested freshmen. There was an eight set out on slings and I asked the guy standing next to me whether I was too tall to fit in such a craft. He smiled broadly and pointed to Peter Blyberg and said to me “See that guy? He’s six-seven. He fits, so you’ll fit.” Dave’s friendly smile assured me that I would indeed “fit,” and more than just physically. He had made up my mind about rowing. Only later, when I saw his photo after the accident did I recognize the guy who had spoken to me that afternoon. It was a momentary exchange, but somehow Casey had made an abiding impression.
That seems to be the thread that runs through the stories people tell about him, an ability to impress each individual in a very personal way. Tiger Sergeant recounts how one morning after a workout as Casey was getting ready to leave, he asked Tiger to remember to get some kerosene to clean the runners, and how -- because it was Casey asking -- you felt like it was the most important thing you could do, and honored that he had asked you to do it. A trivial matter, but not if it was Casey talking to you.
That seems to be the thread that runs through the stories people tell about him, an ability to impress each individual in a very personal way. Tiger Sergeant recounts how one morning after a workout as Casey was getting ready to leave, he asked Tiger to remember to get some kerosene to clean the runners, and how -- because it was Casey asking -- you felt like it was the most important thing you could do, and honored that he had asked you to do it. A trivial matter, but not if it was Casey talking to you.
His close friend, Pat Doyle writes:
His close friend, Pat Doyle writes:
To attempt to put in words what (Casey) was like and what he meant to all of us could be a rambling narrative, especially if we were in a pub, but I will try to be concise. Over the years his stature has grown, and what did he really mean to crew?
To attempt to put in words what (Casey) was like and what he meant to all of us could be a rambling narrative, especially if we were in a pub, but I will try to be concise. Over the years his stature has grown, and what did he really mean to crew?
We were emerging as a sport at GU. One with Championship potential and a growing following among the students. . . The cachet that crew had was being noticed throughout the college community. Early on people wanted to know who were the “stars” of this new sport and when it became apparent that this was the quintessential team sport they still needed to put some faces with whom to identify.
We were emerging as a sport at GU. One with Championship potential and a growing following among the students. . . The cachet that crew had was being noticed throughout the college community. Early on people wanted to know who were the “stars” of this new sport and when it became apparent that this was the quintessential team sport they still needed to put some faces with whom to identify.
Dave, as stroke and Captain of Boats was an easy mark for this . . . he had the perfect personality for this role. He was a little shy around the ladies and exuded a boyish charm that they ate up. Men liked him as well for his directness and that great Irish wit. He had a way of putting things when he had something to say, that never left any doubt about the message, and was never offensive.
Dave, as stroke and Captain of Boats was an easy mark for this . . . he had the perfect personality for this role. He was a little shy around the ladies and exuded a boyish charm that they ate up. Men liked him as well for his directness and that great Irish wit. He had a way of putting things when he had something to say, that never left any doubt about the message, and was never offensive.
As a friend he was always there when you needed a friend. Whether it was picking me up in Virginia because I needed a ride, usually on the back of his motor scooter, or just shooting the breeze, it seemed he was always there.
As a friend he was always there when you needed a friend. Whether it was picking me up in Virginia because I needed a ride, usually on the back of his motor scooter, or just shooting the breeze, it seemed he was always there.
He also took his responsibilities seriously. His multiple roles for the crew were well-filled, probably because understood and embraced it. In a way he was showing many who followed what it all meant.
He also took his responsibilities seriously. His multiple roles for the crew were well-filled, probably because understood and embraced it. In a way he was showing many who followed what it all meant.
Casey impressed even his coaches, veteran oarsmen who were not as easily awed as undergrads might be. Don Cadle is quoted (by Pat Doyle) as saying that technically Casey was the best oarsman he had ever coached, and Don was a veteran of Yale and Oxford.
Casey impressed even his coaches, veteran oarsmen who were not as easily awed as undergrads might be. Don Cadle is quoted (by Pat Doyle) as saying that technically Casey was the best oarsman he had ever coached, and Don was a veteran of Yale and Oxford.
Jack Galloway describes Casey as being:
Jack Galloway describes Casey as being:
the epitome of a tough guy, on whom you could depend not to miss a beat. Casey gave his crew more strength than you knew you had. . . With him there was no sitting on a lead, he was always the competitor striving for more, and leading his boat to reach that goal together.
the epitome of a tough guy, on whom you could depend not to miss a beat. Casey gave his crew more strength than you knew you had. . . With him there was no sitting on a lead, he was always the competitor striving for more, and leading his boat to reach that goal together.
Frank Barrett described him as “aggressive, tough as nails; he had rowed in the six seat for a year before he became stroke as a junior,” and to sum up: “Casey was LARGE,” and here Frank is not describing his physique as much as his moral stature and leadership. In fact, according to the Ratzeberg race program of 1963, Casey was 6’2”, 185 lbs.
Frank Barrett described him as “aggressive, tough as nails; he had rowed in the six seat for a year before he became stroke as a junior,” and to sum up: “Casey was LARGE,” and here Frank is not describing his physique as much as his moral stature and leadership. In fact, according to the Ratzeberg race program of 1963, Casey was 6’2”, 185 lbs.
Jim Fitzgerald said that Casey had the great personality of a “tough Irish cop.”
Jim Fitzgerald said that Casey had the great personality of a “tough Irish cop.”
As Russ LaMantia writes:
As Russ LaMantia writes:
We all have our Casey stories. For me he was the soul of rowing. In 1961 DiFiore was Prefect on fourth Loyola and I was the smallest guy on the floor. Therefore, I got dragged to the boathouse. I’d never participated in any team sport, nor had I ever seen one of these boats. Cadle put me in a shell with Casey who gently said, “Here is what you do.” Casey (and Mike Mullin) changed my life.
We all have our Casey stories. For me he was the soul of rowing. In 1961 DiFiore was Prefect on fourth Loyola and I was the smallest guy on the floor. Therefore, I got dragged to the boathouse. I’d never participated in any team sport, nor had I ever seen one of these boats. Cadle put me in a shell with Casey who gently said, “Here is what you do.” Casey (and Mike Mullin) changed my life.
John (Harrington) and I shared a basement apartment on Q Street. John and I spent a great deal of time earlier that year coaching Casey for his oral exams. About ten o’clock the night he died, Casey stopped in just to say hello. He said he had spent a wonderful day with his girlfriend, Peaches Kelly, (who could forget that name) and was headed back to Quantico. I think he had to be back by midnight. I had a brand new Beach Boys’ album (“Little Deuce Coupe”) which we played. Casey asked if he could borrow it because it would make such a big hit in the barracks. Sensing my reluctance, he promised he’d have it back to me in a week and offered me a hairbrush as a security deposit. I took the hairbrush and immediately realized that Casey was the only guy in the world who could trade a used hairbrush for a brand new LP and make you feel good about the deal. I never saw him again.
John (Harrington) and I shared a basement apartment on Q Street. John and I spent a great deal of time earlier that year coaching Casey for his oral exams. About ten o’clock the night he died, Casey stopped in just to say hello. He said he had spent a wonderful day with his girlfriend, Peaches Kelly, (who could forget that name) and was headed back to Quantico. I think he had to be back by midnight. I had a brand new Beach Boys’ album (“Little Deuce Coupe”) which we played. Casey asked if he could borrow it because it would make such a big hit in the barracks. Sensing my reluctance, he promised he’d have it back to me in a week and offered me a hairbrush as a security deposit. I took the hairbrush and immediately realized that Casey was the only guy in the world who could trade a used hairbrush for a brand new LP and make you feel good about the deal. I never saw him again.
I don’t think any of us ever recovered.
I don’t think any of us ever recovered.
Bill Crusey ‘65 writes of how Casey’s spirit powered the Lightweight’s win in the consolation race at the 1964 EARC Sprints.:
Bill Crusey ‘65 writes of how Casey’s spirit powered the Lightweight’s win in the consolation race at the 1964 EARC Sprints.:
Despite our good intentions we got off to a mediocre start. Approaching the halfway mark we were at best in a three way tie for third place in a five boat race.
Despite our good intentions we got off to a mediocre start. Approaching the halfway mark we were at best in a three way tie for third place in a five boat race.
(By way of background, the preceding November, shortly before President Kennedy was assassinated, we lost Dave Casey, the beloved stroke of our heavyweight boat that won the Vail in ’62. Dave was our hero and his death broke our hearts.)
(By way of background, the preceding November, shortly before President Kennedy was assassinated, we lost Dave Casey, the beloved stroke of our heavyweight boat that won the Vail in ’62. Dave was our hero and his death broke our hearts.)
At this point, the cox [Art Charles] called “power ten for Casey.” We were electrified! The boat took off in an emotional, communal explosion of focused power. . . It was a magic moment. Within a minute we were out in front with open water and managed to stay out in front and won by open water.
At this point, the cox [Art Charles] called “power ten for Casey.” We were electrified! The boat took off in an emotional, communal explosion of focused power. . . It was a magic moment. Within a minute we were out in front with open water and managed to stay out in front and won by open water.
Fred King eloquently summarizes the sentiments of those who knew Casey:
Fred King eloquently summarizes the sentiments of those who knew Casey:
David Casey was one of the most remarkable gentlemen I have ever met, and certainly an inspiration to all of us who rowed with him. That power-ten at the ’64 Eastern Sprints was, and will forever be, our best personal tribute to his memory. He was a natural leader, and by his example, taught us not only to realize the unlimited potential within ourselves, but also to realize the worth in each and every one of our crew mates, regardless of their idiosyncrasies. He taught us to look for the good in everyone, where others may have found cause to criticize or ridicule. His untimely death was a great blow to those of us who knew, respected, and loved him.
David Casey was one of the most remarkable gentlemen I have ever met, and certainly an inspiration to all of us who rowed with him. That power-ten at the ’64 Eastern Sprints was, and will forever be, our best personal tribute to his memory. He was a natural leader, and by his example, taught us not only to realize the unlimited potential within ourselves, but also to realize the worth in each and every one of our crew mates, regardless of their idiosyncrasies. He taught us to look for the good in everyone, where others may have found cause to criticize or ridicule. His untimely death was a great blow to those of us who knew, respected, and loved him.
Georgetown rowing may have great men, but we’ll never have a better!
Georgetown rowing may have great men, but we’ll never have a better!
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Remembering Guy Joseph Creed '67
(Published in The Washington Post on April 16, 2006)
GUY JOSEPH CREED, passed away April 8, 2006 at INOVA Fairfax Hospital after suffering a heart attack. At the time, he was participating in the Smokey Jacobs rowing regatta at Sandy Run Regional Park in Fairfax Station, Virginia in the capacity as Chief Referee.
Mr. Creed was born in Richmond, Virginia to Mary Margaret Piedmont and Guy Yancey Creed. He graduated from Benedictine High School, Richmond, VA in 1962. He attended Georgetown University from 1963 to 1968, at which time he enlisted in the United States Army and subsequently served as an officer in the Quartermaster Corps as Division Chief in the Petroleum Department, Fort Lee, VA. He earned a U.S. Army Commendation Medal during his service. After honorable discharge in 1972, Mr. Creed attended Catholic University, graduating in 1974 with a B.A. in Psychology. He earned a Masters in Biochemistry from George Washington University.
G. Joseph Creed was a Senior Research Assistant in the Analytical Biochemistry Section of the Laboratory of Neurotoxicology, National Institute of Mental Health, NIH. He was well known for his work in two-dimensional polyacrylamide gel electrophoresis. He participated as an author of numerous published papers over 30 years.
Mr. Creed rowed for Georgetown University. He coached crew at Fort Hunt High School and founded the crew program at Gar-Field High School. He coached the George Washington University freshmen 1978 to 1982 and was the Head Coach of Catholic University of America from 1992 to 1999.
Mr. Creed is one of the three original founding members of the Occoquan Boat Club, and is a lifetime member of that organization. He was the founding regatta director for the Head of the Occoquan Regatta 25 years ago. This regatta is now the 9th largest head race in the U.S.
Mr. Creed served as a licensed USRowing Association (USRA) Referee since 1989.
He was instrumental in the founding of the National Capital Area Scholastic Rowing Association (NCASRA) in 1979 and continued serving this organization to the present, including President (1993 - 1996 and 2004 - 2005). He was a Trustee of the Scholastic Rowing Association of America, most recently serving as Vice President. A member of the USRA Youth Committee, he served as its chairman for several terms. In 2002, NCASRA created a trophy in his honor that is awarded at an annual NCASRA Championship.
Mr. Creed was a resident of Arlington County since 1972. He is survived by his aunts, Alma Moschler, Dora Creed and Junita Creed of Richmond, VA and Tiny Waller of Jacksonville, FL; numerous cousins and many, many friends.
Visitation will be Tuesday, April 18 from 6 to 9 p.m. at Demaine Funeral Home, Backlick Rd., Springfield, VA. Funeral Services will be Wednesday, 10:30 a.m. at the funeral home. Burial at Quantico National Cemetery at 12 Noon. The family has asked, in lieu of flowers, donations be made to: NCASRA, PO Box 23042, Alexandria, VA 22304 in the memory of G. Joseph Creed.
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Remembering Dan Ebert '64
by Ben Domenico '65
Dan Ebert in 1962
In 1964, the heavyweights won the Dad Vail Regatta and were invited to the Olympic trials. But the trials were not until June and Dan Ebert, who was the stroke oar at the Vail, had been in ROTC and had to leave for active duty before the trials. Goose figured out a way to re-rig the boat so Mike Mullin could row as stroke but from the starboard side. In spite of the efforts, we did not do very well, but what an experience it was to participate with all the big names.
Before the trials, the big question was whether Harvard or Washington U. would win the trial. But Jack Kelly had pulled together his all-star boat of "amateurs" who worked for Kelly Brickworks and they blew everyone away. And won the Olympic eights too if I'm not mistaken.
The real tragedy is that Dan Ebert was later killed in Vietnam. He roomed with Terry Jerge and me for one summer in a row house on scenic Cecil Place. A fun challenge now is to find Cecil Place which still exists in some very different surroundings from days when it had a cement plant on one side and a rendering plant on the other.
I believe it was Dan Ebert also who lived with the Pierre Salinger (JFK's press secretary) family during the school year and was a "nanny" for the Salinger kids. We had a few enjoyable crew "gatherings" there since the Salingers were frequently out of town.
Dan at varsity stroke
An Amazing Visit to the Manor with Dan Ebert
by Jack Hoeschler '64
Glencairn Mansion now a museum
One year after we had both rowed for Georgetown in the Dad Vail Regatta in Philadelphia ( I think it was likely 1963), Dan Ebert invited me to join him for a party at the Glencairn Mansion at Bryn Athyn, PA, where a number of his relatives lived. The event was an open house at this castle-like mansion that had been designed, built, owned and lived in by Raymond Pitcairn. Raymond was the son of John Pitcairn, the co-founder of Pittsburgh Plate Glass (now PPG Industries). The Pitcairns were members of the Church of the New Jerusalem, now called the New Church. This is a Swedenborgian church and the Pitcairns, first John ere, and then Raymond, lived and acted like true lords of the manor on their estate that was the center of the community. Besides the mansion-castle, the Pitcairns had built a marvelous gothic cathedral on their grounds for all of the members of the church who lived nearby. Dan’s family were members of the church and the party was all very much a family affair.
I was unaware that Dan was not a Catholic like the rest of us at Georgetown, but I was very honored to be included on this special weekend. I cannot remember now whether or not he had invited another oarsman to join us, because I can only remember how amazed I was at the whole experience and what Dan told me about life in the church and on the estate. Since that time I have brought my family back to Bryn Athyn to tour it and give them a sense of that wonderful private party at the castle, now a museum. (On that return visit I happened to mention to one of the guides that I had been a classmate of Dan Ebert and that he had brought me here many years before. The guide knew his family well and remembered Dan fondly. Clearly they thought as much of him as we did at GU.) Dan is buried at the New Church cemetery in Bryn Athyn.
The Pitcairns were medievalists to the core. Besides personally designing his castle and working on the design and construction of the Cathedral which had been started by his father, Raymond Pitcairn clearly loved his role as Lord of the Manor and dressed in white tie to receive everyone. His wife, Mildred, was dressed in a medieval gown with long teardrop sleeves. They stood in the Great Hall of the castle and greeted each of their guests, including me.
There was a band stationed in the huge fireplace at one side of the Great Hall . Dan told me that at Christmas they would have a huge Yule Log brought in to the hall by a team of church men and lighted in the immense fireplace where the 6 piece band was now standing. All of this was done with great ceremony. He said that this spring open house was a more informal gathering! At one point in the evening we were standing near what I thought was a four foot high air duct but which turned out to be a huge bass speaker. I realized this when the chair that was standing nearby started to move from the bass note pressures as the band struck up a new tune. This was the ultimate boom box. The great hall was several stories tall with tremendous stained-glass windows. The whole thing was out of a fairy tale.
While we were there Dan told me a little about the push and pull of everyone being virtual vassals on the estate. Nevertheless, all seemed to be able to live with the peculiarities of the situation. I cannot remember which members of Dan’s family I met that evening since the surroundings were the big thing that stuck in my memory. I just remember being introduced to some of them and that they were very proud of Dan.
Cathedral in Bryn Athyn
Cairnwood is the beaux artes home of John Pitcairn, founder of PPG
I have never had a very good understanding of the tenets of the Swedenborgian religion beyond knowing that Emanuel Swedenborg was an Enlightenment Era scientist, philosopher and theologian from Sweden. Dan told me how the cathedral was constructed in the old medieval tradition of not having it too perfect and symmetrical lest God be offended by the hubris of the builders. We were not able to go into the church that evening but on my later return I understood what a marvelous building it is and could see the little asymmetries they had built into it. I have never been in Cairnwood, the wonderful beaux artes home of John Pitcairn, but I understand from the Byrn Athyn website that it is now open for tours.
I urge anyone who happens to be in Philadelphia to take a little trip just to northeast of the city limits to the borough of Byrn Athyn and see the church, the castle which is now a museum (Raymond died in 1966 and Mildred in 1979), John’s house and the wonderful grounds of the Pitcairn estate. It is an amazing place and my memories of going there with Dan are treasured, especially given his untimely and shocking death in Viet Nam.
As I write this after the 50th reunion celebration of our 1962 Dad Vail victories, it seems that we might arrange a side visit to Bryn Athyn for the 2014 celebration of the Dad Vail Varsity win where Dan was our stroke.
On May 8, 2014 the entire '64 Georgetown Varsity Crew, but for stroke
Dan Ebert, gathered at Dan's grave at Bryn Athyn (PA) cemetery.
R to L: Fred Vollbrecht bow; Mark Pisano 2; Bill McNeill 3; Darro Angelini 4;
Jack Hoeschler 5; Pete Blyberg 6; Mike Mullin 7; Doug Sergeant, cox.
Photo: Terry Ebert Crawford, Dan Ebert's sister.
From Pete Blyberg, 15 Junje 2012:
Captain Charles Dandridge Ebert was killed on July 19, 1968 in Quang Nai Vietnam by a booby trapped 105 Round. He had arrived in country on October 6, 1967. He is buried in the New Jerusalem Cemetery at Bryn Athyn Church. He was a leader respected and loved by his men. For some other remembrances go to Dan Ebert on 'The Wall'.
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Remembering Louis Andrew Gerber '61
Drew Gerber '61
Funeral services for Louis Andrew “Lou” Gerber, III, 74, of Elko, SC will be held eleven a.m., Saturday, August 10, 2013 in the Folk Funeral Home Chapel, Williston, SC with the Rev. Floyd Dukes officiating. Burial will be in the Mt. Calvary Baptist Church Cemetery. The family will receive friends one hour prior to the service on Saturday at the funeral home. The family suggests that memorial contributions be sent to Edisto Baptist Church, 12838 Main Street, Williston, SC 29853 or Barnwell County Axis I Food Bank, 1644 Jackson Street, Barnwell, SC 29812. Lou passed away Wednesday, August 7, 2013 at his home.
Born in Milwaukee, WI, he was the son of the late Louis Andrew Gerber, Jr. and Elizabeth Neville Walker Gerber. Lou attended Georgetown and Fordham Universities, joined the Marines and was a Vietnam Veteran having served in various capacities around the world and after 5 ½ years began his career with West Virginia Pulp and Paper Company. He finished his four year college requirements with a marketing degree from USC in Columbia, SC. After 38 years with Georgia Pacific he retired as South East Regional Manager for their Packaging Division. Along with Beverly they owned and operated Hickory Ridge Farms, where they also raised swine and poultry.
Survivors include his wife, Beverly Spiers Gerber; daughters, Stephanie (Barry) Nix of Elko, Daphnie M. (Fletcher) Arant of Saluda, Virginia L. (Kevin) Bourne of Lexington, Georgy M. Watts of Woodstock, GA; son, James Frederick Gerber of Williston; grandchildren, Drew and Jordan Nix, Elizabeth Arant, Jimmy Hewitt, Braison Bourne, Noah and Sydne Watts; a great grandson, Michael Peyton Hewitt; a special sister-in-law, Linda S. Whitley of Gainesville, FL; nephew, Dr. Ken (Sara) Arney of North Augusta and a niece, Jennifer (Dr. Tim) Hipp of Gainesville, FL.
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Remembering Linc Hoffman '65
by Ben Domenico '65
by Ben Domenico '65
A. Lincoln Hoffman III
HOFFMAN--A. Lincoln III, age 65, of Montpelier Plantation, Nevis, West Indies died suddenly on Monday, September 8, 2008. Lincoln is survived his loving wife Martha (Muffie), his daughter Tonya and his son and daughter-inlaw Timothy and Meridith as well as three grandchildren Kyler, Jasmine and Maya. Son of Florence M. Hoffman. The family kindly asks that, in lieu of flowers, a donation be made to the Nevis Historical and Conservation Society (please send checks, sterling or US dollars, to Montpelier Plantation, P.O. Box 474 Charlestown, Nevis payable to "The Nevis Historical and Conservation Society") with which Lincoln had worked very closely.
Published in The New York Times on September 14, 2008
Below is an email exchange between Ben Domenico and Martin Dalgleish who was writing an extended obituary of Linc at that time (October of 2008). Linc died just before our 2008 Reunion to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the "modern" era of rowing at Georgetown. Linc and I had been exchanging emails about when to get there and where to stay for the reunion when I received word that he had died suddenly -- driving home from a workout session.
Hi Martin:
Indeed, I rowed with Lincoln all four years (1961 - 1965) at Georgetown. He rowed the stroke position, so he was responsible for maintaining a consistent cadence and determining when to raise or lower it so as to speed up the boat or conserve energy.
The rowing situation at Georgetown in the early 1960s was special in several ways because crew had only been "resurrected" as a varsity sport in 1958. (There had been a team at Georgetown in the early 1900s but it was abandoned for many decades.) The athletic department at that time was not very supportive of the crew, so we had to raise our own funds for equipment, travel, and so forth. Lincwas an important part of those efforts. Don Cadle, a former captain of boats at Yale and Oxford where he was a Rhodes scholar, had been the volunteer coach and main force in re-establishing the program at Georgetown. After Linc's sophomore year, however, Don left for Germany to take over a family business. In effect the fledgling crew was left pretty much on its own with volunteer coaches who were in medical school or graduate school. One of the consequences of that was that Linc and I ended up driving the truck-trailer rig with the expensive 65 foot long shells to many of the races. Those who knew Linc will realize what fun times those trips were.
In Linc's junior year, the Georgetown heavyweight crew won the Dad Vail regatta which at that time was the "small college" championship. As a consequence, we were invited to row in the IRA (Intercollegiate Rowing Association) championship on Lake Onondaga in Syracuse and in the Olympic Trials that summer (1964). Linc and I were "spares" that year so we didn't get to row in the trials ourselves. But, since we drove the boats up ahead of time and our coaches didn't arrive until later, we represented Georgetown at some of the administrative meetings which included the top level rowing coaches and administrators from around the country. Now I don't want to describe this group as "snooty," so let's just say they were taken aback by the two college juniors in their lofty midst. For Linc and me, the net result was a lot of good belly laughs. As it turns out, Georgetown did not do well in the trials;. One key oarsman, Dan Ebert, had been in ROTC and had to report for duty before the trials. Sadly Dan was killed in Vietnam not too long after.
It's interesting to note the progress of the Georgetown Crew since those early years where we operated on a shoestring with students raising the funds, hiring and firing coaches, and tending to the administrative and logistics duties. Just weeks ago, the crew had a major reunion to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the modern era. Over 500 people attended; they were addressed and thanked by the director of athletics and the president of the university. The alums presented a check for $1 million to the current crew. A dramatic contrast to the situation when Linc was rowing. It turns out that rowers now account for more than 150 of the 600 intercollegiate athletes at Georgetown. And Linc, as a student, was a central figure in keeping the organization alive and vibrant during those fragile transition years in the early 60s.
You can find several photos (a few with Linc in them) and crew stories from that era in Ben Domenico's online rowing photo collections.
I hope this helps, but please get back to me if you have any additional questions. Linc was a dear friend even though I only got together with him and Muffin a few times since their wedding shortly after graduation from Georgetown. We were really looking forward to one of those rare but very enjoyable visits at the Crew reunion. Linc's memory will live on with us and in these stories of great times past.
Thanks for taking this on. I would very much appreciate reading a copy of Linc's story.
-- Ben
October 1, 2008
October 1, 2008
Ben:
Ben:
Thanks so much for your detailed email which fills a big hole in my data. I loved the photos (and was amused that the Harvard '64 boat was included. I will be sure to send you a copy of the obituary I write though to be honest the more I learn about our mutual friend the more daunted I am. I am in touch with the Georgetown Alumni/ae office but so far nothing so I must resay that I'm extremely grateful. Sadly I only rowed in a pick up crew to keep the Caius 3rd boat on the river in '65 under the duress of the captain of boats your former Secretary of the Navy John Lehman Jr. Quite the hardest exercise I ever did!
Thanks so much for your detailed email which fills a big hole in my data. I loved the photos (and was amused that the Harvard '64 boat was included. I will be sure to send you a copy of the obituary I write though to be honest the more I learn about our mutual friend the more daunted I am. I am in touch with the Georgetown Alumni/ae office but so far nothing so I must resay that I'm extremely grateful. Sadly I only rowed in a pick up crew to keep the Caius 3rd boat on the river in '65 under the duress of the captain of boats your former Secretary of the Navy John Lehman Jr. Quite the hardest exercise I ever did!
BTW, My Darden classmate Monk Terry, was I am pretty, sure in that boat.
BTW, My Darden classmate Monk Terry, was I am pretty, sure in that boat.
--Martin
--Martin
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Remembering Fred King '66
Ed Note: 2013 Profile and May 2017 Obituary of Fred. See Pat McArdle's lovely YouTube tribute to Fred just below.
Pat McArdle:
Via this link, listen to Fred, a remarkable man, Hoya, and good friend to all, speak about his feelings for all of you. Also included are poignant remarks about the Crew by Mark Pisano.
Godspeed, Fred King, a Man for Others. Good wishes.
John Soisson:
My memories of Fred — and there are many; in large measure he defined an important time in my life and an era in the crew’s life — maybe are best summed up in the story of the cherry blossoms. That happened one early spring Saturday that was one of the reasons our memories of rowing on the Potomac are so clear — bright and sunny, crisp air and warm sun, the water flat and the day open-ended, the cherry blossoms at their fullest. Fred and Paul Barbian headed downstream in a pair without, joyful and exuberant as only Fred could make a boat. All the other shells scattered on the river and after the assigned workout finally made their way back to the boathouse. Frank Barrett greeted each in turn, gripped an oar and drew them in against the dock. But Fred and Paul were no where to be seen. And then in the distance, appearing through an arch of Memorial Bridge, came the missing pair. We watched them come closer and when they were near enough we could see their shell was filled to overflowing with bright blossoms. They had rowed into the Tidal Basin, stroked their way around under the amused gaze of the spring crowd of tourists, and scooped up handfulls of floating cherry blossoms, fresh fallen from the trees that rimmed the Basin. Their boat filled and the crowds gone back to Thomas Jefferson, they headed back to the river and turned upstream. As they approached the dock, Paul was grinning but Fred was giddy with joy, flinging blossoms to the people gathered for their return. Frank didn’t share Fred’s joy, but Fred, quick thinker that he was, explained they had gathered the flowers for Frank’s wife, Molly. At that, Frank couldn’t help but laugh too. And that is the Fred of my memory: sunshine and freshness, bright and energetic, funny and irrepressible, joyous and exuberant and full of life and bedecked of blossoms. He gave life and happiness to us all. Who could ask for more of a friend and boat mate?
Jim Conley:
So many special moments shared with Fred, on and off the water. In our first race as the GURA Freshman boat at Marietta, Ohio in the early Spring of '67 Fred had the seven seat and Art Charles was coxswain and felt the Marietta crew was squeezing into our lane right at the start --X -- 3/4 -- Full... then BAM their stroke's oar hit Fred's and broke his blade and Art called "let it run" and the race was delayed for a new oar and soon the crews were speeding down the course and crossed the finish with less than a seat dividing us and Georgetown put the shell proudly on the rack that day as we would for each race over the next four years in part due to the maverick grit of friends like Fred...decades long and treasured friendships as oarsmen tend to have!
Frank Barrett:
In the last 10 days I sent Fred a picture taken from the bridge as GU varsity skinnies raced and handily beat two Navy crews. The Navy coach said to me at the 1000 meter mark, “you went out too fast we will hopefully row you down”. My unspoken response —“not going to happen”—I knew what we had in that boat!.
Fred responded almost immediately
“ WE WUS BAD”
Enough said——Fred King is one of a kind
Peter Blyberg:
Any thoughts about Georgetown crew from our time have Fred front and center. Always full of enthusiasm energy and encouragement for all. Chez Bear, lurking, skulking, rugby, rowing, any so many other things that help define our thoughts about him to this day. The intervening 50 plus years have only reinforced who Fred is in our minds.
Art Charles:
Ah, the exhilarating chaos of senior year at Chez Bear with Fred, Nick and Dan - where the door was always open and you never knew who (or what) would wander in. (Like the recently strangled duck that Fred brought home for dinner one night.) Fred was, and continues to be, one of a kind - full of dash and energy and supreme confidence. It was a great pleasure, Fred, to have sat in the stern and seen the size of your puddle and the grit on your face. And you continued to find no challenge on the water too great. For me, you have embodied the motto, Never Row.
Ed Witman:
Fred "The Bear" will always be remembered for his indomitable spirit and infectious humor. He is also a fine writer, a fact not widely known or fully appreciated. It was Fred's capsule history in the Crew brochure for 1963 that I relied on heavily when writing the history of that era. Dig it out and read it. I' sure you'll enjoy Fred's prose.
Fred is a charismatic and heroic figure in the history of our crew, and one who holds a unique place in the hearts of those with whom he rowed and still inspires.
Jim Leahigh:
Fred King was the heart and soul of the lightweight crew from its inception.
He was everyone's friend all the time. He was never down, always on.
He has a million stories, most of them true.
He never stopped rowing, something I was always envious of. If ever
there was a man who embraced life, met it head on, on his terms,
it was Fred.
Rocque Kramer:
Once I was on an assignment implanting sensors along the Laos-North Vietnam border to detect truck (and bicycle) movement into the South. One of my Marines at the time had an uncanny resemblance to Fred and a last name to go with it--Kingston. His exuberance, sense of humor, and wild-ass risk taking also set up the parallel so, of course, he became the "Bear". Freddy Bear lingers in all of our memories.
John Harrington:
I remember when my younger daughter, Winnie, attended Tulane University in New Orleans (a good number of years ago now) she and all Tulane students were given a card with Fred’s name and phone number. It was considered a “get out of jail free card” that was issued to all Tulane students in case they were involved with the police.
Thank you, Fred, for your devotion to Tulane and New Orleans. Winnie married a Tulane (Law) graduate and both appreciate your support for Tulane students and have the same love of New Orleans that you have.
Doug Sergeant:
I have sold my home of twenty years and am packing now as I write. The other night I felt the remorse of leaving and the loss of Fred. So I walked down to the pub with Fred by my side as the house slipped astern. Gaining the bar, we were welcomed by the big Irish bartender who held the door and offered to pour us a drink. I asked for a Guinness but he proffered a stout of 9% and served it in a pretentious brandy snifter. I sipped and shared some of Fred's antidotes. Then he poured us both large splashes of Jameson and toasted Fred. I purchased the champagne and a six pack of Guinness and headed back up the hill to write this memento ( not sure how I did this, but very few edits)
Lines of wit will soon come out that will be crystal clear
Don't you worry or have a doubt of that be assured my dear
My Man Fred is injured and has died upon the field
He was known to all of us as one who would never yield
And yet he was a gentle man and of fancy pedigree
I like to write these line but can't do it as well as he
The strokes he's put on a river you can't begin to count
That's why I mix Champagne with this flagon of Guinness stout.
Jim Hanna:
This is a particularly poignant moment, having met Fred in September 1962, fifty-five years ago, prior to the 1963 Spring rowing season, both of us recruited by Jack Galloway to join a newly formed freshman soccer team, inspired by Father Bunn to pay Jack a stipend to complete his third year of law school when his Navy GI Bill funds were running low. This highly-spirited, eccentrically coached, first year team overcame impossible odds to achieve a stunning victory over Howard University.
Mark Pisano:
I have found in losses of loved ones that grief, emptiness and hurt is overbearing; but can be overcome by wonderful memories. The memories that Fred gave to you, and all of us, were rich and full of vitality and an energy that was larger than life itself. He shared these gifts with us when we rowed and he carried them as he lived his accomplished life. You could see them all-his gift to help you in this difficult time.
Now he is in place were Crew is the dominate sport. Everyone is enjoying pulling together and disharmony does not abide, and “Never Row” does not exist.
Ford Smith:
I only met Fred once at the 50 years celebration of LW Crew a couple years back. It was 6:30AM at the coffee shop of the Key Bridge Marriott when I saw another guy in sweats. I introduced myself and asked if we were headed to the same spot. From what I have read his answer was all Fred - "I'm going outside to see my friends, get in a boat and get on the water. How else could there be a better start to the day? !!!" Lucky me that I met him once.
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Remembering Richard McCooey '51
Remembering Richard McCooey '51
A Local Life: Richard McCooey,restaurateur, dies at 83
Richard McCooey, the prominent Washington restaurateur, died Aug. 6 (2014) at 83.
By Bart Barnes August 23, 2014 (The Washington Post)
As a freshman at Georgetown University in 1948, Richard McCooey walked the nearby streets and dreamed that someday he would run a student rathskeller and restaurant within easy reach of the campus.
Fourteen years later, at the corner of 36th and Prospect streets in Northwest Washington, Mr. McCooey opened 1789. Over the years, it served the likes of House Speaker Thomas P. “Tip” O’Neill Jr. (D-Mass.), Vice President George H.W. Bush and the parents of thousands of Georgetown students. In 2011, President Obama took German Chancellor Angela Merkel to dinner there.
Why a restaurant named 1789?
Mr. McCooey was a history buff. Among other reasons, it was the year that the first U.S. Catholic bishop, John Carroll, founded Georgetown, the first U.S. Catholic college. It was also the year that the state legislature made the port of Georgetown a Maryland town.
Mr. McCooey was a literature buff, too. And in the basement of 1789, he operated the student rathskeller he called The Tombs. The name came from a line in “Bustopher Jones: The Cat About Town,” who “lunched at the tomb” in a poem by T.S. Eliot. (Bustopher was Mr. McCooey’s nickname when he was in the Air Force.)
The Tombs was a gathering spot for Georgetown undergraduates and high school students with fake IDs. Periodically the university’s a cappella singers, The Chimes, serenaded customers.
In 1975, in two adjacent properties to 1789, Mr. McCooey opened “F. Scott’s,” a nightclub with an art-deco ambience, named for novelist F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Joseph A. Califano Jr., a lifelong friend of Mr. McCooey’s, remembers calling his old high school classmate on nights when he was working late as secretary of the Department of Health, Education and Welfare under President Jimmy Carter. He wanted a drink and a sandwich with his staff in a place where he wouldn’t be bothered.
“Come on around to the back of F. Scott’s,” Califano said Mr. McCooey would tell him.
Mr. McCooey ran the three businesses until 1986, when he sold them to the Clyde’s Restaurant Group, where he later worked as a consultant.
Mr. McCooey died Aug. 6 at a hospital in Greenwich, Conn. He was 83. The cause was complications from cancer and cardiac arrest, said his wife, Karen. He lived in Washington for most of his adult life, moving to Greenwich earlier this year to be nearer to relatives.
Richard Joseph McCooey was born in Brooklyn on Oct. 14, 1930. In 1952 he graduated from Georgetown, where he was a leader on campus and, in his senior year, “President of the Yard,” a position he later was said to have held for life. He served two years in the Air Force, then worked in advertising in New York.
In the early 1960s, he came back to Washington at the express invitation of the Rev. Edward B. Bunn, president of Georgetown University. Father Bunn shared Mr. McCooey’s dream of a rathskeller and a high-end tavern as unofficial extensions of the university, and he wanted Mr. McCooey to make it happen.
On the site they would later occupy at 1226 36th St. NW sat the Hilltop Cafe and a Chinese laundry. Georgetown University bought the real estate, and Mr. McCooey bought the cafe. The laundry’s lease expired. Mr. McCooey took over the property and got ready to open two new restaurants.
He had that “rare collector’s eye for decorative artifacts,” said J. Garrett Glover, an executive in the Clyde’s organization and a Georgetown alumnus.
From the lobby entrance of the old Evening Star newspaper building on Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Mr. McCooey salvaged a “stone-black marble counter and black-veined white marble front,” which he would use for a bar in 1789, Glover wrote in a history of the restaurant. For the bottle display shelf, he “jerry-rigged a 16th century monk’s pew . . . with vulgar carved woodenheads and gargoyles” from an Irish monastery, according to Glover’s account.
With Clyde’s, his work included design and decoration of a variety of restaurants in the Washington area and beyond. He also worked on the Union Street cafe in Alexandria and the dining room at the Moscow Marriott Royal Aurora Hotel.
He was 55 when he sold his restaurants to Clyde’s. In a Washington Post interview at the time, he described the move as a “midcourse correction. I don’t want to carry the burden of 165 employees. I don’t want the responsibility for all the details, and I’ve never been comfortable running a business.”
In 1990 he married Karen Magnier, who would become a partner and associate in his restaurant consulting operation. It was his first and only marriage, and she is his only immediate survivor.
Before that he “was married to his restaurants,” she said.
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Remembering Bill Prest '61
Remembering Bill Prest '61
John McGuire '61:
Peg and I are stunned and deeply saddened by this news. Those who rowed crew really knew how to be a team. We worked for one another. There was no one star. Bill Prest pulled his weight and his efforts benefited each of us. Without him, we were less of a crew. We were all in the shell for the reunion. That is what I will always want to remember. A full shell with the best people in the world. RIP Bill Prest- a friend forever.
Don Whamond '61:
Bill was the core of our boat....he will be sorely missed.
Never Row, Don
Al DiFiore '61:
As Don so ably put it, Bill was a core of the boat but much more. He was always there with encouragement in those first few years in borrowed, leaky boats borrowed from Potomac Boat Club. I know his encouragement kept me going more than once.
Frank Barrett '61:
Bill Prest was a really good man. He found joy in all corners of his life. He was a great classmate, a great teammate (crew and intramural football), a wonderful person to be around. He was so very pleased that his son Chris was able to come to the Gala. Remember the young man with the "PULL PREST, PULL " sign who was standing on the dock.
My wife said the other day that as an "Elvis" fan she thought it would be fun to go to Memphis. I said sounds good to me. I was thinking that it would offer the opportunity to see Bill again.
We will miss him ---really class acts are hard to fine. Lots of them to be found within GURA
NEVER ROW, Frank
Pat McArdle:
Five years ago, Bill Prest '61 returned for the 50th anniversary gala weekend. I recall him telling me at the time that getting back together with his boat mates that weekend was one of the greatest experiences of his life. Such a gentleman.
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Remembering Robert “The Goose” Remuzzi, MD, C'61
Coach of Georgetown Crew, 1964 – 1966
by Edward P. Witman ‘67
Goose in May 1989 at the
25th Anniversary Celebration
of the 1964 Dad Vail victory
In the Fall ‘63 the job of coaching the Georgetown freshmen crew was shared among several upperclassmen and the alumni coaches, Al Difiore, Frank Barrett, and Bob “The Goose” Remuzzi, while departing head coach Don Cadle was turning the Varsity and JV boats over to his successor, Sandy Sanborn. Al DiFiore was a third year law student, Frank Barrett was starting his career in banking, and Bob Remuzzi (College ’61) was a second year medical student and a Prefect on 4th New North. But among the coaches, it was “The Goose” who had the most interaction with the freshmen, and assumed the role of Freshman Coach when the season began in the Spring.
He stood six feet three inches tall and could not have weighed more than 150 lbs., had dark hair, and an olive complexion. He drove a VW, was rarely without a cigarette in one hand and a large coffee in the other, and he kept his sleep-deprived eyes shaded behind a pair of aviator sunglasses. Like an exhausted Cassius, he had “a lean and hungry look.” When the weather turned cold he’d wear a heavy army-surplus parka, over-pants and wellington boots. I can still see him carrying gas cans down the dock to the launches, or driving the big pick-up truck that towed the crew trailer to away races. In truth, Goose did not at all resemble the image one might have of a college crew man. Nevertheless, he embodied all that was the Georgetown Crew in the mid-Sixties.
We never learned the origin of his nickname, but despite its peculiar connotations, the intense young med student won our respect with his deep dedication to the crew and to each of us as neophyte rowers. We soon became “his” crew and we remained his for our four years, even the last, after he was no longer coaching. Upon our graduation he sent each member of that freshman heavy-weight eight a personal note and a commemorative photo of a solitary sculler on the Potomac with the spires of Georgetown in the background. He also sent a substantial check as a wedding present when I got married, and I can’t help but think he did the same for each of my boat-mates. Goose was never demonstrative with his friendship, he never played favorites or made attempts to fraternize or be a “buddy” to us. Quite the contrary, if anything his daily demeanor was dour, acerbic, and often sarcastic. His coaching criticisms could sometimes be withering but were usually constructive, and occasionally dryly humorous. He could make us laugh when we needed to. At his best, after a workout when the boats were in the rack and we were getting ready to run back to campus, Goose would banter with us as an older brother might. You could tell that he was proud of us and that he greatly enjoyed having his own crew to coach.
Later, when we became varsity oarsmen the mutual confidence he had established with us sustained the heavies through some very rough times when we were just not achieving our potential as a crew. We could see that disappointment and frustration were eating at him and while we shared in it, most of us felt all the worse for him who had worked so hard for our success. If a coach’s heart, spirit, and dedication were enough to win races, Goose’s record would be unblemished by defeat; but they aren’t. The race is to the swift. Truth be told, our record under his tutelage as freshmen and later as a varsity crew was not impressive given our potential; and by 1966 we were torn between the reluctant conclusion that we needed a new coach, and our profound loyalty to him for all he had done for us and for the viability of the Crew as an organization. But his character and its influence on us are not measured by the races we won or lost, but by the virtues he epitomized and sought to instill in each of us; and by that measure, Goose was a champion of excellence.
Bob Remuzzi, 3, helps row the JV to fabulous 25 length victory:1961
Once the racing season began in late March ‘64, Goose would gather the freshman heavyweight eight in Copley Lounge before each home race and pass out our uniform racing jerseys. Don Cadle had purchased these rowing shirts from England to give the Georgetown boats the authentic look of the Ox-Bridge college crews. The shirts were heavy cotton, white with horizontal navy blue pinstripes and at the neck they had a six inch vertical button dickey. Very spiffy. They were the envy of every school we rowed against. But what was really special at these prerace meetings was that Goose would hand each of us a package of new crew socks. It may seem odd, but thereafter this business with the new socks became a prerace ritual that bonded us together as a boat and to him personally; he wanted us to look good because we were his crew.
After distributing the shirts and socks and discussing the plan for upcoming race, he’d lead us out to the crew truck and we’d climb in the back for the ride down to the boathouse. Once there he’d have us sit in the shade by the side of the boathouse conserving our energy until summoned by the blood-stirring command “All eight on the boat!” Once on the water and tied in, we’d paddle up to the vicinity of the starting line at Three Sisters and practice a few starts before turning about and drifting down to the line. Goose would usually arrive along with the referee for the starting commands, and then follow the race to the finish. When we won, he’d slowly motor past our boat and reward us with a grin and the traditionally understated “Well rowed, Georgetown!” That quiet accolade from him made the victory all the more memorable.
When we travelled up to Philadelphia, Goose would take us all to “Tad’s Steak House” where they sold a $1.29 steak dinner with a baked potato and a piece of garlic bread. The odds on getting a decent steak were less than fifty/fifty, but the potato was reliable, the bread was tasty, and the price was unbeatable. Another prerace ritual was a breakfast of toast, honey and tea. No dairy and no refined sugar. Eggs had to be poached, not fried.
Launching the shell that honors Bob: Rachael Remuzzi
pours; James, Chris & Mary Remuzzi enjoy the baptism
But beyond these rituals, Goose instilled in his crew a profound respect and love for rowing that was almost Zen-like. He didn’t preach a philosophy of the sport, and I never saw him pull an oar, but he exemplified the generous spirit that must animate a great crew, or a great life. Once, at an evening meeting before we departed for the Dad Vail, Goose did come close to philosophizing when he told us that he expected us to give our best, and if we did he’d be proud of us; but more importantly he stressed that we could be proud of ourselves, win or lose. Too many people today, inured to the boorish egoism of professional athletes, think that Grantland Rice’s adage “It’s not whether you win or lose but how you play the game,” is no more than an archaic cliché (so much the worse for us.) But Goose made us believers in “The Great Lesson” that the honor of a sport derives from the effort it demands, “the victory cheap and hollow were it not for the rigor of the game.” I remember that evening’s peroration because I was sitting next to a guy who must have missed the point. He leaned over to whisper that he rowed to “beat the other guy.” As Christ said, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” The measure of Goose is that so many of us did hear his gospel and that made us better men as well as better rowers; and that was always his proper priority.
An illustrative story of how that gospel of crew changes lives and makes us better men. While I was in graduate school, I responded to an invitation from the Fordham Crew. Someone had noticed the Georgetown Rowing Assn. decal on my car and left a note asking if I’d be willing to coach; no pay, of course. It was a lightweight varsity of young guys who just needed someone to coach and provide “adult” leadership; their last real coach had been another Georgetown Crew alumnus, Bill Crusey, ‘65. Mindful of the responsibility of our tradition and the value of amateurism that I learned from Goose, I became their coach that year, 1970-71.
The Irish have a phrase to describe a certain type of man as being a “lovely fellow.” The stroke was such a man, a true gentleman despite his relative youth. John was an elegant guy you couldn’t help but like and admire. Fordham did pretty well that year, but then I had to resign because of my job. John graduated a year later, got a good job at Citi-Bank, married a beautiful arbitrageur at Drexel Burnham Lambert, and began living the good life. Great story, eh?
Then, a few years later John’s real-life race began. He was diagnosed with an inoperable cancer that was restricting the great vessels of his heart. Turned away from Sloan Kettering as hopeless, he sought out an experimental protocol at Mount Sinai Hospital. The regimen called for 13 rounds of aggressive chemotherapy, each cycle taking a month. He later confessed that after his first treatment, and before every one thereafter, there wasn’t a day he didn’t think of giving up the struggle because the side-effects were so excruciating. As the months dragged on, the agony of facing another cycle took a toll on him physically, mentally, and spiritually.
But John had rowed crew; he’d been the stroke; and he had learned “The Great Lesson” that the sport of Crew teaches, and that Goose epitomized. He did not surrender to the pain; he didn’t despair. He gutted it out. He persevered. And he won the most important and grueling race of his life. John beat his cancer. He said later that had it not been for his experience rowing crew and suffering the “rigor of the game,” he could not have endured those thirteen months.
John never meet the Goose but I’d like to think that in some way I was the medium of his grace and that Dr. Remuzzi had a role in working John’s miracle. He won his victory and today he often rows a double along with his son.
But Goose’s influence on Georgetown rowing went beyond coaching. After Don Cadle left, the Crew faced a crisis: how could a club sport with a University budget of $2,000 per year survive as a viable and competitive operation? Rowing is an expensive sport, and without Cadle’s generosity and deep pockets, where would the cash come from to pay the myriad expenses involved in keeping heavyweight and lightweight squads on the water every day? Gasoline, insurance, rent, maintenance on the outboard motors and the truck, not to mention the purchase of new oars and new boats, travel, tolls, and lodging for away races for both squads: the price of Crew at Georgetown was high. Yet every morning the boats were launched, the cans of gas were ready, the racing schedules were laid out, tools for the riggers appeared, and we kept on rowing that year, and the next. Though it may have seemed like the biblical “loaves and fishes,” there was nothing miraculous about it. The fact is that it was Goose who underwrote rowing at Georgetown and ensured that Crew would have the future we now all look back on and celebrate. It is possible that the Georgetown Crew might have muddled through without him. Maybe, but probably not.
In the critical week before the Dad Vail in ’64, when the heavy weight varsity was demoralized by a disastrous loss in the Area Regatta, and the fate of rowing at Georgetown literally hung on winning the next race, it was Goose who gathered them together in Copley lounge, revived their spirits, and laid the plan for victory in the Dad Vail. That victory finally silenced those who argued the Crew couldn’t survive. During those critical post-Cadle years when the Crew needed anything, it was “The Goose” who provided it: the leadership, the coaching, and the material support. His commitment, generosity of spirit and absolute determination inspired us all and ensured that the Crew would survive to change the lives of generations of Georgetown’s men and women.
That he managed to accomplish all that he did while attending medical school seemed superhuman to us even then. It would have been hard to say to which he was more committed, medicine or crew, or maybe it was that metaphorically he saw the Crew as his patient that he could not – would not - allow to die. Even as freshmen I think we recognized that he could demand the best from us because he was giving so much of himself.
Then sadly, the time came for the crew to recognize the inevitable necessity to find a new coach. During the last two seasons (’65 and ’66) with Goose the heavy weights had an abundance of big, talented and experienced guys and what should have been a coach’s dream became everyone’s nightmare. The Varsity and JV took turns beating each other in workouts, and no matter what changes were made in the boatings, Goose wasn’t able to find the combination to produce a consistently fast Varsity eight that could realize the obvious potential at hand. For those two years Georgetown Varsity failed to qualify for the final of the Dad Vail and had to settle for winning the consolation races, and the JV had to settle for 4th in ’66, and second in ’66. Despite the depth of our loyalty and love for the man, by the close of the ’66 season we had reluctantly come to the conclusion that Georgetown Crew needed a better coach. But we were not alone in this decision because to his everlasting credit, Goose knew that his time had come. In a personal letter he wrote from Vietnam he explained in characteristically blunt candor :
I do regret some things about my five years with the crew and I guess the prime regret is that technically Frank and I weren’t better. But one thing I don’t regret is that you – all of you – stood on your own two feet & told me to get lost! I might be rationalizing but I think that although it would have been easier on my ego if I was hailed & patted on the back etc. you – again all of you, would not have gotten out of crew that which I thought was most important: a sense of manhood, maturity, responsible independence, self-discipline – call it whatever you will. The fact that you did tell me to go to hell demonstrated to me that I had done my job and that meant more to me than all the plaques and scrolls.
Believe me, if I was coaching to win races, I would have given up after the first year. Even I realized that technically I had little to offer but I felt, as I told you so many times and as you all demonstrated, that there was more to it than that. Things like your decision to go into philosophy gratify me and I assure you that things like it will continue for all of you. Enough said. (April 16, 1968)
As was his way, Goose saw through the temporary to the enduring: he had helped to make us men, and men so much stronger and better by virtue of his influence. Let it never be forgotten that everyone of us who has ever pulled an oar for Georgetown in the years since his time is profoundly indebted to the man who made it possible, Robert “The Goose” Remuzzi.
In MOBY DICK, Melville has the second mate Mr. Stubb, explain that it would be a greater honor to be kicked with Ahab’s ivory leg than be knighted by the Queen of England. It is hardly too much to say that we who were privileged to row for him, felt that way about “The Goose.” Thus even now after fifty years, whenever I pass a smooth river or a glassy lake, in my mind’s eye I see a pair of eights stitching their puddles across the surface, and in the trailing launch stands The Goose, urging them on.
So rest in peace, Bob. Your memory lives, your legacy endures, and your Crew flourishes. Thanks for everything.
Ed note: Jim Fitzgerald wrote a moving tribute to Goose in the Summer 2000 GRA Newsletter. And click here for the continued page 2.
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Remembering Peter Watson Reyburn '65
Remembering Peter Watson Reyburn '65
Pete Reyburn, number 5
1962 JV Dad Vail Champ
Pete Reyburn, Number 5 in the junior varsity boat that I coxed in 1962, was my roommate sophomore year. We were also hellraisers. We did many things we shouldn’t have done, and we did them all well. Pete did not make it back after his sophomore year. I, with a GPA only .01 better than his, got to stay. I am still not sure how I made it through Georgetown, albeit on the 5-year plan that I probably helped pioneer. I lost track of my friend Pete for 50 years until Linda Hoeschler found him in time for the May 2012 reunion at this year’s Dad Vail. Pete and I picked up as if half a century had not gone by. Real friendships, I believe, are that way; separation by time does not really matter.
Pete and I had other things in common. I was in love with his lovely sister, a big thing for me back then. We also sailed together on Georgetown’s sailing team. The two sports so distracted us that neither of us studied when or as we should have. I was delighted when Pete invited me to Hyannis on Cape Cod to meet one of his grandfathers. Grandfather, not surprisingly, was quite a guy. He had driven in the Indianapolis 500 and still shot skeet in his basement.
I also got invited to Morristown, New Jersey to meet and stay with Pete's grandmother when Pete and I went to a wedding. Grannny handed us a plate and asked us to use it to bring home a piece of the wedding cake for her. Somehow the cake vanished and the plate got washed. On the drive home we sailed the plate out of Granny’s station wagon and hit a New Jersey State Roads Commission Truck. A State Trooper soon showed up at Granny’s. In order to protect us miscreants, Granny said that the car had been stolen and, of course, she had no idea who could have been driving. God bless her! So Pete and I proceeded to board a train to New York City to get us some nightlife.
Pete claims that on this occasion we both had dates, but I don’t remember them. I know I would have remembered if I were with his sister! By night’s end we had run out of cash, so we had to jump the train entrance turnstile at Penn Station. NYPD did not like this move, and one of New York's Finest thereupon collared Pete. Nuts! Since I was from Salisbury, Maryland, I had no city survival skills. However, I was in great shape from crew, augmented by years playing small fry football. So I did what I had to do. I threw a cross-body block on that doughnut-eating-cop that I am sure he never forgot. Pete and I then hightailed it up the ramp to the street. The tiled ramp walls were curved, preventing the cop from getting a bead on us as we ran for it. We kept on going until we were sure the policeman had either given up or expired from a heart attack.
By then we had missed the last train to Morristown, and we still had no money. It was cold. So Pete and I found a laundromat where we could stay warm. Eventually we made it back to Granny’s, like all good crew mates do.
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Remembering David Salentine '65
from The San Francisco Chronicle, July 22, 2007
David Michael Salentine Died Friday, July 13, 2007 in Alameda, CA, at the age of 64. He was a former resident of Wauwatosa, WI. He is survived by his wife, Taeko (nee Goto). Dearest father of Heidi (John) Carlson, Dr. Elizabeth (Stefan) Avena and Peter (Sarah) Salentine. Proud grandpa of Emma and Grace Carlson, Nico and Josef Avena, Sophia and Mary Elizabeth Salentine. Dear brother of John (Melva Purnell), Richard (Judy) and Mary (Samuel) Stanford. Brother-in-law of Hideo Goto. Also survived by other relatives and friends. David was a 1961 graduate of Marquette University High School. He obtained his bachelors degree from the School of Foreign Service at Georgetown University, Washington D.C. in 1965 where he was a member of the crew, with rowing being his great sporting interest. David entered law school at the University of Wisconsin - Madison, graduating in 1968. He practiced admiralty and maritime law in Seattle, WA, with a large law firm for the first 10 years of practice. In 1978, David and Taeko moved to the San Francisco Bay Area where he served as Pacific Group Counsel to Sea-Land Service Inc., a major American container shipping operator. After which he returned to private practice for the remainder of his career as an international trade and transportation litigator.
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Remembering David Manson Weir '66
from The New York Times, August 24, 2014
WEIR--David Manson II, died peacefully on Sunday, August 19, in East Hampton of complications from prostate cancer. Born in 1944, David was the son of Ernest Tener Weir, founder of National Steel, and Mary Hayward Weir. David was a racing car driver, who came in fourth in the 24 Hours of Le Mans in 1971, and maintained his passion for automobiles throughout his life. He later worked as an alcoholism and substance abuse counselor. East Hampton residents will remember his little yellow Morris Minor convertible, often seen around the village. David is survived by his wife Gretchen and his two children, Maisie and Gregory. A raconteur, a wit, a clothes horse, a loyal friend, a generous husband and father, and a true gentleman, David will be sadly missed by his family and many friends.
Ed note: For a more fully-rounded view of David Weir's life and heritage, plus photos, see the Weirton (WV) Area Museum and Cultural Center August 2012 issue, pp 6 through 8.
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