Bob Crane, USMC, came to New Trier as an older student, after a number of tours in Viet Nam. I first met him in an English class. Here was this interesting looking fellow with a super short crew cut in the era of long hair. Acting different (not arrogant in any way but as if he had seen much more than us) he was outgoing, funny and very likable. We became friends at New Trier pretty quickly.
It turned out that we lived close to each other too. So palling around at school and getting to know him better, I became aware that his time in the service was very tough on him and, although he never said it, I could tell that he was haunted by things that had happened in that God forsaken war so long ago.
Bob had a foxy sister and I spent a good deal of time over at his house with both him and Mary.
I used to ask Bob about his experience of being a Marine in Viet Nam. He wouldn't tell me too much but if I asked him questions he would answer. I heard about some really troubling scenarios.
I kept in touch with Bob in college too. Later though, we drifted apart.
An interesting old soul, a great wit and a natural story teller--we had a kinship in things and activities we liked in common, in our political outlook and in fellowship as two swashbuckling adventurer young men.
I don't know what caused Bob's death. I DO remember him fondly and I remember him well.
I remember Bob as a personable, yet enigmatic character.
He'd served in Vietnam and, as I recall, was a UDT (underwater demolition team) specialist. I never talked to him about his experience in Vietnam.
I can't recall why he was a New Trier East student after serving in the military. I do recall this guy sporting a crew cut and smoking either Kool or Lucky Strike unfiltereds.
The lasting memory I have of Bob was him at a party at Hudson Fair's house. There was a grand piano in the lvivng room; I'd been playing some blues on on it when Bob asked, "Mind if I tickle the ivories?"
Here's to Bob, and the magical time we grew up in. Bill Fly was my advisor; I remember being sent home if you had pants with belt loops but weren't wearing a belt, or weren't wearing socks with your shoes.
We listened to some of the best music in history from 68 to 72. In June of 72 the Rolling Stones played at the International Amphitheatre. A bunch of us slept in line overnight to score tickets. Hudson Fair, Dave Steffen and I got sixth-row, center stage seats for $6.50! They'd go for at least a thousand bucks now.
I'm astonished to find how many friends or acquaintences of mine are no longer with us. Recently I've been in touch with Jeff Bauman, who lost both legs as a result of the Boston Marathon bombing.
This was just one incident; there are many people out there who a hungry, hurting, or homeless 365 days a year.
We don't need the ocassional tragedy to compel us to reach out to those in need.
Do whatever you can, whenever you can, for whomever you can.
Hudson Fair
Bob Crane, USMC, came to New Trier as an older student, after a number of tours in Viet Nam. I first met him in an English class. Here was this interesting looking fellow with a super short crew cut in the era of long hair. Acting different (not arrogant in any way but as if he had seen much more than us) he was outgoing, funny and very likable. We became friends at New Trier pretty quickly.
It turned out that we lived close to each other too. So palling around at school and getting to know him better, I became aware that his time in the service was very tough on him and, although he never said it, I could tell that he was haunted by things that had happened in that God forsaken war so long ago.
Bob had a foxy sister and I spent a good deal of time over at his house with both him and Mary.
I used to ask Bob about his experience of being a Marine in Viet Nam. He wouldn't tell me too much but if I asked him questions he would answer. I heard about some really troubling scenarios.
I kept in touch with Bob in college too. Later though, we drifted apart.
An interesting old soul, a great wit and a natural story teller--we had a kinship in things and activities we liked in common, in our political outlook and in fellowship as two swashbuckling adventurer young men.
I don't know what caused Bob's death. I DO remember him fondly and I remember him well.
An honorable American and great guy.
Peter Fotopoulos
I remember Bob as a personable, yet enigmatic character.
He'd served in Vietnam and, as I recall, was a UDT (underwater demolition team) specialist. I never talked to him about his experience in Vietnam.
I can't recall why he was a New Trier East student after serving in the military. I do recall this guy sporting a crew cut and smoking either Kool or Lucky Strike unfiltereds.
The lasting memory I have of Bob was him at a party at Hudson Fair's house. There was a grand piano in the lvivng room; I'd been playing some blues on on it when Bob asked, "Mind if I tickle the ivories?"
Here's to Bob, and the magical time we grew up in. Bill Fly was my advisor; I remember being sent home if you had pants with belt loops but weren't wearing a belt, or weren't wearing socks with your shoes.
We listened to some of the best music in history from 68 to 72. In June of 72 the Rolling Stones played at the International Amphitheatre. A bunch of us slept in line overnight to score tickets. Hudson Fair, Dave Steffen and I got sixth-row, center stage seats for $6.50! They'd go for at least a thousand bucks now.
I'm astonished to find how many friends or acquaintences of mine are no longer with us. Recently I've been in touch with Jeff Bauman, who lost both legs as a result of the Boston Marathon bombing.
This was just one incident; there are many people out there who a hungry, hurting, or homeless 365 days a year.
We don't need the ocassional tragedy to compel us to reach out to those in need.
Do whatever you can, whenever you can, for whomever you can.
Peter