My brother John lived quite a colorful life in the Tampa area from the 70's to the early 90's. After falling on some very hard times, he landed on his feet. He found his niche in life by being a cassino dealer. Although he was very quiet in his early year, he found the gift of gab, and this profession suited him well. He spent a few years working on cruise ships around the world. He ended up in California and decided to move to Mississippi where the next gambling wave was going to occur. He didn't make it. Got to Albuquerque NM, which he liked. Worked at a small Cassino where he met a fine lady and married her in March of 2000. A few weeks later, while driving to a dry cleaners to take clothing for his upcoming honeymoon trip to Monaco, he was shot by a random bullet. He is greatly missed. I most admire him for his recovery and the fine life he led thereafter.
John was independent at an early age, a true individual. Even as early as eighth grade, when we first got to know each other, he had a kind of quiet self-confidence that can only be fully appreciated in hindsight, from the vantage point of an adult. He would not change to gain anyone's approval, and seemed immune to peer pressure.
John chose his friends carefully. He was wholeheartedly generous to the people he allowed to glimpse his private sphere. Unlike many of us, his life extended far beyond Graded's clubs, teams and cliques. Few people in our class may have suspected that John was an expert sailor, passionate about the Penguin sailboat he owned at the Clube de Campo at Sete Lagoas. When family or school got tough, he took refuge in the windy solitude of those great open lakes.
I came to know John best during weekend camping trips on a small island in Sete Lagoas. It was there that I saw him at his most relaxed: funny, rowdy, always appreciative of a good dirty joke. Looking back on it, I realize that John was trying to draw me out, helping me drop my inhibitions, urging me to embrace pleasure without caution. It was a leap I wasn't ready to make. I must have disappointed him.
We lost track of each other for a few dozen years. When I finally located John in 1999, he was showing the proud battle scars of a person who holds nothing back. He had overcome a drinking problem, survived a divorce and countless other hardships, and immersed himself professionally in the colorful, complex, and probably dangerous world of New Mexico's casinos. His letters were vivid and witty and wise. If he had regrets about his past, he wove them into rollicking stories to entertain his friends. Tomorrow always seemed bright and promising.
John was taken away abruptly but without pain. I keep thinking this, to console myself for the fact that we never followed our plan to get together again, to remember nights by a smoky campfire under the stars, and maybe revive a few dirty jokes. Even now, when I think about John, it seems he's teaching his favorite seize-the-moment lesson one last time.
John was one of my closest friends from Brazil. I met him when we moved to Brazil from Argentina in 1967. We joined Clube de Campo which is where I initially got to know him, and we would work on our golf game together. John, like myself, struggled with a similar challenge -our older brothers were much better golfers than we were. One day he told me he was going to take up sailing and suggested that I do the same. He quickly became very proficient at the sport and was soon winning many of the club regattas within the Penguin Class. He convinced me that I should also buy a boat which I did. We ended up racing our boats every weekend on the "represa". The best was when we competed in the Brazilian nationals in Rio when we were 16 years old. Our boats finished about the same, in the middle of the fleet, but it was an experience that I will never forget.
John and I knew each other from a distance, so to say, at Graded when I was there from 1970-1972. It was somewhere during that timeframe, if I remember correctly from what he told me, that his mother took ill and past away. He as much as admitted that he intentionally withdrew. We connected at the '98 reunion in Columbus, OH. As he was living in Albuquerque at the time and I in Denver, he invited my husband, Steve and I stay with him to experience the Hot Air Balloon Fiesta that takes places annually the first two weekends of October. We did so Oct '99. We had a blast! Shortly thereafter (by Thanksgiving) he met his future wife, Lori Ortiz. Steve and I were privileged to attend their wedding March 25, 2000. You have never seen two happier people basking in their love for each other and sharing the experience with family and friends. Alas, a mere six weeks later, Steve and I made the "long" drive again to Albuquerque to attend his funeral. What a gem of a man. His humor and insight to life are truly missed.
John's turbulent life took him all over the country, and he had a gift for describing his travels in colorful detail. The John Murdoch in his stories was a larger-than-life, hard-luck character who laughed at misfortune. Every so often, John e-mailed his friends a bulletin about his adventures. Here's a random sample from 1995.
*
I planned to go to Albuquerque, where I now had a friend working there, and was to stay at her house for the night, and then drive to Shreveport, Louisiana, check out that Texas-serving casino area, then into southern Mississippi, and swing up from Vicksburg to Tunica, and start work as soon as possible. I had told my friend to expect me between the 1st and 5th of August. I just hoped to be able to nurse the car there, and then trade it in somewhere, but I felt leery, with a head gasket problem, valves and cooling concern me, and the turbo 3-Mile-Island syndrome was no joy to bounce around my head during idle periods either.
Not allowing myself to get too bogged down on this potential disaster, I loaded up the trunk in such a way that would have made my Dad proud. The tired suspension of the ole Mercedes Bitch was sagging under the strain. There was no room for passengers, and what didn't fit, stayed behind. I fueled up, put the Sinatra Duets tape in the stereo, punched the accelerator, and left a big black cloud of diesel smoke behind me as I tore down those back roads I discovered and loved to drive near Palm Springs. I hit the 40, headed east, and didn't stop till Albuquerque. Thank God, I made it without incident. I had one near overheating episode, but otherwise all well. The turbo does make a bit of noise, but it got me that far.
Upon arriving here, my friend and particularly her friend who didn't know me at all, made a big fuss over me, and virtually insisted I go try out for a job at their casino. They didn't tell me much of the bad, and told me all the good. I went in, got hired, and basically here I am. I called my buddy in Mississippi, we hope to hook up when he drives to California later this month, and then I want to work for him next year, when he opens up a casino in Kansas City. I really want to work for him, and be part of his team, so you should look for a Kansas City letterhead by mid 1996. Looks like my brother Tom could be in Wichita by then, so we could be relatively close to each other for a change. It seems like I haven't been close to anybody in the recent past, but have been lucky enough to run into a couple of you here and there.
So, here I am writing from a 4-bedroom house in Placitas, NM. We are in essentially the northeastern corner of Albuquerque, I am working for a group of Indians again, our casinos were declared illegal by the state Supreme Court last week, and they do not have their act together that well. But it's still 1995, and I shouldn't be expecting much more than what I have. What I have is a nice quiet job at a small casino, where I make more than I would if I was in Las Vegas. I am dealing craps again, and dealing craps more than I have ever done so before, so that game should greatly improve in the months ahead, or on the other hand I will be able to hone my checkers skills in jail. I also deal Black Jack. This casino has the most flies per capita of any I could imagine, and remember, I was raised in Brazil, I know about flies.
I am so sorry about John. I only spent 1 year at Graded so I don't have any specific memories of John but now feel a connection because I live in New Mexico and have since 1991.
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Sharon Crane (1973)
Quiet John. Long time classmate and friend. We will miss you at the reunion, and always.Tom Murdoch (1971)
My brother John lived quite a colorful life in the Tampa area from the 70's to the early 90's. After falling on some very hard times, he landed on his feet. He found his niche in life by being a cassino dealer. Although he was very quiet in his early year, he found the gift of gab, and this profession suited him well. He spent a few years working on cruise ships around the world. He ended up in California and decided to move to Mississippi where the next gambling wave was going to occur. He didn't make it. Got to Albuquerque NM, which he liked. Worked at a small Cassino where he met a fine lady and married her in March of 2000. A few weeks later, while driving to a dry cleaners to take clothing for his upcoming honeymoon trip to Monaco, he was shot by a random bullet.He is greatly missed. I most admire him for his recovery and the fine life he led thereafter.
Dan Waters (1973)
John was independent at an early age, a true individual. Even as early as eighth grade, when we first got to know each other, he had a kind of quiet self-confidence that can only be fully appreciated in hindsight, from the vantage point of an adult. He would not change to gain anyone's approval, and seemed immune to peer pressure.John chose his friends carefully. He was wholeheartedly generous to the people he allowed to glimpse his private sphere. Unlike many of us, his life extended far beyond Graded's clubs, teams and cliques. Few people in our class may have suspected that John was an expert sailor, passionate about the Penguin sailboat he owned at the Clube de Campo at Sete Lagoas. When family or school got tough, he took refuge in the windy solitude of those great open lakes.
I came to know John best during weekend camping trips on a small island in Sete Lagoas. It was there that I saw him at his most relaxed: funny, rowdy, always appreciative of a good dirty joke. Looking back on it, I realize that John was trying to draw me out, helping me drop my inhibitions, urging me to embrace pleasure without caution. It was a leap I wasn't ready to make. I must have disappointed him.
We lost track of each other for a few dozen years. When I finally located John in 1999, he was showing the proud battle scars of a person who holds nothing back. He had overcome a drinking problem, survived a divorce and countless other hardships, and immersed himself professionally in the colorful, complex, and probably dangerous world of New Mexico's casinos. His letters were vivid and witty and wise. If he had regrets about his past, he wove them into rollicking stories to entertain his friends. Tomorrow always seemed bright and promising.
John was taken away abruptly but without pain. I keep thinking this, to console myself for the fact that we never followed our plan to get together again, to remember nights by a smoky campfire under the stars, and maybe revive a few dirty jokes. Even now, when I think about John, it seems he's teaching his favorite seize-the-moment lesson one last time.
Jim Gruppo (1973)
John was one of my closest friends from Brazil. I met him when we moved to Brazil from Argentina in 1967. We joined Clube de Campo which is where I initially got to know him, and we would work on our golf game together. John, like myself, struggled with a similar challenge -our older brothers were much better golfers than we were. One day he told me he was going to take up sailing and suggested that I do the same. He quickly became very proficient at the sport and was soon winning many of the club regattas within the Penguin Class. He convinced me that I should also buy a boat which I did. We ended up racing our boats every weekend on the "represa". The best was when we competed in the Brazilian nationals in Rio when we were 16 years old. Our boats finished about the same, in the middle of the fleet, but it was an experience that I will never forget.We will all miss him at this years reunion.
Ilona Koltai (Koltai) (1973)
John and I knew each other from a distance, so to say, at Graded when I was there from 1970-1972. It was somewhere during that timeframe, if I remember correctly from what he told me, that his mother took ill and past away. He as much as admitted that he intentionally withdrew.We connected at the '98 reunion in Columbus, OH. As he was living in Albuquerque at the time and I in Denver, he invited my husband, Steve and I stay with him to experience the Hot Air Balloon Fiesta that takes places annually the first two weekends of October. We did so Oct '99. We had a blast! Shortly thereafter (by Thanksgiving) he met his future wife, Lori Ortiz. Steve and I were privileged to attend their wedding March 25, 2000. You have never seen two happier people basking in their love for each other and sharing the experience with family and friends.
Alas, a mere six weeks later, Steve and I made the "long" drive again to Albuquerque to attend his funeral.
What a gem of a man. His humor and insight to life are truly missed.
Dan Waters (1973)
John's turbulent life took him all over the country, and he had a gift for describing his travels in colorful detail. The John Murdoch in his stories was a larger-than-life, hard-luck character who laughed at misfortune. Every so often, John e-mailed his friends a bulletin about his adventures. Here's a random sample from 1995.*
I planned to go to Albuquerque, where I now had a friend working there, and was to stay at her house for the night, and then drive to Shreveport, Louisiana, check out that Texas-serving casino area, then into southern Mississippi, and swing up from Vicksburg to Tunica, and start work as soon as possible. I had told my friend to expect me between the 1st and 5th of August. I just hoped to be able to nurse the car there, and then trade it in somewhere, but I felt leery, with a head gasket problem, valves and cooling concern me, and the turbo 3-Mile-Island syndrome was no joy to bounce around my head during idle periods either.
Not allowing myself to get too bogged down on this potential disaster, I loaded up the trunk in such a way that would have made my Dad proud. The tired suspension of the ole Mercedes Bitch was sagging under the strain. There was no room for passengers, and what didn't fit, stayed behind. I fueled up, put the Sinatra Duets tape in the stereo, punched the accelerator, and left a big black cloud of diesel smoke behind me as I tore down those back roads I discovered and loved to drive near Palm Springs. I hit the 40, headed east, and didn't stop till Albuquerque. Thank God, I made it without incident. I had one near overheating episode, but otherwise all well. The turbo does make a bit of noise, but it got me that far.
Upon arriving here, my friend and particularly her friend who didn't know me at all, made a big fuss over me, and virtually insisted I go try out for a job at their casino. They didn't tell me much of the bad, and told me all the good. I went in, got hired, and basically here I am. I called my buddy in Mississippi, we hope to hook up when he drives to California later this month, and then I want to work for him next year, when he opens up a casino in Kansas City. I really want to work for him, and be part of his team, so you should look for a Kansas City letterhead by mid 1996. Looks like my brother Tom could be in Wichita by then, so we could be relatively close to each other for a change. It seems like I haven't been close to anybody in the recent past, but have been lucky enough to run into a couple of you here and there.
So, here I am writing from a 4-bedroom house in Placitas, NM. We are in essentially the northeastern corner of Albuquerque, I am working for a group of Indians again, our casinos were declared illegal by the state Supreme Court last week, and they do not have their act together that well. But it's still 1995, and I shouldn't be expecting much more than what I have. What I have is a nice quiet job at a small casino, where I make more than I would if I was in Las Vegas. I am dealing craps again, and dealing craps more than I have ever done so before, so that game should greatly improve in the months ahead, or on the other hand I will be able to hone my checkers skills in jail. I also deal Black Jack. This casino has the most flies per capita of any I could imagine, and remember, I was raised in Brazil, I know about flies.
Shaun Gilmore (Aka. Merrick) (1973)
I am so sorry about John. I only spent 1 year at Graded so I don't have any specific memories of John but now feel a connection because I live in New Mexico and have since 1991.Wish I had known sooner that he was here.
Shaun G.
Sharon Crane (1973)
Thanks Dan for sharing that memory.John's passing still hurts.