YALE - Key Persons
Mike Rhodes, whose 30-year career as a film director and producer earned him many awards, including five Emmys and the Humanitas Prize, passed away in his sleep on December 29th. "He had been in decline with Alzheimer's for several years, but he never lost his warmth and positive spirit," says Tony Barclay. "He was among my best friends at Yale, and we stayed in touch over all the years since then."
"I remember Mike from college days as prepossessing but also genuinely engaged with everyone and warmly authentic," says Alan London, and Mike Leahy adds, "In freshman year Mike, Peter Sheckman and I were roommates in Wright Hall. We all got along really well and roomed together as sophomores in Branford, adding Alan. One day, Mike decided he wanted to have a pet boa constrictor. So over Peter's and my protests, he went to a pet store and bought one. He brought it back to campus in a black trash bag on a city bus! Needless to say, neither Peter nor I was able to sleep very well with it slithering around. Finally, Peter put his foot down and told Mike the snake had to go. So Mike reluctantly complied and returned the snake, and Peter and I slept a LOT better. We loved him, but not enough to keep the snake!"
"When you were down, he was there to pick you up." says Lanny Davis. "When you needed advice, he was there to share wisdom. When you were sad, he was there to make you laugh. And maybe most important, when you were aching and in pain and needed a true friend to open up to, he was there to listen, never to judge, and help you heal.
"I remember when I was running for chairman of the Yale Daily News. I was experiencing great disappointment, and I was ready to give up on myself. I don't know how he knew this was a moment when his visit would mean most to me, but I heard his knock on the door. All he said was ‘don't.'
"'Don't what?' I asked. ‘Don't give up,' he said. ‘On yourself. Or on me. I am your friend. And the sun will come up tomorrow.'
"So the next morning, just as he predicted, despite my serious doubts the sun actually did rise. I was elected, and Mike smiled and hugged me. That was 60 years ago, yet I remember the sensation of that hug as if it was yesterday. May God bless his sweet soul."
"Mike and I were in English 25 Branford seminar in Freshman year with instructor Al LaValley," says Barry Bardo. "We were also in English 77 Branford section, again with LaValley in Sophomore Year. Mike liked writing the 10-page stories and daily themes ("DTs"), and I didn't. We both waited eagerly to hear Bob Greenlee read his stories about his adventures, mainly with women.
"In 1988, when I was visiting California from Connecticut, he gave me a tour of the film-editing labs on the Paramount Studios lot in Hollywood, which I enjoyed while he was working on one of his film projects. He was a Christian film director. My last contact with Mike was a year or two ago, when we both attended a nearby Thousand Oaks, CA performance and book-signing by John Mauceri, on his ‘For the Love of Music.' John, Mike and I enjoyed the West Coast Branfordites mini-reunion.
"He was a gentle, kind and considerate person. I likened him to the late Dave Storrs, as both always seemed to behave like gentlemen and both treated me with respect, which I tried to reciprocate. He deeply loved his Diane (‘Dee') and he loved his career in film-making, which I caught a glimpse of in 1988."
Mike and Dee met in kindergarten and were sweethearts for the rest of their lives. They had two daughters, Sara and Kate, and five grandchildren who gave him great joy. After he died his family wrote, "His loving nature made all those around him feel safe, loved, and included. He was a good man."
Dr. Gann was born on October 27, 1946, in Brooklyn, NYC, to Mitzi-Ann Haim Gann and Lee Gann. He attended PS 187, Horace Mann School in Bronx, NY, graduated from Yale University in 1967 with a bachelor's degree in philosophy, and earned his M.D. from Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons in 1971. He completed a medical internship at French Hospital and a residency in psychiatry at Mt Zion Hospital. He received his psychoanalytic training at the San Francisco Psychoanalytic Institute, now the San Francisco Center for Psychoanalysis. He served as medical director of adult mental health services and director of training at Menninger San Francisco Bay Area. For nearly five decades he maintained a busy psychiatry and psychoanalysis private practice, first in New York City, and then in San Francisco.
Dr. Gann was passionate about Psychoanalysis. He served as a leader and educator in numerous psychoanalytic communities. He was instrumental in the restructuring of the San Francisco Center for Psychoanalysis (SFCP) into its present form. He served as President of SFCP and was active on the Board of Trustees. He was also a leader and active member in the American Psychoanalytic Association (APsA), where he was an architect of APsA's Department of Psychoanalytic Education and was critical in its evolution to its present form. He loved the challenge of applying ideas from other fields to psychoanalytic thought and theory. Months before the onset of his illness and death, he was in the process of planning for the next Psychoanalytic Scholarship Forum, bringing neuroscientists, physicists, and psychoanalysts together on the topic of artificial intelligence to wrestle with what they each envision for the future. He intended to lead them into a discussion of how the development of artificial intelligence, perhaps sentient, will affect our view of consciousness and ultimately the enterprise of psychoanalysis. He was a beloved teacher, Freudian scholar, and Training - Supervising Analyst at SFCP, PINC (Psychoanalytic Institute of Northern California), and at the Oregon Psychoanalytic Institute. He was a sought-after consultant for trainees as well as colleagues across the country. Dr. Gann also served as a Principal in the Boswell Group for Psychodynamic Management Consulting.
Dr. Gann was a man of many talents and had an uncommon love of life. He enjoyed deeply the pleasures of the world. He had a unique ability to help others appreciate and feel grateful for beauty in themselves and their lives.
He loved tennis, singing, playing the piano and the guitar and was accomplished at them all. He loved to make and appreciate art and to witness the feats of great athletes. Fluent in French and Italian, he loved to travel and to learn other languages and about other cultures, both ancient and modern. He loved to wear three-piece suits with French-cuffed shirts and cuff links. He loved fountain pens and watches. He loved Scotch whiskey, martinis, fine wine, India pale ale, and rare steak. He loved conversation, whether to explore simple or complex ideas with family, friends or colleagues, or to learn about other people, whom he made feel seen, heard, understood, and appreciated - and often amused. No one felt lonely in his company. His intelligence, wit and generosity were enjoyed by many.
He adored spending time with his family and playing with his young grandchildren. Like Ulysses (or perhaps Auntie Mame) he "drank life to the lees."
Dr. Gann is survived by his family Dr. Phyllis J. Cath, Elliot G. Gann, Alexander (Sasha) G. Gann, Cory Gann (Sharon), Evan Konecky, Laura Cath Rubenstein (Erik Olson), Andrew Cath Rubenstein (Lucy Wells), Rose Cath Olson, Claire Rubenstein Olson, and Henry August Wells Rubenstein.
It's been twenty years since Gary Goodbody, whose deep bass voice was the anchor of the Whiffenpoofs, from a sudden heart attack; and in all that time he was never memorialized in these class notes So this eulogy, written recently by pitchpipe Norm Hile with input from the other Whiffs, will attempt to make up for that omission:
"Gary died far too early. At the time he was a successful world banker as well as a leader in environmental causes in rural Connecticut. To me, Gary was a wonderful friend and fellow songster. I still miss him tremendously.
"I first met him in the summer of 1963 at a welcome reception for incoming Yale freshmen that his parents hosted at their home in Madison, N.J. I liked his bright smile and friendly swagger, both of which were trademarks throughout his life. And his mustache, for which his mother offered us a $100 bounty if we could deliver just half of it to her, was a distinctive touch.
"Gary was a member of St. Anthony Hall and sang with the Duke's Men. ln spring 1966 he was sung in as a member of the 1967 Whiffenpoofs, having been given the moniker ‘Toot-toot-tootsie' and the job of Cigar Meister. Gary's deep bass voice and warm smile were crowd pleasers, and his easy manner formed part of the glue that made our group as close as any Whiff group before or since.
"The day after our graduation he and I drove non-stop across the U.S. to explore the West Coast. After a month together in Los Angeles, San Francisco and Seattle, Gary headed back East to begin his two-year stint with the Peace Corps in Brazil. His assignment took him to rural oceanside communities north of Rio de Janeiro to set up fishing cooperatives. When I visited him in Rio in July 1968 he was in his element, charming the locals and working enthusiastically to promote the efforts of the Peace Corps. After completing his Peace Corps stint, Gary enrolled at Harvard Business School, then he began a career with Citibank, largely in Latin America.
"As a Whiff, Tootsie's contributions went far beyond his deep voice and friendly smile. In late August 1966, to get our group off the ground, he and his family hosted the ‘67 Whiffs at the Goodbody compound in Brooklin, Maine, as we undertook to master our concert repertoire. It was a blissful week of song, camaraderie and fresh lobster. Just as significant, in 1992 Gary and his wonderful wife Ann hosted the ‘67 Whiffs for a week at their home in Sharon, Connecticut to allow us to round into singing shape for our class's 25th reunion and our unforgettable (to us) Friday night concert at Woolsey Hall. What a wonderful retreat it was!
"Gary is sorely missed by all of us ‘67 Whiffs. We all cherished singing with him, playing golf, or just talking on the phone with him whenever we could. Our fond memories of ‘Tootsie' will remain with us always."
George McGaughey died peacefully at home on February 28 with his wife Sarah Ott-Hansen, Yale '82, at his side. He was the Easton Area High School Student Athlete of the Year and attended Yale on a Navy ROTC Scholarship. He served in the United States Marine Corps from 1967 to 1972. As a Radar Intercept Officer, he flew in the F4 Phantom II including a tour of duty in Vietnam in 1969-1970 where he flew over 270 combat missions and was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross. He rose to the rank of Captain. During this time, he married his late wife, Sarah Yelverton. They were the loving parents of twin boys, Michael and Scott.
George attended the School of Law at Case Western Reserve University, graduating with distinction as a member of the Law Review and the Order of the Coif. He began a 40-year career at McDonald Hopkins LLC as a litigator and ethics counsel for the firm. George shared his love of the profession with others as an adjunct professor of trial practice at CWRU School of Law. He was active in the American Civil Liberties Union and was inducted into CWRU's Society of Benchers.
After his first wife died, George found love again with his wife Sarah Ott-Hansen (Class of '82). Known for his kindness, thoughtfulness, intelligence, good humor and wise judgement, he is deeply missed by all he met along his path in life, including his high school buddies, college and law school friends, fellow Marines (who called him "Sugar Bear"), legal colleagues and many lifelong and family friends.
"George was an amazing character as well as a dear friend who I now realize was a soulmate," says Bruce Heintz. "A sweet man with a big heart, he was fun-loving and often displayed a devilish smile. During the semester, George didn't seem to spend that much time studying, but then two days before a History final, he'd go ‘underground' and ace the test. I was one of his roommates in Morse along with Joe Fairbanks and Lonnie Nesseler, both now deceased. While George had been a star high school football player, at Yale I considered him a closet intellectual - that is, he wanted to be accepted as just one of the guys, but he additionally possessed a deep intellectual curiosity that allowed him to pursue the intricacies of history, civics, music and more. George was always a great companion, ready at a moment's notice to head out to Edgewood Pizza late on a Saturday night."
Rick Taft adds, "The only time I had to hire a litigator to be my personal counsel when I was deposed, I turned without hesitation to George, who treated every issue we encountered in a wonderfully matter-of-fact way. My lingering image of George is the first one I ever registered. He was on an ROTC scholarship and I remember looking out the Morse College dining hall window at his ramrod posture as he walked in full uniform heading for an ROTC meeting up the sloping path from the dining hall across the courtyard. He was clearly going to be a good officer, and I would come to learn he would be a good friend. Thus, he still strides in my memory, strong and gentle."
George's wife, Sarah Ott-Hansen, recalls some of his favorite memories of Yale and Morse: "Playing pool with Joe Fairbanks, from whom he learned to love R&B and particularly Sam Cooke; being onstage with fellow Morse road-trippers with Martha and the Vandellas when they played at Vassar; hitchhiking with Kirk Baird ‘66; Morse Football with Bruce, Kirk, and Bob Barth '66; and learning to love jazz with the unique Lonnie Nesseler. George was the most patient and even-tempered man I have ever known. He talked about his fellow Marines in Vietnam quite a bit. When I asked how he could always stay so upbeat, he said, ‘Any day that no one is shooting at me is a good day.' Last, but not least, every woman I know who met George and had the time to speak with him absolutely adored him."
In a more recent loss, John Jacobsen, a Renaissance man with a gentlemanly demeanor who helped shape the direction and development of museums in the U.S. and around the world, died at his home in Marblehead, Massachusetts, on January 12 of this year, with his wife, Jeanie Stahl, by his side.
He described his career as a "drunkard's walk" following his varied interests, which led him from theater scenic design to show and film production and finally, for thirty years, to his beloved museum field. In 1988 he founded White Oak Associates, which led strategic planning initiatives for more than 100 museums.
His museum career began in 1985 as Associate Director of the Boston Museum of Science, where he executive produced the Museum's $24 million Hall Wing and Mugar Omni heater and oversaw the making of the popular IMAX short film, "New England Time Capsule," with music by John Williams.
As a boy, Jake was fascinated by chemistry and physics and had a fully stocked chemistry lab in the basement where he dabbled in magic experiments, explosives, and breeding hybrid fruit flies. But when he got to Yale he found his biochemistry classes boring and abstract, so he ricocheted from chemistry to English, to art history, and then theater.
Gordon died on November 17, 2021. In his youth, he was very active at First United Methodist Church in Fort Worth Texas, where his civil rights concerns were first nurtured.
"Following Yale, Gordon spent several years in divinity schools; but ultimately the denominations seemed confining," says John Kane. "Thus, from the early 1970s, he devoted his life to the dignity and honor of work: first, blue collar, sorting parcels for an early-stage UPS, next white collar, teaching in a multiracial high school, then manual as a landscaper/gardener for a Woman-owned nationally respected small manufacturing firm, and finally as an artist, affectionately documenting through photography his lifelong home of Fort Worth. Honest labor, honestly and thoroughly performed, seemed to him the foundation of a fair and just society. He lived that principle until his untimely passing in November 2021."
"Gordon, Louis Wiley, and I met in the same entryway as freshmen in Wright Hall," says Jeff Orleans. "Louis and Gordon then were part of a 7-man suite as sophomores, and the three of us shared a triple as juniors - a haven of friendship, calmness, and laughter in what was a tumultuous year for each of us.
"Gordon was strong, principled, funny, steadfastly honest, devoted to his family, and a wonderful friend (as well as a very talented, totally self-taught, photographic artist in his later years). Over almost six decades we knew and cared about each other's parents and grandparents, wives and children and grandchildren: five generations of intermingled families. My wife Tracy and I owe him a special debt: We met each other because I visited Gordon and his family in Fort Worth over Christmas 1966, met a friend of his who (totally unbeknownst to me!) was at that very moment Tracy's freshman college roommate, and almost four years later met that friend again during law school - this time, together with Tracy!
"Though I learned from Gordon in many ways during all our years of friendship, this one instance always has stood out. Gordon occasionally smoked a pipe, and at some point in spring of junior year remarked that he would stop doing so over the summer - not that he would stop smoking altogether, but that he wouldn't use the pipe while home from school. I asked why he would go to the trouble of quitting and then start again in the fall, and his answer has stayed with me always: ‘To remind myself that I CAN quit, when I want to.' The challenge of that brief conversation has been a lifelong gift."
"I roomed with Gordon freshman year in Wright Hall," says Louis. "He was a passenger on my first serious road trip - a drive from New Haven to Texas to meet his family and see Fort Worth. Jeff Orleans rode shotgun as far as Maryland, and an upperclassman was also on board to D.C. On the Connecticut Turnpike we were cruising along with me at the helm when suddenly there was a loud ‘Bang!' - and my green monster 1960 Ford station wagon (first car, no power anything) began to drift off course…towards an embankment! I maneuvered to the breakdown lane. Completely flat tire. Had no AAA back then, but I had a spare. Neither Jeff nor I had a clue about changing a tire. Gordon took it all in stride, and we were soon on our way. Gordon's family gave me a Texas size warm welcome upon arrival, not ever to be forgotten."
"In the early 1980s I hosted Yale Professor Kai Erickson at a Boston Yale Club dinner," John adds. "His topic: where have all the '60s revolutionaries gone? His conclusion: to corporate law firms, international corporations, and lucrative medical practices. Gordon Henry brought '60s values, rooted in faith and family, to our Yale class, and deepened them during our four years together.
"In the summer of 1966 he and David Hilfiker did social justice work in Birmingham, Alabama near the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church where on September 15, 1963, literally on the eve of our beginning Yale, four innocent Black girls died in a bombing. In March of 1967 he and I hitchhiked to and from his Fort Worth, Texas home. Gordon set out a list of unlikely rides, including a rich man, single woman, and Black man. All three boxes were checked. Two Southern Baptists fed and housed us along the way. For Gordon, it was a human experience, not just transportation.
"At Yale many of us talked the talk, straying as we aged from the pathways where we found the walk demanding. Gordon never strayed. He walked the walk until the last. His life and values continue in his wife Susan (herself an artist), son Adam, daughter-in-law Ashley, and granddaughter Lorelei."
Louis adds, "One of the saddest things about his death is that a year or so ago he became a grandfather for the first time, and he was clearly enjoying that role and was going to be a good one for little Lorelei Henry. From now on she will only be able to learn about him second hand. But one aspect of Gordon's life will serve her well. Gordon had become a terrific nature photographer over the years. If you visit his website, https://www.gordonchenry.com/, you can see for yourself. And for Lorelei, there are countless beautiful photographs of family occasions."
Mark Princi passed away on Thanksgiving Day, surrounded by loved ones, at his home in Boissise-la-Bertrand, France, after a minor surgical procedure. "He developed pneumonia after the surgery and went straight downhill," says Steve Small. "He had been slowly losing ground for some months, and a good bit of that was Parkinson's disease; but ultimately it seemed more like his body was being repeatedly hammered and finally gave up."
"Every classmate's death is the occasion for sadness to me, but Mark was ever so much larger than life," says Charlie Carter. "His sartorial presence was unmistakable, as he always wore a cape that blew in the wind. In recent years our class discussion group was treated to his tireless daily reporting of each successive stage in the Tour de France, which were written as only he could do, with narrative interspersed with suspense and explanations of the sport for those of us who never had heard of a peloton. At Yale he palled around with Rock Brynner along separate paths from the rest of the class. I will miss him in proportion to his superhuman persona."
Cliff Allo adds, "The conversations Mark, Rock, and I experienced were completely ordinary and altogether inconsistent with whatever more ‘interesting' image either of them, but especially Rock, might have acquired. Mark's presence created a peaceful, comfortable environment that allowed us to just sit there, chat, and be teenagers."
After graduation, Mark worked as a screen/dialog writer, dialog director, ad copywriter, location scout/producer, aide-de-camp to various jazz musicians in New Orleans and, as he put it in his essay for our 50th Reunion yearbook, "speechwriter for inarticulate celebrities."
"He was also personal assistant to Rock's dad, Yul Brynner, who was touring with his hit show, The King and I," says Tom Devine. "Brynner wanted his dressing room painted dark brown because the theater managers wouldn't pay for two coats, and one coat of brown covers anything. But he was having trouble getting the union workers to paint it. Mark said, ‘I'll fix that.' He went out and bought two bottles of good Scotch, Johnnie Walker Black, and went to the office of the union captains. ‘This is a present from Mr. Brynner,' he said. The next day, the dressing room was painted to perfection. Afterward, the union captains said to Mark, ‘Here's the key to this office. If that (bleep) gets on your nerves, know that you can always come down here and have a drink.'
Charlie resumes the narrative: "Mark finally settled down in a hippie community in a village called Le Mee on the river. The house they all shared is a highly idiosyncratic ramshackle that he and his wife, Michèle, eventually took over to raise their son, Julien. Michèle is without doubt the greatest, intuitively natural cook I've ever met. Anything she touched she transformed into something unique and spectacular, whether it was leg of lamb (perhaps her favorite), fresh fava beans, or fois gras. My family and I were treated several times to stories about his cinnamon farm in Sri Lanka. On another occasion we were invited to Le Mee for luncheon with Mark's neighbors, who turned out to be from the House of Grimaldi: Princess Caroline of Hanover and her husband, Ernst. As with everything Princi, that turned out to be a unique and very pleasant surprise. Ernst is quite the playboy, and had brought what seemed like an early version of a helicopter drone, which he distributed among the guests, so that after lunch we went outside to try to fly them. And Princess Caroline turned out to be remarkably sharp and easy in conversation, in addition to being very beautiful."
Job Titles:
- Professor of Information Science
Martin Purvis, Professor of Information Science emeritus at Otago University in New Zealand, died on July 19. "I loved him dearly, and he was a treasure I came to appreciate increasingly over the years," says Charlie Carter, who roomed with him Sophomore year. "I think our friendship on both sides was something that grew in quite special ways after graduation, but even as undergraduates we were close. His way of expressing delight and amazement was always endearing. His face lit up, and his voice assumed a new tone, and the emphasis of his diction all morphed into something that I found irresistible."
Mike Payne died July 27, 2023. "He and I were neighbors freshman year, roommates the next three years, and brothers for life afterward," says George Lazarus. "Our families were mirror images of each other. Our fathers were lawyers working in the New York court system, our mothers both worked in education. Mike had a younger sister, I a younger brother. Our families shared similar outlooks and values. There were some differences in our backgrounds. One of us was Black, one White; one Catholic, one Jewish. We respected these differences and learned from each other.
"We also shared this in common: we loved our wives, and consequently, our lives. Sue Payne was indeed committed to Mike in sickness and in health. In health, they enjoyed their lives in both D. C. and Sag Harbor, Long Island. When Mike became ill, it was Sue who took active charge of his medical care, getting him the best care possible.
"Mike had a successful career as a lawyer in the Justice Department. He was an expert in asset forfeiture. His rap on this subject was hilarious. He retired at a relatively young age so as not to deny himself that experience, and he did enjoy the freedom of retirement. He was stoic in his final illness, choosing to focus on the daily pleasures of being alive rather than the prospect of dying. He was unafraid of death and died with his wife and cherished daughter Sydney at his side. He was a content man. We should all be so lucky.
"To say that I will miss my brother is an understatement. But I will carry his memory with me."
"Mike Payne was one of the defining personalities of my time at Yale," adds Bruce Heitler. "We ran on the mile-relay team together and had lots of time to talk - sitting together on the bus to Cox Cage, chatting around the track, indoor and out, admiring with Mike's wry humor athletes we could never keep up with, including Wendel Motley and Jay Luck. Mike would good-heartedly punctuate my inappropriate intensity noting with a gentle jab that I had not brought my Tractatus-Logico-something-or-other, on the track bus. I still quote him from time to time concerning "getting hit by the band" at the Penn Relays on the final stretch of the quarter mile. The band begins to play just as one's legs protest not only with pain, but with a torturous gait, slower than a walk, for the final 80 yards. That image taught me that even humiliation could be punctured by humor. Mike was a source of profound learning for me, deeper than classes or books."
"I met Mike Payne at Fordham Prep'" says Jorge Dominguez. "I had just immigrated and spoke little English at a school in the Bronx, where not even the janitor spoke Spanish and the language was not taught in the curriculum. Mike was a track star. He took the initiative of approaching me to make me feel welcome. We must have communicated with signs, but it clicked. Years later, at one of our Yale Reunions, he explained that he had pegged us both as outsiders, and thus reached out to include me.
"Mike was the only Black in our high school class of nearly 200 students; there were no Blacks in the class following us. The track coach, who happened to be my history teacher, routinely made racist remarks in the classroom. I once asked Mike about this during a Yale Reunion. He simply rolled his eyes. I suspect he had to ‘roll his eyes' many times in different lifetime circumstances.
"Mike was smart, insightful, wickedly offbeat, funny, and often understated. These qualities came together at our 50th Fordham Prep reunion. We were taking turns recounting something about our lives at the Prep and in the years that followed. Somehow, unplanned, Mike became the master of ceremonies, and very effective in this role. When one classmate described allegedly undistinguished years in the US Navy, Mike gently asked, ‘yet you rose to become a Rear Admiral?' Widespread laughter.
"He was a wonderful human being, whom I greatly miss."
On January 20, 2022 our football team's quarterback, Pete Doherty, passed away in Virginia Beach, VA with his devoted wife Sheila and step-daughter Brook by his side.
"One of Pete's most remarkable accomplishments was that he set the Ivy League record for the number of passing touchdowns in one game, five against Columbia in 1966," says his fullback, Chris Kule. "Other people have tied that mark since then, but the big distinction is that Pete completed all five TDs in the first half! He threw such a hard ball, with such a tight spiral, it was qualitatively different from all the other quarterbacks we ever had. I asked him if somebody had coached him, and he said he started out in peewee league as a long snapper because he was the only one who could snapp the ball consistently back to the punter. The coaches eventually realized they were wasting his talents, and they switched him to quarterback."
Bob Kenney, his wide receiver, says, "He was a perfect passer - 6-foot-4, real strong, quick release, could move really well, and the pass was always very accurate. You'd run a route, and all of a sudden the pass was there, hitting you in the chest every time. He was a man before his time; if he were playing today, he'd be passing 40 times a game and be outstanding."
"While most of our classmates probably knew Pete as a quarterback, he also got a varsity Y sailboat racing for Yale," says Rich Eittreim. "He was a terrific sailor - East Coast collegiate sailing champion and, as a member of the U.S. Sailing Team, competing internationally in the Finn class sailboat. He was also a veteran, having served in the Coast Guard (Lieutenant JG). While at the Coast Guard Academy, he taught a variety of courses and coached football and sailing. He then became a lawyer. As Assistant Attorney General for Rhode Island, he argued a case before the U.S. Supreme Court concerning jurisdiction of the waters surrounding Block Island. He also served as counsel for Virginia Polytechnic Institute."
"I sit down to write about my good friend Richard Wind just before our monthly Class lunch at the Yale Club of NYC," says George Lazarus. "One reason I liked attending these gatherings in the past was that Richard often came. Richard and I have been friends since high school. He edited the yearbook, and I edited the newspaper. The two publications shared an office, so we spent a lot of time together and remained friends ever since.
"Richard loved and was proud of his two daughters, and was deeply loyal to his friends and his patients. He took care of a large number of Hasidic Jews from Brooklyn in his obstetrical practice. In the past year, when he was undergoing treatment for a malignancy, he worried about missing deliveries he promised to manage. When I had lunch with him a few weeks before he died - he looked fine and neither of us knew that this would be our last meal together - he was hoping to make the reunion but had to consult his delivery schedule.
"Most OB docs give up delivering babies as they get older because it is so demanding. Not Richard. He loved his practice and was totally devoted to his patients. We disagreed on politics, but Richard could disagree without being disagreeable. He saw both sides of most arguments and he enjoyed conversation. Most people who met Richard remember that he was a big man. If you knew him well, you knew that he was truly a big man.
"Rob was loved by pretty much all who knew him," says Harry Hull. "He was keenly appreciative of his Yale education and was generously supportive to the University, both as a donor and in other ways. He was especially proud of his last major project for Robert A.M. Stern & Associates, where he was managing partner, negotiating the contract between the firm and our alma mater for the design of the two newest residential colleges. During our 50th Class Reunion in 2015, Rob was a key part of the activities introducing the new colleges to alumni/ae.
"He was one of the few roommates/classmates that I managed to keep in touch with after graduation, along with Coles Phinizy, and both were wonderful men and friends. In the course of our life-long association - albeit with infrequent face-to-face get-togethers, alas, given how far we lived from each other - I also became friends with their spouses. Rob's second wife, Barbara Iason, the sister of our classmate, Larry Iason, was as devoted to Rob - and vice versa - as any mate can be.
"Both Rob and Coles were true gentlemen in the best sense of the word and were kind, engaged in life, devoted parents and loved good fellowship and banter over a good meal. Rob had a quiet passion about German art and introduced us to the Neue Gallerie (Museum) in New York City, and that he and Barbara did a lot of international travel, especially after his retirement. (Barbara is a consummate travel planner and delighted in arranging all the details, even booking restaurants well in advance of visits to exotic places.)"
Barbara adds, "Rob cherished his time at Yale. I heard about his courses with Harold Bloom and Vincent Scully, his love of the library, and his friendships. He did what he could to give back, as he felt such gratitude for his time there. His last project, the negotiations for the two new colleges at Yale, was a highlight of his career."
"And it shows," says Harry. "He was like a proud papa at the birth of his babies! Rob was the sort of guy, even in our shortest gladdest years of life, who embodied a quiet integrity, intelligence and humor, and as a member of the southern contingent (he, Ken Guerry, and Bucky Vaughan all came from Richmond, VA, I think), embodied to me the essence of a Southern gentleman in the best, non-racist way possible: considerate, charming and unpretentious. I remember that he clearly loved - and defended! - his roots in Richmond but, as time would tell, ended up living most if not all of his adult life in the Northeast.
"As is common, I think, after graduation and the distractions of the Vietnam War (both Rob and I did stints in the military after graduation), we didn't really reconnect until quite a few years later when I found myself visiting NYC from time to time to attend trade shows for my wee business. I began to look up Rob as well as Coles with each visit to NYC and found, happily, that our friendships ‘formed at Yale' were alive and well. Our routine was to gather for a meal or two at some great but relatively undiscovered neighborhood restaurant and catch up on our lives.
"The only '67 reunions I've attended were the 25th and 50th, and Rob (and Coles) were also there. In fact, for our 50th, Gail and I stayed with Rob and Barbara in their NYC apartment before coming up to New Haven by train. That reunion was, alas, the last time I saw Rob; and though he was beginning to decline from Parkinson's, he was a stalwart trooper, as always, and our Punt Club comrades all enjoyed some great meals together during that wonderful long weekend. "
Bob Callahan died on November 4 after a long battle with renal failure. "Bob was a unique person," says Marty Rader. "He and I were classmates at Fairfield Prep, and we were both on the Latin team (he was a starter; I was a bench warmer). When we received our acceptance letters from Yale and given the choice of selecting a roommate, we chose each other. We roomed together for four years, adding others along the way.
"Bob had a great sense of humor, often relishing the ridiculous side of life. Together with Dennis Jaffe, we spent six weeks working in Frankfurt Germany. When our jobs ended, Bob and I traveled around Europe on our Eurail Passes. At the time, many Europeans were fascinated by tales of the American West, probably thanks to the Clint Eastwood ‘spaghetti westerns.' We were traveling by rail in Italy, and an Italian man sharing our compartment wanted to know more about the ‘Indian situation' in America. This opened the door to some Callahan mischief. Bob began in earnest and gave him a detailed narrative about Indian uprisings in Brooklyn. After a period of intense interest, the man caught on, grabbed our passports, and held them out the windows of the speeding train, threatening to let them go to teach us ‘wise guys' a good lesson. We apologized (Bob, I think, crossed his fingers) and ended up sharing our new best friend's cheese and fruit with him and his family.
"Our friendship continued after graduation, and Bob was my best man when Jill and I married. As one of his daughters said at Bob's funeral service, he was a person who absolutely did not care what other people thought. One time, Jill and I visited him in Tampa, and he insisted that we accompany him to his country club for lunch. The problem in my mind - but not in Bob's - was that Jill and I had just come from the beach. I was wearing bathing trunks and a t-shirt. But he insisted, and we relented. We got some ‘fuzzy eyeballs' from some of the members at the other tables in the dining room, but Bob couldn't care less. I chuckle every time I think of it."
Dennis adds, "He was a great spirit and full of fun, and I'm so sad that I lost touch with him since our 25th. This is a good lesson to reach out to folks who were important to me before it's too late."
Calhoun was a place where it seemed like everybody had a nickname. (Dick Pechter was "Snuff," Maury Yeston was "Stones," and I was ‘Snapper.") And Doug Crawford - aka "The Bag" - says, "I am deeply saddened by the loss of my entrymate, roommate, teammate, and very dear friend, Bob ‘Sweet Pea' Callahan."
"I think Bob may have may have choreographed this rash of correspondence among old friends," says Paul Longo (aka "Y.A."). "I've already spoken with a few of us, and I feel everything that they've written. Thank you, Bob."
"I am glad to see the comments from so many ‘Hounman friends," says Stu Phillips. "I was the one who relayed the message about Bob's passing from his wife, Jaime. He and I were residents in orthopedics together at Yale-New Haven, and we kept in touch at professional meetings and by phone until he became too sick to do so this past summer. He was an excellent surgeon and teacher, and became a well-known spinal specialist in Florida, where he was for a time Chief of the Spinal Service at the University of Miami Medical Center. When my wife died, his moral support and sense of humor kept me going. I will miss him but treasure his memory."
Sandy Smith passed away on July 9 following a delicate operation on his throat for cancer. "I shall never forget my travels with Sandy in Europe and Peru," says Bert Rodriguez, whom he accompanied many times on Bert's trips to Machu Picchu. (Bert, a professor of architecture at Virginia Tech, is one of the world's leading scholars of that 15th-century Inca citadel.) "Sandy was a very special kind soul, always a bright presence in Calhoun. He had a heart of gold that affected in a special way all the lives that he touched. He and I were roommates at Yale, he was the best man at my wedding, and we shared many big adventures. He will be missed dearly by family, colleagues and friends. His memory will live in our hearts forever."
"Sandy roomed with John Ford and me our sophomore year," adds Van Johnson. "As you know, he was a gentle soul, bright and hard-working, quick with a smile, always excellent company. I last spoke with him at our 50th reunion. Having retired from his work at the National Archives, he was living happily with his partner, Bill Farrington."
I urge you to read Sandy's essay in our 50th anniversary Class Book, in which he talks movingly about how lonely life was as a closeted gay man at Yale in the ‘60s. But, typically of Sandy, he refused to blame Yale.
On December 22, 2020 we lost Terry Batty, a lawyer's lawyer fueled by a passion for justice, fairness and equality, who died after a long struggle with Lyme Disease. Terry was a man of kindness, keen intelligence, integrity and indomitable spirit, who mentored scores of younger lawyers and college students seeking careers in law.
And he was a profile in courage who held the position of Chief of Appeals in the U.S. Attorney's Office in Philadelphia for 20 years and spent the next 17 years in private practice, briefing and arguing cases, while lying flat on his back confined to his bed by Lyme Disease.
Since childhood, Terry had been inspired by his grandmother's stories about working as a court reporter in criminal cases. As Chief of Appeals in the U.S. Attorney's office, he set a standard for no misrepresentation of fact or cases. During his tenure, the office won over 98 percent of its appeals.
Along with his appellate work, he undertook more than 100 of his own trial cases, both in District Court and the Court of Appeals. They focused on art and automobile theft, arson, and tax and investor fraud. He loved taking cases that were considered impossible to solve.
Among Terry's early high-profile cases was the prosecution of about 60 South Philadelphia protestors who tried to block construction of the Whitman Park low-income housing project. He also handled civil and appeals work resulting from the conflict.
Over the years, he prosecuted many arson cases, including one in which a pizza shop was destroyed by a bomb. He managed to obtain a guilty plea even when there were no live witnesses.
One of his most interesting cases resulted in the recovery of fifteen paintings stolen from Andrew Wyeth's compound in Chadds Ford, PA. He is also remembered for helping to convict Larry Lavin, the former Philadelphia dentist, cocaine kingpin and tax evader. In another high-profile case, known as the "radio ship Caroline" project, he successfully prosecuted a defendant who was enticing 39 investors in a pirate radio ship that broadcasted to the U.K. from international waters in competition with the BBC.
When his illness forced him to retire in 2004, the library in the U.S. Attorney's office in Philadelphia was named in his honor.
In the years following his retirement, Terry was surprised to find he enjoyed his new vocation as a criminal defense attorney, working from home. His desire to seek justice and fairness was just as important to him as a defender as it had been as a prosecutor. Though facing challenges to his health and confined to his bed, he inspired many by his courageous spirit and his ability to maintain a full and engaged life with an active law career.
As a defense attorney in the U.S. District Court, he wrote briefs for 16 criminal cases including two on civil rights/solitary confinement. In 2009 he argued in front of a judge via telephone from his home, and his client's bank fraud conviction was vacated - a rare defense victory in the Third Circuit Court of Appeals. At the time of his passing, he was still representing defendants in major federal criminal cases.
Terry's passion for justice was especially evident when he played an important role in shaping the arguments and editing the written briefs for the Havlish v. Iran case in the Southern District of New York. This case proved Iran's direct involvement in the 9/11 attacks and ultimately led to more than $100 billion in judgments for thousands of 9/11 victims.
In his free time, Terry helped his friends and his helpers, donating his time and energy to solve their legal or personal problems. He is fondly remembered for his fascination with cars, his love of classical music and Philly sports teams, and his generous sharing of books with family and friends of all ages.
"Terry was a friend as a law school classmate, part of a good size of our Yale classmates who found Penn an easier and less enjoyable experience," says John Morris. "He was a good lawyer and a worthy opponent.
"I have a friend who is an assistant U.S. Attorney," says Penn Glazier. "I asked him if he knew Terry. He said that Terry was a role model and a legend in the U.S. Attorney's Office."
"He and I were ebullient friends in Freshman Year," adds Narelle Kirkland, "We and got in trouble for chanting, ‘Freshmen, we must unite!' when we saw most of the class on the quad following the Campus Police's stupid handling of a football that had lost its way into some tree branches, causing a classmate to climb after it. Terry was full of fun, laughter, and smarts. I miss him already."
My sincere sympathy to Terry's family, especially his wife Nancy, whom he fell in love with during his high school days at a summer camp in Maine.