BILL LIEVE

In this story, I describe what happened to an old friend, a man born in Hoboken who graduated from college with me. 12/31/2016

BILL LIEVE

Death takes the fun out of life, no kidding. A few days ago, while glancing over the obituary column in my college alumni magazine, I saw the name, Bill Lieve. He had died six months earlier. I could not have been more shocked.

Bill and I were both born in a special birthing facility operated by two physicians, Drs. Spahr and Fath, he a few years before me. He attended St. Peter’s Prep in Jersey City where he excelled in both athletics and academics. Standing six feet tall, he made an imposing figure, having curly hair, a great smile, and a captivating personality.

In college, he personified the Big Man on Campus All-American stereotype, a B+ student who seemed to get high grades without effort, a member of all the important clubs and organizations, a fraternity party animal, and an outstanding ball player. He lettered in soccer, basketball and lacrosse whose teammates named him captain of all three teams in his senior year.

He left college in spectacular style. First, he married a gorgeous looking girl from my high school, the Senior Beauty Queen. Then, General Electric hired him to undertake a two year training program at a salary far above the norm.

After graduation, our paths did not cross for thirty years. During this time, he rose to become one of GE’s six regional Sales Managers, well known and respected throughout the utility industry. We met a conference when I visited GE’s hospitality suite he hosted. His wife and I had a grand reunion, although some of his coworkers thought she was dallying with me. One thing struck me about my friends: I found it impossible to match their ability to consume scotch.

We continued meeting at this annual convention for the next several years. He and his wife entertained all the big utility executives in his sales territory. They had the world by the tail.

            A few years later, in the late ‘80s, many large firms began to scale back their workforces. GE summarily severed my friend, shocking and embittering him. With the passage of time, he adjusted. He and his wife wintered in Florida, spending the other six months in a southern New Jersey beachside community. They took many trips to Ireland with their four children and other relatives. He had both knees replaced that allowed him to continue playing golf at their country clubs.

After getting over the shock or reading his obituary, I phoned his widow to express my regret and to find out what happened to him. She said, “We had been out shopping and he walked up to me, cigar in mouth, and asked ‘Where do you want to go eat?’ and he fell over dead, victim of a massive heart attack.”           

 His death saddened me, made me cry. To think I had envied him at one time. He seemed to have all the cards . . . intelligence, appearance, personality, success by every measure.

I enjoyed being in his company all through college. We often sang I Was Born in Hoboken when we met up at fraternity parties. How could such a vibrant man have died at such a young age?

I must have had the better doctor when we were born.

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