That little French line is a translation of the last words Vincent Van Gough’s brother said to him, meaning, The sadness will last forever. I wrote it for two reasons; because it makes me seem a bit more sophisticated and Bohemian, and because it’s true – in losing Bill, the sadness will last forever.
Bill was my “baby” brother, my childhood roommate, my partner and my best friend and I lost all of them at once six years ago today. Rarely a day goes by when I don’t think of him or remember something he would say in a certain situation (often not suitable for a gentle crowd). I have so many memories of him, but I was worried some of the thoughts and memories of others could be forgotten. I pestered a few of his many and eclectic friends to pass on their stories about Bill and several replied with very caring thoughts.
A common theme was that Bill was tall and big and loud. There was no denying that. His voice boomed when he was happy, when he was angry, when he was telling a joke, or, come to mind, whenever he was talking. If you didn’t know him, it could be disarming because it was difficult to know if he was yelling about something, or simply enjoying life.
As loud and big as Bill was, he was also very sensitive. He gave so much of his time to anyone who asked for advice or to have deep, long talks with his kids and Sue. It wasn’t in him to allow someone to feel pain without him trying to help figure out a resolution. We talked so much about personal challenges and happiness that it’s a wonder we ever got any work done.
But rather than having me fill up this space with my thoughts, please read what others had to say about Bill. It’s a bit long, but well worth the read. He had friends from his childhood and from all walks of life and each of them got a different view and a different time from Bill. I hope we all remember him fondly and not with sadness, as he wouldn’t want any part of anyone shedding tears for him. He’d rather tell a joke or sing a song; anything to keep us from crying. We were all better to have had him in our lives, however briefly, and it’s great to keep the flame of his joy and laughter moving on through the years.
What follows are thoughts of his friends and family members and in no particular order.
When we first moved to San Diego, we had about 30 kids living on our street who were all roughly the same age and just about all who were from somewhere else, just like us. One of those early friends, Cindy, had this to say about him: “the biggest thing about Bill was his booming laugh and his absolute joy in taking on life! He pushed boundaries at times to get the experience but was actually gentle in his insistence. I'll always think of him in his high school years with his wild, surfer hair and his huge grin.
As most of you know, Bill didn’t want to just be an actor, he wanted to be a movie star! To get as close as he could to the business, he worked in movie theaters and made a lot of lifelong friends. One was his buddy Scott who wrote, “I was 17 when I first met Bill. He was hired to be the manager of the movie theater that I worked at. He was a very welcome change from the people I had worked with previously- and we quickly became friends.
One of the jobs that Bill and I ended up sharing was to leave the answering machine message for what the showtimes of the movies were. Well, as luck would have it, the theater eventually ran the movie 'The Stuntman' which Bill did extra work on- and had a line in. So, of course, when he did the show times message he said: 'The Poway Theater is proud to present, 'The Stuntman.'!!! Starring Bill Arno and Peter O' Toole!!!'
We also used to have clip boards in the managers office where we could leave each other notes. 'Need supplies', etc. Bill used to leave me somewhat perverted drawings that used to always crack me up. One of the best ones that he left me was picture of himself mooning me saying that I needed to get hotdog buns. Our boss' kids saw it, and unfortunately that was the end of those great notes...” Scott says he can produce the drawings if pressed, but it’s not difficult to believe. I’m sure his brother Peter (and several of his friends, come to think of it) can remember many actual moonings by Bill.
One of our best workers at the office was the daughter of one of Bill’s friends. It actually is painful to know how his friend has suffered the loss of Bill, but also good to know his daughter Amanda remembers him, “Some of my fondest memories of Bill were when he would crack me up with his sound effects and dramatic entries. I will never forget the 'hissing' sound while using his wooden backscratcher as a cat claw prop.”
My daughter Em has this message to Bill, and even adds a bit of Bohemian flair by tossing in the words of W. H. Auden to express her love, “As a young child, I always thought you were mad at us, but I learned very quickly to be an Arno is to be loud and if you weren't loud, you weren't heard! And being heard is very important to us Arno's. All my time with you was special, but the most special times were the simplest. I loved coming to the office when my dad was on the phone because I knew I could go straight to your office and would get a great giggle while you did your impression of Cartman. I loved the stories you told me about Cass and Janee because I could tell in your voice how much you loved them, even when they were creeeps.
I know I carry so many Arno traits, but the one I never seemed to pick up on was collecting. I loved to watch you collect things for your many hobbies and talents. Everytime Kellen gets a new surfboard, I think of you and smile. You live in each one of us and that is a gift that can never be taken away.
Since we lost you, your family has become even more important to me. Cass and Janee feel more like a brother and a sister than cousins and your amazing wife captures everything; aunt, mother, friend and of course therapist. You must be beaming with pride...
Before I say goodbye this time, I would like to leave you with the words from another splendid buggar; "He was my North, my South, my East and West; My working week and my Sunday rest. My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song..."
You will soon permanently be my West when I get a compass tattooed on my ankle - following in your family's footsteps. Thank you for continuing to guide me.”
Gail knew Bill for nearly 30 years, as he sort of came with the larger deal. Although I think she would say he wasn’t a gift you wanted to give back. She was there for the end, too. “I remember nearly exactly every step of the day we got the news he died. I wasn't with you and you told me over the phone, I remember driving to our Orangevale home and how awful my gut felt, I remember going to the office together and telling the team he had died. And I remember my feelings-my heart hurt and my soul ached but mostly I remember being worried for you, being grateful your parents didn't have to endure what we were experiencing and thinking they were welcoming and comforting him in Heaven. I remember his laugh, his voice(s), his honesty, I remember him crying like a baby at your Mother's funeral, I remember his smile when Cass was born, I remember him as honest, he could be brutally honest, he was truly a family man and while he pursued his interests with great focus he really did love the family he was given and the one he chose to create.
He embraced life and the living of it in such a huge way. There is so much I love and remember about Bill but nothing matches the way in which he lived his life: to the very fullest. He had a zest for living and lived his life to its very limit and I admire that in him so much. The love he shared with Sue and then created in Cass and Janee is inspirational-they have done well with Bill as their guiding light and I am certain he is beaming with pride watching over them.
Our family misses you and your booming voice, your varied and broad interests and hobbies, your huge presence on the screen and through the air waves, your sensitive soul, your collecting nature and the obvious love you brought to your life and the life of many others that we all benefitted from.
I am so honored to have known you, to have been a small part of your life and to have had the privilege to love you. Your example of living life to its fullest inspires me to follow in your footsteps and embrace this life we are given. This planet isn’t the same without you nor is life in general. I miss and love you Bill very much---and I will always carry you in my heart…
It may seem a bit odd, but Bill was the youngest kid in our family. My brother Peter and I tried to figure out ways to get rid of him when he was born as he was cramping the good thing the two of us had going. I even poisoned him once (on accident, I’m pretty sure), but I think we actually instilled in him the ability to withstand so much, we created a bit of a monster. From his brother Peter, “The day my youngest brother was born, I can remember running home with my younger brother Michael. We ran across a neighbor’s yard to take a short cut to get home and get our first look at our new brother. Quickly we were in the house and looking into a crib to see Bill for the first time. He had eczema and, as many babies on their first day, was not so attractive. Looking into the crib I can remember being very shocked at the sight of him as my mother replied “isn’t he beautiful.” Well I didn’t want to say no. I just looked at Michael and said “come on Mike let’s go outside and play.” That was my first meeting in this life with a very dynamic personality that was to grow up as a close friend.
As early as watching him play in the ashes in the fireplace, Michael and I realized this was no ordinary guy. Even though he was three years younger, I preferred not to fight with him, as he was willing to grab the nearest weapon at anytime to equalize the matter. This was an early theme when, even at age five after a small skirmish, I ran to close the back door of the house and lock him out. Unfortunately for me this provided no help as, quite shocked, I watched him put his fist through the window unlock the door to continue the fight.
There were many charming early memories of this type. I particularly appreciated ducking behind a chair as Bill threw a kitchen knife at me. As I ducked, I was able to see the knife stick in the wall over my head. Needless to say I escaped down the hall shutting two doors behind me as he kept throwing his entire body into the door time and time again until he broke it down. Bill was determined!!
After we started going to school, daily I was asked if I was Bill Arno’s brother. My usual reply was “no he is MY brother” but it did no good. He was larger than most kids his age and he always made it a point to protect those who got picked on in his class. In school, if you were Bill’s friend you were safe on the way home.
Bill was a showman who lived his entire life larger than anyone I knew. I truly enjoyed watching Bill grow up. As we grew older we became good friends and I considered him to be a best friend always. Bill’s artistic talent was clear from a very early age. As a very young boy, he was easily drawing very complex sketches with great expertise. It seemed as if he could play any instrument he wished to pick up and he had a beautiful voice singing solos often in choirs. He settled on acting to express his artistic talent for most of his life. He was always trying out for parts and using his booming base voice in “voiceovers” for most of his adult life.
Bill and I worked together for some time but I was happy to see that he got a job working with my other brother Michael. This was a better opportunity and he made the best of it eventually becoming Michael’s partner with Arno Political Consultants. His success in his work afforded him time to make the most of life which always included his family. This included my son Will too as well. Bill took many wonderful family trips around the world. At times he included my son Will and I know Will considered him a second father.
About a year before Bill died he told me that he felt that he would not live much longer and that he wanted to fit in as much as he possibly could. That he certainly did, particularly focusing on Japanese Swordsmanship. I must say that he was freakishly good. He became highly proficient in a remarkable short period of time and outside of his family, it was the central theme of interest for the last few years of his life.
One Friday our sword Sensei “Big Tony” called me to tell me that Bill had collapsed in Japan at a sword tournament. I had a bad feeling as soon as I took the call and Tony informed me “that it didn’t look good.” A few days later, I was formally informed that Bill had died. This was perhaps the saddest day of my life. I remember this day like it was yesterday. I loved Bill very much and know that because of that we are never apart. I am very grateful to have had him in my life and honored that he is my brother.
Being new to California as pale, geeky teens from Michigan, it was difficult to assimilate into the cool, California lifestyle. Bill instantly knew he had to buy the surf shorts, grow out his hair, put his lip in a permanent snarl and buy Hang Ten shirts. He also made a huge early impression when he got to school and made a number of friends. One of his first friends was David Steinberg, who wrote this touching membory of him. “Bill Arno was simply the best friend anyone could ever have. We met when I was about 13, through a mutual friend of mine who was a native Californian and an avid body surfer as Bill was.
I had moved to La Jolla about three years earlier from Bethesda, MD, where my father worked as a research scientist at the National Institute of Health. UCSD started a medical school and my father had a new career as a Professor of Medicine.
As an East Coast kid, and one of English-Scottish background with pasty white skin, I felt extremely uncomfortable with the intense surf culture in La Jolla. I was never athletic and was generally a very self-counscious and geeky adolescent. Add to that having a pretty absent father due to the demands of his new job and you have a recipe for a lot of teenage angst.
Bill was fair-skinned like me, but he was a big dude and he could pretty much kick anyone's' ass who gave him a hard time. He surfed, he participated in sports, and he was extremely popular at LJ High - particularly with the girls.
We all know that kids can be awfully mean.
Bill stood up for me in any number of situations. He was very protective of his friends. He had an evenness and calm about him that was truly unusual for an adolescent.
He was never mean to others and did not need to be critical or judgmental. He seemed happier than I or my other best friend and we enjoyed basking in Bill's confident and light-hearted presence.
And the most wonderful thing about Bill was that he had a wicked sense of humor and ability to mimic that was amazing. He could recite lines word-for-word and with the exact intonations from dozens of films of the time - like Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein, Monty Python, Fast Times at Ridgemont High. He had a similar talent musically, where he could "scat sing" a Jimmy Hendrix solo that would blow you away.
Movies were always my passion and Bill and I really bonded over that.
Years later I ended up working as a cinematographer and Bill had some acting successes. He attended my wedding and saw each other every time I was in San Diego, Los Angeles or Sacramento right up until his his death. After a divorce and a 2nd wedding, Bill flew to Martha's Vineyard just to spent time with me and meet my new wife.
I will never stop missing him. He was my very best friend and as an adult, the friend with whom I had the greatest history. I love him dearly and am so grateful for having known him
Another high school friend, Neil Shepherd wrote: “Bill was warm, wise, and mature beyond his years. Being comfortable in his own skin, he allowed others to be comfortable in theirs. Undoubtedly, he enriched the world around him and we're poorer for his passing. Many thanks for the memories and warm regards.
Another friend Peter Woods added this: “Bill was one of the first people I met back when we moved out here in '69 from the Midwest. We used to mess around over at Gordon Merricks' house up above where Tom Bevan lived off of upper Nautilus, the new frontier in La Jolla back then.
I remember telling both of those guys that I played the drums and Gordon proceeded to break out his sax while Bill went and got his trumpet from home. This was before I had met Tom and was the first affirmation that it might be ok to play an instrument and bring a little of my mid-western experience through to my new California identity and not get razzed for it like I did my striped bell-bottom pants on my first day at Decatur. Incidentally, Bill never gave me a hard time about anything I ever did, wore, or played, and was a true patron of the arts dating all the way back to day one as far as I was concerned.
I always enjoyed the way the group and activity seemed to get on with Bill's pace as soon as he arrived on the scene. It was an easy, calming and gentrified rhythm that would ensue, and always made for a richer experience, no matter the event, or people involved.
The last time I saw him was at Lino's funeral, and he was his usual bigger than life self telling lobbyist tales and generally cracking everybody up, the perfect foil for the somber occasion, checking everybody out with a tilted head, making sure the groove was comfortable.
He was a good friend.
Thanks for ringing the bell.
Chris Mahoney had similar thoughts about Bill: “I met Bill at Muirlands Junior High School. I can’t remember how, probably art class in seventh grade. Bill was a gifted artist. He would draw super heroes that could rival anything Marvel Comics was printing up at the time. I was always so envious of that talent, and I was surprised, later on, to hear he'd never really capitalized on it. He was really, really good, especially given his young age.
For a couple of our junior high years, Bill, Pete Nielsen and I were the fearsome trio. It seemed to me we did everything together: eating lunch together, sitting together in class when our schedules lined up, terrorizing the neighborhoods that branched off of Nautilus Street after school. We never got into any real trouble, probably because we never really caused any. The only real damage we did was to the iceplant that grew from the edge of Nautilus down to the fairway of the La Jolla Country Club below. We would stand at the top like great warriors or athletes and leap—sometimes feet first, sometimes diving—and then slide all the way to the bottom. We'd then use that same iceplant like vines and climb back up to do it all again.). I don't know about Bill and Pete, but I always caught it when I got home because my jeans and t-shirts would be completely stained green.
Sometimes, looking back, I can't believe how far we walked on our adventures I
do remember buying 5-pound blocks of ice from Grand liquor on the corner of
Grand Ave. and Lamont St., lugging those blocks up to Kate Session Park, and
using them like sleds to slide down the grassy slopes after sunset. Hard to
believe that the media has instilled so much fear in parents that kids can no
longer roam free like that. Interesting how well all that walking and physical play
kept us out of any real trouble.
We also took Mr. Stewart's drama class together and both became semi dedicated thespians. Again, Bill had greater talent than me, but neither of us had the talent of our mutual friend Linus Weiss. While Bill and I were competitive in sports, we were never competitive in Drama, and he, Linus, and I did a lot of acting together, working up scenes, honing our craft, and laughing a lot. We were all in one or two plays together, but my interest in motocross kept me from pursuing acting to the level Bill and Linus did. The rest of the time, I had great fun cheering them on.
As I look back, both he and Linus and he and Pete Nielsen had great senses of humor together. I don't remember myself as having that, but I do remember laughing really long and hard during those friendships. I really needed that laughter, and the light gaiety those three-way friendships brought into my life.
Interestingly, death has been an important thread in our lives as well. When our mutual friend Michael Wolf was tragically killed by a drunk driver, Bill made a special point (at the cost of some business interest) to be at the hastily pulled together services I set up. In fact, that was the last time I saw Bill. My life took me in a whole different direction since (and, to an extent, because of) Michael's death. I always kept track of and in touch with Bill, but since I missed the 20th reunion, I don't think we were ever again in each other's physical presence after that tear-filled good bye.
It was Bill who called me (I was still in graduate school in Colorado at the time.) to tell me of Linus's death. Linus had been fighting the good fight against lymph cancer for years. I can’t think of anyone I would rather hear that news from than Bill. And again, amidst the deep sadness of sharing our grief over Linus's death, Bill found ways to infuse that pain-filled call with great humor that had me laughing and crying at the same time.
Our high school class was surprisingly close, and many of us have remained that way through the ensuing years. As a result, that reunion was much more like a family reunion than it was a high school get together. It may seem odd, now that I think back, but the poignancy of hearing of Bill's death there, at that moment, in just that way, added a richness to the experience, but it did. It was sort of like sitting in a very comfortable place and closing the really great book after reading its final pages. I am very sad he's gone; I will always miss him; but I am so glad we wrote those chapters so richly.
In primary school, Bill was a big, handsome, competent, confident young man, and I aspired to be like him. I will always appreciate the ease with which Bill carried his natural talents and attributes through life, his easy smile, the lightness with which he interacted with those around him, and that unbounded confidence. Throughout my time knowing Bill, both when he was alive and since his death, it is the laughter we shared, the myriad ways he inspired me, and the wonderfully easy way he carried all is strengths and plied all his vast talents that has always left me a love-filled smile on my face and a desire to stretch myself to be a better man. I'll always be grateful to him both for the times we shared.
Another of his high school friends, Louise McCartney Bluestone, sums up how so many of his friends recall him: “What I remember most about Bill was that he was a kind, thoughtful gentle soul . He was a very special guy, a friend that could be counted on. You were so lucky to have him as a brother.
All my best to the family
Another LJHS friend, Michael Boyajian, wrote: “One of the fondest memories that I had of your brother, Bill was going out to the Borrego Desert to film the "Last Dollar," in or around 1974-1975. Gary Appel was the director, and David Steinberg was the cameraman. We were all involved in the drama department at La Jolla High School. The film was a western, but Gary had a limited budget, so we had to do without horses. Bill was one of the stars of the movie. The sound was dubbed in after the movie was filmed up at UCSD. I played one of the "bad guys," and my voice wasn't deep enough, so Bill's booming voice was used. Hank Watkins, Caleb Taylor and many others were also involved. This is only one of the memories that I have about Bill (we all ran in the same circles, and Bill ended up marrying one of my sister, Amy's best friends).
Bill was really in his element when he was on stage. I remember when he came home one day and announced how his school was going to put on a performance of Fiddler On The Roof. It was such an involved musical that I remember his theater teacher having misgivings that high school kids could meet the demands on stage, even thinking about bringing in a pro to play Tevye – a role his best friend Linus was born to play. When it was performed, it was done as well as anything you could see Off Broadway and I think it may have been that single play that gave Bill the inspiration to pursue an acting career. One of his castmates, Hilary Michels Dunning remembers that time this way: “I went to his senior prom (and another formal too) with him when I was a young and green sophomore. I was so completely head over heels for that guy! I always felt bad about senior prom - here he picked me up in your parent’s way cool black car (some sort of Thunderbird or something?) and the prom was at the Hotel Del. The part I feel bad about is that all his buddies and their dates were supposed to be out all night long, and my parents made him bring me home by 2:00am. That was some sacrifice on his part! Hopefully, he dropped me off and went back to party! lol
I remember his beautiful, gorgeous singing voice, his twinkly blue eyes, his smile, his laugh, and his resonant speaking voice. And as a tall gal myself, his height was so welcome! :) And he had this great sense of humor and this inner strength - he was grounded and mature. I so looked up to him and respected him.
I fell head over heels for him during the production of Fiddler on the Roof, when he played Perchik. I just went through every rehearsal with stars in my eyes for him. :) I couldn't believe it when my crush was returned. It was a fairly innocent romance and I wanted it to go on forever. (He was never truly committed though, as I think his heart still belonged to Sue and they were on a break when he was with me.) Plus he just seemed so much "older" than me...I was in complete awe of him.”
Another classmate, Dr. John Andrews wrote: “when I think of your brother I always smile. In high school Bill was the big dude with a deep, booming voice who was thoughtful, creative, and extremely kind to everyone. He had unique intensity about him that was complemented by a self confident, mature, and fairly chilled out demeanor. He set an example for all of us to go to the beat of our own drummer. I'll be thinking about him on the 13th...
Brian Micheletti had this memory: I first met Bill in 7th grade at Muirlands JHS. He was a big athletic guy back then, around school he had a laid back presence. Like Dr John said Bill had that booming voice that always let you know he was there. The words Dr John used in describing Bill were right on, thoughtful, creative, kind, intense, confident, mature.
This bring's me to my Bill moment. I was 2 years more or less out of high school. I had turned to surfing a lot after high school, while working and going to school. I was out with some buddies excited to see a new surf flick at the Roxy Theater in PB. I'm waiting with my friends in line working a good buzz when this big arm grabs my shoulder. I turn around to have this official looking Bill (slacks and white shirt) with a serious face, tell me in that take control voice that he needs to talk to me inside. I give my friends a little worried look. He walks me straight into the office. With his back to me he turns and starts to crack that big Bill grin that lightened many a moment. To get me in free, he told me that he needed to look serious to keep his employees from catching on. It was a very cool thing to do. I also hadn't seen Bill in a while and it was good to talk. I will always remember Bill for that moment. Mike thanks for bringing back some good memories.
Bill’s fellow workers were also not immune to his charms. Our longtime CFO, Linda, remembers his pretty much like all of us did, especially the part about his joke rarely being appropriate for the general public: “Bill was such a funny man. He always made me laugh and would always come up with something funny even when times were tough. A lot of the jokes I remember are very inappropriate for the public consumption. He was a great guy and he is missed.”
Teri, one of Bill’s longstanding co-workers says this: “My best memory of Bill is when he decided that it was time for my "annual review.” He called me into his office, now keep in mind at the time I was very intimated by Bill. He offered me a seat in the chair across from him. When I sat down, I slid all the way back into the chair, not realizing it had such a sharp slope to it. I guess the look on my face was funny because Bill let one of his famous billowing laughs out at me. After that moment, Bill forever held a place in my heart. (Oh and my review went really well!)”
The years have slipped by pretty fast since 2005 and it’s difficult to believe he’s been gone this long. I hope all of his friends and family, and especially Sue, Cass and Janee, are warmed by his memory and are sitting in the glow of his love, not only on this day, but at any moment he shines down on them. There are so many of his oft-repeated lines that could close out this, whatever this is, a tribute, I suppose. From one of his favorites as he would bump your chair from behind, “feel anything,” to Bill Murray’s Razor’s Edge, “he won’t be missed,” even to his version of what Ronald Reagan should have said in a farewell speech (including another moon shot). But I remember him doing Bugs Bunny as a kid over and over again saying, “That’s all folks.” For now, I guess that says it best.
