Alfred Nye Fauver, August 15, 1915 – February 13, 2016

Al FauverWe are saddened to share the news that Al Fauver died on February 13, almost 6 months following his 100th birthday. Since passing the century mark, Al’s spirit has remained strong, though his physical decline has been steady, suggesting to his heart and mind that the time had come to move on. Al’s love for Bertha, his family, and Pemi have dominated his thoughts in his final months.

Al and Bertha were fortunate to spend the last several months at their home in Plymouth, rather than at their usual winter retreat in Vero Beach. This was a decision that allowed them to enjoy the peace of fires in the fireplace, a few snowflakes, and time with family and friends in the pastoral place where they have lived and loved for more than 50 years.

We look back on Al’s birthday celebration in August as a time when many had the chance to share thoughts and memories of the past, and to recognize and appreciate the Pemi connection that has enriched so many. Al, son of Pemi founder Edgar Fauver and his wife Alice, had a life-long connection. Pemi was his first home, where he arrived several days after his birth in August of 1915. He was later a camper, counselor, owner since the ‘40s, director from the ‘40s to the ‘80s, and an active board member until the time of his death.

In the ‘50s, Al moved his family to New Hampshire, to be closer to Pemi. Al was known for his kindness, wisdom, leadership by example, and selfless devotion to Pemi. There are many who are better for something Al might have done or said, in the times that their paths crossed on the shores of Lower Baker. The fondness Al felt for so many in the Pemi family is something that gave him strength and nurtured the good will in his heart until the end of his days.

There are no plans for an immediate service; it is expected that a celebration of Al’s life will be set for a later date. The Pemi family will be warmly welcomed to attend.

– The Fauver Family

31 thoughts on “Alfred Nye Fauver, August 15, 1915 – February 13, 2016

  1. My favorite “lesson learned from Al” took place over 20 years ago. A couple of us were about to leave camp on a two-day hike with an overnight at an AMC hut. The weather forecast was miserable: dense cloud cover, steady rain. There was no doubt that the mountain ridge was going to be socked in, but we didn’t want to forfeit our reservation. When I complained that there would be no chance of a view, Al responded with, “but now you’ll be able to appreciate the blueberries at your feet, which you might have missed if the weather were clear.”

    Al’s perspective on dealing with challenge stuck with me and, since, when life has dumped its inevitable rain, I’ve tried to remember to take it a step at a time and, perhaps more importantly, look for the blueberries. More often than not, they’re there.

    My love goes out to all of the Fauver family. – Dottie

  2. It is a great justice of history that Al made it to his 100th birthday last August and the warm celebration of his countless and unique contributions to Pemi throughout his many decades. The outpouring of love and appreciation was overwhelming, and Al was clearly deeply moved. Not all iconic figures get to enjoy such an appropriate and hugely deserved tribute.

    I could go on longer than a Josh Fischel Bean Soup introduction about what Al has meant to the Pemi family, to the Reed family, and to me personally. Much of it would have to do with my love of the mountains, something I learned from Al and which has driven so many of my recreational and even professional choices over the years. I want to cut to the chase, though, with an image that many of you will recognize. Al is in front of the Lodge on a hot July afternoon, maybe sitting in his red truck, maybe sitting on a bench in the shade of an oak tree, maybe leaning against the tennis fence watching a doubles match. He’s wearing tennis shoes, white wool socks, khaki shorts, and a blue work shirt. If he’s listened to Bertha that morning, he’s also wearing a floppy hat for sun protection. Someone walks quickly up to him and says there’s a problem: a lawn mower won’t start; one of his campers is homesick; there’s a broken bracket on a dock section at the Senior beach; a counselor has called from Mt. Washington saying the weather’s too bad to cross the ridge. “Right,” says Al. “Thanks.” He rolls up the sleeves of that blue work shirt, hops in the truck, and he’s off to take care of business.

    Lots of sayings come to mind when I think of Al: “Keep her fluid”; “Any job worth doing is worth doing right”; “In the river”; “Good enough is the enemy of the best.” It’s his willingness to roll up his sleeves and tackle anything on the spot, though, that always seemed to me to be quintessential Al. What he did under the gun was always done with dispatch, determination, Yankee ingenuity, unflagging energy, and, above all, good cheer. What he had more time to plan for was always done with exquisite good sense and care. Al made hard work fun. To pitch in with him on the way to getting something done was a joy that anyone lucky enough to work with him will surely never forget. That infamous morning after the mess hall fire was just one of many instances of Al’s genius for managing a challenge. Build a temporary kitchen to feed 250 from scratch? Sure. Let me just make a few phone calls. I’m not sure Al ever said it, because it might have sounded immodest in his ears – but “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” That’s what I hear when I remember those sleeves going up.

    I like to think that, somewhere in those celestial realms we all dream of, there’s a clay tennis court, immaculately maintained in accordance with Al’s very high standards. Sitting beside it are a trio of Al’s old friends from Pemi: Bob Stearns, Eddie See, and my father, Tom Reed, Sr. They have their rackets ready, and there’s an extra one for a fourth. Al has just shown up, so they toss it to him and take to the court. Al is already wearing the right shoes, so all he has to do is roll up his sleeves and the big reunion match can begin. It will be hotly contested, as Al never does anything by half measures. It will also be as good fun as any of them have had for ages.

    —TRJR

  3. I wonder if Al every realized the extent to which the little things he said or did impacted those around him, and how he made every member of the camp community feel special. To this day, I still remember specific instances–from telling me how much I would appreciate in later years the challenging hiking trips, to interceding when I was picked on by a fellow camper, to greeting me every morning during my years on the kitchen crew.

    No institutions have had a greater impact on my personal identity than Pemi and my college alma mater, Hamilton College. I’m glad I saw Al twice during the last decade of his life and expressed my gratitude for this fact.

    I still have the moving email sent to the camp community at the time of TR Sr’s passing in 2010:

    “It is with a combination of sadness, appreciation, and – paradoxically – a quiet sense of rightness that we pass along word of the death of Tom Reed, Sr., long-time director and son of one of the founders of Pemigewassett.”

    Those eloquent words also describe my sentiments about Al’s passing.

  4. I will always remember that Al gave me a chance to work at Pemi and the 8 years of pleasure that gave me. The fond memories of all the people I came in contact with while working there. A great man.

  5. Al came into my life in the Summer of 1971 when I arrived at Camp for my first season of seven weeks in J-5. His gait around camp was quite distinctive with the hip issues he struggled with, but it never seemed to slow him down. As a young lad I marveled at how this older man worked up quite a sweat in his signature blue long sleeved shirt. I am now 55 the same age that Al was that summer when I met him. I like to think on my good days running around as a teacher or official or bartender or caddy that I have a high motor, but Al’s day always started way before my average day gets going! Al was a beloved mentor and role model for thousands of campers, counselors and staff. Many of us went on to become parents of sons arriving to live out their own Camp Pemi memories on Lower Baker. Daniel Murphy dreamed of winning the FAUVER Baseball Award at the Final Banquet and one of his most cherished memories at Pemi is when AL was there in 2010 to present the award to him.
    AL was a counselor when my father and uncles attended Pemi in the 1940’s, a director when my brother and I attended in the 70’s and 80’s and aCamp Dignitary when my sons were there in the recent times. So glad I was able to attend his 100 birthday gala in August and hear Al discuss his love of Pemi and the friendship of the Reed family going back to his childhood!!
    I became a teacher and coach like many Pemi boys have become because of the examples of men like Tom Reed and Al Fauver. If I can be even a fraction of the.role model these two fine men were then I will have done a fine job. They set the bar high and inspired many in their decades of leadership at Pemi and the institutions they served away from Camp.
    Blessings to AL and all the Fauvers from the Murphy Family!

  6. About five or six years ago, down in Vero Beach, I was blessed to witness an unanticipated exchange between my parents and Bertha and Al. For a number of years in the late ’90’s through about 2010, various Seebecks and various Fauvers, always Bertha and Al, often Janet and Jon, shared lunch or dinner at The Moorings and other spots in Vero. At the most recent of those gatherings, in March of 2010, as we were migrating toward our respective cars following lunch, I overheard my mother tell Al, “Thank you for being a second father to Fred for so many years.” Nearly fifty three years, to be precise. Many times before and since I have tried to express the same sentiment to Al and Bertha, for there is no doubt that I have followed my life’s path as an educator, a lover of our natural environment, and a responsible community member largely as a result of Al’s inspiration and guidance. I know that hundreds of others share my sentiments, and every one of us sends all you Fauvers our love, our support, and our gratitude for Al’s long, happy and generous life.

  7. It was an honor and a pleasure for me to meet and speak with Al Fauver two summers ago at Pemi. Al was born in the same year, 1915, as my father, Tom Broker (waterfront director at Pemi 1933-1938). My father treasured his relationship with Pemi throughout his life, and he held close to heart the Pemi family. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to connect with Tom Reed, Sr. at Pemi in 2009 and hear stories about my dad that Tom warmly related to me, then to share some similar time with Al a few years later. Such are the ties that bind one to Pemi, the call to return to Camp again and again for shared experiences, shared fellowship. When next I hear a loon calling from Lower Baker through an early morning fog, my thoughts will turn to those who came before.

  8. Al Fauver was a great man, one whose impact on countless campers and counselors alike was profound–it certainly was on me. As a camper for 4 summers–one of Al’s boys–as well as a counselor and staff member for another 8, I had the opportunity to work with and more importantly learn from him on numerous occasions. I still have the strongest memory of a conversation he and I had at the side of the road leading up the Hill when I begged him to allow me to stay in camp for a baseball game when my cabin was scheduled to go on a trip. He knew that sports were my passion, but he also knew, as he patiently told me, that part of camp was about learning and trying new things, and that it was important to be open to such things. In the end he let me stay, in part because he also believed that sometimes we had to make our own decisions, but I am sure that he took some small amount of satisfaction from my report two years later of how awed I was with what I had seen when I had gone on the Franconia Range. He would also likely get a chuckle at learning that one of my pet peeves are those bumper stickers that proclaim that “This car climbed Mount Washington,” since, I am proud to say that courtesy of Al’s trip program, MY feet and legs made that climb. As someone who has now spent over thirty years working in independent schools, the same profession that occupied so many of Al’s winter months, I look back on Pemi and know that more than any experience other than my own board school days at Andover, it influenced my career choice. Indeed, it was there that I first learned of the satisfaction that could come from teaching–in the broadest sense of that word–not to mention the lessons about teamwork, community, and caring that were so central to the Pemi experience and which I have tried over the intervening years to make a central part of my work. The Pemi I was associated with was an extraordinary place and the example that Al– together with Tom–what a team they were–offered has been a source of continuous inspiration on a personal level. I close with a thank you for all that Al and Pemi gave me and I offer my sincere condolences to the Fauver Family. While Al has left us, his example and his impact endure.

  9. Dan Murphy pretty much sums it up.
    Al was a counselor when my uncle attended PEMI in the 40’s. My uncle persuaded my mother to allow me to attend in the late 70’s. Al was a director then. I had a few setbacks during my last year at pemi….Al turned out to be a great “mentor” and supporter in my time of crisis.
    I will always remember those khaki shorts and blue shirts he wore.
    What a great man he was….he will be greatly missed by me and my family.
    God bless you Al Fauver.

  10. Sixty years have passed since I first met Al, sharing a cabin with Pete and Tom in Junior 2. And about 50 since he nearly fired me and Phil Reed for ‘extending’ our day off as counselors. My dad, also a Pemi-ite and fabled winner of the Wellesley Hoop Race would not have been pleased.

    It might as well have been yesterday….

    I remember Al as one of those ‘larger-than-life’ guys who mixed his toughness with a heavy dose of compassion for those in his and the camp’s care. If there’s anyone on the planet who should have “lived to be nearly a hundred” and then some, it’s Al.

  11. My tribute to Al on his 100th.
    Will miss you dearly!

    Al, you have been the super glue that has kept Pemi strong for decades on end, the ship’s captain who has navigated Pemi through tempestuous times, and the man of the highest moral character who has left his mark on generations of Pemi campers and counselors. Your unassuming manner speaks volumes about the values you hold most dear. You choose your words carefully, and there is is hush when you speak. A quiet reverence for unmatched wisdom is the rule.  From a simple camp fire at Flat Rock to hiking the Presidential Range, your love for the outdoors has touched thousands of Pemi alums in so many different ways. Respect for nature’s beauty, courage to seek new heights, and perseverance to finish the job are life’s lessons you have infused in us all.

    How many Pemi boys (and counselors) have always wanted a red Chevy truck? It has been the symbol of a man whose presence is everywhere it needs to be. It has been a symbol of reliability, trustworthiness, and security for all, an image that says all is well on the shores of Baker Pond. The man behind the wheel personifies the best of camp values and traditions. His warm smile peering out the window is priceless. We know we are in safe hands.

    My journey from Pemi and beyond led me to a career of forty years in education. I owe a lot to you, Al. You were a key reference in helping me to secure my first teaching job at Holderness School, where classroom teaching, coaching, and love for the outdoors was a direct product of my Pemi experience. Retiring three years ago as a headmaster of the Princeton Junior School (NJ), I look back and thank you for seeing in me the potential for leadership at such a young age. No doubt, Al, you have touched hundreds of lives in similar ways. For that and so much more, I join others in sharing our deepest gratitude.

    Congratulations on this very special birthday to a very special human being!

    Warmest regards,

    Peter Rapelye, ’58, ’59, ’67, ’68, ’86

  12. Wonderful Man.
    I wanted the red truck!! or the tractor. He always had the coolest jobs. My regards to his family!

    Rick Coles ’88, ’89, ’90, ’93, ’94, ’95, ’97, ’98, ’99, ’00

  13. I have no trouble, over fifty years on, closing my eyes and hearing Tom and Al, sitting
    together at the senior beach Saturday night campfire, putting on a humble, but exquisite, harmony.

    Jim Garnett ’62,’63,’64, ’65

  14. All of us who had the opportunity to learn from Al know to this day what it means to be mentored, respected, honored and held to high expectations. At the same time, Al being the humble man that he was, never expected to be acknowledged for this he just magically endowed each of us to rise to and be our best. I have been fortunate to have 2 mentors in my life and doubly blessed that Al was the first to help me and many others see the rewards one can intrinsically receive by being humble, working hard and setting our bar of success to be the best that we can be. Thank you Al for those 10 years of life at Pemi that have lasted a lifetime.

  15. Al and Bertha Fauver were happily married for 74 years. It would be 75 this coming July 28. Still God saw fit to keeping Al in the world, to celebrate his 100th birthday. The world was very fortunate to have him in it for that long. Of course Al and Bertha hope any and all married couples reading this, stay happy and healthy together for as long as they have. I was a Pemi camper from 1973-78. I was in Junior 5, and when our cabin climbed Mt. Cube, Al drove us in his red chevy pick up truck. I also remember Al and Tom leading exercises in the morning, even though they were in their late 50’s and early 60’s at the time. Al had a problem with his hip, but that didn’t stop him from getting around. I also remember Al driving the old big truck. When a group of us climbed Mt. Kinsman in 1977, he drove pretty fast. At 100 every year was one of joy. And when the battles over, he shall where a crown. In the New Jerusalem. (The Kingdom of Heaven) Good luck, long life and joy. He had it and lived it.

  16. Although I am not in the habit of sharing personal emails that I write to my children, I would like to do so with an email I wrote to my son, Ben, a young teacher, and a long-time Pemi camper and counselor.

    Hi Ben,
    I actually read the posts below re Al Fauver. I was struck by how Al then and Tom now inspired so many young men to go into the honorable profession of teaching. I am so grateful for what Pemi has given you, and couldn’t be more proud of your decision to follow in these great men’s footsteps.
    Love you,
    Mom

  17. If there is a special place in heaven for camp directors — and I certainly trust that there is — then Al Fauver is there now, wearing his own “when the battle’s over crown” and reposing in the company of his equally superlative teammate of so many years, Tom Reed, Sr. To paraphrase Churchill, “rarely have so many owed so much to so few”. Al and Tom didn’t just make men of so many thousands of Pemi boys, they did something much more important: they showed them how to eventually make men of themselves.

    I had the pleasure — mostly my own since I’m sure that both Al and Tom had heard this thousands of times before — to tell them how indebted I was to both of them on the occasion of the Camp Pemi centennial in 2008. I was very thankful for the opportunity since it had been 25 years since I was last on the shores of Lower Baker and in that time, I had been able to more fully appreciate their wisdom, love, and the exemplary nature of their own lives.

    I am now fortunate enough to live one town north of Al’s hometown of Middletown, Connecticut, and I can’t — nor would I want to — drive through there without fondly remembering the truly gentle soul that resided in that seemingly indestructible body.

    Mike Berdan

    • Beautiful tribute, Mike. Al would especially appreciate the nod to Churchill, given his service in the Coast Guard during WW II — just one of the many instances when Al stepped up to major challenges with such strength and resolve. Incidentally, one of the stories he loved to tell was about the unofficial motto of one of the cutters on which he served: “Often in error; never in doubt.” He always passed that along with a huge grin on his face, evidently loving to skewer himself for something he so rarely was: wrong. Al had a rare instinct for doing and being what was absolutely right!

  18. Sixty-six years ago, a bemused 10-year-old, I arrived at Pemi for the first time, headed for Lower 1. There There to guide me and my mother and father up to the Intermediate Camp, were Doc Reed and Doc Nick and a couple of much younger guys, Al Fauver and Tom Reed. Thus began a lifetime relationship with Pemi, over three generations, including our two sons, Chris and Peter, and, more recently, two grandsons, Ryan and Pierce

    I returned the next two years, finally reaching Lower 7. All those years, Al was “my director.” He was the one who gave my folks advice, and I knew he was looking out for me, encouraging me, and even keeping me engaged my final camping year when I was so ill I spent considerable time in the infirmary. I couldn’t play baseball that year, because of a foot injury, but Al taught me how to score baseball games, and I did for the 12-and-unders.

    It wasn’t until 1958, after my freshman year in college, that I returned to Pemi as counselor in Lower 4. Now that was an experience. By then, Doc Reed and Doc Nick were gone, I think, and Al and Tom were in charge. And thanks to Al’s guidance and understanding, my missteps and blunders were turned into “learning experiences,” and I left Pemi that August much wiser and learned in Al’s management techniques, leavened with kindness, which served me throughout my career. Some things you never forget.

    I can still see Al riding the mower in his blue shirt and khaki shorts, and I know that, thanks in large measure to him, Pemi is as much a haven today as it was for me my first year, 1950. Just how little Pemi has changed came home to me on my 75th birthday in a small book of pictures and a poem about what Pemi meant to him, written by my grandson, Ryan, after his first season at Pemi. It still brings tears to my eyes.

    I regret not having made it to Al’s 100th celebration, but I know that the next time I visit Pemi, Al will still be there, and I’ll see him then.

  19. Thank you for sharing these wonderful memories !

    We are printing them for Bertha to read and save. She is enjoying every word.

  20. I met Al in the late 40’s when he visited my grandparents house in New Haven to tell us about PEMI. I will always remember my first year at camp, when the “Indians” came down the mountain across the lake and fought the “Indians” from the Hill right in front of our Junior cabin (little did we know they were all camp seniors putting on a show) but Al protected us; our snow ball fight on Mt. Washington one summer day; packing sawdust & eggs in buckets up Mt. Cube; watching the stars from our evergreen beds on top of Cube, which Al taught us how to construct; the maple sugar at the base of Cube – Dope Stop; how to make a hip hole when sleeping on the ground; cleaning the pagodas and squish houses (my first job ever ) under Al’s watchful eye; working on the Hill for Al and Tom and all those that lived on the Hill; helping Al extract porkie quills from his dog’s mouth by the Nature Center; the night we spent under an overturned canoe in a downpour, memorable canoe trip Al. I can go on and on – it was a great 10 years! But especially I will never forget Al’s spirit! Goodbye Al, thanks for the memories.

  21. I was very sadden to read of Al Fauver’s death. I was a counselor in the early 60’s at PEMI and I know I drove Al crazy with hitting baseball’s into his clay tennis courts! He was truly a man to admire, it seemed he knew how to do everything, I always enjoyed working on the diamond with Al, even though we could not get the infield ground packed enough, it was a surprise to our opponents when an infield grounder would not bounce once it hit the dirt. When the mess hall burned to the ground, Camp Pemi never missed a beat due to the efforts of AL, Tom , and Doc., I consider it an honor and a privlege to have known Mr. Fauver for a far to short period of time.
    My thoughts and prayers are with the Fauver family.

    Bill Taylor UNC

  22. Al became my counselor after Doc Nick passed away after my first year at camp in the late 1960’s. He was always warm to me, and comforting in a way we would now call “chill.” He was about the chillest guy I’ve ever known, and taught us all by his example what it meant to know what’s important in life and not allow small irritations to expand unnecessarily.
    I recall a counselors’ doubles tournament in the mid- to late-1970’s. Al and Tom were playing as a team. You could tell these two had logged many, many hours on the court together, and they were a formidable team. I was playing with another counselor who, as I recall, was prone to impassioned and intense play that was not always matched by his skill. (Not you, Horton; you were chill, too!) When Al went for a hard passing shot down the line my partner rushed to cover it and overshot the mark: Al’s ball hit him in the side of the head. He was upset. Very soon after that he attempted to hammer a serve, from Tom, directly at Al playing net, but dumped it in the net.
    It was awkward and a little tense for a game or two. We all eventually regained our composure, and I believe my partner and I lost to the directors by a respectably thin margin.
    What I do recall vividly is how gracefully Al steered our emotional state on the court back to normal, healthy, even cheery competition. He did it with his calm and winning smile, self-deprecating and winking humor, and ever-present grace.
    It seems to me this is how he lived his life. And all of us who were lucky enough to know him had the privilege of watching and learning.
    John Kassel

    • John.

      Doc Nick passed away November 4 1979. He was a director when I was a camper, and he retired as an active one after 1975. Also your brother Peter and I were in the same cabin three summers in a row. Please give him my regards.

  23. We will always remember Al Fauver with esteem and affection. He led generations of Pemi campers up Mt Cube and Mooselauke, over the Franconia range and Presidentials. The late Joe Campbell, legendary Editor of Bean Soup, identified him as ” Mountain Goat Fauver “– for his trailblazing activities. He did lead us in so many ways through through his kindness, know how and encouragement. His life and service represent that which Pemi is all about.

  24. In 1984 I was parking cars for a rainey gayla at the Science Center. Al and Bertha pulled in and Al went back to his truck, that beautiful old truck, in order to offer me a raincoat.
    He was so thoughtful.
    Dennis Capodestria

  25. I was privileged to know Al Fauver for nearly 60 years. I arrived at Pemi in the summer of 1960 as a Junior and spent five summers (only “full” season in those days, all or nothing) as a camper, four of which I shared with Al’s youngest son, Jon, as cabin-mate and friend. At the age of 20 in 1970 I returned to Pemi as a Trip Counselor, and Al was my boss. My job was to take all the Lower cabins out for ”3-days” one week after the next all summer long. I remember fondly my one-on-one forays with Al in his famous red pick-up out to the base of one of the Kinsmans or Cardigan where he would give me the lay of the land, discuss the shape of the trip to come, and frame the lessons that the 11- and 12-year old campers, many of them new to the woods, would be learning.

    Other memories of Al include his doubles tennis play with Tom Reed – both of them typically bare-chested – in the Counselors’ Tournament. They were invariably the most entertaining team to watch. Always pitted against far younger opponents, their shot repertoire included a startling array of dinks and lobs and general on-court wiliness, intermingled with wisecracks, that served not only to disarm their opponents but amuse the crowd no end. Against these younger and allegedly more skilled players, Tom and Al often showed them how the game was played.

    Another Al memory: his famous duet with Tom, “One Meat Ball” – always a hit in the mess hall or at a camp fire.

    When my son Henry first went to Lower Baker as a camper in 2000 I was fortunate to reconnect with Pemi after a long hiatus. One highlight of Henry’s camper career was his receiving the Fauver Baseball Trophy, a major honor. The reconnection with camp lead to my attendance at more than one Pemi reunion, including the fabulous Centennial, and to attending Al’s 100th birthday celebration last summer. What a thrill to be a part of that memorable and unprecedented Pemi event.

    Al’s departure is a giant loss, a huge part of Pemi history now gone. As a boy and later in life Al made an indelible impression on me. To me he really personified the Old Man of the Mountains. His understated demeanor, gentle tutelage, and dry mountain wit are all a big part of the Pemi ethos. My deepest condolences to Bertha, Fred, Peter, Jon, and the entire Fauver family.

    Doug Eisenhart
    Camper ’60, ’61, ’62, ’63, ’64, Trip Counselor ’70
    Parent of Henry, Camper ’00. . . / Counselor 2000’s. . .

  26. I have had difficulty–almost six months’ worth of it–composing this tribute to Al. A kaleidoscope of images springs to mind: a hearty, “Whoa-ho-o!” (or was it, “Yo-ho-o!” ?!) at the crack of Reveille to encourage us to leap from bed with a glad cry; leading setting up exercises with trunk twists that included arms that bounced up and down just slightly while they rotated side-to-side; his unobtrusive yet essential bass line singing “Grace Be Unto You” at every Final Banquet, clad in his impossibly loud (and therefore hilariously out of character) Hawai’ian shirt; his wry good humored acceptance of yet another Bean Soup barb; his homespun advice to us during halftime of a disappointing soccer match: “You’re afraid of getting kicked–but if you get up close to a cow as you’re milking her, she won’t kick you. Get up in there and tackle!” What I remember most about Al, though, was his absolute equanimity at all times. I was present for neither the Mess Hall Fire of ‘65 nor the Opening Day (!) Flood of ‘73, but it takes no imagination whatever to visualize his calm, efficient, and effective lead during these crises. I never saw him flustered or at a loss about what to do, no matter the circumstances, and I dare say no one else ever did, either. His matter-of-fact direction and support inspired more than any well-intentioned exhortation ever could have, and I always especially admired the way that he made one feel that as long as he was around, everything was under control and would turn out all right. Thank you, Al. We will miss you, but we are most grateful for all that you have done for so many.

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