After Carleton Bill lived in NYC and I lived in Minneapolis and we talked on the phone quite a bit. I’m not sure how, because that was when long distance cost extra and we didn’t carry phones in our pockets. But we spoke a lot. One evening I told him about a lecture I’d just seen by Keith Jarrett. Jarrett spoke about his solo improvised concerts and how occasionally he would play one note repeatedly for a long stretch because it was “exactly the right note.” Bill scoffed at the idea. “That’s bullsh*t,” he said, ”totally bogus.” Months later my phone rang about midnight and it was Bill, calling from a phone booth, almost breathless. “I just saw Keith Jarrett,” he said, “and he did that one note thing. INCREDIBLE!!!” That little incident has always summed up Bill for me – opinionated and insightful, but always curious and open-minded. And generous: when I moved to NYC I lived with Bill for a few months until I got settled. I’m still living in that same neighborhood, and I think of him often.
-Dan McGuire ’73
Bill and I were close friends in elementary school. He was happy. We drifted apart in middle and high school, but reconnected at Carleton. We were roommates sophomore year in Davis. Bill loved to read, especially the Great Books. He was bright but shy and reclusive. He took off a year and graduated with the Class of ’74. He struggled with mental illness after Carleton. I believe he died ca. 1984 at age 33, but he actually just disappeared without a trace. His sister made many unsuccessful attempts to find out what happened to him. I still think of him often.
-Dave Peck ’73
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