My friend Bill

This Valley, this country, lost some of its core fiber on March 3. Dr. William Mitchell, age 97, lived most of his century in Palmer, where he maintained a steady, low profile contribution to much of the civic life that makes this place a great place. He was my friend, and I believe his story is in part why America was and remains exceptional.

His life did not start in Alaska. Many of the qualities that made him forever reliable, sensible and trustworthy took root in his home state of Montana. Although he was born in Butte, his grandparents raised him in Roundup, Montana. His grandfather was a railroad employee who had served in the U.S. Marine Corps in the Philippines. Bill’s attachment to Roundup was so deep that he held the longest continuous subscription to the town paper (where he once worked as a reporter) until the day he died.

He was in a dorm at the University of Montana when a radio announced the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Bill’s response to the news to immediately volunteer for the Marines, like his grandfather before him. One of the two times I ever knew Bill to shed a tear was the day he realized, while telling me the story, that the last time he ever saw his Grandfather, the man who raised him, was when he dropped him off at the railroad station to join the Marines. One of the less remembered sacrifices of veterans is the reality that even when they survive, the loved ones they leave behind are sometimes not there when they return.

He was part of one thousand man battalion sent to the Wallis Islands in the South Pacific. He slept on the deck of the USS James Garfield getting there, he did not like the compressed bunking below decks. Nine hundred fifty of the one thousand contracted serious disease on deployment, he was one of the fifty who did not. Decades later he still struggled with his participation in a “diversion” of fresh fruit from the officers’ mess to the men in his unit who had somehow discovered and eaten the contents of the “lost” box.

Years later I gave him the book Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand, the biography of Olympian and World War II veteran Louis Zamperini. He liked the book, but was especially taken with the story of Zamperini finding evidence of a group of previously captured and executed POW’s. He knew about that event because he had volunteered to be a part of that doomed unit. He recalled how the officer in charge a “China Marine (China Marines were veterans of service in China and considered experienced and tough)” laughed at him because he was so thin and immediately dismissed him from consideration. Bill said he was somewhat insulted at the reaction, but after reading the book realized it probably saved his life. When the movie came out, I suggested we go and watch it together. He agreed and as we drove to the Wasilla theater he let me know that it had been about sixteen years since he saw a movie in a theater. Then, as we waited, there was a trailer for another contemporary movie “Fifty Shades of Grey.” He watched the trailer and then turned to me and deadpanned “Well, it has been sixteen years since I have been in a theater.”

After the war, he married his wife Zorka, also from Montana. He resumed college and ended up with a PhD in plant sciences. He was a scientist, which was why he moved his family to Palmer in 1964 where he worked at the then impressive Agricultural Experiment Station. His office was in the building known as “the Kremlin”. He let me know that he did not care for that term. “Kremlin” implied communists and he did not care for communists, neither did I. I stopped referring to his office as the Kremlin in his presence.

Our friendship originated from similar reading habits. I was in high school going to the then Palmer D&A Market when he appeared carrying a copy of The National Review magazine. There were not that many people reading that publication in Palmer, in the 1970’s, but it started a conversation wherein we realized we were both ardent fans of William F. Buckley, Jr. and so it started. We formed a book club. There were never more than two people in our club, so agreement on good books was easy. We met once a week for three decades. Usually at the Vagabond Blues in Palmer. About twenty years ago, my oldest daughter drew the attached picture to memorialize our meetings, thinking Bill might not be around much longer.

Bill Mitchell loved this country and revered the Founding Fathers. Much of what we read revolved around their accomplishments, lives and struggles. He believed in community service. For decades he was an omnipresent volunteer for all events sponsored by the Palmer Chamber of Commerce. An avid runner, even marathoner, he not only supported races, he ran in them, and when that was no longer practical, he helped set them up. He loved baseball and would buy a seat at the Miners stand even when he could no longer physically attend. He never sought attention and was both baffled and quietly touched by someone’s decision to start the annual MTA Bill Mitchell 5K race during Colony Days in Palmer.

One of his endearing characteristics was his gentle demeanor. I never knew him to be vindictive or disparaging of others. If he disagreed with someone he would grin and move on to a happier topic. In our last regular meeting at Turkey Red, a week before he died, his core attributes came through. He drove himself up to the curb. Laboriously opened the backdoor of his vehicle to extract his walker (declining assistance) and then slowly edged toward the door for our breakfast meeting. Once he settled into his seat he looked at me as with characteristic good humor grinned and said “depreciation is real” and ordered his cup of black coffee. The topic of discussion was our last book together, The Patriots by Winston Groom. The book is about John Adams, Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson, He was enjoying it and he reflected on how in spite of their shortcomings and petty arguments the Founders had done something wonderful, “I really have to admire them and what they did” was his summation.

Now he is with them. Dr. William Mitchell, Husband, Father, Scientist, Citizen, Patriot and Friend. The Founders would admire him.