Craddock

I met Craddock in grade school. He was never "Bill" to us, always "Craddock". We were actually best of friends 7th through 9th grade. I stayed overnight at his house several times. His room was dark and full of exotic/ interesting/ dangerous objects and literature. He had a record of bawdy sea chanties we delighted in. Whenever "Barnacle Bill the Sailor" enters my mind, I'm transported back to Craddock's room. His mother was a hoot. She was everything I imagined a gypsy to be.

In high school I shared a US History class with him. Our teacher was an ex-FBI agent (and wouldn't let anyone forget it) who decided that Craddock's hair was too long. Every Monday for weeks Mr. Schultz would send Craddock to the principle's office to talk about that unruly mane and a every Monday Craddock would show up with his hair a week longer. Nobody could bring themselves to punish him.

He and his merry band of surfers would indeed cut school to go to the beach. They had a 1942 field ambulance they used for transport. How cool was that?

The last time I saw Craddock was in 1973. He had driven his Harley up the steps of Old Town in Los Gatos and was holding forth outside the restaurant there. He was menacing to the uninitiated - vintage Harley, the leathers, the chains, and the hair. We chatted for some time. As we left, my wife, who had never met him, asked, "who was THAT?" "Craddock" was all I said.

Doug and I and several other Los Gatos High guys have been furiously exchanging emails since we learned of Craddock's passing. We have all been amazed how deeply it has affected us, especially given the time passed since we saw him last. He was a marvelous character, a true friend and a true talent. There is a hole in my heart.

Pete Stoefen , 2004