Mike was my next door neighbor all through high school. We hung out together on our front porches as kids were wont to do, or I would sometimes help him with a particularly vexing math problem. We sometimes would talk long into the night. I was also friends with his sister Patty, who was sick most of those years. For a while she was in Dunham Hospital and I would visit her there...taking umpteen buses to get there.
Mike's Mom was a single mother doing the best she could, but they had the support of her parents who lived just down the street. Mike would sometimes talk about his father and he idolized his older brother.
Mike had a heart problem. Although I didn't understand the medical terminology, I knew that he had had several procedures, which I now realize were heart catherizations. His mother was very mindful of his health and worried about him. He had to go for regular checkups, but I dont think he wanted many people to know about this.
Mike was the one who introduced me to Dylan. We would play those LP's for hours and try to put interpretations on the lyrics. Mike really changed about that time and became more philosophical, more introspective. His sweet natural liveliness seemed to change and he became a somewhat lonely searcher.
I lost contact with Mike after high school, as so many of these memoriam state. I had heard that he might have been involved in the peace movement, and may have traveled to San Francisco but wasn't sure. One day around 1968 or 1969, Mike called but didn't leave a message. I was angry that I had no way of contacting him, and to this day I wonder what might have been. Was he calling just to reminisce, or calling for help....that has haunted me to this day.
Rest in Peace, Mike......I hope you found your answers.
You should have been at the 50th reunion, Mike. You should not have been homeless before there was even a word to describe it. You should not have been prey for criminals. You should not have died alone. I miss you, the fragile brother I never had.
In 1970 (?) Sam Luel ('65) and I took Mike into our aprtment in walnut hills. It was obvious he was not the same Mike we all knew and adored in high school. He bathed, ate, ranted, and slept. There were quite a few stories going around as to why Mike was lost. It was said he got stuck in a LSD trip, he was schizophrenic or just crazy. He was suffering. Living in a one room apt was difficult and one day Mike put water in a medicine bottle where I kept LSD. I went balistic and told him he had to go.
A couple years later I saw Mike at Hyde Park square. He didn't speak. I don't know if he recognized me or not. My daughter fell in the fountain and Mike ran and rescued her. He was killed shortly after that incident.
I am not sure why, but I think of him often. He is not suffering anymore
I thought about Mike while at our reunion. When in college Mike came to my apt. several times asking if I would take him to the airport so he could go to CA. I'd ask him if he had a ticket and he'd say no, I'll get there on love. I wouldn't take him to the airport. He'd leave and then I'd see him months late, the same scene repeated. I assumed he already was vulnerable to mental illness and LSD threw him over the edge, but of course I never knew.
Immediately after college graduation, I worked as a medical social worker in the Over the Rhine area...I took one of my ciients to the Emergency room for something or other and the police dragged in a young man covered in filth, his arms and legs shackled. I recognized Michael instantly and my heart dropped. He recognized me as well and the police allowed him to shuffle over to me with my permission. he smiled, I smiled and then he asked me if I would sing for him. I don't remember now what I sang or to be honest if I sang. I used to sing at a coffee house I ran at UC. I suppose now he used to go there and hear me sing. Did I sing a folk song, the blues? I don't know...I just remember incredible sadness to see him in such condition.
Years later, when living in New Hampshire, I went to Boston with my then baby in a backpack. We were in Harvard Sq. watching a performer when across the circle, Michael and my eyes met. We both smiled at one another in acknowledgement. We never spoke. He had stopped speaking I think. That happened twice and I never saw or heard about him again although while in Boston, I'd look for him. I was deeply saddened when I heard of his violent death...such a tragic life. I choose to remember his sweet smile and gentle eyes.
Sandy Whitt, thank you for your incredible patience to help Mike. I knew and saw first hand of your devotion. The Mike I knew was a tragic character living the story. I have many memories of being in his company, As a boy we hung out together knowing his sad circumstances and how hard his mother worked so that family could survive. Mike, you are in my heart. jeff
My roomate and I had a two floor walk up apartment in Clifton We were painting the walls when Mike showed up. He asked if he could help so we left him in the living room and went to bed. The next morning he was gone but there was a mural on the wall that was both beautiful and strange. We kept the mural. I hoped he would come back but he never did.
Since this doesn't seem to be known generally, Michael was diagnosed with schizophrenia and for a while was institutionalized, probably shortly after we left high school (though I cannot be sure of the year). His mother took me to visit him in Longview when that was still a place to house and supposedly treat people with mental illness. Some years before that, during one of the many times Mike and I hung out together at his house, she had asked me to help Michael, as if all he needed was a brother who cared enough and he would stop acting so strangely. The closed room in Longview where we met him was a picture of one of the circles of hell: men talking or shouting to themselves, ceaselessly wandering around the room; others rocking back and forth sitting on the floor. And Michael sitting at the table with us, desperately trying to demonstrate his love for his mother, hugging her again and again until it became embarrassing for her. It wasn't for my benefit; I believe now he was trying to impress whatever person on the staff he thought might be observing him and report that surely someone who loves his mother so much should not be in that asylum.
That we remember Michael now so vividly is because he had a genius in touching us, in making us more sensitive along with him. But also because we can see the possibilities of our own fragility in what happened to him.
Most of us only knew Mike during class at Woodward. And that is how I knew Mike. It grieves us to learn that Mike (and others) did not succeed as we all expected. I considered Mike a friend at school as we were in many classes together. I remember him with a big smile and intelligent eyes looking back at you when we talked. I think of a gym class during a dodgeball game. At that time, I thought dodgeball demonstrated more than throwing balls at each other's head:-) Mike could play and he was always in the last 10-15 guys. To me, it said something about being able to survive, outwit your opponent and calculate your next move. What mattered was your side (Team) winning the game and Mike had that smile playing that game. I guess there is some solus knowing that Mike had a disease; otherwise his tragic end would be hard to understand.
Ken Ellison
Mike! May you rest in peace you did not find here on earth
GOD BLESS! kenny E.
Gary Goodman
God moves in mysterious ways . . .
one day after school, I decided to visit Mom Downtown . . . she worked for Leeds Dept.Store at that time.
But who should be on the William Henry Harrison statue but Mike M.
"Michael! What the hellicopter are you doing here?"
"Just hanging out . . . Have you ever read Christopher Isherwood on VEDANTA?"
"Is that an Eastern religion?"
"It's more like a philosophy. . ."
"Cool! I'll buy the book right away." ((And I did.))
"See ya!"
And THAT was the last time I saw Michael alive.
He was a sweet kid, and more interested in "philosophy" than anything else.
"The Lord bless Thee and keep Thee"
Sandra Whitt (Grossman)
Mike was my next door neighbor all through high school. We hung out together on our front porches as kids were wont to do, or I would sometimes help him with a particularly vexing math problem. We sometimes would talk long into the night. I was also friends with his sister Patty, who was sick most of those years. For a while she was in Dunham Hospital and I would visit her there...taking umpteen buses to get there.
Mike's Mom was a single mother doing the best she could, but they had the support of her parents who lived just down the street. Mike would sometimes talk about his father and he idolized his older brother.
Mike had a heart problem. Although I didn't understand the medical terminology, I knew that he had had several procedures, which I now realize were heart catherizations. His mother was very mindful of his health and worried about him. He had to go for regular checkups, but I dont think he wanted many people to know about this.
Mike was the one who introduced me to Dylan. We would play those LP's for hours and try to put interpretations on the lyrics. Mike really changed about that time and became more philosophical, more introspective. His sweet natural liveliness seemed to change and he became a somewhat lonely searcher.
I lost contact with Mike after high school, as so many of these memoriam state. I had heard that he might have been involved in the peace movement, and may have traveled to San Francisco but wasn't sure. One day around 1968 or 1969, Mike called but didn't leave a message. I was angry that I had no way of contacting him, and to this day I wonder what might have been. Was he calling just to reminisce, or calling for help....that has haunted me to this day.
Rest in Peace, Mike......I hope you found your answers.
Richard Newhauser
You should have been at the 50th reunion, Mike. You should not have been homeless before there was even a word to describe it. You should not have been prey for criminals. You should not have died alone. I miss you, the fragile brother I never had.
Rena Alex
In 1970 (?) Sam Luel ('65) and I took Mike into our aprtment in walnut hills. It was obvious he was not the same Mike we all knew and adored in high school. He bathed, ate, ranted, and slept. There were quite a few stories going around as to why Mike was lost. It was said he got stuck in a LSD trip, he was schizophrenic or just crazy. He was suffering. Living in a one room apt was difficult and one day Mike put water in a medicine bottle where I kept LSD. I went balistic and told him he had to go.
A couple years later I saw Mike at Hyde Park square. He didn't speak. I don't know if he recognized me or not. My daughter fell in the fountain and Mike ran and rescued her. He was killed shortly after that incident.
I am not sure why, but I think of him often. He is not suffering anymore
Ann Greenberg (Bliss)
I thought about Mike while at our reunion. When in college Mike came to my apt. several times asking if I would take him to the airport so he could go to CA. I'd ask him if he had a ticket and he'd say no, I'll get there on love. I wouldn't take him to the airport. He'd leave and then I'd see him months late, the same scene repeated. I assumed he already was vulnerable to mental illness and LSD threw him over the edge, but of course I never knew.
Immediately after college graduation, I worked as a medical social worker in the Over the Rhine area...I took one of my ciients to the Emergency room for something or other and the police dragged in a young man covered in filth, his arms and legs shackled. I recognized Michael instantly and my heart dropped. He recognized me as well and the police allowed him to shuffle over to me with my permission. he smiled, I smiled and then he asked me if I would sing for him. I don't remember now what I sang or to be honest if I sang. I used to sing at a coffee house I ran at UC. I suppose now he used to go there and hear me sing. Did I sing a folk song, the blues? I don't know...I just remember incredible sadness to see him in such condition.
Years later, when living in New Hampshire, I went to Boston with my then baby in a backpack. We were in Harvard Sq. watching a performer when across the circle, Michael and my eyes met. We both smiled at one another in acknowledgement. We never spoke. He had stopped speaking I think. That happened twice and I never saw or heard about him again although while in Boston, I'd look for him. I was deeply saddened when I heard of his violent death...such a tragic life. I choose to remember his sweet smile and gentle eyes.
Jeff Robinson
Sandy Whitt, thank you for your incredible patience to help Mike. I knew and saw first hand of your devotion. The Mike I knew was a tragic character living the story. I have many memories of being in his company, As a boy we hung out together knowing his sad circumstances and how hard his mother worked so that family could survive. Mike, you are in my heart. jeff
Delgene Lienenbrink '64 (Pufpaf)
My roomate and I had a two floor walk up apartment in Clifton We were painting the walls when Mike showed up. He asked if he could help so we left him in the living room and went to bed. The next morning he was gone but there was a mural on the wall that was both beautiful and strange. We kept the mural. I hoped he would come back but he never did.
Richard Newhauser
Since this doesn't seem to be known generally, Michael was diagnosed with schizophrenia and for a while was institutionalized, probably shortly after we left high school (though I cannot be sure of the year). His mother took me to visit him in Longview when that was still a place to house and supposedly treat people with mental illness. Some years before that, during one of the many times Mike and I hung out together at his house, she had asked me to help Michael, as if all he needed was a brother who cared enough and he would stop acting so strangely. The closed room in Longview where we met him was a picture of one of the circles of hell: men talking or shouting to themselves, ceaselessly wandering around the room; others rocking back and forth sitting on the floor. And Michael sitting at the table with us, desperately trying to demonstrate his love for his mother, hugging her again and again until it became embarrassing for her. It wasn't for my benefit; I believe now he was trying to impress whatever person on the staff he thought might be observing him and report that surely someone who loves his mother so much should not be in that asylum.
That we remember Michael now so vividly is because he had a genius in touching us, in making us more sensitive along with him. But also because we can see the possibilities of our own fragility in what happened to him.
Everett McIntosh
Most of us only knew Mike during class at Woodward. And that is how I knew Mike. It grieves us to learn that Mike (and others) did not succeed as we all expected. I considered Mike a friend at school as we were in many classes together. I remember him with a big smile and intelligent eyes looking back at you when we talked. I think of a gym class during a dodgeball game. At that time, I thought dodgeball demonstrated more than throwing balls at each other's head:-) Mike could play and he was always in the last 10-15 guys. To me, it said something about being able to survive, outwit your opponent and calculate your next move. What mattered was your side (Team) winning the game and Mike had that smile playing that game. I guess there is some solus knowing that Mike had a disease; otherwise his tragic end would be hard to understand.