One day in the late sixties I returned to my office to find a message from BT. He had been transferred from the military hospital in Valley Forge where they basically put what was left of his body back together after his unfortunate encounter with a hand grenade in Viet Nam . He was now at Letterman Hospital in the San Francisco Presidio undergoing advanced rehabilitation. I called him and he asked me to come by to see him. I said I’d stop by later.

That day I had been working with an agent named Norb Rascher. I told him about BT and asked if he wanted to join me. He said sure. I hadn’t seen BT in over 6years, before he had his arm and leg blown off. I didn’t know how I’d react to what I’d see.

We arrived at the nurses’ desk on BT’s floor. I asked for him and a nurse standing off to the side of the desk asked who we were. To have some fun and possibly break the ice, I told her we were FBI agents there to arrest BT. We flashed our badges.

She said “It’s about time you guys caught up to him. Take him. I don’t care what he’s done. Haul him off to jail.”

At that point I heard a familiar voice, speaking in the same irreverent tone I’d been used to, say “Don’t listen to Nurse Nazi. She runs this place like a prisoner of war camp. Break me out of here.”

We followed the sound of his voice into the room across the hall and there stood BT dressed in slacks and a sweater. Except for the hook extending out of one sleeve, he looked just like he had 6 years before. I was astounded. I fully expected to see a guy curled up in a corner, his body held together with duct tape and baling wire. He extended his hook to shake hands. He saw me hesitate. He said, “What’s the matter? You never shake hands with Captain Hook before?” We laughed. I knew this wasn’t going to be a night of maudlin sentimentality, but rather just another night with the same old BT breaking chops.

He sat down and tossed me a loafer which matched the one he had on his good foot. He effortlessly maneuvered his artificial foot onto a footstool and asked me to put the loafer on it. I got down and slipped the loafer over the toe end but the foot was too big and it wouldn’t fit. Norb got down and helped me. We finally got it on, but we must have stretched it a full shoe size. BT said, “It’s a good thing you guys got a cushy government job. You’d never make it if you had to sell shoes at Macy’s.”

We got up to leave. I asked BT if he had a wheelchair or crutches that I could get for him. He simply smiled and said, “Those things don’t do me much good. I lost an arm and a leg. If I want to get around on my own, I’ve got to do it with what I’ve got.” He casually strolled through the door with barely a visible limp.

As we walked to the elevator several nurses were there all smiling at BT. One said “Don’t let him get too drunk. He can’t afford to fall down and break his only leg.” The respect and genuine affection these people had for BT was obvious. He went over to the nurse who we had first spoken to and patted her on the shoulder with his good hand. She was an attractive lady who smiled broadly as he spoke. He said “This is “Big Nurse.” She’s in charge of the place. I’ve got to keep her happy or she’ll poison the crappy food they feed me here.”

We barhopped in several nearby “body shops.” Never once did BT bemoan his fate. We laughed most of the night. Norb and I watched him charm several ladies. He was outgoing and confident, not a man looking for sympathy. And he had a great bar room trick. He would light a cigarette and let it burn down to one long ash. He had developed such dexterity with his hook that he could split it open and pick up the entire ash in one piece without it falling apart. Try that with fingers. It can’t be done. He must have been given 10 phone numbers by different ladies who said they’d love to see him again. We got back to the hospital and deposited him in his room.

To this day the way I remember BT best can be summed up in two quotes made about him that night. The first was from Norb. Norb was no stranger to pain and disappointment. He had gone to Notre Dame on a football scholarship. In his freshman year he got glowing write ups in the local newspaper touting him as Notre Dame’s next great quarterback. He got hit with a series of debilitating injuries on the field and never played again. The quarterback who replaced him was Daryl Lamonica who went on to become an all American and all pro. Anyway, as we stepped out of BT’s hospital room, Norb said “That’s the gutsiest guy I’ve ever met.”

We stopped to say good-by to “Big Nurse.” This being a hospital where seriously wounded soldiers were brought to directly from Viet Nam , there were many audible groans and calls for assistance. I said to Big Nurse “Wouldn’t it be great if all the patients were like BT.” She smiled and said, “Wouldn’t it be great if everyone was like BT.”

That said it all.

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Archbishop Stepinac High School
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