Joe Cotter – professor, husband, brother, son, and friend

Joseph Eugene Cotter, professor, husband, brother, son, and friend passed on 21 September 2002. I put together letters, web pages, and memories to visit when I want to think of Joe, because I know I will see him again. Joe touched a lot of people and left his mark. From Newfoundland to San Pedro, to La Jolla, Santa Barbara, Latin America, to Georgia, we remember. 

Friends remember Joe

Joe Rainwater
I am grateful I had a chance to catch up with Joe relatively recently when he and his wife Cheryl were in the Bay area; after years of struggle, he seemed to have found a comfortable niche and was at peace with himself and the world – or as much so as a rabble rousing, argumentative, opinionated soul such as his could ever be. From San Pedro to the 10th floor of Tioga Hall (where we first became friends) to Mexico City to Augusta Georgia, he left his mark on us all, and we are far the better for it. Friendship is not measured soley by frequency of contact but also by depth of feeling, and in that sense he was a true friend. He was a stalwart companion in many a youthful adventure, with a generous nature and a good heart, and he never failed to challenge, amuse, and annoy me, often all at the same time. I am proud to have called him my friend, and I will miss him.

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Pierre Bedard
I met Joe on the 10th floor of Tioga, when he roomed with Martin. We stayed in sort of touch throughout. I am also saddened by his passing on but pray that he finds peace on the other side. Joe was always a great guy, with great ideas and a wicked sense of humor. I spent hours with him at one point in my life, hanging out and enjoying life. He was fun to be with and I shared in his success at teaching. I remember hearing he scored his tenure, and being very, very happy. And now I’m sad, but happy I knew him for the time I did.

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Martin Shapiro
I met Joe Cotter in the tenth grade, and we remained friends throughout life. Although we hadn’t been in close contact in recent years, I am saddened to learn of his passing. We all have our “stuff” to deal with and Joe was one to be a friend through all manner of times. I want to thank you all for being my friend and to let you know that I love you even if we don’t have close or regular contact. The thought of you warms my heart and I am thankful to have Joe Cotter as my personal friend.

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Mike Newlee
Thanks for the news about Joe… I have many humorous memories of him, as does Johnny Murphy, who has the office next to mine… I can’t believe one of us is already dead… which tells you that you should live life to the fullest everyday! Thanks again.

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Carl Kuck
Clark and I didn’t wrap you in every piece of clothing we could find, make a shelter, and stuff you into a sleeping bag while we stood around outside in the rain twenty miles from the trailhead wondering what the hell we should be doing just so you could bail on us…
Sports-car cruising, Joe in the TR-7 and me in the Fiat, going up Mt. Palomar in the dead of winter, top down (or roof off in the case of the X1/9), dressed in ski jackets and hats with the heaters going full blast…
Jumping in my truck whenever it rained heavily, and driving over to the La Bajada dip to watch the idiots get stuck trying to cross (which Joe dubbed “flood cruising”)…
Seemingly endless discussions on small group dynamics (or, why it’s just about impossible to get more than 6 or 8 people all moving in the same direction at the same time, especially on ski trips)…
Watching MTV in its infancy, making wisecracks about the VJs…
Driving up to Gardena in the Fiat with Joe, ice chest in the front trunk, to visit the New Meiji Market and bring back fish for making sushi at home…
So maybe he was “rude, crude, and socially unacceptable” but I always thought he was a good guy. Heck – even my Mom liked Joe! Did Joe have any living relatives? I still have some 35mm slides in storage that I believe were his father’s, along with a number of books (mostly military history)…

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Esther Quinn
I will remember him as the very good friend you cared a great deal about. I am very sad. I am glad that he lived in a family that really loved him, and whom he cared about. I am also glad that he had a good friend in Clark, who met him in Mexico, who went to his wedding, who has many memories of him. We trusted him enough to let him drive our VW Station Wagon to Northern California to pick you up after a canoe trip on the Eel River, so that you could drive back to LA! Of course some people might have said that we were a bit silly! But I am content that we did.

Others who communicated thoughts and wishes include Clifton Quinn & Jay Sak.
Disclaimer: some editing has been performed.

Rest in peace, amigo.

Letter from Clark about Joe’s memorial

On the 6th of October 2002, I attended the memorial service for Joseph Eugene Cotter. I had arrived two evenings before, to stay with his department chair, Wayne Mixon, his wife Fran, and their son Phillip, as Cheryl had arranged. It became clear that Wayne and Fran had developed a strong relationship with Joe & Cheryl, both professionally and personally (and were wonderful folks, too).

Cheryl had asked me to come early, to serve as an explanatory link to Joe’s life before the past 5 years, which was the collective experience of those others than me who were assembled. As you may know, Joe had been found by his birth family, and his mother, Mary Margaret Johnson, and two of his brothers, Adrian and Ed, were also there. I was as interested to learn of his heritage as they were to hear of his formative years.

On Saturday we gathered at Cheryl & Joe’s house, which I had not before seen. It was amazing, spacious and somehow very comfortable in its layout. There is a loft above their bedroom where Joe could look out the window at trees as he wrote, a big living room connected to a similarly large kitchen, a deck which leads out to the backyard pool, and several bedrooms both along the entrance way and above along a balcony. Michael Cotter had stayed in one of those rooms until his last days, not that long ago.

Cheryl’s mother, Beverly Johnson, had come at the first notice of Joe’s illness, and had steadfastly helped out through the rapid progress, and the subsequent turmoil. Cheryl¹s three brothers, twins Phil and Steve, and Larry were also there, as were her aunt and uncle.

We swapped Joe stories through the day, as people came through, and many more called. I found out that Joe had been somewhat more tired and in back pain during the course of the past year, but explained it away as his bad back or old age, as he was wont to do (and despite Cheryl’s entreaties). Apparently, finally seeing a chiropractor, he was referred to a doctor. A preliminary indication of liver cancer was quickly followed up with the identification of a growth on the liver and over 100 spots on his lungs. A week later he collapsed and was gone. (Apparently, his liver couldn¹t maintain a sufficient electrolyte balance and his heart could not function under the conditions.)

It is likely that this was a genetic time bomb, as his paternal grandmother had rapidly succumbed to liver cancer at a similar age. Joe’s hard living probably only exacerbated the process and likely accelerated the subsequent collapse.

We gathered again on Sunday to attend the memorial service held at the Universal Unitarian Church where Joe and Cheryl had established themselves.

Reverend Dan King presided over the ceremony in the crowded room. His first wedding service when he came to this congregation five years ago had been Joe’s and Cheryl’s, but despite appearing visibly moved to now have to preside over this event, his handling of the ceremony was eloquent and moving. The approach taken at this church is to celebrate life (as opposed to “fire and brimstone” as others indicated had been their experience in other such occasions), and it was both appropriate for Joe’s beliefs and a wonderful celebration. The music suggested by Cheryl was played by a talented pianist and an expressive singer who head the band Joe and Cheryl enjoyed listening to in their local club and had befriended. They were joined by a flutist who was also an acquaintance. After the Reverend’s opening words, several members of the university’s faculty spoke. First Wayne Mixon, my host, recounted Joe’s impact on the department. A psychologist, a language teacher, and another colleague spoke glowingly of Joe’s teaching and intellectual, positive, and fun contributions to the department and university.

It is clear that our boy Joe had finally found both himself and, consequently, a home. All the potential we had seen in him had come to fruition. There were familiar elements in his organization of expeditions to great places, penchant for fun, and boisterous stories and singing. After the Reverend spoke again, it was my turn. I joked about whether we were talking about the same person, but then followed up about how I saw elements of the man I’d known in their descriptions. I told a bit about how he’d struggled to define a role, and how Cheryl had helped him achieve the balance he had sought. I thanked them all for having created a place that could recognize the good that Joe had to offer.

After I spoke, a former colleague (at who’s house Joe & Cheryl had been married) shared her memories, followed by one of Joe’s brothers. He read a moving poem from the perspective of his mother who had searched for Joe diligently from the time he had been taken from her. A student offered how much Joe’s teaching had meant, and that had been repeatedly emphasized through the faculty testimonials as well.

Joe had an incisive intellect, fierce loyalty, strong principles, and an uncompromising attitude. This was combined with great joy in excitement and new experiences and a big heart. A phenomenally gifted teacher, a dedicated and talented researcher, a selfless and uncomplaining participant in service to the university, a knowledgeable organizer of fun expeditions, a person who seized the day and wrestled life to the fullest, and a good friend was the picture painted. That’s the man that Joe had become. Rest in peace, amigo.– Clark Quinn, Ph.D.