The Death of Bill Husic (William J. Husic, Jr.)

I opened up my Notre Dame magazine yesterday to absolutely stunning news--the passing of my first Notre Dame friend, Bill Husic. When I arrived on the fourth floor of Breen-Phillips Hall in September of 1966, one of the first people I met was Bill Husic, of Chevy Chase, Maryland. Soon after, I met Bill's roommate, Ron Weisenberger, of Fowler, Indiana. Sadly, both old friends are now gone. Bill and Ron's room was to become the main gathering place for the boys of the fourth floor of Breen-Phillips Hall. Some of the members of that floor included Warren Bowles (an actor living in Minneapolis now); Franny McArdle, a National Merit Scholar (at least that was the rumor) who stayed but a year at ND; Emil Collins-Cona, a crazy guy from Brazil, said to be the son of an important diplomat; Mike McAleer, who would go on to a Navy career; Rick Gross, a black student, one of the few at Notre Dame in those days, from Pittsburgh, who died in the Vietnam war [a recent visit to the Vietnam Memorial in Washington did not turn up the name of Rick Gross; maybe the rumor is incorrect!]; Mike McInerney, of the thick Boston accent, as blind as a bat; and a host of other fun, bright, and crazy guys.

For some reason lost to history, we called Bill "Mad Dog" Husic (we all had crazy nicknames; I was "Wild Man"). Bill was going to major in chemical engineering, a tremendously challenging major at Notre Dame. I remember how hard he worked Freshman year, navigating courses like Emil T. Hoffman's famous workout.

I have a number of disparate memories of that Freshman year involving Bill: his tremendous athleticism when we played football in the field just north of the Notre Dame library (now an area of dormitories)--Bill could outrun, outleap, and outcatch anyone. I often thought he must have been a terrific high school athlete back in the Chevy Chase-Washington, D.C. area. I also remember Bill's odd ability to make perfectly round and hard snowballs, perfect for the many snowball fights we had that snowy winter of 1966-67. I remember visiting Bill's home in Chevy Chase, probably around Easter break of 1967, my first time in the Washington area. And I remember Bill's story about swimming a mile in the Chesapeake Bay when he was in Boy Scouts. In the middle of the swim he encountered a swarm of stinging nettles, jellyfish, yet was still able to finish the long swim.

That last point leads to the great irony of Bill's accidental death. On May 31 of this year, just days after his and Cathy's 38th wedding anniversary, he was swimming with some work buddies near Bahia Honda State Park, in the Florida Keys--snorkeling, I think. His friends lost sight of Bill around noon, and, alas, his body was found a couple hours later. Bill had drowned, but the exact cause is not known--a blackout, some sort of heart problem, muscle cramps--only God knows.

Bill leaves behind Cathy, two children, and several grandchildren (Bill had been recently teaching one of his grandchildren how to swim). Bill also leaves friends from Breen-Phillips Hall days, from Notre Dame, from back home in Chevy Chase, Maryland, and from Michigan.

Blessings to Bill's family and friends. May perpetual light shine upon Bill. May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.