From Todd Jezek:

Before we could drive, Mike and I used to hitchhike back and forth to the beach in Santa Monica. One afternoon, we were at Nielson Way and Bay Street and a guy in a pickup full of tools stopped and indicated we should jump in the back. He dropped us right at the corner of Venice and Beethoven. Next day, same corner, same guy, same result. This went on for 3 or 4 days and of course we couldn't keep it to ourselves. The fifth day there were 3 of us and the following day 4. Finally on about day seven, there must have been 6 or 8 of us. The guy slowed down, looked at the crowd we had assembled, flipped us off and kept going.

I’m sure there's a moral to the story, but I'm still not convinced I learned anything from the experience, though I’m positive that Mike did. Something about a goose and an egg or some such crap. I love you MIKE.

From Pat LeRossignol:

After being a little rough on me when we were younger, Mike made up for it in a big way when we got to Venice High. He and his buddies, particularly Todd and Fritz, began to include me in some of their activities. As a teenager, Mike didn't sleep all that well at night, so as we got older I became one of his companions in some of the “late” night trips to Robert's (coffee [!] and/or patty melts if we had any $) or to just go cruising. Usually these trips meant sneaking out of the house to wait for Todd to pick us up, but occasionally we “liberated” a vehicle out of our driveway. All while mom and dad were sleeping.......or so we thought! Because parents can be smart that way, turns out they were aware of at least some of our activities and said nothing. Anyway, through all of our buddy activities, I was able to become acquainted with lots of Mike's friends, including all of those older chicks, which for a 10th grader was hot stuff and the envy of my friends. Yeah, baby.

From Jim Blackwood:

Mike was probably the smartest and most engaging person I've known and I regret that I saw too little of him over recent years. However, when we did get together the conversation was lively and informative because he made it so. I don't know of any topic of which Mike didn't have some working knowledge.

When the war ended, your family lived with us on Corinth Avenue before they moved to Coarsegold. I don't remember the exact years but Pat had to be a baby and Mike was probably 2 or 3. He was the "sharpest pencil in the box" even then and everybody loved him. I was jealous and told my Mom that I was leaving home. She helped me pack a knapsack and I moved to the vacant lot on the corner of our street , for a couple of hours until hunger took over. Even then he was a step ahead and he could manipulate me at will.

As the years passed, Mike evolved into the type of guy the Air Force would send to Yale to study Chinese language and culture. They recognized his talents and he didn't disappoint them. In recent years, he held court at the Whaler and people were drawn to him, including my children who adored him. He could converse on any topic and as you know was a voracious reader. I think Mike understood the absurdity of the human condition much better than the rest of us and he knew that people came first. I love you Mike! —Jim

From Steve Derus, Venice High Class of ’62:

I first knew Mike at Venice High, where we were classmates. He and I were not what you would call close friends back then, but I will always remember him as a friendly and caring person even then. He was very popular at school, no doubt because of that easy going personality. He always greeted everyone with a big smile.

Mike was quite a good athlete at Venice, and I remember in particular that he was one of the best football players on the “bee team” which was the team for boys who were a little smaller in physical stature than the varsity guys. The “bee team” was Western League champs almost every year that I was there.

Mike was never self-centered or conceited about his athletic achievements or his popularity at school. He was always approachable, and was one of the best-liked people in our class.

It wasn’t until almost twenty years after high school that I developed a closer friendship with Mike. He began to accompany the Jezek family on summer vacations to Topaz Lake in Northern California, where my wife Carole and I also vacationed. A few other Venice Gondoliers were regulars at the lake including Todd Jezek, Patti (Tikker) Woods, Whitey and Bonnie (Ryan) Woods, Fritz Woods, and Bill Abbott. We all enjoyed water skiing, golfing, horseshoes, dances, and games.

Mike was always up for a water ski ride, and could ski with the best of us. He never just dove off the boat, he always did his trademark summersault dive. We had a cassette tape player on our boat and Mike loved to listen to Billy Vera or any oldies tapes while we were out on the water.

Mike always amazed everyone with his fantastic knowledge of everything. We would all play Trivial Pursuit and you were sure to win if Mike was on your team. He was never stumped.

Mike had a wonderful sense of humor. He didn’t always have much to say, but when he did it was usually a story or one liner that made you smile.

Carole and I missed him very much when he no longer came to the lake with us, and we only saw him a few times after that but it was always a treat when we did.

Mike was truly one of the nice guys and will be missed by everyone who knew him.

Steve Derus
Venice High Class of ‘62

From Pat LeRossignol:

When I was in the 10th grade and Mike was a senior, we were both on the B football team (I was scrawny and young and he was tough and experienced!). We both played on the same unit, he was the center and I was the tight end. On punt coverage teams, we made a deal that if we ever got to the punt return man at the same time, I would go high and he would go low (he was shorter, you know) so we wouldn't wipe each other out....just the poor ball carrier. One night at Westchester High, that very opportunity arose. As we were approaching the ball carrier, I noticed that our other wide out coverage guy was also converging at the same time. Making a split decision, I decided to go REALLY high and then hope for the best. Mike went low as expected, Bob Beauchmin on the other side went in at the waist and I ended up around the ball carrier's head. The runner was whacked and I think fumbled, but one of my fingers ended up inside his helmet and I was "chewed" up relatively badly. I ended up getting stitches and a huge bandage on my hand and when Mike and I came out from the locker room to the stands for the Varsity game, he played me off as the big hero. It wasn't true, but it looked and sounded good. What a guy. By the way, just like every week in those days....the B's won and the Varsity lost.

From Dick Blackwood:

Looking at the early photos you can see Mike and I were close at a very early age. Suffice to say, I should apologize for introducing Mike to many of youth’s first experiments such as smoking. I was probably not the best example of the older cousin. However, my shenanigans as a risk taker benefited Mike in some ways. When I went in the Navy, mom gave Mike my 1949 Plymouth with a '52 Desoto steel block engine that Mike loved to race with on Culver Boulevard late at night. However my brother might point out that this had been his car first!

We both enjoyed many of life's passages, such as marriage and divorce and had a great time living at the Oak Wood in West L.A. I will remember him on the floor with a novel, spoon, and a jar of peanut butter. Mike led me into the world of fiction from non-fiction with such authors as Kurt Vonnegut, Robert Heinlein, E. L. Doctorow and James Cavell. Mike and I had a roommate named Art, an oral-surgeon at U.C.L.A. Art had the greatest respect and admiration for Mike and when he married his wife, Nancy, we had a grand old time at their wedding at the Beverly Hilton which included two ballrooms and was the most extravagant affair we had ever been to. Mike was a sight to behold in his tux!

We spent many evenings discussing all of life's great questions. Mike could hold his own with anyone and always garnered great respect. When I was blocked on a phrase or conclusion on my thesis, I called Mike and he came over and quickly solved my dilemma. I often talked with Mike about all my social science readings and found he was well aware of any esoteric subject. I will truly miss him and I thank him for seeing me through some of life's tough times and always being there. Mike is truly one of a kind! --Love, Cousin Dick

From Jananne Hayes:

I met Mike in 1997 when I first moved to the Marina at the Whaler (of course). We developed a strong friendship and then started dating for several months. He was the first person to take me to 12 Washington. He was the best but would never let me get too close. My younger son had the pleasure of meeting him and really enjoyed him.

When my sister died in 2000, Mike was there for me and continued to help me grieve for several years. Another memory: my cousin Karin Harden went to school with Mike and he was her first boyfriend at Mark Twain. He walked her home from school almost every day. She had the opportunity to come and visit me from San Francisco and I took her to see Mike after all those years.

I am still in the Marina but unfortunately have not been back to the Whaler since about 2004 so I missed seeing Mike.

We did love each other and I do have some beautiful memories going to the beach, taking long walks on the beach, going to a movie and of course the Whaler.

I will miss him always.

From Jack Hodge:

Hey Mike,

Isn't it odd that it's easier to talk to you dead than it is to talk to many people I know alive? It's true though. I could pour out all the things I'm thinking about in a letter to you, imagine your response and it would feel right. I can imagine what kind of smart ass remarks or jokes you would put in and I would be happy. I still have the last phone message you left me the day before you died and I can't delete it, the connection will always be there.

When I think of you, I realize that the one gift we always shared is the gift of laughter. I smile when I think of you and remember – I love you. —Jack

From Pat LeRossignol:

In 2001, when our mom Velma was getting ready to pass away, Dad, Ginny, Mike and I were taking turns at her bedside up in Santa Maria. I think as usual in that situation, you want to be there.....but you really don't want to see the inevitable come about. Ginny had been there for a week already and had to leave, then after a few days I needed to get ready to leave for Chicago and my work. Bob of course was still there and Mike was staying for a few days. The evening I arrived back home in San Diego after driving from Santa Maria, I was told that Mom had passed away in Mike's presence while I was on my way home. Later when I talked to him about it, he said that while he thought he didn't want to see it happen, when it finally occurred it was one of the most wonderful experiences of his life.....he was honored to have been there.

When the same opportunity arose for me, Janet and Todd Jezek, we felt the same way. We were honored. Thank you, Mike.

From Janet Oxford LeRossignol:

While Mike was staying with us during the last two months, he insisted that Pat and I continue living our lives since he was ambulatory, self sufficient and fully capable of taking care of himself and there was no need to entertain him. Lord knows there were plenty of books to read, music to listen to and TV shows to watch. On New Year's Eve afternoon, when I told Mike that I was getting ready to go over to the Village Hall to decorate it for our community party, he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and said, in true Al Pacino (or was it Dustin Hoffman) style....“I'm dyin' here and you're goin' to set up a party?”

From Ginny Blades:

Mike and I had an unexpected encounter with Nature on New Years Day, 1980 when I went to visit him down on Ocean Front Walk.

After hanging out on the sand, we took a walk on Washington Pier with all the other folks ringing in the New Year there. We were about half way down the pier and had stopped to lean on the railing, looking toward Santa Monica Pier when we noticed a large shape moving toward us beneath the water. We gazed out to sea in growing amazement as this immense shape drew closer, taking on the form of a lone grey whale. It must have been 30 feet long, and it was making a bee-line right toward us, so close to shore! We pointed and shouted but no one seemed to hear us. It was like being invisible. Very odd feeling. So we leaned over the railing to watch the whale approach -- our own private nature moment in the midst of all those people.

Our sense of awe skyrocketed as we realized this incredible creature was about to pass right under our feet! And it chose just that moment to break the surface, the barnacles glistening in the sunlight on its scratched grey body. Then the whale rolled sideways and gazed up at us with one huge, limpid, intelligent eye, as if it were studying us. Time stopped for that long moment as we were both locked in the animal's gaze. Then the whale slid silently below the surface, disappearing between the pylons of the pier. We snapped out of our spellbound state and rushed to the opposite side of the pier, shouting and pointing as we went. But still no one took heed. Life was going on as usual--people were fishing, skating, holding hands, walking--all oblivious to the unfolding event, or to our attempts to communicate. It felt as if we were stuck in an alternate dimension, a LeRossignol Twilight Zone.

We waited and waited for the whale to emerge on the other side... but nothing happened. Had it all been a dream? It certainly felt like one! Just as we were about to turn away, the whale breached & "spy-hopped" halfway between the pier and the breakwater, a few people shouted "WHALE!" and everyone ran over to watch as the whale swam away. Mike & I continued on our walk, discussing the nature of reality and the gift of our very trippy shared Nature moment.