Classmates,

             Did you ever think we would use the word “octogenarian” about ourselves? Well, here we are celebrating, or soon to celebrate, our 80th birthdays. Happy birthday to those of you still here to celebrate, whenever in the calendar year your birthday comes around.

            Not all our classmates are going to become octogenarians.   

            Jim Sugar died of heart failure in Mill Valley, California, in July 2024. Jim was an accomplished photographer (he worked for National Geographic for 22 years), and his book, America’s Sunset Coast, based on photos he took after traveling the Pacific Coast from Canada to Mexico in a VW minibus, led to his being named Photographer of the Year by the National Press Photographers Association in 1979. Jim became a pilot, and he owned a single-engine Cessna that he often flew to go to assignments or for aerial photography.

            According to one obituary about him, “Jim slowed down in his last years but never lost his smile, his encouragement of others and his appreciation of life.” He is survived by his wife, Jan, his son and daughter-in-law, Sam and Gigi Sugar, and his grandson, Bo Sugar, all of Mill Valley.  

I remember Jim from our freshman year. He looked like he was 14 years old (he was 17).  Check out his photo in our freshman face book, which I’m sure you all still have in an easy-to-find place. There is baby-faced Jim, right after Jon Stover and Paul Stowe and right before Maurice Sullivan and John Suter. I also remember him at our 50th Reunion, looking rugged and handsome. Those of us who edited the 50th Reunion book (which I know is also close by your side) expressed a “special thanks to Jim Sugar for allowing us to use his beautiful photo for our book cover.” Check it out—it is a great photo!

             Fred Freije ’74 died in England in September 2024. Fredstarted with our class—he, too, is in our freshman face book, right after Howie Foster and Stephen Fotter and right before Jeremy French and John Frisbie.Fred then left Wesleyan (more than once it turns out), enrolled at Bard College (among other things), but ultimately returned to Wesleyan and graduated, I think with the Class of 1974. Bob Kesner notes in an email that at age 18, “Fred already had some impressive commercial fishing experience,” and Peter Waasdorp wrote that during his absences from Wesleyan, he worked on commercial fishing vessels out of New Bedford. At some point, he started a commercial seafood packaging firm in Long Island, and in England he was the owner of the Selsea Fish & Lobster Company. At the time of his death, he had sold the company but was still acting in an advisory capacity. 

Ted Smith, who roomed with Fred one semester, wrote that “I always had a soft spot for Fred—he was kind, funny, loyal, and appropriately disrespectful of authority that did not deserve respect.” Peter Waasdorp wrote the following to me about him: “Fred was one of those people I knew I could call anytime, anywhere, and he would be there for me if I needed him. A character for sure (he’s a member of three Wes classes, I believe), a devoted family man, friend to all, and as adept as anyone I know at laughing at himself.” 

He is survived by his wife, Celia, and two children, Tom and Kira.

            Another classmate, Jerry Smith, died in 2024. Jerry worked as a short-order cook for two years after high school before coming to Wesleyan. He became a certified arborist and a tree surgeon. At various times he worked in urban forestry, worked on projects in Central Park in NYC, and was a tree consultant for the Getty Center in LA. As a result of the work he did with one client who lived next to Marlon Brando, he became an arborist to various Hollywood stars.  He was also a part-time actor. Hoff Stauffer, Jerry’s lab partner in a chemistry class freshman year, emailed me that in 2017 Jerry got back in touch with him after a 50-year gap and came to visit him in Massachusetts. Hoff wrote: “At Wesleyan he was riding a Honda 50. In 2017 he was riding a BMW 1600.”  

            As I write about these three (Sugar, Freije, Smith), I find myself thinking about the immortal words of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards (both of whom were age 23 when the song came out in 1966): “What a drag it is getting old.”

            And a non-obituary, happier, message. I got the following email from Brooks Smith: “I was one of five from Wes in Freedom Summer. My roommate in Ruleville, Mississippi, was Len Edwards ’63. We lived next door to Fannie Lou Hamer. The Klan attempted to firebomb the church we held rallies in. Many of the civil rights workers were arrested during the summer and afterward. Our Freedom School was a great success, and we branched out to Indianola, Mississippi—home of B.B. King. This and other movements, including the anti-war movement on campus, were certainly energized by Martin Luther King’s speaking at Wesleyan three times during our four undergraduate years.  

            “Freedom Summer held a 60th reunion of volunteers and staff in Indianola in June. We rejoiced in the changes in Mississippi. Remember in 1964, 465,000 Black folks were eligible to vote—only 7,000 were registered. Now Black folks and white folks vote in about the same percentage. So great changes—but a long way to go.”

Classmates,

            I have heard from four classmates, all of whom reside in California, whatever that means.

            First I heard from George McKechnie. George grew up in Bloomfield, New Jersey, came to Wesleyan where he majored in psychology, and then headed west for graduate work at Berkeley. He completed his PhD in personality and environmental psychology in 1972. His professors included Ted Sarbin (Sarbin had been Karl Scheibe’s advisor when he was a graduate student at Berkeley, and he was one of my teachers when I did graduate work at the University of California, Santa Cruz). George taught at Arizona State, and at Berkeley, and then left academe to practice clinical psychology and “to pursue home audio”—he was the founder and president of Audio Excellence, Inc. (the company’s clients included Francis Ford Coppola, Ray Dolby, and Boz Scaggs). He subsequently founded two more audio companies, Axiom Home Theater and Sync My Home Inc. He lives in Carmel, California, on the Monterey Peninsula.  

Then I heard from Ted Smith. He was cleaning out old stuff (aren’t we all?) and came upon a photo of the 1967 Mystical Seven, of whom he and I were two. He wasn’t sure who some of those other five mystics were.  I helped him identify them: from left to right me, Barbara Davidson (who somehow mystically snuck into that photo), Sammy Nigh, Steve Chance, Ted, Bill Cooper, Tom Drew, and Mike Cronan. This led me to research, if I may call it that, what each of the seven said about themselves in our 50th Reunion book. Cronin, Drew, Ted, and I wrote things for that sweet publication (and sent photos), but nothing from Chance, Cooper, or Nigh. I then spent a pleasant hour reading the entries that many of you sent, and “remembrances” and obituaries for 19 of our classmates who had died (alphabetically from Andrew C. Ackemann, who died in 2006, to Donald D. Wolff Jr., who died in 2009). So, thanks Ted, for reminding me what a nice resource that 50th Reunion book is. Ted, by the way, has had some health issues, but is doing fine. He and his wife, Mandy, live in San Jose, and they have three children and five grandchildren, all of whom are in California so they can see them frequently.

I also heard from Don Stone, who is living in the Bay Area. He writes that as a Jew-by-choice, active in his synagogue for 35 years, he is part of his synagogue’s reparations alliance partnership with a Bedouin village in the West Bank. As he explained, the residents “are nonviolently trying to survive the brutal efforts of a nearby, recent prosperous, Jewish settlement to expel the villagers.” According to Don, these Jewish settlers have used “terror, interrogation, arrests, beatings, home demolitions, seizing grazing land, and cutting off water, electricity, and intermittent access to medical and food sources . . . etc.” Don fears that these expulsions will end up as “not good for the Palestinians or good for the Jews.” 

Don reminded me that, should we be so lucky, we are approaching what will be our 60th in 2027. I had not thought about it, but it is now on my list of things I might do if I live long enough.

Finally, in the California correspondence category, Paul Nibur wrote a thoughtful response to the email I sent to many of you after the last set of class notes appeared. He also wrote the following: “I have been happily retired for 20 years from flying for United Airlines. I keep very busy with volunteering with my Rotary Club, hosting youth exchange students from Australia and Thailand, serving on a few local boards, maintaining my five acres near the Sierra foothills, and loving my family and grandkids. I’m happy to still be able to workout and stay fit although I had to give up running after nearly 50 years due to a complaining knee. I’m still very happily married to my first and only wife since 1970, and highly recommend that path (although that advice is a little late for many of us now).”

Also, on the ever-increasing obituary front, I got this email from Ned Preble: 

“Dave Reynolds ’71 died on Sunday June 30, 2024, at his home in Hampden, Massachusetts, after yearsof illness stimulated by Agent Orange during his service in Thailand. His wife, Heather, his son, Nat, and his wife, and Dave’s sister were with him. He and I stayed in touch from September 1963 until he died. He was a doctor, having pursued his MD and career conscientiously, from postgraduation through his ER tech job in the army, more pre-med courses and health care jobs. There will be a celebration of life October 6 featuring Steely Dan music. I will never forget his wise laugh and his broad shoulders that once kept NYC subway doors from closing on me.”    

Ned has lived in Portland, Oregon, since 2013, but before that he lived in Mystic, Connecticut, Westchester, New York, the Bay Area, Concord, Massachusetts, and Hanover, New York, among other places. His five children were born in four states, and his ten grandchildren, as he puts it, are “scattered from LA to Dallas to Nashville to southern New Hampshire.” He was in the Peace Corps in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), the army, worked in admissions (as assistant dean of admissions at Connecticut College from 1970 to 1974), earned an MBA at Wharton, and for more than 30 years worked in “International Consulting in Strategic Innovation and Creative Problem Solving.”  He now teaches courses in “Change Management and Business Ethics.”  

Ned also shared the following information about some classmates: “Here is some information I have regarding the guys I have been in touch with over the years. Phil Corkill (freshman year roommate) and Suzie, his wife, are longtime Tucson residents, where he was superintendent at a big high school. She was a teacher, but not in his district (probably her idea). Jim Guard—retired architect and LONG-time resident and property owner in the San Juan Islands outside of Friday Harbor. He built his own house and came on the grid just 10 to 15 years ago. He owns a lot of land and is often clearing/creating roads and cutting his own firewood. Mary, his wife of many years, makes sure his chores do not exceed 22 hours per day. Dave Butler and his wife live in Saint Augustine, Florida, and play golf together. He watches WesTech football on his computer. He was an international lawyer for many years. I talked to Howie Foster the other day and he was heading off to play squash. His career is as a therapist. I think he is a psychoanalyst.” Ned also noted that he shot his age in golf two years ago (I did not ask him if it was miniature golf, a par three course, or if he only played nine holes).  

In exchanging emails with Ned, I told him a story from my limited golf history. He wrote back that “even though I read your golf story 10 minutes ago I am still laughing! I vote to have it included in the class notes—boldface type of course.” Given that these notes are online, and I am not limited by the usual 800-word stricture, I have decided to do so.  Here you go.

I play golf once a decade, no more, no less. On December 31, 2019, I finally got over to our par three course for my once-a-decade round. I had a three iron, a seven iron, and a putter. It was a chilly, but not too cold day, and I was the only person on the course. I double bogeyed the first eight holes, and ended up on the ninth hole, with a fairly long putt for the double bogey (maybe five feet). I could not believe how much pressure I felt. I did not want to end my string of double bogeys. I sank the putt, and it was like hitting a three-pointer for a win in my regular geezer basketball game (better actually). Definitely a sports highlight of the decade for me. (It is now only 2024, so I don’t plan to play for another four or five years).

Tony Gaeta wrote that Tony Conte was able to visit his sister and brother-in-law (who was turning 90) in Hilton Head Island, and Tony Gaeta was able to join him for four days. If you read my class notes carefully (in which case you’ll be more likely to pass the final exam), you may recall that in April 2022, Tony Conte, who lives in Walnut Creek, California, was hit by a car while walking home from dinner and almost lost his life. As he explained to me in an email back in November 2023: “Both Tony Gaeta and Tony Caprio have been fantastically supportive to me from the first minute. They are in part responsible for my recovery. I don’t think I could have made it through the trauma center, the ICU, the two hospitals, and the care facility without their constant contact and encouragement.” It was thus special that he could travel across the country to visit family, and special that the two Tonies could spend time together. As Tony Gaeta wrote, “He’s lucky to be alive, much less walking but it didn’t deter us from throwing down a few brews but not as quickly as in olden days.” 

Many of you responded to the email that I sent describing the decision of the editors to leave out a paragraph about Bernie Steinberg in my last set of notes. It was great to hear from you, not only about the deletion of the paragraph, but about other related and unrelated issues (golf! Walter Johnson High School! Unitarian ministers! UNC athletics!). Your supportive comments really meant a lot to me.          

—Richie 

Classmates,

Our classmate, Bernie Steinberg, died Sunday, January 14, 2024, age 78. Bernie grew up in St. Louis and majored in English literature at Wesleyan. After Wesleyan he went on to receive an MA from Brandeis and a PhD in Jewish philosophy from Hebrew University. He lived in Israel for 13 years and then worked at Harvard as the director of Harvard Hillel from 1993 to 2010. In 2012 he moved to Berkeley, California, where he was a vice president of the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America and was a visiting scholar at the Center for Jewish Studies at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley. According to one article that I read after he died, “Most recently, he lived in Chicago, where his son Avi is an author and lecturer in nonfiction writing at the University of Chicago. He is also survived by his wife, Roz; a daughter, Adena; and a granddaughter.”

In one obituary, a former student is quoted saying the following about Bernie: “I have rarely if ever met anyone so committed to the sacred art of nurturing young adults and encouraging them to blossom. Over and above the hundreds and hundreds of undergraduate students he guided and counseled . . . when I worked at Hillel there was always a steady stream of young Jewish professionals who would come to see Bernie—to get his advice, to receive his assurance, to be challenged to think differently and more deeply about whatever was on their mind. The list of people Bernie mentored is like a who’s who of Jewish communal leadership.”

I got a nice email from Tony Gaeta. He is now, as he puts it, “long retired.” He and his partner are living by the water in Southport, North Carolina.  Here is some of what he wrote: “On a wonderful trip to the great state of Maine this past summer, my partner and I enjoyed dinner with Ed ‘Big Ed’ Simmons in Freeport, as well as seeing Billy Congleton at Bill’s brother Jake’s (’56) 90th-birthday celebration. As for me, I’ve been long retired from the legal profession and teaching at UNC Law and Campbell Law, sold my farm and horses in Pittsboro, North Carolina, and moved to Southport, North Carolina, to live on the water and be closer to my boat docked here in a nearby marina.” 

Tony also wrote that he had hoped to see his Chi Psi friend, Len “Bergy” Bergstein, when he went to San Francisco to see Tony Conte, who was recovering from a bad accident in April 2022. Here is his account: “I was deeply sorry to learn of Lenny ‘Bergy’ Bergstein’s passing. He and I became great friends at The Lodge and I had planned on seeing him last year on a trip to San Francisco, when I visited our other great fraternity brother and friend Tony Conte, as he recovered from a horrific automobile accident where he was literally run over twice on the sidewalk as he returned home from dinner one night in April 2022!  He’s recovering nicely and his accident has reunited us.” 

When I reached out to Tony Conte, he wrote back with the horrifying details of his accident (elderly driver, driving an old and silent Prius, and, alarmingly, not wearing the glasses she was required to wear). He wrote that “I have shed the wheelchair; I have shed the walker; and I still use a cane for balance and support…. Both Tony Gaeta and Tony Caprio have been fantastically supportive to me from the first minute. They are in part responsible for my recovery. I don’t think I could have made it through the trauma center, the ICU, the two hospitals, and the care facility without their constant contact and encouragement.” And Tony also had this to say: “I am lucky to be alive and savor each day.”

When I saw that there was new info on the JFK assassination, I wrote to Bill Klaber to ask him what he thought. Bill, as those of you who read these class notes assiduously well know, is the coauthor of Shadow Play: The Unsolved Murder of Robert F. Kennedy (originally published in 1998, with an updated paperback edition in 2018)and also the producer of a 14-episode podcast called The MLK Tapes that challenges the official story of how Dr. King was murdered. It won a Webby, which is a big deal in podcast land. Bill said about this: “Of greater satisfaction to us was the request from the American Civil Rights Museum in Memphis for the rights (the legal work now underway) to use portions of The MLK Tapes in their wing of the museum devoted to the murder of Dr. King, which is now closed until Juneteenth 2025 while they ‘rethink’ their exhibits and incorporate evidence that we were able to bring forward in our podcast. If you are ever in Memphis, be sure to visit this stunning museum.”

Here is what he wrote back: “Hey, Richie. Yes, we were freshmen when the president was murdered, and I was in law school when Bobby and Dr. King were killed. I’ve just returned from Dallas where I spoke at a conference marking the 60th anniversary. As far as Peter Landis, the Secret Service agent who recently revealed that he found a bullet in the president’s limo— his account is way more likely than the official story that has the first bullet traveling downward and striking Kennedy’s back before somehow traveling up to exit his throat, then moving over to shatter Governor Connolly’s rib before leaving his chest and destroying Connolly’s wrist, and then striking his leg. This slug, found at the hospital, is called the ‘magic bullet,’ because it not only merrily defies the laws of Newton, but emerges in perfect condition, which is impossible after striking so many bones. Landis says that his bullet was probably pushed out from the wound in Kennedy’s back, in line with the doctor’s assertion that Kennedy’s back wound had no path out of the body and no spent bullet in the wound. But however logical, Landis’ account requires an additional bullet, exceeding the three-bullet limit for a single gunman and proving the official account is a clumsy lie. And it’s not just this bullet, the lies are all over the place, like underwear in a burglarized apartment. I would love to come to Wesleyan and give a talk on these three, rather important, historical events. I’m a graduate of the CSS and have asked them for an invite to speak at their weekly luncheon. So far, no invitation. Still hoping. Bill.”

In early November 2023, my wife, Lisa, and I spent a day with Steve Sellers, my old roomie (from freshman and sophomore years), in Chapel Hill. He and his wife, Martha Julia, were visiting the Tarheel State from their home in Guatemala. It was a rare treat to spend a day together, wandering around Franklin Street, the site of many a raucous scene after various Tarheel athletic victories, and the Chapel Hill Botanical Garden. After earning a PhD in anthropology and teaching for a while, Steve, now retired, worked in what we call artificial intelligence (he was the first person to tell me about “the cloud”). Martha Julia, a developmental psychologist, was in Chapel Hill to organize a conference for Jerome Kagan, her graduate school mentor, who died in 2021. 

Ironically, or maybe just interestingly, or maybe just interestingly to me, two weeks earlier my wife and I spent a day with her freshman roomie from Mt. Holyoke. What, I wonder, are the odds of two old (and getting older) married folks at our advanced ages still being in close touch with their freshman year college roomies, and then getting to see them within a two-week period?