Commentary: A friend of Jack London

By Hank Coleman
Posted 12/6/17

By the completion of high school most boys are familiar with Jack London. The stories of White Fang and Buck from Call of the Wild captured our youthful imaginations and propelled us along avenues of …

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Commentary: A friend of Jack London

Posted

By the completion of high school most boys are familiar with Jack London. The stories of White Fang and Buck from Call of the Wild captured our youthful imaginations and propelled us along avenues of adventure, travel and the great outdoors. These stories provided an escape from the confines of our regulated lives.

The choices after high school were generally limited to college, join the workforce or enter the military. During the late 1960’s the military became more of a demand with the establishment of a draft. Some kids made an abortive attempt at adventure by driving to California and back or by heading to New Hampshire to pursue the life of a ski bum. Such attempts burned out rather quickly. Reality entailed joining mainstream America by settling down, getting married, having a job and raising kids.  Periodically, Jack London stories would dance in our heads providing a brief respite from the regularity of our daily existence. I had a friend who did not follow the expected path.

I met Butch Baker while caddying at Rhode Island Country Club. At 12 years old our friendship was immediate. During our teenage years we caddied, enjoyed camping and fishing, double dated, drank some beer and loved reading books. Instead of studying in high school we had pocketbooks in our lockers and wedged in with our textbooks to be read in class. Jack London, Ian Fleming (James Bond author) and the books of numerous authors fueled our dreams of an adventurous life. 

After high school Butch and I moved in different directions. I went to college, got married and started a family. Butch enlisted in the army and was stationed in Germany. Upon his return home we reconnected and began employment in our career industries, Butch in construction and myself in banking. We picked up where we left off: fishing, drinking beer and always reading.

I cannot recall if I wished Butch bon voyage or if, unannounced, he simply departed. As the story goes his brother Kevin or his mom drove him to Wampanoag Trail where Butch would begin an odyssey of “thumbing” to Alaska.

The stories began filtering back to home base in Barrington RI. Butch had arrived at the docks on the Alaskan coast. His initial job in a cannery was followed by a boat ride to the island of Kodiak. He became a commercial fisherman, married a Native American and either literally or figuratively became the acknowledged mayor of Kodiak.

Subsequent journeys took Butch to Oregon where he formed a construction company and pursued his passion for basketball through coaching and announcing local games. He had natural verbal gifts and according to Kevin the listeners loved him. Other adventures had Butch living in Northern California, Washington State and spending summers fishing in Utah.

Twenty five years ago Kevin called me with the news Butch was in town for a short visit. He had moved to Maine with his wife and son. The years apart had not detoured the depth of our friendship. It would be another twenty years before we reconnected. During this time the travels and adventures of Butch would attain a mythological status.

Butch became a serious bicyclist. He had spent a winter on Cape Cod training before embarking on a cross country trip. Equipped with the bare necessities, for him a tent and pocketbooks, he pedaled to California. He was 65 years old. Next he pedaled from Mexico to Canada. And the stories filtered back home. He was seen riding his bike in all corners of America.

Moving into our late sixties Butch began returning home on a regular basis. The years melted away as we fished, discussed sports and books. Nothing between us had changed since we first met at the caddy shack. We could talk for hours or spend time quietly enjoying the serenity of the outdoors.

This past September I received a call from a mutual friend, Mark Mainella. He informed me Butch was in Florida hospitalized and diagnosed with cancer. When I reached Butch he informed me the cancer was inoperable. However, his always positive spirit hardly seemed diminished. Later I called his sister Dinah who validated Butch’s prognosis adding that he had one month to possibly one year to live. I would not hesitate to visit my friend.

I contacted another close friend of ours, Pat Monti. Pat and Jim Lyons, also a pal from childhood days, lived in Orlando close to the home of Butch’s son and where he was staying. I flew to Florida.

We spent a magical afternoon together. We renewed youthful adventures, discussed life’s trials and tribulations and reopened the door to the world of Jack London. Butch shared a memorable quote from the author, a quote which in his childhood his mom had shared with him “The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.”

In the face of his life nearing its end, Butch displayed quietude and contentment. He verbalized this peacefulness when he shared with us “I lived the life I have chosen. I have no regrets.” This was his final gift to me. I will take the positive attitude from Butch with the hope it will give me the courage to face my final hours. Butch passed away in November. He lived a life many of us only fancied.

Hank Coleman grew up in Barrington and now lives in Rehoboth, Mass.

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