Stephen C. Bartlett Wake Speech

Stephen Bartlett was born October 4th, 1942, shortly before his father left to fight in World War Two. Although his father, Harry “Bus” Bartlett, was a prominent engineer – becoming the Bartlett half of the engineering firm Bartlett and West – Steve grew up with very little. He used to tell his family stories about how poor he was as a child (which resulted in a long lecture about how good we have it now and that we should stop complaining). He told me a story once about the first time he was arrested. Because he had a large family and a small income, he and his brothers often snuck into the local farm to steal watermelon. They did it so often that the farmers recognized him and his brothers and would call the cops to let them know that the Bartlett kids had stolen more of his crop. Well, one day, as they sat on their front porch eating it, a cop drove by and noticed that the kids looked a little too smug while eating the fruit of their labor. He got out of his car and demanded that they go and pay for the melon. They protested “we bought it this time! We swear!” but of course the officer didn't believe them. So he scooped the kids up and hauled them down to the farm so that the farmer could identify them and say, yes, it was them who stole ANOTHER watermelon. Incidentally, this had also been the first time that the brothers had actually BOUGHT the watermelon from the farmer. So the cop apologized and took them back to the house. What the cop didn't know, however, was that to get the money to pay for the fruit – my father had paid for a newspaper out of the booth, taken the whole stack, and sold them all on a street corner. It was this kind of enterprising nature and drive toward success that helped turn my father from a poor Kansas boy into a successful businessman, athlete, and father. As an athlete he was a starting line-backer for Topeka High, as they went undefeated. At 17 he joined the rodeo and became a trophy winner by the age of 18. He claimed to be set to enroll in college when his father enlisted him in the marines. What I have gathered, however, is that he just caused too much damn trouble and he needed some discipline. The discipline paid off, however. After serving his time in the Marines he worked for the railroad for a stint, before him and his brother Harry bought their own used car lot. At the age of 20

he had begun turning a small space near 37th and Topeka Boulevard named Turnpike Motors into what would become a successful three-lot enterprise. At the age of 35 he and Harry sold the lot and Steve joined an insurance firm. He was proud that, while never once earning a salary, he was able to pull in enough money to afford what he imagined to be the American dream – a house where he could raise a family and entertain guests – and rest assured that he wouldn't come home to find a note on the door with his new address. Outside of his house and car, he used to take his hard earned money and, with which, I remember vividly, he bought gaudy jewelry and his favorite cheap musky cologne. At the age of 18 he married his first love – Beverly Work and together they had their first child – Lisa – just two years later. Sadly, Beverly passed away just shortly after Lisa's birth. Although his parenting methods were rough, to say the least, Steve tried his best and produced a great Bartlett, a feat which we all know is near impossible. When I called to ask her if she had any stories about dad I mentioned how she hit him over the head with a frying pan when he was mad at her. “No,” she corrected me, “I knocked him out with a telephone, Tim. I don't think we had any pans.” Regardless of their tension, they both helped each other turn their life around, with Lisa turning from a teenager who skipped school regularly into a student who graduated from Kansas State in just 3 years and who grew up to live a happy life, living right on the beach in San Diego. And on March 15th, 2000, he became a proud grandfather to the charming and beautiful Chloe Jones. Despite the struggle of raising a child and tending to his own business, Steve still had time for fun and for love. He first met the woman who he would love and care for for the rest of his life, my mother Debbie, at the gatehouse apartments in 1969 when Debbie was moving to Topeka to attend Stormont Vail School of Nursing. They fell in love and were married August 7, 1971 at Most Pure Heart of Mary Catholic Church. One of my favorite stories that my father used to tell me, and that my mom and I were rehashing during the past few days, was the epic story of his bachelor party. Of course I don't know many of the details, and, if I did, I would hesitate to tell them here. However, this is what

I know: two days before their wedding there's a knock on the door and my dad answer's it to find all of his friends gathered around a hearse. They took him off somewhere and he disappeared for a day. The next day they show up at the wedding reception and they are so drunk that one of his brothers FALLS ASLEEP in a pew. Everyone runs around the building trying to find him and just about as soon as they did, the brothers dash out of the church to party some more. So time ticks away and nothing is heard. That is, until exactly one hour before the wedding and my mom receives a phone call. It was my dad. Calling from a payphone. He called to tell her that he wasn't sure if he could make it to the wedding. “Why not?!” my mother demanded. “Well, my buddies got me really drunk last night and...well...I'm in Texas.” Cooly, my mother says to him: “Okay, Steve, you have hour to make it to the wedding and if you aren't here. Well, it was nice knowing you.” Of course, when my mother opened the door to the sanctuary at Most Pure Heart, there he was: handsome, clean, sober, and more happy than he'd ever been in his life. Despite all the mischief that he was known to cause, Debbie proved to be a stabilizing force in his ambitious life, and they helped each other to succeed – he moved to the more profitable venture as an insurance salesman and she fulfilled her lifelong dream of becoming a nurse. It was here, Lisa remembers, that Steve truly became a good father – taking her to movies, getting her through school (despite her honest efforts to the contrary), and helping her mold herself into the woman she has become. After Steve and Debbie's marriage, the couple quickly became accustomed to the “outdoors” life: together traveling often to boat, camp, ski, fish while Steve went hunting, golfing and enjoyed tennis. In fact, their first purchase after their marriage was a boat. They spent many summers with their friends at numerous lakes enjoying fishing tournaments, golf tournaments, as well as traveling to the Ozarks, Bahamas, Acapulco and California. Eventually, their first boat was traded in for a new cabin cruiser and that for a new houseboat – where they enjoyed spending time together at Lake Perry (which

his father built). As their busy lives and outdoor escapes kept them distracted from starting a family together, they decided to instead nurture a young pet. Even as a young pup, Boomer was an intelligent and loyal yellow Labrador retriever. Boomer became an integral part of the family and was inseparable from Steve, not only as a great pet but also as a great hunting dog and a great companion. They were such great friends that when Steve and Boomer went on hunting trips together they slept side-by-side on Steve's bed; and when dad came home late or got into trouble, he would once again sleep next to Boomer – only this time in Boomer's bed. As he used to tell his friends: he “came home too late and Debbie moved the house.” Boomer even received the first official membership into the 20's Club – a small bar known for its intimate atmosphere and close group of regulars where Steve would meet with his friends and family almost every evening for happy hour. One of Steve's favorite party tricks was to have someone at the bar pick a small object to hide and bet them a drink that the dog could find it in just a short amount of time. As soon as the person chose the object, Steve had to inspect it to make sure that it wasn't dangerous to Boomer. The inseparable pair would wait outside as the person would hide it – then Steve would jump in and yell “hunt it up!” Boomer would dash almost immediately to the object, winning Steve a drink nearly every time. The secret, of course, was that when Steve “inspected” the object, he was placing his scent on it – making it very easy for Boomer to find. Boomer and his family were also a regular feature in Topeka's St. Patrick's Day parade, with Boomer being the first dog dressed in Irish to participate, a feat which got coverage from both the newspaper and television. The Parade was so important to Steve that Boomer was in every parade until his death. In his final years he was pulled in a wagon, as he was too weak to walk. Boomer died at home and was cremated – his final resting place will be with Steve – where they will once again sleep in the same bed.

After being married for 10 years and with Lisa gone from the home, Steve and Debbie decided that it was time to expand their small family. After much difficulty Michael Stephen Bartlett was born in September of 1983. Sadly he passed away after only 2 months of life due to complications from birth. Together they mourned the loss of their first child but focused on bringing another child into this world. In October of 1986, after many doctors, drugs and what Steve jokingly referred to as “3 a days,” Timothy Michael “Walleye” Bartlett entered their lives. One story Steve never tired of telling was the story of how Tim was given the nickname “Walleye.” Only a few days before Tim's due-date, Steve was scheduled to attend a Nation-wide Walleye fishing tournament in Minnesota, with a halfmillion dollar prize for the winner. He begged Debbie to let him attend but after all the work they had put into it, she was stubborn in her refusal to let him leave her. So, in a fashion typical of Steve, he struck a deal with her. He would stay for Tim to be born on one condition: Tim had to be called “Walleye.” When Steve finally made it to the tournament he reported to the weigh-in. When asked what he caught, Steve reported: “A 7 pound 12 ouncer.” To this day, his friends still call me Walleye. Tim became the joy and focus of their lives. In order to give their child a better life they substituted the house boat for a home in a good neighborhood. The family spent many evenings together swimming in the pool, lounging in the large backyard and hosting parties for all occasions. Steve always loved animals and could never turn away an animal in need and thus the family found themselves with dogs, cats, rabbits, fish, a few birds, and even ferrets. But Steve's greatest gift to all of us was his sense of humor. When talking about Tim, who was overweight, he used to say “we know who the father is, we just don't know who the mother is.” He made family, friends, and strangers laugh with his jokes, his incredible stories, and his actions. One story that continues to go around is of his infamous way of switching bottles of whiskey around, as I'm sure any of you can who used to come to their house parties can remember, by pouring cheap whiskey into expensive bottles he had collected over the years. So, my dad thought, people thought they were

drinking drinking nice whiskey but Steve could still save some money. Later, as his friends quickly discovered what he had been doing, they started to drink from the cheap bottles, thinking they were getting the good whiskey. Of course what they didn't know was – at that point he had switched them back! The final result, to his conniving credit, was that the guests just started bringing their own whiskey to his parties. Although the limits to humor were tested, it never broke. When he was sick or feeling poorly he would turn to his wife and say “I think I'm taking a turn to the nurse.” After being on a respirator for 7 days after surgery, the first thing he asked when the doctor pulled the tube from his mouth was: “did the Chiefs win?” Life was good for Steve. He used to joke that his family was so poor when he was growing up that he would come home from school on a Tuesday to find a note on the door with the address to the new house. He claimed that the only way he could find it was to convince the mailman to mail him to his new address. But he excelled in everything he did and built himself a great life – with a loving family, a nice home, a nice car, and many great friends. He was a hard worker and a great salesman. If you look around the sanctuary tomorrow you'll likely find some of Topeka's greatest – lobbyists, newspaper editors, business owners, and self-made businessmen. I've often wondered how he managed to surround himself with such prominent people. I think the answer lies in what someone once told me about my father. When I told one of Steve's friends that I was applying for a job selling ad space for the KU newspaper he said to me: “Tim, if you have just an ounce of the bullshit that your dad has, you'll be rich in no time.” It was his ability to relate to people, using his humor, his Kansas know-how, and charisma that turned him into a great salesman. He told me that he was given an award for being the top salesmen at his company. Where he worked, there were over 100,000. But more important than his hard work and salesmanship, he enjoyed his life - in sales, playing sports, traveling, the outdoors, but most of all his family and many friends. Almost a decade ago, on November 29th, 1999, his life changed forever. After a pinched nerve in his spine led to a terrible fall and many back surgeries, he

was forever unable to enjoy the free-moving life he had come to love. Unable to walk without difficulty and growing weaker – he stayed with us for 10 years – unwilling to leave his loving wife who stood by his side to help him through the difficult times and encourage him to still seek the social life he loved and enjoyed. Steve entered hospice on August 13th and was visited by many who came to say good bye and wish him well on his journey. Steve kept his sense of humor until the very end. In the hospital one day he told his wife he wanted to come back to visit the nurses. She replied “but Steve, you won't remember the nurses.” “I know, but they'll remember me,” he replied. He was right – everyone who met Steve Bartlett will remember him. May he live in your hearts forever. Good bye Steve. From your family and all of us here to day: we love you and we will miss you.