Died: January 20, 2010
JW Gregg Meister
John and I have shared our life’s journey together since Williams. He was a valued and trusted friend whose fine humor, wise counsel and good companionship are greatly missed. He continually rejoiced in the accomplishments of his family, friends and classmates. As my daughter said, “He was a great source of joy. I will always remember him in a cloud of laughter.”
Robert Conway
Gregg Meister’s email arrived during one of a series of winter storms moving across the Bay Area. His news of John’s death came, without warning, among the usual group of morning messages: online bank and brokerage transactions, gallery announcements and responses to letters I had sent earlier in the week.
My initial reaction was to ignore it. I didn’t want to hear the news I had already seen in the subject line. That avoidance was so flimsy, it collapsed immediately. Gregg’s short remembrance was typically insightful and eloquent, but did nothing to relieve the dullness I was slipping into. Time for a walk. Even in, or particularly in, the face of death, Mike Roizen’s daily regimen would provide what was needed.
I moved some debris blocking a storm drain, and was reminded of playing in gutters during childhood. I wondered if John did the same. Then a story he told long ago came to mind, of his nursery school teacher putting the children’s hands under running water to get them to pee during recess. John laughed as he told that story, as he did so often, heartily but with a touch of self-deprecation. In later years, he laughed even more, perhaps too much, and I worried that he was making a brave show in the face of life’s disappointments.
The rain continued, and my memory next went to the last swimming workout of freshman year. Bob Muir and the varsity had already gone to the New England’s at UMass, and we were left on our own to pick the four members of the freestyle relay that would swim there on the last day of the meet. Rick Williams was the only real swimmer on our team, and the other three slots were up for grabs. We held time trials. John had been swimming relatively poorly at the end of the season, but he really started moving that day. Rick turned to me as he was on the last lap and said “Watch out! Johnny’s after your spot!” I could sense his desire as he finished with his fastest time of the season, as well as my conflicting emotions of wanting to and not wanting to beat my friend.
For the last few years, John sent his mailing list amusing videos, cartoons and news, many offensive to one audience or another. He also sent links to political sites and announcements, especially during the 2008 election. I know that he was profoundly moved by Obama’s becoming president.
John – you were one of many who cleared the way for this to happen. Whether by choice or accident, you occupied a significant place in the evolution of our country’s racial experience. Your friends knew that this role was both exhilarating and burdensome, and we saw you deal with it as you did with the challenge in the pool that January afternoon of 1964, with courage and determination. Now your race is over, and you won.
Harry B. Schooley
I am saddened to learn of John’s passing. We were not close friends but there was a graciousness and vivacity in him that I will never forget. His sense of humor and his downright goodness as a person will long be remembered and valued. I regret not having known him better.
Harry
Brian Murphy
I am saddened to hear about John Gladney’s death. John was my freshman roommate, along with Rich Gehrman, and I have vivid memories of those first several weeks of disorientation and weirdness when we tried to make sense of Williams, our classes, each other. I am in John’s debt for that year, for his immediate welcoming humor and his candor and care.
I think few of us can understand how lonely John was during those Williams’ years, and I am heartened to know that he remained connected to several of our classmates, especially Gregg Meister. My last real conversation with John was at our 25th reunion; his death sharpens my sense of time passing, and prompts the perverse reflection that I must have thought there was always going to be time to reconnect again.
I send my love to his family.
Brian Murphy
Harry Matthews
This is sad news indeed. At our age, of course, we get these messages all
too often; I have two memorial services scheduled for next week.
I was never a close to John, but I was deeply touched by Brian Murphy’s
allusion to “how lonely John was.” The Admission Office’s implied
confidence that he was (pardon my archaic language) “a model Negro” put a
huge and unfair burden on him. To his credit, John rejected the
stereotypes and made his own way.
May angels bear him to the skies.
Harry
Bill Willetts
Most vivid memory of John: riding back from Bennington one cold, cold night in a car with no heat, arguing fiercely about the Rolling Stones, a band I adored. He said they were nothing but rip-off artists. He was right (but they were still a great band).Rock on John.
Warren Suss
Paula, our older daughter Ginny and I were lucky enough to have a wonderful dinner in Brooklyn a few months ago with John and his daughter, Greer.We caught up, shared some good stories and, of course, laughed a lot. Since Ginny is managing the leading hip hop group from Sierra Leone, the conversation led to the brutality of their terrible civil war.
John said, “That’s why I’m glad that my ancestors were slow.”
What? I didn’t get it. It was an uncomfortable comment I couldn’t process. I asked him what he meant.
He said, “If they had been faster, the slave traders might not have caught them, and I might be over there in the midst of all that horrible stuff instead of being here.”
Pure Gladney. He had that stubborn American contrariness and both his humor and his actions flew in the face of our PC assumptions about what he should do, what he should say, and who he should be.
He was John Gladney, and he wasn’t going to let anyone, any category, any assumptions define him.
He was an original, and his in-your-face humor, and many of his choices, first made us uncomfortable, but in the end, put us in touch with our humanity.
We’ll miss him.
Warren
Chris Covington
I am touched, impressed but not surprised by the outpouring for John. A great tribute.
We were mediocre swimmers (or at least I was) together and I too loved his infectious enthusiasm, outspoken passion and irreverent humor. I was so clueless at the time I didn’t focus on his burden which Brian Murphy so eloquently reminded us of.
Carpe Diem guys and hug your loved ones.
Burke Moody
I too slipped into a dullness Wednesday morning after reading Gregg’s email. It is still with me. The first week of November last year, Annie and I were at a convention in Phoenix and had a long, relaxed entirely enjoyable lunch with John. It was a Saturday afternoon, outside in the warm, dry Arizona air which he found to be so beneficial over the past 16 years. He was the same John I knew at Williams, the same John who counseled Annie and me on business plans at a restaurant in DC (for nearly 8 hours). How many years ago none of us could remember. We laughed. We discussed politics, media, business. We reminisced. It was as if no time had passed at all. We agreed to friend each other on Facebook, gave each other a big hug and promised to get together next time he was on the east coast or we were in Phoenix. He will be sorely missed.
To John.
Jeffrey M. Bowen
Clearly John gave many of us lasting impressions from the freshman swim team. Mine is that if he had been able to make his arms rotate just a bit faster in the freestyle dash, either he would have taken flight or his wake would have splashed water onto Spring Street. I remember his friendy smile, sense of humor, and I wish him God’s speed on his journey. Thanks, guys, for sharing those memories.
Rich Bernstein
John was an inspiration to me on the freshman swimming team. Reading the comments from those who knew him better than I did, I’m coming to appreciate the reasons why.
Turner Smith
John was a friend of mine also. My special condolences to his family and those classmates especially close to him. When I came to Williams John was the first black man with whom I had ever stopped long enough to have a substantive conversation. We had many after the first one and my friendship with John had more to with enlightening my racial attitudes than anything else in my life. Anytime I felt myself sliding back into my old south Georgia habits, I thought of John. It made a big difference. I’m sure we will all miss him. Turner
Rich Gehrman
John was my and Brian Murphy’s freshman year roommate so he was one of the first people we met at Williams. He brought a nice stereo system with him so we had music. Like most of us at that point there might have been only one thing he was more interested in than rock ‘n roll. So he would bust back to the room to play his current favorite record between classes. What did we have – 10 or 15 minutes to get from one class to the other? But it was enough time for John to get in one and a half or two plays of for example ‘Just Like Romeo and Juliet,’ which I heard so often that I can still recite most of the lyrics today. Good thing I liked the song too.
John took me on my first trip to Boston over Thanksgiving to stay with friends of his. Being from the Midwest I had never seen a city like it, and it’s an experience I can still visualize. Probably the biggest impact John had on my life was persuading me to apply to business school. For someone doing social work it wasn’t an obvious choice. He was on the admissions committee at Harvard B-school at the time (which might have had something to do with my making the cut) and teaching a couple of sections of a real estate class. I didn’t go into business but have used the skills I got there throughout my career and I will always be grateful to John for getting me to make that move.
Also on the business side he was the first to teach me about getting things done using ‘OPM’ – Other People’s Money. I got the concept all right but am still trying to master the practical application.
I recall driving to Williamstown with John and his former wife, probably for our fifth reunion. We stopped for gas and the attendant called him ‘boy’. He and his wife just chuckled at the affront and it appeared to run off their backs, but of course my wife Lois and I wondered how much it really did.
More recently, some of us have received periodic emails from John with interesting attachments. Last year he sent a video of one of those guys who jump out of planes and fly down mountainsides at 140 mph with those wing-flap-cape things, and land at the bottom on skis. Yikes. My daughters have viraled that video out to many of their young friends so it lives on. That was John to me. He went through life at top speed, loved every second of it, and hated to miss anything. It doesn’t seem possible that his energy and drive could just suddenly stop. It is going to be hard to absorb that reality.
Rich Gehrman
(651) 303-3209
Tom Ehrich
What a shock to read of John’s death. John and I roomed together as Junior Advisors. I remember his buying a Triumph Bonneville motorcycle. He taught himself to ride it by doing tight circles on a wet field and learning to fall down, then to get back up and ride on.
When I read Gregg’s announcement, I thought of “Shotgun,” by Junior Walker & The All Stars, and how John patiently, if unsuccessfully, tried to teach me how to dance.
It can’t have been easy being a small minority at a college just starting to diversity. But John did it with grace and dignity.
Tom
William A.(Bill) Warner
I was personally devastated by John’s death. I’ve known John for almost twenty years. I counted John as one of my very best friends.
We frequently spoke 3 – 4 times per week. We would have our daily debates/ arguments on current events, both politics and business. Needless to say
these were often heated discussions. John and I would not have it any other way.
John was bright, sensitive, passionate and real! John did not meet strangers. He was always engaging and his laughter would more than fill any room.
John, my friend and my brother, I love you and miss you. However, I know through my faith in God that going forward when I think of my brother John a smile will come to my face!
To Greer (daughter) and the family, your dad will live in the hearts and minds of all of us who have known him.
May God bless and keep John Gladney through eternity.
William A. (Bill) Warner
Andrew S. Binder
As I was probably the slowest swimmer on the freshman swim team, I thought I needed to add my remembrances of John. I remember him as a friendly, funny and handsome guy who seemed really fast in the pool. Of course we didn’t wear goggles in those days and after a few laps, I couldn’t see anything. And John seemed so comfortable with the women and I felt so insecure and awkward. I never remembered him being angry. His skin color never seemed an issue. I was much more culturally confused by Bob Conway being a surfer from California! About 35 years ago, John and I met for a drink in downtown Seattle when he was there on business. As always he seemed so well put together; I was in the very early stages of my medical career as a medical resident, and I was going through a little turmoil in my personal life. I always assumed I would see him again. John, I am so sorry. You probably never knew, but you were one of my college heroes.
Andy Binder, Santa Barbara, California
Hugh Smyser
It’s been very moving to read everyone’s memories of John Gladney and how much we all liked his acuity and energy. I was among those who also benefited from his generous spirit. In 1975 I’d decided it was time to start settling down, and an MBA would be a step in the right direction. Harvard was the top of my target schools but I certainly wasn’t confident about getting in. John still had great connections at Admissions there and offered to recommend me. I’d been a photojournalist, which I tried (very questionably!) to characterize as an entrepreneurial activity on the applications. I got in and it was everything I hoped for, as I believe it had been for John. I’ve always felt that John’s recommendation could well have been the decisive factor. John, thanks again, so much.
Wally Wilson
I didn’t know John very well, but here’s a little anecdote from freshman year. Dick Horner (my roommate) came back from the first biology test exclaiming his astonishment that a black classmate could get a better score than he. It was a big moment of growth for Dick (and maybe all of us). Dick was from Alabama and I from Connecticut, but neither of us had any experience with inter-racial relations. How times change – my future son-in-law is Ghanaian (a classmate of my daughter from Connecticut College).
Losing friends will become more common as we boomers face our mortality. I had just reconnected with Rob Hammell after our 40th reunion when he passed suddenly. I’d prefer some of life’s lessons not to be so abrupt or final. Life’s lessons have a habit of coming at us at their own timing rather than our own.
Bill Clendaniel
I feel as though I am in a very long memorial service – the best kind at which people tell stories and you just wish you’d known the person who has died better. Thanks so much to you all who have written. In the midst of sadness it has been so uplifting and life-affirming.
I did not really know John, although I do remember running across him at some point at some conference. I wish I had know him better.
Gregg, or someone, I hope you’re compiling all these wonderful reminiscences for his daughter and any other family he had.
All of us I’m sure are taking away lessons. The one thing in this world we all know will happen one day is death (taxes can sometimes be avoided) and as I learned from running a cemetery for 20 years, it often takes us quite by surprise. So plan ahead and as Chris said, we should all tell our families that we love them and our friends how much we admire and appreciate them.
John clearly succeeded in what most of us want – leaving the world a better place for having been a part of it.
With deep affection to you all,
Bill
Louis Lantz – Friend – Capital Management
It was a difficult time for all of us who attended John’s Phoenix memorial service. I only knew John for a few years but my wife, I and many local valleyites appreciated the sentiments expressed so eloquently by his fellow class mates. Gregg, my wife and I, some of our local friends, and John’s daughter and sisters had lunch after flinging John’s ashes from a hilltop tomb, overlooking the Phoenix Zoo.
Louis Lantz, Principal, Capital Mangement
Gwynn G. Radeker
It is with great sadness that I hear of the passing of classmates. I have
made no reunions and remember most of you as you were then. This intrusion of
death into my dusty memories makes me think of the following:
“No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent,
a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less,
as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of
thine own were: any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in
mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls
for thee.”
John Donne, Devotions upon Emergent Occasions, no. 17 (Meditation) 1624
May God bless you all, living and dead.
Gwynn G. Radeker
Assistant District Attorney
Prosecutorial District 27B
Lincolnton, NC
704 736-8521
Allan Stern
Although I knew John at Williams, it wasn’t until our 35th reunion in 2002 that we really reconnected. This was the rebirth of a wonderful relationship that lasted until last week. My wife Susan and I had a wonderful visit with John out in Scottsdale several years ago that cemented the relationship even more. But most of the connection has been online.
I became one of John’s email buddies, getting or sending something to him at least once a week or so. We developed a de facto contest to see who could send each other more outrageous material. Much of it was humorous and fun — John really appreciated the fact that at age 63 I was living at a women’s college — but there were many serious pieces thrown in as well, often from perspectives and sources that I was not used to reading.
The last three emails from him — sent the first week of January — were typical. One was a link to a comparison between Aldous Huxley and George Orwell. Another was a forward from a Nigerian friend of John’s, lamenting the shame and embarrassment that the would-be Christmas Day plane bomber had brought to his country. The third was a very thoughtful analysis of the Tiger Woods situation from a black sports commentator.
As many of you have commented, John basically helped educate a whole class of mostly lily-white undergraduates, by being himself — hilariously, perceptively, loyally, and most of all authentically. He continued doing that up to the very end.
In my email, I have a mailbox folder set up for each of the people who correspond with me regularly. The entries from John into the “Gladney” mailbox ceased last week. But then I changed the rules that filter new mail in, so that anything ABOUT John come into that mailbox as well. Right now that mailbox is getting filled up with classmates’ tributes to him.
I must admit it is a little jarring to see the “New email from John Gladney” icon showing up every day. And yet comforting once I read the entries.
In changing the mailbox rules, maybe I am trying to electronically deny the fact that he’s gone.
I hope it works.