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West Point Class of 1969

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Suzanne Rice

Aug 02 2023

Honor – The Harder Right – 2001

     “Get yourself a good lawyer,” was the advice I kept hearing. I had just been selected to run a large water agency in Florida, and although people seemed genuinely glad for me, they all commented how “political” the job was.  No problem. On active duty with the Army Corps of Engineers I had held several high-vis, high pressure jobs that required finesse and a cool head, and I survived them.  I was confident that I could handle a tough, demanding job, but I decided getting an advocate to help me negotiate my employment arrangements made a lot of sense. 

     At a complete loss where to start, I called Bob Kimmitt, who, I knew, would have a couple of classmates’ names to recommend. Bob suggested Ralph Artigliere – an old friend I was happy to call.  Ralph had a partner, Jon Anderson (another 69er), who was well-versed in employment law. I didn’t know Jon, but having a classmate at my side was exactly the honest broker I needed. 

     Jon and I quickly developed a good friendship and effective working relationship. He asked tough questions, interviewed a number of key officials, and reviewed pertinent law. His bottom line to me was to turn down the offer. No real protections for me, no guarantees, and lots of risks. We talked about it at length, but I had the “fever”……I wanted the job and the risks. We shook hands, and Jon left town. I would never see Jon again; this outstanding man would perish in a plane crash in 2003.

Remembering Jon

     Fast forward 18 months or so. By then, I had established myself as a solid leader of the water agency. I had handled staff shakeups, emergency operations during hurricanes and flooding, intense press coverage, a contentious Governing Board, and a strong-willed Chairman.

Briefing Gov. Jeb Bush at an Emergency Operations Meeting

     I frequently briefed the governor, as we were the lead agency with the Corps of Engineers on the massive Everglades Restoration Program.

The Everglades Project Booklet
Historical Look at the Everglades Project

      Some of my friends told me I was on a fast-track to move to the “big time.” After all, the governor’s brother was the president!  I thought I was riding pretty high.

President Bush Visits the Everglades in 2000

      About then I came to my “harder right” moment. From left field, I started getting pressure to fire a key deputy (for reasons that seemed pretty thin.) I resisted, but the pressure kept ratcheting higher. Governing Board members (my bosses) called me at home with advice. Most of it was along the lines: “go along to get along. Don’t ruin your own bright future to save a guy who’s already damaged goods.”

     Problem was that this man was being railroaded for reasons that were completely fabricated; they just wanted him gone.  He was my chief negotiator for huge land purchases for the state – a job handling millions of dollars, acres, and egos. And he was considered totally impartial, highly competent, and incorruptible. Just the kind of person I needed in that key position. I could only conclude that the “powers that be” wanted their own person in that role – someone who could be controlled.  

     Since I never became EPA Administrator, you probably guessed that I didn’t fire that individual. But I was no longer the fair-haired boy. Clearly, I couldn’t be trusted to be on “The Team.”  Some key relationships were severed. Within the year, I submitted my resignation. A very tough chapter of my life had concluded. But by choosing the harder right over the easier wrong, I had earned a tremendous amount of support and respect. I received an unbelievable wave of public support and important validation from industry and government contacts. Ironically, it was a significant reputation-building experience. I became highly sought after by numerous organizations and business leaders, including my next employer. People closest to the action understood and appreciated the decisions I had made. 

     I am convinced that the emphasis West Point put on character, integrity, and doing the right thing carried me over the roughest times. I was definitely being pressured to take the “easier wrong,” but I knew I couldn’t live with that decision. I’m proud of the path I chose, and I hope it gave others some inspiration to choose the harder right.

Excerpts from the West Point Cadet Prayer

Strengthen and increase our admiration for honest dealing and clean thinking, and suffer not our hatred of hypocrisy and pretense ever to diminish. Encourage us in our endeavor to live above the common level of life. Make us to choose the harder right instead of the easier wrong, and never to be content with a half-truth when the whole can be won.

Endow us with courage that is born of loyalty to all that is noble and worthy, that scorns to compromise with vice and injustice and knows no fear when truth and right are in jeopardy.

Written by Suzanne Rice · Categorized: By Frank Finch

Jun 24 2023

Probability Baseball at MS 399, part 2 – 2000

          I had a few things going for me on the baseball game we developed. The kids (even girls) were interested in the sport, and all had their favorite professional players. Both the Mets and the Yankees were good and popular teams at the time. I believe the Mets had just acquired Mike Piazza from LA, and of course the Yankees had Derek Jeter. Our school was only 10 blocks from Yankee Stadium. As teachers we could take our kids for free on the Subway. We took a couple of trips to Yankee stadium, and although we couldn’t get in, there was a playground we used right across the street. The playground at our school was off limits, taken over by drugs and drug lords.

Macombs Dam Park at Yankee Stadium (the Kermit project)

          When you think about baseball, there is a lot of math involved: from the geometry of the infield diamond, to player batting averages, velocity and distance, design of the fields, and Yes, probability. A left-hand hitter has a better chance of getting a hit against a right-hand pitcher than a right-hand hitter. The lefty will see more of the ball leaving the right-hand pitcher’s hand than the right-hand hitter. I used a lot of these factors in the design of the game.

          We started by having each student design their own ballpark. I gave them distances they had to use for left and right field foul lines, dead center field, 90 feet between bases and 60 feet from pitcher’s mound to home plate. By this time in the school year, most kids were used to drawing to scale. For this project we used one inch to 10 feet. We had plenty of construction paper so they could work in different colors for bleachers, score boards and foul territory. Our infield diamonds came out as squares as opposed to a real infield which is more like a diamond.  Kids came up with some very clever names for their ballparks.

          After the fields were made, we started on the spinners (see photo). These were made on file folders and had to have 12 almost perfect 30-degree wedges measured with protractors. I gave them the different hits they could use, but they could place these hits wherever they wanted on their spinner. After the spinners and arrows were made and tested, we moved onto the lineups.

          I gave them the averages they could use. The pitchers had averages of .100 (one hit out of 10 at bats). Every team had one .350 hitter which would be the best in their lineup (3.5 hits out of 10 at bats).  The kids would name their players when they were ready to play and put them in the lineup – one thru nine – wherever they wanted.

          To actually play the game, several things had to fall in place. The fields had to be mathematically correct, the spinners had to be accurate and tested, and we needed at least two students in this position. When this happened, I assigned another student as umpire to try and keep the game fair. This proved to be a difficult hurdle in almost every game we played. These kids would do anything to win.

          The game started with the visiting team’s first player coming to bat. We used a bucket with 20 marbles for every hitter in the lineup. For example, if a player at bat had a .250 batting average (2.5 hits out of 10), we put 5 yellow marbles and 15 red marbles in the bucket. The student whose team was at bat would hold the bucket behind their back. If they pulled a yellow marble, it was a hit. If they pulled a red marble, it would be an out. If the outcome for that batter was hit, they would move to their spinner, and spin the arrow to see what hit that batter would get. If he or she pulled a red marble, it was an out and they would go to their next batter in their lineup. After pulling three red marbles, their team was out, and the home team would be at bat. When we first started playing these games in the classroom, I used checkers rather than marbles for the bucket. These proved too easy to doctor. They could put nicks and gouges in the checkers so they could get a hit every time. We moved to marbles because they were a little harder to disfigure. Every umpire had their hands full keeping these games fair. It was always a challenge.

          The players moved around the bases as the games were in progress. We used chess set pawns to represent the players on base. If a team started with a double, we put a pawn on 2nd base. If the next batter hit a single, there would be pawns on 1st and 3rd  base. There were no errors in our games and no stretching out hits. Most of our games ended after 5 or 6 innings, especially if there was a large score difference.

          I will end my story by saying I did not perform any miracle. Maybe these kids still couldn’t get a 3 or 4 on the state test. I think I did show them that math doesn’t have to be like learning a foreign language. Math can play a part in many activities we view as fun and entertainment.

          I finished my school year at MS 399 without ever taking a sick day or vacation day because I somehow folded this into my challenge. I ended up teaching one more year of classroom math, but it was in Dobbs Ferry, NY, not in NYC.  You won’t (or shouldn’t) find this game in any book or video. As far as I know, I retired it with MS 399 and didn’t use it again. I think many of us have been in situations, military or civilian, where we hit the wall and the finish line is nowhere in sight. My love for baseball, which I still have, helped me find another path.  

Editors note: MS 399 in the Bronx, NY was closed in 2012 for bad academic performance according to News 12. It has earned a “D” on progress reports and had been placed on the State’s list of persistently dangerous schools.

Written by Suzanne Rice · Categorized: By Rick Cappiello

Jun 24 2023

Adventures at MS 399, part 1 – 2000

     Let me preface my story by saying I’m not trying to make anyone think I am some kind of math wiz or superstar teacher. This is a game I developed that just happened to fit the kids I was teaching, the school I was teaching at, and the location and time we were in. My intention is that I believe this story reinforces what West Point tried to teach all of us. The Mission comes first. You do what you must to complete the mission to the best of your ability. You may have a perfect Plan A, but Murphy’s Law is out there. Make a Plan B, C, and D even if you don’t use them.

          My story starts when I was working at Lockheed Martin, and our factories in the Bronx and Yonkers NY were closing in January 2000. I had worked for Lockheed for almost 15 years, and because I was over 50 years old at the time, I was offered early retirement and a severance package. I used these finances to get a teaching degree at Mercy College in Dobbs Ferry, NY. It was never my intention to enter teaching as a second career. I was (and still am) more comfortable working with machines rather than people. It was my wife, who still teaches at local schools where we live, that encouraged me to do this. The people and professors I went to school with always gave me positive feedback. I never mentioned to my peers at school that I was a graduate of West Point and had served 6 and ½ years active duty and 2 years National Guard. I rationalized this teaching experience as another challenge in my life.

          I wanted to teach at a tough school, to have almost the opposite experience as you would have at West Point. Although I never taught at West Point, I had many classmates that did. In my mind, these teachers had the perfect world: the brightest and most accomplished students you could find in America. Well-motivated and eager to learn and thrive. There was no such thing as a discipline problem – I have many hours on the Area to prove that!

          I was offered a job in NY city schools well before I graduated with an MS in Teaching from Mercy College. In those days the city schools were desperate for teachers. You didn’t have to be certified, like you had to be in the suburbs where I lived. I accepted a job at MS399 in the Bronx to teach 7th and 8th grade math.

          A couple of weeks before the start of school (August 2000), we started having meetings at the school. The school itself was extremely impressive. It was originally named the “Elizabeth Barrett Browning” school after the English poet from the 1800s. The building had hand carved gargoyles on the roof. It looked like it was built to withstand a military attack. I found out WHY shortly after!!

Site of Elizabeth Barrett Browning Middle School

          I never really got along well with the principals we had and the administration. I believe they viewed me as an outsider, and my ideas as strange and unorthodox (my A4 classmates might agree)! When I was given the key to my classroom, what struck me was how barren everything was. There were no slogans or banners welcoming the kids to math or the school, nothing on the bulletin boards, almost nothing in the cabinets or lockers, and no books on the shelves. The principal, who was relieved before school started that year, told me “Just teach from the Book”. A fellow teacher told me I would have to find books in the basement.

          MS 399 was a SURR school which I believe stands for a School Under Review or Replacement. Kids were tested in 4th and 8th grade in Reading and Math. Scores of 3 or 4 were grade level or better. Scores of 1 and 2 were below grade level. Our entire school, all grades, did not have even one student at 3 or 4.

          When I met the kids for the first time, I knew Plan A “Teach from the Book, was not an option. These kids had been socially promoted to get to 7th and 8th grade. Many were 2 or 3 years older than you would find in an average 7th or 8th grade in America. I had a student arrested right in my classroom. The cops came in unannounced, threw the kid against the wall, hand cuffed him, and took him out to a waiting squad car. Not one word from the principal or anyone else in the school, just the kids told me rumors of what they heard on the street. The kid arrested never came back for the entire year.

          Well, the situation I faced (teaching math), was going to have its challenges. These kids couldn’t find zero on a ruler and had no idea if ¼ of an inch was bigger or smaller the 4 inches. Most believed all they needed was a calculator. Again, this was the year 2000. No Google, no computers, no White Boards, and even no cell phones. We had a phone in the classroom which nobody used because nobody came!

Find Zero on the Ruler (amazon)
Calculator (Wikipedi)

                                                                                

          My strategy from the beginning was to keep these kids busy. Have them build things, measure things, draw things. No quadratic equations or algebra from the textbook. I told my classes that measuring things accurately and having the ability to draw things to scale, could be important tools to learn. Whether furnishing your apartment, or buying materials for a project, this can save time and money. We started doing very simple tasks like having kids measure their classmate’s hands and height with string and markers. Then measure the distance in inches with rulers. From there we could make ratios and proportions: the smaller kid’s hand size over height vs. the larger kid’s hand size over height. These proportions always came out very close to their surprise.  

       One of the first big projects we did before the Probability Baseball game was the “Party Room” project. They had to draw our classroom to scale on graph paper. Draw in the windows and doors and make room for a DJ and his equipment and a Refreshment Space. I gave them 2 different size tables they could place in the room for the party goers. One table (round) that seats 2 kids, and another, a rectangular table, that seats 4 kids. It was on this project that I saw competition and the desire to win could be used as motivation. Room designs that met all the rules and had room for the most students would be recognized and highlighted on our bulletin boards.

Written by Suzanne Rice · Categorized: By Rick Cappiello

Apr 22 2023

Duty, Honor, Country – Motto Lived – 1971

Author’s note:  I shared this story about Barry McGee with my A-2 mates at a recent reunion. Several advocated that I should share this anecdote with the Class.

     Most of our class know of the heralding accounts of Barry’s last moments at Firebase Mary Ann.  Our classmate Tom Hayes later recounted to me that he, being a member of a sister company in Barry’s battalion, entered Firebase Mary Ann the morning after.  Blood and mayhem everywhere.  A survivor approached him: “Hey, aren’t you a West Pointer?  Wasn’t Lt. McGee your classmate?”

      ‘Yes’.

    “Well, your Class should be proud.  Barry was the one bright spot in this grim debacle.  It would have been a lot worse had it not been for Lt. McGee.” 

     Yet very few know my account of his unsettling premonition of the fate that awaited him in The Republic of Vietnam. 

     Barry and I were roommates first semester plebe year, along with Ron Wasilewski. 

Cadet Barry McGee

Most know Barry hailed from Detroit, street tough and smart. Golden Gloves boxer. Think of a Rocky Balboa from Detroit—smarter but with the same big heart.  He eagerly shared his boxing prowess with me, and it was during one of his ‘lessons’ that he broke my nose.  But I digress.

Rocky Balboa

     It was halfway through the semester through the toil of plebe math.  Our desks abutted face to face. On this now fateful evening, Barry looked up from the calculus text, looked directly at me, clearly wanting to tell me something and then aloud stated, out of the cold clear blue: “I am going to die in Vietnam as an infantryman.”  ‘What?’  I responded. He repeated, “I am going to die in Vietnam as an infantryman.”  Of course, I had no response to that other than— ‘get outta here…’  Or something to that effect. And trying to change the mood perhaps, “hey I can’t do number 6—did you figure that one out?”

     We never discussed it again, and I have no insight as to how he received that premonition. Later Barry joined the cadre to create D-2 and we interacted less. It was not until I heard of his death in March of ’71 that I recalled his statement to me that distant evening.  The moment still haunts me. I regret that I did not realize then in 1965 that I was honored to share space and time with an American hero. I would have treasured our time more.

     In our Class yearbook we admonished each other to ‘march to the sound of the guns’, which many of our Class obeyed many times over. Barry heard the drumbeat and responded early. Even knowing his ominous foreboding, he ‘marched’ nonetheless. Did he ‘march’ in response to Duty, ‘choosing the harder right instead than the easier wrong’? Or did he ‘march’ to uphold Honor, ‘to live above the common level of life’?  Or did he ‘march’ in response to the call of Country, ‘no substitute for victory’? I suspect, knowing Barry, it was all three.

Be Thou at Peace

A Semi-final Resting Place, Part 1 – 2018

Written by Suzanne Rice · Categorized: Dick Wallace

Apr 03 2023

Air Force Bits – 1972, part 2

Combat Air Crew – 1972

     So that air crews do not get overly exhausted, Air Force regulations state that pilots are not allowed to exceed 100 hours flight time within a rolling 30-day period.  The Army decided to beat the Air Force, so their regs say the limit is 110 hours max.  The Air Force regs further state that under combat conditions the max time is 130 hours, which means for the Army it is 140 hours.  Flight time is charted in the Operations section, where a 30-day rolling sum of flight hours is maintained.  Each day any new flight time is added and the 31st day back is subtracted, so an accurate count is current for each aviator.

     Whenever an aviator reaches the max 30-day flight time, he is automatically grounded for three days.  Before he can fly again, he must be examined by the Flight Surgeon, to receive a “go-fly” slip.  If during that three-day period his rolling total has fallen below the limit, he can resume flying, provided his rolling total does not again exceed the limit.  In our unit, the interpretation was that if an aviator exceeded the limit during a mission, he would continue to fly the mission and be grounded at its completion.

     In early July our unit had just received some new birds, and were flying our asses off.  I had gotten seven days leave for late August, to meet my starter wife in Hawaii.  So, to maximize my flight hours, it had been scheduled that I had 139.5 hours rolling total the day before I was to depart.  That last day I was assigned a mission expected to last eight hours or more.  I flew that day with a high-time aviator who was about ready to become an Aircraft Commander himself.  At the completion of the day he dropped me off at Nha Trang, where I could catch a flight to Saigon, and he flew the 20 minutes back to home base solo.  My rolling total had hit 148.2 hours combat flying time in 30 days.

     Being on leave status, I was flying “space available,” which meant I was catching flights however I could to get where I wanted to go.  This was never a problem in Vietnam, and I assumed it would be no problem anywhere.  I got to Honolulu, where I was to spend seven glorious days with my bride, but things did not go well.  By the third day I just wanted to get back to my unit where they needed me, and resume flying.

     So, I took a taxi back to the military desk at Honolulu International, anxious to get back to Vietnam.  Problem was, the flight west was already full, with a waiting list.  I begged and pleaded with the Air Force senior sergeant at the desk, but being a lowly Captain, I didn’t stand a chance when the waiting list was full of officers of all services ranking higher than me.

      Determined to get back, I refused to give up.  The Air Force sergeant looked my leave orders up and down, trying to find some way to get me on the flight.      “What does this ‘Headquarters, 17th CAG’ heading mean?” he asked.

      “That’s ‘17th Combat Aviation Group,” I replied.

     “Wait a minute.  Are you a combat crew member?” he asked.

     “No, I’m a helicopter pilot,” I replied.

     “Well, why didn’t you say so?  Combat crew members have priority over everyone else.”  As he lined out a Navy Commander on the manifest and wrote in my name, he said, “Get your bag.  You’re on the flight.” 

     And 19 hours later I was back in the cockpit, doing my job.   

Charleston  – 1972

     I finished the Advanced Course as a newly-bachelorized young Army Captain, little suspecting that I still had some six years to go in grade before coming into the zone for Major.  I decided to travel Space-A for a while, catching Air Force transport planes to see where I could go.  I arrived at Charleston AFB one evening, but they had no flights going anywhere until the next morning.  The Air Force shared the base with the Navy, and the joint billeting office was located on the Charleston Naval Base side.  An Air Force shuttle bus took me over to the Navy side, where I got a temporary room for the night in the Visiting Officers Quarters.

     After I dropped my stuff in the room, I wanted to get to the Officers Club for something to eat, but I had no idea what kind of shuttle service the naval base had.  So, I got the number for the base motor pool, and called on the phone in the VOQ lobby.  After identifying myself, I asked if they knew how I could get a ride to the O-Club.  The dispatcher was marvelously helpful, and said, “Yes, sir, we’ll get you a ride there right away.” 

     Very impressed, I stood on the front porch of the building in my class-A traveling uniform to wait.  In about seven minutes a big shiny staff car pulled up in front, and the driver jumped out and ran past me into the lobby.  After looking around, he came back out and asked, “Excuse me, sir.  Have you seen a Captain Miller around here?”

     I replied, “I am CPT Miller,” and for the first time he looked me over.  Seeing my name plate, his shoulders drooped, and he said, resignedly, “Get in the car.” 

     As he was pulling away from the curb, the dispatcher came on the radio:  “Were you able to get over and pick up Captain Miller?”

     “Yeah, I got him.” 

     “Any problems?”

     “Well, just one.  He’s Army.”  [A Navy Captain ranks with an Army full Colonel, just below an Admiral].

Army Captain
Navy Captain

     With disappointment in his voice, the dispatcher replied, “Oh.” 

     But at least they gave me a ride to the Club.

Written by Suzanne Rice · Categorized: By Guy Miller

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