Hey Billy, Ya took the wrong train. By Jack Coll

August 5, 2014

Hey Billy

Ya took the wrong train

By Jack Coll

Sometimes life is all about catching the right train, you’re standing at the station and the different trains rush by heading to different destinations. We manage to jump on and jump off at the different stops we chose in life.

Everyone chooses to go here or there, we all take different trains at different times traveling at different speeds, heading to different destinations but we all return to the station, our station happens to be Conshohocken.

Conshohocken lost a good man, a great contributor to our community, a great father and grandfather, and husband to Marylou. I’m talking about Bill Donovan or as I call him the Jackie Gleason of Conshohocken. Bill was a lot like his father-in-law Walt Schank, and perhaps a lot not him, but I think Walt showed his family the giving way, Walt was always involved in the community and so was Bill, or Billy as some people liked to call him, I called him BIG Bill, but in a very nice way (He was a bigger man than me and I honestly believed that if I ticked him off he could wrap his arms around me and crush me, or make me scream uncle, whatever came first) but Big Bill it was.

Big Bill had this ability to make people around him laugh, and I admired him for that reason. I’ve always said that I’m not a laugher, I’m amused at a lot of things but I just don’t laugh a lot, never have. I always thought that if I could go back and change something in my life, it wouldn’t be about money, or to become a more skilled person, hey I’m happy with my wife!! If I could go back and change something in my life I’ve often said that I would like to have laughed more, and Big Bill had the rare ability to make me laugh, I admired that, and I just wanted to thank him for that.

Bill seemed to have his life in order, he loved his wife and kids, loved his extended family, loved Conshohocken and all things St. Matt’s, he loved soap box derby, and most of us know all that, I’m not saying he loved the above list in that order, I’m just saying he loved all that. I think everyone who ever met Bill for five minutes knows that, what a lot of residents didn’t know about Bill was his kindness and willingness to donate his services to the community.

When I pull out my scrapbook of life, and start paging through it, I see that Schank Printing has provided me with a written account of me and my children’s lives with all the program books supplied by Schank. My goodness I have my daughter’s Dance Recital programs, both my kids little league programs from baseball, football, basketball. Programs from the dozens of firehouse banquets, Special Fire Police Banquets, opening day programs, high school play programs, high school everything programs and so on. What the town doesn’t know, and that’s what Bill wanted, was that in many cases the organization ordering programs didn’t have the money for a program book, Parent-Teacher Organizations, (PTO) from many of the schools over the years, Catholic Youth Organization’s (CYO) banquet programs, fire companies for many years didn’t have the money, the Conshohocken Hall of Fame came up short in paying for programs more than a few times over the years. Organizations that needed flyers to get their message out by the thousands, at times no-charge.

I’ve talked to Bill many times over the years about business, good business and bad business, and in all my discussions with him he never once complained, never pointed anyone out that didn’t pay or couldn’t afford to pay, he never once said I remember one time …, Bill was above all that, he knew at times when he took the order that there would be no pay at the end of the day and yet he would spend as much time with the organization who he knew wasn’t going to pay as he did with a paying client, and that my friends is pretty damn amazing. Most residents in Conshohocken today see the town as a rich borough, it hasn’t always been that way, and not everyone could afford to pay, but they were doing something for the betterment of the borough, so Big Bill made sure that their event would be successful, the man behind the scenes making them look good with a first class event program book.

Success to a person, or for a person comes in all different sizes and shapes, of course for some money is the king-pin, if you got millions you must be successful, to some success is dependent on how well their children do, and to others it’s a matter of how high up in the company you go, perhaps foreman or supervisor.

There’s this rare breed out there, and I say rare because it becomes closer and closer to extinction every time we lose one of them. There’s this rare breed of residents who spell success with their actions and contributions, and that is the only payoff for them. Some residents accomplish this while working with the Colonials Neighborhood Council, or donating time to Meals on Wheels, helping their church, taking time to clean our streets or clean up along the riverfront. Others use whatever resources they have access to and put it to a good positive use that benefits the community, and that’s what Big Bill Donovan was all about.

With all that being said I admired Bill for having served in Vietnam, and other services in the community as a member of the St. Vincent DePaul Society among other organizations. No article or tribute would be complete about Bill without mentioning soap box derby. Bill raced in the Conshohocken annual event back in 1960, although he didn’t par very well I once made the mistake asking him about not performing well in the race. Big Bill went on a 45 minute dissertation about everything wrong with his car, he started with the design, the wrong kind of wood, the axels, wheels, paint color, paint design, brakes, steering, cables, the weather and the track, I never made that mistake again.

Over the years members of the Donovan family won about two dozen championships on Fayette Street, (if you had asked Bill about the championships he would tell you he lost count at 40, 45, 50, something like that.) Bill’s granddaughter Erin, finally landed a National Championship in Akron, Ohio in the summer of 2013, I attended a party to commemorate the National fete, the entire Donovan family attended along with many of their friends, I’m sure Bill had someone in the corner telling them the winning design was all his, I rounded up a couple of dozen racers and former racers for a group photo at the party, Bill was front and center, I was blessed to capture a proud man, at a very proud moment.

I mentioned earlier that Bill could make me laugh, I remember back in the late 1980’s, maybe the early 90’s, the years seem to run together for me, but Bill had acquired a press pass to get into the pit area at the National Soap Box Derby Race held in Akron Ohio, getting a press pass was no easy task back then but Bill got one. I remember seeing him down by the finish line in a very restricted area designated for big time press writers and professional photographers from around the world. At times during major sporting events, photographers are forced to jockey for position in the photo pit. So I muscle for a little position as Conshohocken was on the track, I’m lined up behind two guys with 400 MM lenses, worth about $15,000 each back then, a couple of other guys were using 300MM lenses not to mention a few locals using high powered zoom lenses. And in the front of the pit is this big guy blocking half my view of the finish line, I look up, “BILL” I said, Big Bill turned around and “Hey Jack, how’s it going” I said, “Hey how you doing, what are you using,” (that’s standard photographers talk referring to their camera or lens size) as the other photographers looked on, Bill turned around and held up a 110 pocket camera, “Oh, I got one of these” he says. Holy $#!t, I damn near fell out of the pit laughing, the other photographers didn’t see the humor in the matter, but man I laughed for nearly the entire eight hour ride back to Conshohocken. (A 110 pocket camera was about the size of a pack of cigarettes and cost about $15.00 new)

I remember one time Bill telling me about how him and Bob Cahill were spending a night in Atlantic City, (with their wives of course) and the night was getting late and the drinks were going down pretty easy and somehow, somewhere the two got a hold of a couple of fart bags. You know what they are, they were made as a gag, fill them with air, put them on someone’s seat and when they sit down, boom boom boom, the bag makes the greatest fart sounds and they sound remarkably real. So Bill and Bob have these red fart bags and get onto an elevator late in the evening with a group of strangers and the good times start to roll. They conceal the fart bags filled with air, and they start, rip– rip rip— riiip— riiiiiiip, Bob and Bill are keeping very straight faces as the strangers could not ignore the farts anymore they started looking at other people on the elevator. Bill told me some fine dressed elderly lady looked back at him and he was just busy fanning his nose with his open hand. Bill and Bob were the first to exit the elevator at their floor and on the way out gave one last push to the bag, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM and they lost it. While Bill’s telling me the story he’s laughing like hell and I’m laughing like hell, and for someone who doesn’t laugh all that much, I must say I can still remember the feeling of laughing along with Bill, it felt good to laugh.

Last Thursday Morning, as I made the turn from Forrest Street onto West Third Avenue Bob Cahill stops me, “Did you hear,….” it all goes quiet, a mighty blow to me, and all I could think about was Marylou and the kids. As I pulled away in silence, this selfish thought passes through me, “what a loss to this community.”

How does anyone go about thanking someone, when they don’t even know the contributions contributed, Al Donofrio, many members of the Moore family, Bernie Murray and the Murray family, the Conicelli family, and now you can add Big Bill Donovan to the very small list of community givers, individuals so proud of the community they lived in and loved, when all they do is give in silence, how do we know when and how to thank them?

So on the morning of July 24, Big Bill was standing on that train platform waiting for 7:05 that takes him to Schank Printing on Wells Street for another day of work. Somehow Bill jumped on the express train that takes you straight to heaven. It’s not that he had a choice in the matter, God was calling, St. Peter I’m sure checked him at the gate, no doubt ask him about that whole fart thing in Atlantic City, they’ll both laugh, because that’s what Bill does, he laughs, and then St. Pete will give Bill a pass, I’m sure they had a shuttle there to meet him and take him not to the Lord, but straight to the pits, ya see they have a soap box derby race in heaven, no wheels necessary, no winners, no losers.

There seems to be some lost kids up there, they recruited Bill to point out the best path to the finish line, he’ll tell them don’t zig, and don’t zag, sit back and enjoy the ride, he’ll look down on his grandkids and tell them the same, it’s never been about winning or losing, it’s all about the ride, and the stories you’ll have to tell, and looking back the stories you were able to laugh about the most.

Ah Billy, thanks so much for the laughs

I needed every laugh you gave me

I’ll always remember you for your laugh, the way your head would fling

back just a little, and you would have just a little more to add to the story.

Big Billy Donovan was a friend of mine

I’m gonna miss him.

Rest In Peace my friend.