Hoon Memorial

Remembering Dave Hoon
Ned Groth & John Ho, Fall 2022

(Editor (NG)’s note: As the byline above indicates, this remembrance differs from the single-author norm. I have written what I could about Dave, based on yearbooks, my own memories from our Darrow years, and a few encounters later in life. But I didn’t know Dave well, few of us did, and I had relatively little material. John roomed with Dave for two years, they were close friends, and after they reconnected decades ago they talked on the phone often. Thus, I called on John for insights into most of Dave’s life. After many years of good intentions and one tragicomic failed attempt, Dave finally made it to a reunion, our 50th, and he came to Anson Perina’s mammoth birthday parties in Colorado, so during his final decade we saw quite a bit of him. As always, we've aimed for an honest and loving portrait of our classmate. If anyone who reads this sees a need to correct or amend the record, let us know and we can do so. –NG)

Dave joined us as a sophomore in the fall of 1959, and was with us for three years, through graduation. His father was a minister. Dave was quiet, introvert, not one to seek attention. He was friendly and kind, with a sly sense of humor and, as I recall, a deep voice. He played Junior Varsity soccer all three years (so did I); from the yearbooks it appears he didn’t participate in any winter or spring sports, although I didn’t think that was possible. We had a few classes together, notably Des McCracken’s French, so I’d say I knew him somewhat – about as well as I knew other kids who tended to keep to themselves. The photos below are from the 1960 (sophomore year) yearbook.

John Ho roomed with Dave (and P.J. Gorday and Denny Hopper) for two years in Brethren’s; they became good friends. John was not feeling especially comfortable then, one of a few Asian kids at Darrow, uprooted from his cultural milieu in NYC. He and Dave accepted and liked each other uncritically and took care of each other. It was a bond that lasted a lifetime.

Yearbooks reveal that Dave was in the choir/glee club for two years, took part in the Philosophy and Religion Seminar one year, and was a headwaiter senior year. As I recall he was a smoker, maybe smoked a pipe, so he spent hours out freezing with his fellow addicts.

Dave sailed smoothly through his three years at Darrow without any notable traumas, scandals or roles in memorable pranks (as far as we knew), and arrived at graduation day, with the rest of us who made it to the finish line, as one of the solid, more quiet pillars of our class. At that point, as often happens, I lost touch with him, and it would be many years before we would hear from each other again.

After Darrow, Dave attended Gettysburg College, graduating in 1966. When I finally caught up with him, via a Darrow fundraising telethon in 1977, he described it as “small, quiet, and all WASP” at the time. He didn’t mention what his major was. After college Dave went into the Army, was in for three years, and served in Vietnam. Dave told me he was in “counterintelligence;” Dave Griswold, who shared war stories with Hoon at one of Anson Perina’s birthday parties (see below), says Dave told him he was a sniper, an elite role within the military. John Ho, who reconnected with Dave in the 1990s (also see below), says Hoon often recounted his war experiences, including witnessing a lot of death and destruction (literally, “People dropping left and right of him,”) but, putting on his clinical psychologist hat, John didn’t detect post-trauma effects. Dave was just comfortable talking about it, at least with a close friend.

When I began writing the class newsletter in 1968, Dave was one of the few people who never responded to my letters seeking news. The school had his address, so he wasn’t “lost,” but despite good intentions, he didn’t communicate with us, his introvert side winning out. However, as noted above, I eventually was able to phone him, and he was happy to talk. Several later editions of the newsletter (1977-82, after that I stopped doing it except for one lone attempt to revive it) have news of Dave from phone calls and one visit. Once we set up our email network around 2000, Dave was in it, and occasionally in touch. So, with a few blanks to fill in, we have a fairly complete picture of Dave’s life.

After getting out of the army, Dave said he “dorked around for a year or so,” then settled in Colorado. He had always loved the “wide open spaces,” but also liked urban amenities, so he landed in the Denver area. He eventually went to work for the Colorado Veteran Employment Service Program, and he stayed there for 35 years. He married in 1972, to Stephanie, who also worked for the state, in the unemployment office; they had no children. They lived in Evergreen, CO, a town Dave described as populated by eccentrics (a neighbor raised llamas), and he did a lot of hunting and fishing in his free time. At one point he confessed that he enjoyed hunting deer and elk but feared admitting it was “politically incorrect.” He and Anson had a lot in common on that score (except Anson never gave a damn about public opinion.)

In June of 1978 I was in Colorado on business and got together with Dave and Stephanie for dinner at a nice restaurant in Evergreen. Possibly it was the wine, or good manners, but I didn’t take notes, so details are lost to memory. In 1980 I was in Denver again, on my way home to NY from my parents’ home in New Mexico, and we had a Darrow mini-reunion, described in that year’s newsletter. But Dave & Stephanie were traveling and didn’t make it to that one. From phone calls I learned that things were pretty much the same for them, “no news is good news.” They occasionally made trips back east, where Dave still had family, and hoped to see Scott Leake on a planned trip to Vermont.

After the newsletter lapsed, I mostly lost touch with Dave. But he and John Ho reconnected. One of my items about John, possibly in the last (1994) class newsletter, had mentioned John’s role in helping unaccompanied Vietnamese children who had arrived in NYC. Missing his friend, and caring a great deal about the Vietnamese and the legacy of our war there, Dave called John. That began what John described as regular, every-month-or-two phone calls between the former roommates. John says they would talk for an hour about “everything and nothing,” just sharing thoughts and feelings, “no agendas.” He said Dave often spoke of his secure job, the enjoyment he got from helping veterans, the “small but comfortable house” Dave and his wife shared with “two large dogs.” John said Dave lived a healthy life, watching his diet, exercising. He was a “night owl,” staying up late watching TV, and sleeping ‘til noon.

Somewhere in there, Dave had shed one wife and acquired a new one. He and Stephanie were divorced in 1997, amicably, he informed me in a 2002 phone call. His new wife, Dianne, whom he married around then, was/is an evangelical Christian. I never asked Dave how that happened, and I’m afraid I never met Dianne. In one email a few years later, Dave admired Sharon’s (my wife’s) stories in Newsweek about climate change and the denial campaign, and asked (tongue in cheek) whether I could get her to do one on evolution and that denial campaign, to help him win an unending debate with his wife. (He asked me not to bring up the topic if I ever met Dianne!)

Over the next few years, Dave got together at least once with Dave and Linda Benson for dinner and a play in Denver. When I was visiting out there, I’m afraid I don’t remember the year, the Bensons hosted a party in Colorado Springs and Anson Perina, Frank Rosenberg, Dave B., Dave H. (no Dianne) and I convened for a very pleasant evening. This photo was taken there. Sometime around then, Dave shared a news item about our classmate John Hamwi. John was a well-known personality in Aspen for many years. He had a brother, Paul, also an Aspen resident I think, who was convicted of hiring a hit man to murder his wife (not making this up!) Paul then jumped bail and disappeared, and prosecutors were convinced that John knew where he was and was hiding it, so they put a lot of heat on John, made his life miserable. So much so that John pulled up stakes and moved to North Carolina, where he has spent his golden years playing golf. John flunked out of Darrow and has never felt very connected to our class, but those of us who knew him were (briefly) fascinated by this tale of murder and mystery, for which Dave Hoon served as our on-the-spot reporter.

In 2002, I made a heroic (if I don’t say so myself) effort to get maximum turnout for our 40th reunion, and for several months it looked as if Dave and Dianne were going to come. Dave’s mother was still alive, living in a retirement home outside Philadelphia. They were going to fly back to visit her, borrow her car and drive up for the reunion. Dave was getting really psyched about it, he had called Ho, Hopper and Tanner, knew they would be there, was eager to see them again. And they almost made it. But the car broke down around New Paltz on their way up on Friday night. They spent most of Saturday with a mechanic who couldn’t figure out what was wrong, and elected to limp back to his mother’s house on Sunday to catch their flight back to Denver, so we missed them.

We then turned our focus to the 45th reunion, and for a while Dave thought they’d make it to that one. His mother passed away early that year (2007) and they planned a burial in Vermont on July 4th weekend; he hoped they could stretch out the trip to be at Darrow in mid-June. But that didn’t work out either. However, by the time of our 50th, Dave had retired after more than 35 years with the same agency, and focused on finally coming to a class reunion. This time Dave (again, without Dianne) flew to New York, stayed with John and Xiao-Yun in Queens, and they all drove up for the weekend. He had a great time and from that point on stayed in more frequent touch with John and a few other classmates.

Some years ago, Anson Perina began celebrating his major birthdays “bigly,” as they say, throwing (or, Bev throwing) gatherings for upwards of 200 people with food, drinks and live music at their home in Fort Collins (it has a big back yard.) Almost all of the Darrow Colorado contingent, including Dave, attended Anson’s 70th and 75th (along with a few outsiders like me, Lang and Griswold.) This photo from the 70th, in 2013, shows Dave (left) with Grant Bowry ’63, Dave Benson, the birthday boy, Bob Lang and Frank Rosenberg.

Although it took him a while to get there, it felt good over recent years to have Dave back in the midst of our class and its festivities, and he seemed joyful at being among his old friends on those occasions. Last winter, John Ho had tried calling Dave for one of their monthly-or-so conversations, only to have the cell phone ring and ring and go unanswered. Not long after that, we heard from Dianne that Dave had died, at home, “unexpectedly,” on January 16, 2021. [Coincidentally, Sharon died the same day, not unexpectedly but far sooner than we’d hoped, from cancer.]

John spoke with Dianne once, to confirm Dave’s death, but didn’t learn any further details about what took him from us. He said the last time they’d spoken Dave had seemed fine and hadn’t mentioned any health issues, and he and Dianne were being very careful about Covid. An obituary Dianne sent us said that in addition to all his (paid) work assisting veterans, Dave volunteered for a refugee program, worked with disadvantaged youth, and served as a job counselor for local residents. He loved the outdoors and was an accomplished photographer. In addition to Dianne, he is survived by a brother, Peter, a niece and a nephew, and many cousins. He was to be buried in Fort Logan National Cemetery in Denver with a military ceremony scheduled for the fall of 2021.

I had a lot on my own plate so it has taken me almost two years to get around to writing this, but finally it’s done. Dave had a good life and a reasonably long one (he was a few weeks short of 78), but it’s still very sad that he’s no longer with us. I don’t think I ever saw him angry or upset; he either had a very even keel, or kept it all inside. John described him as “a dear friend, the kind one makes when one is young, innocent, vulnerable and truthful.” A quiet friend to us all, with us no more. So long, Dave.