Tim
Eichler, Theta Eta 26 by Bob Zak
Tim was one of those guys who we used to
term in those days as a
"face-man". A "Face-Man" was someone who
would get the good looking
girls at our parties on Hillcrest due to his
athletic frame, Beach Boy
blond hair, and "the look".
I enrolled at NIU in the Fall of 1969. At
that time,Tim lived next door
to me at Stevenson North. He pledged
Sigma Nu that Fall. In those days, freshmen
had to wait one semester
before rushing/pledging a fraternity. I
didn't know a lot about Tim
during those early days but came to know him
that Spring of 1970. He
pursued Chuck Black, John White and myself
(all living at Stevenson
North) into coming to a rush party at Sigma
Nu. I had already gone to
several other rush parties, but they were
too plastic (e.g., the Ducks
(Delta Upsilon), Phi Kappa Sigma, etc). At
Sigma Nu, everyone was their
own person, just like Tim described them. I
remember at my first rush
party, I met Jerry Ryden, Jeff Lippert, Jim
Murphy and, of course,
40-Weight (doesn't everyone meet Marc!). I
came back from that first
party, not only with a good buzz, but with a
feeling that I met some of
the greatest guys on campus. Later on,
Chuck, John & I all received our
bids, which we all accepted. We were all
brothers of Sigma Nu.
The following year, Tim roomed at the house
on 832 Hillcrest with Bob
Watson, John White, Rick Gayeski (who
pledged Fall of '70) & Chuck Black. They
formed one of the strangest "groups" within
the history of Theta Eta.
They became known (along with Brian Corbett,
the Bolton Blob) as the Ronson
Family. If you were there at the house, at
anytime, either prior to a
meeting, or a party, or just passing thru
the house, you were most
likely to be "flinted". Don't ask me what
that was, or what it was -
you just didn't want to incur their rath of
being "flinted"!
Tim transferred the next year from NIU to I
believe Illinois State. While
he was at ISU, he contacted Hodgkins
Disease. He fought thru it and
became a survivor. Later on, Tim became a
pharmacist, got married and
finally settled down. One day, can't
remember the year, I received a
call from Dick Storm telling me that Tim was
very sick and not doing
well. I called Tim at his house and his wife
put him on the phone with
me. I remember that his voice was very weak
but his humor was still in
this voice as he asked me "What's shaking?"
When Tim went to the Chapter
Eternal
I came in for Tim's funeral and even though
he looked frail, he still had
those good looks with his blonde hair. Once
a face man, always a face man.
I owe my beginning with Sigma Nu/Theta Eta
all to Tim Eichler. He was the
first to invite me to the house & he backed
his word that these guys were laid back,
easy going, and easy to talk with. He was
right. Thanks, Tim.
Bob Zak
Theta Eta 54
A Tribute
to Gary Strasser, Theta Eta 254 by Mike
Dutka
My relationship with Gary Strasser started
the day I arrived at NIU. Ron Kulesza and I
were roommates in Stevenson North on the 8th
floor. I moved-in in the morning and then my
parents finally left. I wandered out of my
room and went next door. Inside this room
were a few guys sitting around drinking. One
of the guys immediately offered me a beer.
As he handed it to me, he said that his name
was Gary Strasser. About thirty seconds
later, some guy sitting next to Gary did a
Technicolor yawn all over the room. Gary
looks over the situation and says looks like
we need a new room. It wasn’t Gary’s room.
He lived a few doors down.
Gary soon joined Sigma Nu. He pledged in the
fall of ‘86. I was not interested in greek
life at this point. But his stories of the
parties and the friends that he had made
started to work on me. Then I found out that
Jim Pagnusat and Jamie Christensen were in
his pledge class. I knew that these two guys
wouldn’t put up with much shit and they
seemed to like it. So I went through spring
’87 rush and received my bid. Gary brought
it back to the dorms and delivered it to me.
Gary was my pledge dad as well. I would have
never joined Sigma Nu if I had never met
Gary.
There are some funny stories, as we all
have, that Gary had done. First off, Gary
had been in love with Julie, his wife, since
forever. He would talk to her on the phone
and another Gary would take over. It wasn’t
the outgoing and boisterous Gary, but the
reserved Gary. We used to give him so much
shit, because you could tell by the way that
he was holding the phone who he was talking
to. Back in the dorms, freshman year, Gary
borrowed Ron’s beast (70’s era Buick blue
and red primer colored) to drive out to Iowa
to see her. Ron told him twenty times not to
lower the window because it will not go back
up. It was around a hundred below zero, and
of course at the first or second toll booth,
Gary rolls that puppy down and has to freeze
the rest of the trip.
Then there was the Jeep. I am not sure how
many Sigma Nu’s spent time in that Jeep, but
it was certainly a mainstay for a long time.
Only a few guys knew how to drive stick, so
nobody ever really borrowed it. We decided
to go down to SIU to go and watch the
Huskies play a football game. It was 1990.
They went 10-2 that year I think. We had a
mixer on that Friday night and we were going
to leave right after it. Gary was living on
Edgebrook. While around 2 or 3 in the
morning, Rick Miller, Tom Nelson, and I were
sitting in the living room praying that Gary
would not show up. No such luck. He came and
we all went. Gary got tired of driving and
Tom says that he will drive. We stop for
donuts and coffee and Tom begins to drive.
The first intersection Tom shifts like a pro
so Rick and Gary start to drink their
coffee. At the next light, just as they take
a drink, Tom pops the clutch and covers them
with coffee. Gotta love that since they were
wearing the latest and greatest custom Sigma
Nu sweatshirts that cost about fifty bucks.
But Tom was not finished. Oh no, not by a
long shot. Later as we all lulled off to
sleep, we were awakened by Rick yelling
Tom,Tom,TOM,TOM. Tom decided to pass a truck
on a two lane road. For some reason, he was
unable to do it quickly. Another car was
coming straight at us. By some act of God,
that car went down into the ditch and
avoided us (of course, we kept going). We
then started thinking up the headlines in
the papers. Tragedy strikes Illinois
highways as four NIU students lose their
life due to poor passing techniques. And on
and on. At the time, we thought that we were
immortal.
That feeling was shattered the day that I
found out that Gary had passed away. It
still haunts me as I am sure that it haunts
many of you. I was out of town and unable to
attend the funeral. That also bothers me. I
wish that I could have been there. At
homecoming, there is a void because I know
that Gary would be there. Anytime there was
a gathering, Gary was always involved. He
was a catalyst that got everybody interested
and excited. Gary lived life to the fullest.
There was always time to have a beer or go
to Molly’s or go on a roadtrip.
Gary adjusted to life after college quite
well. He and Julie did get married. They
have two beautiful girls. He was working a
challenging job that he liked and he was
involved with their church. He and I spoke
from time to time. We usually realized that
it had been a long time in between calls,
but it was always the same old Gary. I can’t
even imagine what Julie and the girls have
gone through. He is still here in spirit and
he lives on through his family and in our
hearts and memories.
Rest in peace, my friend.
Mike Dutka
Theta Eta 262
A Tribute to Scott Dietrick, Theta Eta
90 by Matt Tryzna
In 1973, after sustaining a knee injury at
the age of 20, Scott could no longer play
football at NIU. He had no other choice but
to drop out of college. He worked his way up
through Xerox Corporation and married his
college sweetheart (which he met at a Sigma
Nu party). After being diagnosed with
environmentally induced leukemia at the
young age of 31, he later went into
remission after contracting Hepatitis C
through a much-needed blood transfusion.
This would later lead to a liver transplant
in 1995 and his death in 1998. Scott left
behind a wife and two daughters whom both
would later graduate from Northern Illinois
University.
A story comes to mind about Scott that I
still tell every now and then.
In my senior year I was Little Sister
Chairman (or whatever it was called).
During a chapter meeting right before little
sister rush, several brothers emphasized the
need to NOT give bids to "unattractive"
women just because they were nice and we
didn't want to hurt their feelings. "We have
to consider the bad impression having beat
little sisters around can have on potential
new (male) fraternity members....". As you
could expect, the most friendly, energetic,
and easy to talk to rushee was a "husky"
sorority sister of a few of our current
little sisters. Scott liked her in
particular.
A few days later we had the bid voting
session. When this particular lady's name
came there were shouts of "No way, she's
beat" and "Do you want her walking around
campus with a Sigma Nu shirt on?!", Several
brothers simply made loud vomiting sounds.
In the midst of this cacophony Scott stood
up and shouted something like "Now wait a
minute!" The room went silent. Scott then
began what I can only describe as what had
to be one of most moving speeches since
Martin Luther King's "I have a Dream" but
Scott's was titled "She May Be Beat". "She
may be beat", he began, "but she's a great
person." I don't remember exactly what he
said next but by the time he was done he had
convinced enough of the brothers so that she
got a bid (which she accepted).
At the next chapter meeting I assigned the
Pledge Fathers for the new little sisters
pledges. In my mind there was no question
who would be the Pledge Father of the women
described above but when I assigned her to
Scott he screamed "I don't want her, she's
beat!".
Go figure.
Matt Tryzna Theta Eta 87
A Tribute to Scott Dietrick, Theta Eta
90 by Jeff Chandler
That is sad news. The brother that probably
new him best was Chuck Kaiser. They grew up
together in West Dundee where Chuck was the
star quarterback and Scottie the big time
linemen.
One funny story about Scott At that time
(1972-73 or so) just about everybody in the
house smoked marijuana. Scott did not and
was very much against its use. While he was
in the hospital recovering from knee surgery
he sustained playing football at NIU, some
of the brothers made him some "special"
brownies. He snarfed them all down, of
course. It was funny to watch this big guy
lying there stoned out of his mind and not
knowing why he felt like he did.
Scott tried to pull off the image of a mean,
crazy football player, but he failed
miserably. He was one of the kindest, most
gentle people I ever had the pleasure of
meeting.
He will be missed.
Jeff Chandler Theta Eta 78
A Tribute to Scott Dietrick, Theta Eta
90 by Warren Souders
Scott was a good friend of mine during those
years. We lived on the same dorm floor in
Douglas and pledged Sigma Nu together along
with Kevin Simpson, Bob Davis and Bill
Binder. Within days of meeting him, Scott
took me along with a group of guys going on
a panty raid of Gilbert Hall. Scott drove a
cherry '67 GTO and I remember he loved to
pull up to within a few feet of a stopped
car and then burn rubber for a foot or two.
I remember how bummed he was when someone
tried to steel the mag wheels off that car.
And I remember tearing ass down Annie
Glidden after a pledge function to get back
to the dorm before the doors locked. Bob was
a Navy veteran from Southwest Missouri who
spoke with a little bit of a twang and whom
we kidded about being a hillbilly. Anyway. I
remember he brought some moonshine up to
school that Fall and kept it in a little
stone jug left over from a "popular" jug
wine of the time. We had set our closet up
as kind of a bar. Anyway, the day Scott got
blind-sided by one of his own team mates, I
recall him hobbling up to the second floor
room and being in such pain that not even
the pain killers he was on were doing him
any good. Bob broke out the moonshine and
Scott killed the thing on the spot. And as I
recall, just about every other drop of
liquor we had in the room at the time. It
was a tough break for him because football
was a big part of his life.
I recall his best friend from high school
days was Charlie Kaiser. I remember the
change he went through when he started
dating, Sharon, his wife to be. It was
striking to see this big old football player
turned into a pussycat by this girl. What I
recall most about Scott was he was a good
friend to me, a good brother to those in the
fraternity at the time, a good student, a
good football player, a hard partier (as
were we all). I ran out of money myself
about '73, dropped out of school and pretty
much lost track of Scott until years later I
heard of his leukemia. I last saw Bob Davis
about '78 at his home in southwest Missouri.
I am sorry to hear of Scott's death in 1998,
especially so many years after the fact. I
am cheered, however, to hear that he had a
daughter and many years to spend with her
and Sharon. There are, I am sure, many
brothers who will remember Scott and be able
to tell stories about those days and why it
was good to have known him and been able to
call him brother.
Warren Souders
Theta Eta 92
A Tribute to Scott Swanson, Theta Eta
289 by Jim Tubridy
It takes a while to adjust to the loss of a
close friend. Scott Swanson was truly a good
friend to any and all. His size and his
Joliet attitude intimidated most, but his
heart and sense of humor overshadowed all of
it. As one of the oldest pledges (if not the
oldest) this house ever had, I found a young
Joliet punk to be the brother with whom I
identified with the most and one of the
wisest (both definitions) guys I ever met.
Scott and I became friends pretty quickly,
especially after we moved into the house for
the first time. Scott and Sam Liggamari
(sorry if I spelled that wrong, Sam) lived
in the room next door, and thanks to a
little creative wiring, we shared cable and,
I think a phone line at one point. Scott's
bed backed up to the same wall as mine and I
would get constant complaints from
him about banging from my side of the wall
(but she's an entirely different story).
Back to Scott being "wise". Besides the
obvious definition of wise. I knew Scott to
be one of the 'oldest' 20-year-olds I've
ever met. Like myself, he had been "in the
world" before he came to college. No offense
to those of you who came straight to NIU
from high school, you caught up on your
own world experiences after school. Now
Scott took a different route than I, but he
had experienced more in his lifetime than
most and you could see that in how he dealt
with people and situations. Scott worked in
his father's gas/service station; one of the
few independents left at the time. They had
a snow-plowing side business and Scott would
tell you, his real money for the year came
through that side of the business. Being the
driven individual he was, you could easily
imagine Scott driving through Joliet at all
hours taking care of his contracted plowing
jobs and digging up as many non-contracted,
quick jobs to add to that bottom line. No
matter what job he did, Scott approached it
as the accountant he hoped to become: "How
can I make this the most profitable?" I
even think he was trying to figure how
to make being McCabe's bouncers more
profitable for the both of us. Scott had a
dream to open his own hobby shop, then again
he had a dream to start his own
multinational corporation. The main thing is
Scott didn't want to work for anyone but
himself. He would have admired what the
Jason's have put together. Scott always came
off as profit driven first and foremost,
which made it very interesting when I
received a call from him one day to tell me
he had joined a computer innovation company.
The company specialized in providing voice
response/recognition hardware and software
for the disabled. I told him he obviously
had the wrong number and that I hoped he
could find the Jim he was looking for. I
also told him what a coincidence it was that
my name is Jim and I had a good friend named
Scott too. It took a while to sink in, but
Scott was involved in something that was
more benevolent than profit-driven (must
have been those philanthropies at the DeKalb
senior center). Sure, there was a potential
for good money (I mean, it was Scott), but
we're not talking Silicon Valley money. The
best part is Scott was happy. He and I
stood up in each other's weddings and I had
the greater privilege of being his best man.
Scott's wife, Dianne, is probably the best
thing that ever happened to him. Let's face
it, with all the nice things I've been
saying here, he still had his wild streak.
Dianne allowed that wild streak to remain
but she helped him focus it. He still had
his fun, like calling me in the middle of
various 'activities' and giving me a
play-by-play (before I met my wife), but
Dianne got him to look at things with a more
appraising eye and I think that put him on a
positive track to success. Scott was really
beginning to get himself a good life
complete with a great wife, a home, a
computer 'playroom' for him and even his
dream dog, a Newfoundland. Scott's time with
Dianne was far too short for what they did
for one another. Scott and I had some pretty
interesting adventures together in his short
time at NIU and here on this earth,
including a Xmas vacation roadtrip to visit
my parents in Buffalo. I got Scott into his
first strip club (I'm so proud) by taking
him over the border into Canada where
the legal age is (or at least was) 18. At
that club a very hot, blonde lap dancer
starting heading our way. Unfortunately for
her, she smiled. It was a scene straight out
of the 3 Stooges when they're checking out
some hot looking harem girls (c'mon you all
remember the King Rootintootin episode), and
the one Curly picks pulls aside her veil to
show teeth only a barracuda could love. I
think we both even went, "Nya a ah!". I
then took Scott to his 2nd strip
club...quickly. We both liked that one much
better. He thoroughly enjoyed pointing out
that one of the strippers looked a lot like
the afore-mentioned wall-banger. When I came
back to Illinois for Scott's funeral, I was
reminded why I moved to CA. I flew through
one of the worst blizzards of the year,
followed by two days of -60 degrees wind
chill weather. That weather and a flat
tire made me late for my own best friend's
funeral. I was extremely upset and
embarrassed, but my dilemma inadvertently
provided plenty of much-needed humorous
distraction for his family. I still feel
like he's with me sometimes. I even had a
very realistic dream where he told me his
wife was in pain and he asked me to contact
her. I felt weird, but I had to see for
myself. She was miserable. Dianne's parents
had just announced they were getting a
divorce after 45 years of marriage. At the
same time some financial issues had come
from out of nowhere and she cried on the
phone with me for what seemed like hours.
Call it what you want, but Scott was there
somehow. Not long after he died, Dianne sent
me his Sigma Nu Pledge Book. It had some fun
and interesting memories. Then it was my
turn to cry. I miss Scott every day. He was
the kind of guy who would drop everything to
help you, like we would all hope to have
with brothers. After Scott's funeral, the
active Theta Eta chapter allowed us to hold
a memorial service for him at the house. It
was a strong show of brotherhood for those
who showed for any one of the services, but
that one did me the most good. Scott Swanson
was a big man. Big at heart, big in spirit,
big in humor, big in stature, but mostly:
Big in brotherhood.
We miss you my brother.
Jim Tubridy
A Tribute to Robbie Shapin by Allan
Boress, Theta Eta 17
Robbie was from the far south suburbs of
Chicago and went to Rich South. He went home
to the Lord at a very young age, having a
heart attack while jogging. He was just in
his early thirties and was the first brother
to pass to Chapter Eternal.
Robbie was on the gymnastics team at Rich
South and looked it. He had these massive
shoulders from working out on the parallel
bars, etc. Unfortunately, this athletic
talent didn’t really translate into any of
our intramural sports and he was as crummy
as the rest of us.
He pledged the semester before I did, in
Fall, 1968. Robbie and his fellow pledge
roomie, Doug Cohen, lived on the 9th floor
of Grant North when I met them. These two
were exact opposites: Robbie was always
upbeat. Cohen was a natural born cynic and
lived to tick people off. I think Shapin was
the only guy who could take living with
Cohen; anyone else would’ve killed him. (We
got our revenge on Cohen when we refused to
bail him out of jail after getting arrested
during a peace protest).
Robbie always had this huge smile on his
face. He was like a little kid (we pretty
much all were). If there were fun to be had,
a practical joke to pull on someone (like
Tim Kedzuch), a Christmas tree to
borrow,Robbie would be first in line.
One such event particularly stands out in my
mind. After becoming an active in the Spring
of 1969, I was able to attend chapter
meetings, then presided over by Tony
Marsiglia, himself. Tony was completing a
four-year stint as president (emperor) of
Beta Phi.
At that time, there was a huge Flash Gordon
revival on and it was quite popular late
night TV fare perfect for watching whilst
snarfing a Paglia’s pizza and smoking three
or four doobs.
Just as Marsiglia is ready to launch into
some BS speech or something, from the back
of the room comes at the loudest of volume,
Hail Mighty Potentate! Hail Mighty
Potentate! Shapin had taped this famous
greeting to Emperor Ming and played it back
just as Tony opened his mouth to talk. As
you would expect, Marsiglia got ticked off
and the rest of us roared.
Robbie was a true brother and had a kind
heart. If you needed a favor, a ride, help
in any way, he was there. He further proved
his humanitarian benevolence by dating one
of the mousiest girls any of us hung out
with. I think he must’ve felt sorry for her,
or was banging her silly
When Robbie graduated, he became an
insurance adjuster and studied to be an
attorney. After passing the bar, he got
married to a very attractive and intelligent
woman and we all had a blast at his wedding.
They say the good die young. I miss Robbie
and can only imagine him with a tape
recorder interrupting the Big Guy when He
calls a meeting.
|
