Theresa’s Tribute to Bill:

William Franklin Horton, loving husband, father and friend, passed away on February 2, 2009 following an injury he suffered in a fall at the Berry-Horton Ranch in Carpinteria.  Born in North Wilkesboro, North Carolina on July 5, 1926, he was 82.  Known as Bill, he was the son of Archibald and Bernice Horton and a descendent of the Andrew Bailard and C. Bernard Franklin pioneers in the Carpinteria Valley.

Bill is survived by his wife of 31 years, Glenna Berry-Horton, also known as Glenna Luschei in the poetry, arts and publishing communities.  Bill leaves behind his daughter Theresa Duer and her husband Greg Duer of Santa Ynez, California; daughter Katherine Horton, her husband Charles and their children, Sarah and Ken Ichimura, of Tokyo, Japan; daughter Susan Horton and her husband Gary Grinsell and their son, Aaron Grinsell, of Villa Park, California; stepson Erich Luschei and his wife Laurie and their children, Daniel, Ashleigh and Savannah of San Clemente California; stepdaughter Gabriela Luschei and her husband Jim Mathews and their daughter, Melissa, of Manhattan, New York; and stepson Thomas Luschei and his wife Yasmine and their daughter, Linda, of Tallahassee, Florida.  Bill was predeceased by his parents and stepdaughter Linda Luschei.

Bill earned a Bachelor of Science and Master of Science Degree in Engineering from the California Institute of Technology and a Doctor of Philosophy from the University of California Los Angeles.  He was an ensign in the Navy during World War II.  After the war, his work in private industry included developing an aviation autopilot with William Powell Lear, Sr.   In 1968, he joined the faculty of the California Polytechnic State University, San Luis Obispo, as a Professor of Electrical Engineering where he taught courses in subjects such as power and distribution systems until 1998.  While teaching at Cal Poly, Bill and his good friend and colleague Dr. Saul Goldberg, founded Power Systems Consultants and together consulted for utility and other companies with complex technical power distribution systems.  Together, Bill and Dr. Goldberg published more than 50 technical papers, including an authoritative work on electromagnetic fields and their public health implications.  He was also a successful rancher, raising avocadoes in the Carpinteria Valley.

Bill lived a full and generous life, contributing to the communities in which he lived, including their civic and charitable organizations.  He served on the Grand Jury for the County of San Luis Obispo and the Board of Directors of the Red Cross for the County of Santa Barbara. He was a docent at the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History and the Carpinteria Historical Society.   He and Glenna established a public walking trail on the Berry-Horton Ranch and a conservation easement with the Land Trust for Santa Barbara County. 

Erich’s Tribute to Bill:

I cannot say everything I want to about Bill in a memento.  I do know that I will always love Bill for loving and caring for my mother, and always remember him as a caretaker.  I have always thought of him as a caretaker for the well being of others, but only in writing this realized he was a caretaker for me as well. 

Bill came into my life when I was 16 and in crisis, and my crisis was that my mother’s life was in crisis.  She was badly hurt by divorce.  I remember the night the crisis ended and her healing began.  My mother told me I would see the man that evening whose proposal she had accepted, or would accept.  Whether she had accepted or not is hazy now, but I remember my relief it was Bill I saw.  When I had met him before, he tried to do no more than be kind.  Bill’s judgment then as always was exemplary.  There was no margin for error with me.  I was in a place in my life where I could take nothing more than kindness and tolerate nothing less.

Bill relieved me in a more important way, and it is the reason I will always love him.  He took my watch, lifted from me the fear and concern I had about my mother’s well being and took it upon himself.  He treated my mother as he vowed he would with love, dignity and respect, forever more.  But for Bill, her crisis would have worsened, mine would have deepened, and our days would not shine as they do now. 

Bill gave me the freedom to go forward in my life without worrying about what was behind me.  I was so grateful to him I came to his defense the two times “early” in their marriage I thought serious trouble was brewing.  The first was when Bill and I took a load of “junk” to the dump, not realizing it contained craftwork my siblings and I made in our youth my mother cherished.  Realization came quickly when she discovered what we had done, and we quickly retreated from “you can’t be serious,” to “we’ll never do it again” and then to “we’re headed back to the dump now.”  The second was after my brother Tom graduated from high school and left for college.  They sold their home in Atascadero and moved to San Luis Obispo near Cal Poly where Bill was teaching.  To my mother, that home symbolized sanctuary, and its sale the end of it, as well as an aging stage in motherhood with Tom her youngest now off to college.  She was deeply angry, and Bill felt terrible.  He thought she was on board.  But how little he knew.  She only said yes.  She simply consented.  She merely signed covenants, representations, warrantees, disclosures, affirmations and agreements.

Bill did not need my support or backing but I knew he appreciated and was grateful for it.  By his persistent love and care, Bill found his way back into my mother’s good grace, and gave me an example I think of as a utopian-kind-of-model-from-the-past-or-future in my own marriage.  For my part, I already owed him a debt of gratitude greater than I ever could repay, and chronologically this memento is still not through my law school days.

As I said, in writing this, I have come to understand that Bill has been a caretaker for me in many ways.  Bill always cared for me, was always kind and generous, but I did not realize how deeply constant his presence was within me.  I first saw him through narrow eyes as a caretaker for my mother.  He had assumed my responsibilities and relieved me of my duties.  As years passed, I saw Bill more broadly and the enhancing effect he had on the world around him.  I got to know him as a father to Theresa, Kathy and Susan, and friend and colleague to a constellation of diverse people.  I had fun traveling with him to varied locations that were always rich in spirit, celebrating with him on holidays, at weddings, and during anniversaries, laughing about “Young Frankenstein” and other comedy classics, and talking about a thousand different topics in a hundred different subject areas.  In the days following his death, I had the sorrowful but important duty of calling many of his friends to tell them of his passing.  It was moving how deeply people felt about him.  Bill made people feel important.  He made them feel special.  He made me feel special, too.  Always.

Tom’s Tribute to Bill

    In one of the last conversations I had with Bill, he gave me a short lecture from electrical engineering, the field he had mastered over sixty years earlier.  “There are two kinds of electrical processes,” he explained, “stable and  unstable.” Bill went on to recite relevant equations to describe these processes, and then asked me if I understood. I did. Although he was recovering

from a bad fall, Bill described these complex phenomena perfectly.

    Bill was an extremely intelligent man with a wide range of interests. But he carried his knowledge humbly and never used it to condescend. When he did marshal his expertise, it was to explain something interesting or useful or fun. For example, why should we be wary of power lines? Or why couldn’t I get the little motor I fashioned out of an aluminum can for my high school physics class to run properly? How did the Allies defeat the “Desert Fox” in Northern20Africa? How should you space avocado trees so that they yield the most fruit? Yet the body of facts that Bill commanded transcended knowledge into wisdom. He gave good advice, and when he agreed with me on some issue of politics or business or life, I knew that I was right. When he didn’t agree, he listened to my side, considered it, and asked tough questions. Sometimes he changed his mind, more often I changed mine.   

    Reflecting on the mini-lecture Bill gave me shortly before he died, I also wonder if in some way, at the same time he revisited a lecture he must have given dozens of times at Cal Poly, he was also describing his impact on my life. Because before my mom met Bill, I was living through an unstable process. My parents had been divorced a few years, I was nearing adolescence, and I was not committed to school or to life. But after Bill and my mom were married, we moved to a new town, I attended a new school, and I had new order in my life. My life became a stable process. I initially resisted many of these changes, but they undoubtedly turned me in the right direction.. I went on to become student body president and graduate as class valedictorian. I owe much of this to Bill.

    Bill was a stable process. But he was also funny and generous and loving. He was a great traveler, and my wife Yasmin and I had the great joy of taking many trips with Bill and Glenna, including a cruise of Europe’s great rivers during our honeymoon (separate rooms of course). I will never forget the argument Bill had with the waitress on our boat, who insisted that the meal on our plate was freshly caught catfish from the North Sea. Or fishing for steelhead on the Rogue River, with Bill exclaiming “Atta boy!” whenever I got a strike. Or the delicious onions Bill made every Thanksgiving from a “secret recipe.” Bill was also extremely articulate and gracious, and always seemed to have the right words for a toast or a blessing. Most importantly, Bill was a wonderful husband and companion to my mother. If the only thing I owed to Bill

was the happiness and peace he brought to my mother, I could never repay him. But I owe him much more. I love him and I miss him. May he rest in peace.

George & Alyn’s Tribute to Bill:

My wife and I feel a great loss in no longer having Bill in our lives.  Bill's warmth, his generosity, his always present sense of humor, and, especially, his kind and gentle way of being in the world are traits that we admired and will always think of when we remember the good times we shared with Bill and Glenna.  The loss of our dear friend is painful and it is hard to imagine not being with Bill again.  But what he gave to us can't be taken away.  We will always treasure our sweet memories of a very special friend. 

Gus’ Tribute to Bill

About twenty years ago Imelda Gentile asked me to say a few words at her husband Ralph’s memorial service.  Afterward Bill complemented me on my comments so I told him that if I would still be around I would be happy to do the same for him.  So here it is.

In 1983 Bill took over the position of Dean of Engineering at Cal Poly and asked me to replace him as Associate Dean.  I did.

I have been a faculty member at five Colleges or Universities and an administrator at three of them.  Through the years I have also been an Engineer or Consultant at eight different firms.  In all my experiences, Bill was the finest administrator that I have ever known, at any level.  It was a privilege to work for and with him.  He was intelligent, innovative, trusting when delegating authority, and most importantly caring and compassionate when working with people.  I loved him as I believe all three of us who worked for him in the Dean’s office did.  He was a good friend.

At a conference where Bill and I were sitting together someone, who came across as arrogant and self centered, was making a presentation.  I leaned over to Bill and said, “Must be an only child”.  Bill then leaned over to me and with a glint in his eyes said, “I’m an only child”.  I found out how really great an only child could be.

John Stevens Berry’s Tribute to Bill:

Bill Horton was a unique man. He served as a Naval officer during an interesting time in American history; he was a man of brilliant scientific and technological skills, who was awarded patents, yet was avidly interested in the arts and the humanities as well as the daily issues of politics and government. He had all of the civic virtues, but much, much more than that. I enjoyed his company, including the times when we disagreed. It was always safe to disagree with Bill, because he was a man so certain of his own intellect and principles that there was never any chance of him ending up resenting the disagreement.

And he was quick on the draw. By this, I mean that if you ever wanted to host an event that he was at, you better whip out your wallet and credit card pretty fast, or Bill would have already paid for it! He was a congenial host, and even when he allowed me to treat, I liked him to select the wine, because he was, simply, in many, many ways, more sophisticated than I about such matters. Yet he was not so sophisticated that he could not thoroughly enjoy our visits to the parish hall duck and dumpling dinner in the Bohemian Alps of Margaret’s childhood!

Bill Horton loved nature, loved the land, was a conservationist and environmentalist who walked the walk. He was a generous and dedicated supporter of local history, and easy to visit with on a very wide range of subjects.

And now comes the important part. He was a loving and adoring husband to you, constantly attentive, and you always were clearly a couple very deeply and happily in love with one another, not in a gooey or ostentatious manner, but simply in a way that everyone around you accepted as one of the permanent facts of life.

What great adventures the two of you had together! How you complemented one another’s styles and life goals! I honestly think Shakespeare had someone like you and Bill in mind when he wrote his Sonnet 116, referring to "the marriage of true minds." Of course the two of you were always exemplary as loving parents, grandparents, sib lings, in-laws, etc.

We all have our individual memories of Bill, and I want to speak to one particular act of unexpected and unnecessary generosity. When Margaret and I went to Winston-Salem, North Carolina, Bill arranged for us to meet with relatives of his, who provided delight, depth, and dimension to our visit and Bill did so simply as a matter of course; if there was an opportunity for an act of kindness or generosity, Bill Horton was always there.

Now that he is gone I am particularly glad for the extra times we had together. I have cherished memories of "giving the bride away" at your wedding on the ranch-you in an ivory lace dress, he in a blue sportcoat. Margaret and I enjoyed taking you and Bill out for dinner on the evening of Mardi Gras, 2008, and staying in your guest house, going to the local museum, hearing local history, visiting the salt marsh, etc. And Margaret and I always enjoyed it when the two of you came to Lincoln, and I had a good time taking you and Bill to Onawa, even though we did get stuck in the mud while I was driving the length of the new irrigation system (thank heavens for cell phones and tenant farmers!) and of course, after your 55th class reunion you and Bill treated everyone to a very nice breakfast.

Bill’s unfailing cordiality was, of course, another expression of his generosity of spirit. I was touched also when he took the time to drive me and Margaret past the old Methodist c hurch that some of his ancestors had moved into Carpenteria. Bill had a unique gift for respecting the past, living fully in the present, and planning for the future.

I found my life enriched by knowing him, and I am similarly impoverished by his having passed, but it is comforting to know that he left so many memories behind him, including admiring and successful students. Imagine my delight upon having a beverage at the B&B in Onawa, and learning that Bill Hime had been one of Bill Horton’s students!

So this old soldier salutes that old sailor, thinking back to the final words of Taps:

Safely rest

All is well

God is nigh.

Love,

John Stevens Berry, Sr.

Barry Spacks’ Tribute to Bill:

A DEFINITION

                     in memory of Bill Horton 

 

What is it to be a man, truly a man,

that honor word, stalwart as a tree, sustaining as an apple?

Conscience first? or kindness?

Or are those the same?

 

To turn up, stand up, the very word "virtue"

from latin "vir": man, virile,

what we might speak of

as a class act, an ease of care, fatherliness.

 

The Greeks had a lovely word, Aretē --

particular excellence, of tree, apple, man;

"mensch," my Yiddish insists, strength not brute, benevolent:

forwarding others with sympathetic joy.

 

When such a man dies,

enormity of loss, goodness lessened in the world,

bri lliance dimmed. Others, in emulation,

must strive to renew the charge,

 

that in his passing the Good Man,

who'd shielded our lantern from the wind,

through his inspired inheritors

may pass along that long provided light.

 

 -- (for Glenna, in sympathy and hope, from her friend and poet-pal Barry)

Perie Longo’s Tribute to Bill:

Friend to Friend, Widow to Widow

for Glenna

As in life, death moves us place to place—

from half slept bed to the kitchen

where we clank around making coffee for one

to chase away the chill, will ourselves to walk

outside and bless what we can—

for you, perhaps delphinium and orchid spikes,

small towers that speak of a more gracious time,

the fountain and far green fields, ocean glisten,

horizon made more interesting with island spines,

sun shining as always, yet the always not there,

at least, not as anyone can tell—

Our lives change in death of a mate,

but fate does not leave us bereft.

Once I read we have to learn a new language

to feel them, hear them. My Phil speaks goosebumps,

tingles. Sometimes leaf jiggles

when not a breeze stirs. Sometimes objects disappear

and reappear in a new place. Then there’s the amazement

of birds: owl wing whoosh deep night, oh the hoot of it!

last week it was glide of crane over my head

with a cocky strut on landing.

Bill will come to you in mysterious, familiar ways

only you may comprehend. What other is there?

They keep blowing us over in death as in life,

his adoring gaze and word in the continuing flow

of your blood                    and every breath.

John Madden’s Tribute to Bill:

Bill and you are two of my favorite people. It’s always a wonderful thing when the Horton’s call my office to do something else on the house. I’ve always enjoyed seeing you and Bill and making your home a little better each visit. It’s been rewarding to me seeing the two of you so appreciate my work. I do love that house and the two of you. Bill always warmed my heart. His honesty, integrity, and kindness I won’t forget. The last time you and I spoke you told me of the adventures Bill had taken in the last year. It made me feel so much better. He lived a good life full of love and happiness. I miss him.

Hugh Fox’s Tribute to Bill:

BILL 

Most of the world grumblers under thunderers, 

plus just a put on,but not him, never a moment 

of thunder, sunlight, moonlight, no light, but 

the geniality was always there, 

most of the world cheapy-weepy egocentric, 

but to him what flowed, flowed, what came, came, 

what went, went, just HERE, the incarnation of 

Nowism, 

Satori, 

nothing satiric-satanic, 

the essence of resurrection. 

Mike Cirovic’s Tribute to Bill:

Bill,

I will miss you very much. You were one of the most professional and honest men I have ever known!!! Certainly among the nicest people.

You and I joined the Cal Poly faculty in the same year, 1968. You were a few years older and provided a great role-model for me. I enjoyed those early years of collaborating and playing tennis together. We taught an experimental freshman course in the early seventies and I really appreciate the guidance you gave me.

When you were acting dean of the College of engineering, many of your colleagues (me included) thought you performed very, very well. It is my opinion that Warren Baker made a huge mistake in not choosing you to be the permanent Dean. I think the College of Engineering would have been better off and our department would have benefitted from your leadership.

Bill, you were the perfect colleague, and I really appreciate your friendship and mentorship. I considered you one of the fairest people I knew, and all who knew you did as well.  Here’s a quick story to prove it: many years ago, one our faculty participated in an exchange program with a Scandinavian University – I do not recall which one. As part of the exchange, the families actually swapped homes. When our colleague got back, problems surfaced and quite a bit of disharmony and acrimony was generated. The two professors had a bad disagreement. Wisdom finally surfaced and they asked Bill to step in and settle the problem. Bill calmly interviewed each party, mulled it over for a bit and brought the parties together and presented his reasoned suggestions. The two parties agreed, and Bill’s fairness and wisdom salvaged a bad situation.

Your colleague and friend,

Mike Cirovic

Adrianne Marcus’ Tribute to Bill:

What I remember most about Bill was his sense of humor.  He had a contagious laugh, and it delighted me to hear it, since everyone else would join in.  His love of animals, his southern gentlemanliness, if there is such a word, was always there: I remember one evening he insisted on walking me back to the car when Glenna and I had met for a libation, and how touched I was by this.  I mean, I am used to walking alone in San Francisco, but he'd have none of it.  And the company was welcome.  We chatted about everything...poetry, engineering, San Francisco fading in and out of the fog.  What can I say: he will be missed, and that is a given.  A good man, a fine man, a noble man.  One misses such qualities always. 

Jackson Wheeler’s Tribute to Bill:

I find it hard to believe that Bill is gone and that Lee is gone as well.  We all

soldier on with what grace we can muster.  It is a glorious Spring.  When I was

walking down the hill from the memorial service I passed the hedge there by the

guest house.  It was full of the furious buzzing of bees.  I am writing to tell

you that I have a painting, entitled "The Flag Painting" by Barbara Hoff, from

the mid-90s.  Given Bill's love of flags I think it appropriate to donate the

painting in his honor to the Carnegie Art Museum.  It is a painting they have

borrowed in the past and are eager to possess.  When the painting is exhibited

the tag will show that it is a gift in memory of William Horton.  It is a token

of my love and affection for you and Bill who made me so welcome innumerable

times. 

Marsha De La O’s Tribute to Bill:

About Bill

What I know

• He’d watch a baseball game over football any day

•Dropped each section on the floor after he read the newspaper

•Late afternoons, he walked Gina through the neighborhood as twilight buzzed on

•High color, bright glancing eye, disgusted when something went wrong, delicate contraption a body

•The shield he was to you

•That you are beloved of him

What I don’t know

• Why he had to go, and so suddenly

•Everything else

Antonio Ladeira’s Tribute to Bill:

Bill: um engenheiro-poeta

 

"Quando nos pedem palavras que evoquem aqueles que conhecemos e que se despediram (talvez) para sempre, encontramos um problema. Antes de escrevermos, há a vontade de fazer justiça à dignidade da vida daquele que é recordado por nós, sempre tão desastradamente, ao que parece, com três ou quatro pensamentos soltos, necessariamente escrevinhados entre compromissos prosaicos, nesta vida ocupada que temos.

 

Lembro-me do Bill como o companheiro eterno da Glenna, sem cuja companhia não posso imaginá-lo(s). Sempre sorridente (ambos sempre sorridentes!) quando nos encontrávamos -- afinal, tão poucas vezes, descubro, com pena, agora! -- no rancho deles, na California; depois em New Haven, também algumas vezes, e talvez outras ainda, por esta América, de que não me recordo exactamente20agora.

 

Lembro-me da alegria que ele sentia por ter pessoas em torno dele, a alegria de simplesmente estar acompanhado!, mesmo por aqueles que  -- como eu -- ele encontrava pouco, e que -- profissional e pessoalmente -- provinham de tantos mundos distantes.

 

Mas dizia eu que me lembrava da alegria de Bill, da sua serenidade imperturbável, sábia, antiga, do seu prazer generoso em procurar conversar do que o interlocutor gostasse; de como nos mostrou um dia, ao cair da tarde -- a mim e à Sandra, no rancho -- as suas árvores que produziam abacate, de que tanto se orgulhava.

Nesse fim de tarde em que vi o Bill pela última vez, tinha eu regressado, no dia anterior, a Santa Barbara -- cinco anos depois de lá ter vivido cinco anos. Fiquei, portanto, predisposto para o que se seguiu. Já estava, portanto,20comovido pelo reencontro com o encanto dessa cidade à beira do Pacífico onde há flores todo o ano, como dizia a Isabel Alllegro, minha professora de sempre. Gradualmente, ao percorrermos o pomar, fui inundado pelo cheiro mágico da terra -- tão característico daquela secção da California. O Bill  (esse engenheiro que era também, afinal, à sua maneira, um mal-disfarçado poeta) não tinha o vício correntíssimo de falar demais, ou de se inebriar dos seus próprios pensamentos. Bill ouvia era o anfitrião perfeito, ouvia mais do que falava, sempre atento às nossas reacções a uma vista dos vales tão verdes, à praga que assolara esta ou aquela árvore, às árvores cuja individualidade reconhecia, como animais de estimação, ou velhos amigos, nos recantos especiais do rancho onde ele e Glenna meditavam.

 

Não sei se reagi aquela visita guiada como o Bill esperava ou de maneira que lhe agradasse, mas -- independente das palavras incertas e fátuas que então trocamos -- acho que compreendi a sua ligação àquela terra, àquela casa, àquela mulher. Acho que compreendi aquela ligação de modo profundo. Como poeta que era, tenho a c erteza que ele entendeu isto em mim."