You spread your wings so suddenly.
(I didn't see it coming.)
You left me holding your coat, your camp trunk and our last bottle of wine.
Sadly, these parts do not equal the whole.
I am off to Mecklenburg's, wearing your coat,
I'll order some rocket fuel
To toast your soaring spirit.
Bill Pfeiffer was a natural...a comedian and athlete amongst many other talents. I never knew anyone who could throw and hit a softball like Pfeif. His basketball career apex came as a frosh at UC when the center on the freshman team was injured and Bill stepped in. He flew over the "horse" in gym class…much as he later flew the airways. As a Navy pilot, he rose to Captain and Base Commander. He and his kid brother Frank flew AirTrans together, until Bill's untimely death in 1999.
Pfeif could raise our spirits during bored or morose moments with his favorite retort: "Got no job, out of money, no girlfriend…time for a road-trip!" He, Ed Lotspeich, and assorted Clifton pals sure enriched my life!
Bill and I grew up together from the 3rd grade on.We attended Clifton School and spent a lot of time doing various things with Boy Scouts as well as summertime activities.
Bill always was probably the most competitive guy in our group.He got this old ,blue bike and always would say-"race you to my house/school.etc."He always won! We finally figured out that the chain sprocket on his bike was larger than the standard and had maybe 10 more teeth than ours-hence-for every revolution-he went a litle faster and further than the rest of us!!Good 'ole Pfife!!!
This competitive spirit manifested itself in other"unmentional activities" when we all spent the night in Edgar Lotspeich's garage apartment.I usually left early because I was tired of losing.
To be truthful, I probably always resented/admired Bill for his athletic ability.We were about the same size but I had to practice the violin and piano and Bill got to play all kinds of sports.He certainly excelled at WHHS in the sports program especially at Basketball.
Bill's parents were one of a kind.The hardly ever spoke in a normal tone of voice. A lot of hollering went on in their household. One Sunday afternoon, Bill and I had to sit down at a card table with his Mom and Dad to learn to play Bridge. His parents got into a hugh arguement right aff the bat about how to bid your hand! They just didn't stop-so Bill and I got up and left.I'm not sure how long it took them to realize we had left-but they never offered to teach us Bridge again.
Our most famous adventure was to go to the Gaiety Burlesque House one Saturday night. Bill's parents out that night playing Bridge at someone's home. Bill and I enjoyed the show at the Gaiety and then we left about 15 minutes before we estimated the Symphony to be finished. Bill's Dad had been a flutist in the Symphony before he left to sell Baldwin pianos-so the Pfeiffer Family knew a lot of Symphong musicians. Bill and I got to Music Hall just in time to go backstage and say hello to some musicians Bill knew.Great alibi!!!
Bill and Christy McCauley ( WHHS '60) dated throughtout WHHS and a year or two in college.They broke up and upon Bill's suggestion, I invited Christy to a party some Cincinnati Naval Academy guys were giving during my Christmas Leave. We really hit if off and later married in 1965. Unfortunately my friendship with Bill was gone and we only spoke one more time many years later.
I still think of Bill often. His younger brother Frank (Frankie as we called him ) and I have stayed somewhat in touch over the years.Frank reminds me of Bill and that is a nice feeling.
Bill was quite a guy and his untimely death still saddens me.
At the moment, two memories come to mind about Billy Pfeiffer.
The first one occurred less than a year before our WHHS career, and was early December, 1954. I knew him all the years at Elementary School to be the only kid in the school who, when he laughed, could make his eyes disappear.
In sixth grade, our teacher, Mrs. Ahrens thought it would be a good idea and so made it a requirement that each of us or groups of us must perform a talent in front of the class before the Christmas break. In that year, Stan Freburg, the comic, had a recorded routine out, spoofing the very popular Dragnet TV series. His recording was called DRAGONET. For fifteen minutes his very serious Joe Friday, would interview witnesses to a crime, perpetrated by a dragon. "Well madam, how would you describe the criminal", and she would say breathlessly, almost in a whisper, "gosh fire came out whenever he opened his mouth!" And so on. Well, Billy and I and Edgar Lotspeich practiced for our parts so we could pantamine the words coming from the record. (My BFF Mark Michael Muhsam was not involved, as he was in another class and so got a free pass...lucky!).
After two weeks and three rehearsals, we were ready. Billy, was the owner of the record so was appointed to bring it to class. I would bring the record player. The day arrived, and the program began but without Bill. He was traditionally late to events, so we were not worried until we saw him 15 minutes later, with a wide-eyed scared look on his face. It seems that in his hurry to get to school, he hastily put the record in his bicycle's saddle bags only to hit an unexpected ice patch about halfway to his destination, and the bike fell...he was unhurt but the record was now in two pieces. The three of us, after shedding the same scared look that he initially had, and at his urging, we proceeded bravely by ad-libbing our words. Stumble we did, but we were brave. No mentionn of awards, but I believe the audience of our peers applauded at the end out of relief that the agony was over. Bill was the "can-do" guy, that got us throught that trauma...even at 11 years of age!
The second memory happened our senior year. His neighbor had asked his mother if he would be willing to drive a visitor of theirs to New York. This visitor was from Sweden, and was working as a maid and her green card time was up. She was 17, blond and beautiful. Bill said yesssssss. Apparently, this Swedish maid/maiden had a 21-year old boyfriend who was old enought to have a driver's license, but had no car. Bill had a car but his license required an "adult" permit holder. Upon pleading from Billy, his Mom relented, on one condition: Dick Drayson had to go too. I was at once proud and shamed. I was proud that she saw me as a responsible 17 year-old that could chaperone the pack of hormone pumping teenagers. But, then I was ashamed that this only confirmed that I did not have that "bad-boy" image that I thought girls wanted to party with. (No body knew at that time that I harbored thoughts of behavior that would push me in to the truancy ranks, but, oh, well!) At that time, it took about a day to drive to New York, Bill did the driving, I did the navigating...both front seat chores, while the Swedish maid/maiden made out with her boyfriend stretched out in the back seat. Bill and I exchanged wistful glances to back seat and conluded nothing more than heavy petting was going on. Bill was such a good sport, and did the driving both ways. It was a marathon, and he treated it like a sporting event, and felt challenged. He had a real sense of adventure that said "come-on" let's do it. And he would give it his all.
I miss Billy. All the time I knew him, if he as asked to do something and he had never done it before, his face would light up and with a grin, say "let's do it !!"
THE PREQUEL:
In my childhood years, one of my five "best friends" was Billy Pfeiffer. Whether the five of us were shooting water guns, tossing a ball, climbing trees, looking for squirmy things under a rock or watching clouds go by, I knew that spending time with any of them, my own day would be better. It always was.
One day in particular, had a most dramatic affirmation of that knowledge, with Billy. It was the day after Thanksgiving, in 1952, when we were nine years old. There was no school, so Billy and I went to the empty playground at Clifton Elementary School and started to toss a football. Shortly later a dozen other boys about our age joined us and suggested we play a game. (Sure, why not. I mean what could happen?!! Ha ha) On the initial kickoff I caught the ball and started running towards the goal. I was quickly tackled, and so was the first to hit the ground. Then, all the boys, from defense and offense, piled on top of me. I realized three things within nanoseconds of each other: a blinding white light flashed in my brain; a loud cracking sound like a thick twig snapping, came to my hearing; then a deep pain was felt in my lower left leg. (I found out later that both bones in my lower left leg were nearly broken off. The healing eventually required me to wear a plaster of paris cast on my left leg from toe to hip for six months.) At the moment I could only squirm around, holding my left leg and scream "it hurts, it hurts, it hurts really bad!!" Except for Billy, the boys were stunned and just froze, all looking at me. Billy ran to his bicycle and quickly peddled to my home which was a mile away. He told my Mom that I was hurt. She called my Dad, who was at the office with the only "family car." Mom and Dad arrived about an hour after I was hurt and took me to the doctor so my treatment could begin.
At that moment, when he climbed on his bike, Billy acted spontaneously. He didn't pause and ask for approval of his plan, or ask for opinions. He followed his heart and moved quickly to help his friend. Those were the days when the love we shared was spontaneous. No questions asked. It was just who we were.
Bill passed away 23 years ago. I miss him. I will miss him forever.
Bill had a mixture of the inordinately funny and absurd-kind of a John Belushi hilariousness, theirs being a feint on taking stuff and turning it into mirth. He exuded male cameraderie. The girl friend split alluded to by Muhsam showed the gash of vulnerability that he had. When I saw his pcture displayed at one our reunions,I can still feel the awful sinking feeling re his loss. always remebering him with esteem and kindness Ilo Soovere
Timothy F. Isaacs
Ode to a Rocket Man
You spread your wings so suddenly.
(I didn't see it coming.)
You left me holding your coat, your camp trunk and our last bottle of wine.
Sadly, these parts do not equal the whole.
I am off to Mecklenburg's, wearing your coat,
I'll order some rocket fuel
To toast your soaring spirit.
Bill Pfeiffer was a natural...a comedian and athlete amongst many other talents. I never knew anyone who could throw and hit a softball like Pfeif. His basketball career apex came as a frosh at UC when the center on the freshman team was injured and Bill stepped in. He flew over the "horse" in gym class…much as he later flew the airways. As a Navy pilot, he rose to Captain and Base Commander. He and his kid brother Frank flew AirTrans together, until Bill's untimely death in 1999.
Pfeif could raise our spirits during bored or morose moments with his favorite retort: "Got no job, out of money, no girlfriend…time for a road-trip!" He, Ed Lotspeich, and assorted Clifton pals sure enriched my life!
Mark M. Muhsam
Bill and I grew up together from the 3rd grade on.We attended Clifton School and spent a lot of time doing various things with Boy Scouts as well as summertime activities.
Bill always was probably the most competitive guy in our group.He got this old ,blue bike and always would say-"race you to my house/school.etc."He always won! We finally figured out that the chain sprocket on his bike was larger than the standard and had maybe 10 more teeth than ours-hence-for every revolution-he went a litle faster and further than the rest of us!!Good 'ole Pfife!!!
This competitive spirit manifested itself in other"unmentional activities" when we all spent the night in Edgar Lotspeich's garage apartment.I usually left early because I was tired of losing.
To be truthful, I probably always resented/admired Bill for his athletic ability.We were about the same size but I had to practice the violin and piano and Bill got to play all kinds of sports.He certainly excelled at WHHS in the sports program especially at Basketball.
Bill's parents were one of a kind.The hardly ever spoke in a normal tone of voice. A lot of hollering went on in their household. One Sunday afternoon, Bill and I had to sit down at a card table with his Mom and Dad to learn to play Bridge. His parents got into a hugh arguement right aff the bat about how to bid your hand! They just didn't stop-so Bill and I got up and left.I'm not sure how long it took them to realize we had left-but they never offered to teach us Bridge again.
Our most famous adventure was to go to the Gaiety Burlesque House one Saturday night. Bill's parents out that night playing Bridge at someone's home. Bill and I enjoyed the show at the Gaiety and then we left about 15 minutes before we estimated the Symphony to be finished. Bill's Dad had been a flutist in the Symphony before he left to sell Baldwin pianos-so the Pfeiffer Family knew a lot of Symphong musicians. Bill and I got to Music Hall just in time to go backstage and say hello to some musicians Bill knew.Great alibi!!!
Bill and Christy McCauley ( WHHS '60) dated throughtout WHHS and a year or two in college.They broke up and upon Bill's suggestion, I invited Christy to a party some Cincinnati Naval Academy guys were giving during my Christmas Leave. We really hit if off and later married in 1965. Unfortunately my friendship with Bill was gone and we only spoke one more time many years later.
I still think of Bill often. His younger brother Frank (Frankie as we called him ) and I have stayed somewhat in touch over the years.Frank reminds me of Bill and that is a nice feeling.
Bill was quite a guy and his untimely death still saddens me.
Richard C. Drayson
At the moment, two memories come to mind about Billy Pfeiffer.
The first one occurred less than a year before our WHHS career, and was early December, 1954. I knew him all the years at Elementary School to be the only kid in the school who, when he laughed, could make his eyes disappear.
In sixth grade, our teacher, Mrs. Ahrens thought it would be a good idea and so made it a requirement that each of us or groups of us must perform a talent in front of the class before the Christmas break. In that year, Stan Freburg, the comic, had a recorded routine out, spoofing the very popular Dragnet TV series. His recording was called DRAGONET. For fifteen minutes his very serious Joe Friday, would interview witnesses to a crime, perpetrated by a dragon. "Well madam, how would you describe the criminal", and she would say breathlessly, almost in a whisper, "gosh fire came out whenever he opened his mouth!" And so on. Well, Billy and I and Edgar Lotspeich practiced for our parts so we could pantamine the words coming from the record. (My BFF Mark Michael Muhsam was not involved, as he was in another class and so got a free pass...lucky!).
After two weeks and three rehearsals, we were ready. Billy, was the owner of the record so was appointed to bring it to class. I would bring the record player. The day arrived, and the program began but without Bill. He was traditionally late to events, so we were not worried until we saw him 15 minutes later, with a wide-eyed scared look on his face. It seems that in his hurry to get to school, he hastily put the record in his bicycle's saddle bags only to hit an unexpected ice patch about halfway to his destination, and the bike fell...he was unhurt but the record was now in two pieces. The three of us, after shedding the same scared look that he initially had, and at his urging, we proceeded bravely by ad-libbing our words. Stumble we did, but we were brave. No mentionn of awards, but I believe the audience of our peers applauded at the end out of relief that the agony was over. Bill was the "can-do" guy, that got us throught that trauma...even at 11 years of age!
The second memory happened our senior year. His neighbor had asked his mother if he would be willing to drive a visitor of theirs to New York. This visitor was from Sweden, and was working as a maid and her green card time was up. She was 17, blond and beautiful. Bill said yesssssss. Apparently, this Swedish maid/maiden had a 21-year old boyfriend who was old enought to have a driver's license, but had no car. Bill had a car but his license required an "adult" permit holder. Upon pleading from Billy, his Mom relented, on one condition: Dick Drayson had to go too. I was at once proud and shamed. I was proud that she saw me as a responsible 17 year-old that could chaperone the pack of hormone pumping teenagers. But, then I was ashamed that this only confirmed that I did not have that "bad-boy" image that I thought girls wanted to party with. (No body knew at that time that I harbored thoughts of behavior that would push me in to the truancy ranks, but, oh, well!) At that time, it took about a day to drive to New York, Bill did the driving, I did the navigating...both front seat chores, while the Swedish maid/maiden made out with her boyfriend stretched out in the back seat. Bill and I exchanged wistful glances to back seat and conluded nothing more than heavy petting was going on. Bill was such a good sport, and did the driving both ways. It was a marathon, and he treated it like a sporting event, and felt challenged. He had a real sense of adventure that said "come-on" let's do it. And he would give it his all.
I miss Billy. All the time I knew him, if he as asked to do something and he had never done it before, his face would light up and with a grin, say "let's do it !!"
THE PREQUEL:
In my childhood years, one of my five "best friends" was Billy Pfeiffer. Whether the five of us were shooting water guns, tossing a ball, climbing trees, looking for squirmy things under a rock or watching clouds go by, I knew that spending time with any of them, my own day would be better. It always was.
One day in particular, had a most dramatic affirmation of that knowledge, with Billy. It was the day after Thanksgiving, in 1952, when we were nine years old. There was no school, so Billy and I went to the empty playground at Clifton Elementary School and started to toss a football. Shortly later a dozen other boys about our age joined us and suggested we play a game. (Sure, why not. I mean what could happen?!! Ha ha) On the initial kickoff I caught the ball and started running towards the goal. I was quickly tackled, and so was the first to hit the ground. Then, all the boys, from defense and offense, piled on top of me. I realized three things within nanoseconds of each other: a blinding white light flashed in my brain; a loud cracking sound like a thick twig snapping, came to my hearing; then a deep pain was felt in my lower left leg. (I found out later that both bones in my lower left leg were nearly broken off. The healing eventually required me to wear a plaster of paris cast on my left leg from toe to hip for six months.) At the moment I could only squirm around, holding my left leg and scream "it hurts, it hurts, it hurts really bad!!" Except for Billy, the boys were stunned and just froze, all looking at me. Billy ran to his bicycle and quickly peddled to my home which was a mile away. He told my Mom that I was hurt. She called my Dad, who was at the office with the only "family car." Mom and Dad arrived about an hour after I was hurt and took me to the doctor so my treatment could begin.
At that moment, when he climbed on his bike, Billy acted spontaneously. He didn't pause and ask for approval of his plan, or ask for opinions. He followed his heart and moved quickly to help his friend. Those were the days when the love we shared was spontaneous. No questions asked. It was just who we were.
Bill passed away 23 years ago. I miss him. I will miss him forever.
Ilo Soovere
Bill had a mixture of the inordinately funny and absurd-kind of a John Belushi hilariousness, theirs being a feint on taking stuff and turning it into mirth. He exuded male cameraderie. The girl friend split alluded to by Muhsam showed the gash of vulnerability that he had. When I saw his pcture displayed at one our reunions,I can still feel the awful sinking feeling re his loss. always remebering him with esteem and kindness Ilo Soovere