Free Press – May 3, 2007

Harry Dietz

 

Dear Friends,

            Good morning. “We don’t realize how lucky we are,” Harriet Young began. She and Don, her husband, were reminiscing about her younger brother, Harry Dietz who died on April 10. He was only 69.

            Harry was three years younger than I so my memory of him at Quakertown High School is dim. I remember him in recent years as an afflicted, lost soul, caught in a battle with frontal-temporal dementia. Unfortunately, no one understood the disease which gripped him. “It’s a degenerative disease of the brain, which affects social interaction,” his sister explained.

            Harriet described her brother’s symptoms. “Harry would become anti social,” she began. “He might have been a manic depressive. The disease is similar to Alzheimer’s except you don’t forget.” Conversations with Harry were troubling because his friends couldn’t separate truth from fiction.

            Harriet showed photos of him as a midshipman at the U. S. Naval Academy and as a star quarterback for his navy team. They were a startling contrast of what Harry Dietz once was and what had befallen him. The graduating class picture revealed a handsome young man in his dress blue uniform. His eyes absolutely twinkled. In his Navy football photo, he wore number 15, the same number that he wore during his Quakertown High School football days.

            Five members of Harry’s championship team that went to the Orange Bowl came to his memorial service. Heiseman winner and All American Joe Bellino traveled from Boston to attend. So did Jimmy Joyner from Virginia Beach and Bob “Herky” Hardison from Wilmington, North Carolina and their wives. Joyner and Hardison were Harry’s roommates at the Naval Academy.

            Because Harry was slight, he played three years on Navy’s 150-pound football team. In his junior year, he was named to the lightweight All American football team. The varsity coach finally recognized Harry’s talents and moved him to the varsity quarterback position for his last year.

In Harry’s senior year, Don Young remembered Navy’s game with Notre Dame. Quakertown coaches and several Quakertown booster club members went to Baltimore to see Navy upset the Irish, 14 to 7. In the fourth quarter, Harry engineered a 70-yard drive with Bellino scoring the winning touchdown.

            I thought about the differences between Navy and Notre Dame. Like the other service academies, Navy’s athletes are scholars first, athletes second. To have underdog Navy beat a perennial football power shows what skill, speed, and superb physical conditioning can produce, in my opinion.

            And Harry was an excellent student.

“In his high school days, he could do no wrong,” Harriet laughed. Harry won the American Legion prize for boys which was awarded each Memorial Day.

            Don Young coached Harry when he was in the ninth grade. Young was the junior high football coach and head basketball coach. Harry made both varsity teams as a freshman and also played on the baseball team, as a second baseman. The Pennridge- Quakertown Athletic Hall of Fame elected him in 1995.

            After graduating from Navy, Harry became an officer in the Marine Corp. Harriet jokes that her brother couldn’t swim very well so he stayed away from ships. His officer career began in Korea. Two separate tours during the Vietnam War followed before he returned to the Naval Academy to coach the lightweight football team.

As I read Harry’s obituary, the reason for his strange behavior became clear. When Harriet ended our conversation with, “We don’t know how lucky we are,” she was speaking about the vast majority of us who do not have a degenerative mental disorder. “His family and friends didn’t understand what was wrong,” she added.

I thought of what she said. I told them about Dr. Norman Loux, the founder of the Penn Foundation for mental health. I used to call him yearly to inquire about my own mental health. We Americans are used to annual visits to our doctor or twice yearly appointments with our dentists. But we don’t ask anyone to give us a look-see in the mental health department.

And we should.

When you think about what happened to Harry Dietz, one of Quakertown’s great scholar athletes, you have to consider a missed diagnosis and a career, which probably never had a chance. He was a highly decorated marine with 23 years of service. Harry died in the Southeastern Veterans Center. What we should remember are his early years, when Harry’s star was rising. He gave much to Quakertown, the Naval Academy and his country.

            There’s just so much about mental health that we don’t understand.

Sincerely,

Charles Meredith