Steve was a very quiet member of the class of 1962 who was mostly unknown to those not an engineering major, in Phi Gam, or on the football team. Among members of the latter two organizations, he was tagged with the nickname Lightnin' after a sitcom character who was particularly slow of foot and wit. He routinely underestimated himself, but ended up playing the most minutes of football among our classmates during our senior year and getting stellar grades in his fifth year for the Thayer School masters degree in engineering. Steve entered the graduate program in electrical engineering at Stanford, then recognized as one of the two best in EE in the country. After completing his coursework and passing his pre-thesis oral exams (usually the most difficult hurdle in the Ph.D. process), he decided to take a week off before plunging into research that would lead to a thesis and a Ph.D. That week became a month and then six months.

Soon thereafter, he took a job back in his hometown of Chicago working in a factory. Efforts by this writer to woo him out of this path failed. Eventually, I began to wonder if only Steve could know what was best for him to find peace and contentment in his life. But, I never did overcome the nagging suspicion that deep emotional issues cost us a first rate engineer. When Steve's employer inevitably exported his job to Mexico, Steve struggled to find other employment. Employment advisors told him not to include his Dartmouth degrees on his resume. It would, they said, make potential employers wonder why he was willing to take a factory job. He never did find another factory job. Such jobs were becoming scarce, and Steve was now middle-aged. He eventually got a civil service job as janitor in a post office. In my middle teens, my dad had a second job as a janitor, and I helped him. I believe that I am not a snob regarding maintenance work. But Steve had so much more to offer to the world and so much more to find out about the world and about himself.

He never got the chance. It was pure-Steve that when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer he told only his two brothers. Only shortly before his death did his sister and mother learn of his condition. Classmates and others learned only after his death. Very shortly before his death, Steve paid one of his visits to the home of Don Samuelson north of Chicago. He played with Don's kids, talked and laughed with Don, and ate Nancy Samuelson's meal with gusto. A week or so later he was gone and there was just a hole in the air in Don's backyard where Steve had been playing a week earlier.

I would rather close this remembrance with the thought that despite the tragic elements of his life, Steve was a wonderful friend with a playful streak. As his roommate for two years at Dartmouth, I learned to tease him and be teased by him. He also had inexhaustible supplies of hard work and loyalty. I have long believed that alcohol doesn't create character, but reveals it. When a husband berates his wife while he is drunk, it isn't "the alcohol talking." The alcohol removes inhibitions that let a true nature appear. On the few occasions that I saw Steve after he'd had a few beers, he got progressively quieter and happier. He would observe the antics of those around him and chuckle without comment. I loved him at Dartmouth when he was quiet and happy. I loved him as a factory worker when he was quiet and when I questioned his happiness. He was an enormous part of my Dartmouth years, and I miss him greatly.

Gordon Williamson '62

In our last Newsletter, we reported the death of Bruce Ennis. Phi Tau fraternity brother Dave Dalton remembered Bruce this way. "I was most sorry to hear of the death of Bruce Ennis. Bruce was an 'unforgettable character.'  You requested anecdotes about Bruce and they are legion. A couple that I experienced with him follow."

"On the Friday evening of the traditional Harvard weekend, Bruce and I had no money and were stuck on a virtually deserted campus. He guaranteed that we could get to Boston and back in his dilapidated 1950 red Ford convertible with 25 cents each. We returned to Hanover several days and a million laughs later with our original quarters intact. On another occasion he, Larry Swift '63, and I went to New York during Christmas break to see Joey Dee and the Starlighters at the Peppermint Lounge. When we arrived the line to get in stretched around the block. Not to be deterred Bruce led us down a dark alley and into the joint through a ladies room window."

Dave continued, "Bruce exuded enthusiasm and fun. He always had some crazy scheme going. At one point he nearly convinced our fraternity to buy a military tank to ride to football games. Fortunately cooler heads prevailed. If the adventures of ëthe Anií and company (Basil Condos and Kit Nissen, youíre in their for sure) were ever put on paper or film, I do believe it would be more humorous and entertaining than the classic movie, Animal House. Bruce went on to a brilliant legal career. However, the memories that he helped create as an undergraduate are indeed cherished."

John Walkup added his thoughts about the passing of Steve Lasch. "Steve was a true friend and all around great guy. His quiet nature hid a lot of his strengths, but it was good to see Gordy Williamson's, Don Samuelson's, and Vern Simms's comments about him. I didn't really know Bruce Ennis, but I guess these losses wake us up to the need to hit as many of the future reunions as possible. It also helps Pat and I remember why we retired early to work with professors in our ministry."