The 40th Anniversary

Golde & Ted circa 1980

It was forty years ago yesterday that Ted died at Billings Hospital on the University of Chicago campus. Here's an excerpt from the book.

He had experienced health issues for years and was certainly aware of the doctor’s concerns but focused more on the team than his own good health. Only four days prior to this, he expressed the joy the job still held for him, quoted in the April 12 The Daily Maroon as saying.

"They’re (his varsity athletes) the reason I’m still in amateur coaching. These past couple of years I’ve had more fun coaching than I’ve had since…why heck, since I can remember.”

There’s comfort in this declaration, proof that he could look back on his life and say that he was happy with the path chosen.

His father Eustace lived to be ninety-five and older brother Hal eighty-five, but his mother (who was born in Wales) died of a stroke in her late 60’s after a long illness – a trait he must have carried. This was the moment his family had feared for so long – Ted’s history of high blood pressure and poor eating habits stealing years from his life. He was conscious and able to communicate with Joan and Jim (daughter and son) even though he was intubated, in good spirits despite the severity of the aneurysm. She gave him a notebook so he could write, Joan remembering a question that made her laugh.

“How’s Dusty?”

It must have been reassuring that one of Ted’s first queries was about the family dog because it indicated his wit was still intact and compassion for others still alive. Shortly after that exchange, the surgeon at Billings Hospital drilled into his skull to relieve the pressure from swelling, and for a few days it seemed to help. But his condition worsened and they had to induce a coma in hope that it would alleviate further damage to his brain.

It didn’t and on May 3 Ted died with Joan at his side.

A memorial service was held on June 1st at Rockefeller Chapel, hundreds of people attending the ceremony – listening to tributes by Lowell Paul, Roger Hildebrand, Mike Karluk, Stephen Thomas, James Brown, and Thomas Jones – in the program near the bottom of the page these words.

“Contributions in memory of Coach Haydon may be sent to the University of Chicago Track Club, 5640 S. University Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60637.”

Even though Ted couldn’t have known this was in the memorial program, he would have been pleased to see it there, to know there was continued support for the club despite his passing. He was passionate about what he created and hoped it was around long after he was gone – that generations of athletes would continue their track careers – just as they had done over his thirty-five years of coaching.

Following the ceremony, a woman approached Joan to express her sympathy, aware as she neared that Joan didn’t recognize her.

“Hi Joanie.” The woman continued. “It’s Susi, your best friend in grade school.” She was the one who watched track meets with Joan. They embraced and Susi Stillerman continued. “I came because your father was such a great man. It was important to me that I be here and express my condolences.”

Joan was so touched by the sentiment that it brought tears to her eyes. Every memorial service is a personal tribute to the individual, acknowledgement of the contributions they have made, the lives they have touched, and how the world is a better place because of their presence.