This article appeared on Page 3 of the national edition of
The Chicago Tribune on October 25, 1985.
By Joseph Hanneman
Special to the Tribune
MADISON, Wis. — The national president of the Ghost Riders motorcycle club and two other club members have been convicted of first-degree murder, arson and insurance fraud in a fatal tavern fire near here in 1983.
Convicted Wednesday were Alvin Hegge, 45, president of the club, based in Washington state; Scott Howard, 30; and Will Highfill, 41. Howard and Highfill also were convicted of endangering safety.
A Dane County Circuit Court jury deliberated for nine hours before delivering the verdict. The men were sentenced to life imprisonment on the murder charge. They will be sentenced on the other charges later.
Catherine L. Christian, 22, died in the March 1983 fire at Rosa’s Cantina, 5 miles southeast of Madison. Prosecutors contend the men planned to set the fire at the financially troubled tavern to collect insurance money and kill Christian, who the prosecutors say the three men believed to be a police informant.
Defense attorneys contend the fire was accidental, caused by faulty wiring.
Rosa’s Cantina became a hangout for the Ghost Riders when they tried to establish a chapter in Madison during 1982 and 1983, but those plans were abandoned shortly after the fire, according to court records.
Dane County Assistant District Atty. Robert DeChambeau, one of three prosecutors, said the verdict will significantly hurt the club.
“The Ghost Riders are pretty much through,” he said.
Hegge’s lawyer, Ralph Kalal, criticized the prosecutors for using convicted criminals to testify against Hegge. Kalal said the prosecution’s case was built “on a foundation of shifting sand. Yet the prosecution makes Mr. Hegge out to be the kingpin who ran the entire operation. It doesn’t make sense.”
Two other members of the bikers group were convicted last spring on lesser charges in the case.
Washington state officials say they have waited for the trial here to end and will now extradite Hegge and Howard to face federal and state charges in Spokane.
An arrest warrant has been issued for Hegge in connection with the shooting death of a Spokane police officer in 1983, according to the Spokane County Prosecutor’s Office. Officer Brian Orchard was killed during a police stakeout of Ghost Riders suspected of selling stolen weapons. Two club associates have been convicted of the murder.
Hegge also has been indicted in Spokane on a charge of conspiracy to possess with intent to deliver cocaine, according to the U.S. attorney’s office in Spokane.
Howard also was indicted on federal charges of conspiracy to possess with intent to deliver cocaine, unlawful transport of firearms and use of a firearm in a felony, according to the U.S. attorney’s office in Spokane. Both men will stand trial Dec. 9 on the federal charges.
Law enforcement officials who track the Ghost Riders in Washington state say the club has been one of the fastest growing groups in the country, but will be hurt by Hegge’s conviction.
Brent Pfundheller, a detective with the Washington State Patrol in Olympia, said Hegge was a strong group leader. “He was definitely in control of the Ghost Riders,” he said. “If he said to do something, it was done. You didn’t cross Al Hegge.”
The Ghost Riders are considered to be very dangerous and are monitored closely by law officials, said Larry Boyd, chief sheriff’s deputy in Grant County, Wash., where the group was formed in the mid-1960s.
With chapters in Washington state, Billings, Mont., British Columbia and Alberta, Canada, police estimate the group has between 75 and 150 members. •
EPILOGUE:Alvin Hegge was sentenced to life in prison for murder conspiracy and given 30 years for arson and theft by fraud for his role in the Rosa’s Cantina fire. He was also sentenced to life in prison for the second-degree murder of officer Orchard in Spokane, Wash. Highfill was sentenced to life in prison plus 34 years. Howard was given a life sentence for murder and arson in Wisconsin; and a six-year sentence for a drug conviction in Washington state.
Top photo: A view of Rosa’s Cantina on the 1983 day the fire killed Catherine L. Christian, 22. — State Journal photo by Joseph W. Jackson III.
I was among a team of reporters who covered the Ghost Riders trial for the Wisconsin State Journal.
This article appeared on Page 1 of the Aug. 4, 1987 issue of the Racine Journal Times.
By Joseph Hanneman
Racine Journal Times
Robert Lee Jordan stood in Racine County court Monday and called the judge a racist, said jurors in his case were biased and claimed witnesses who testified against him were liars.
Then he was sentenced to 52 years in prison.
A litany of robbery-related charges stemming from a Jan. 6, 1987 attempted robbery of the Piggly Wiggly store, 3900 Erie St., was read as Jordan’s sentence was announced.
Judge Emmanuel Vuvunas, after listening to a blistering verbal attack from Jordan, said, “The only thing society can do to protect itself is to lock you up for a very long time.”
Jordan called Vuvunas “nothing but a racist, biased judge” and warned, “someday you’re going to pay for it.”
He was removed from the court and watched his sentencing on a television monitor in an adjacent holding room.
Jordan, 38, was sentenced on charges of attempted robbery, carrying a concealed weapon, possession of a firearm, battery to a police officer, two counts of endangering safety by conduct regardless of life, resisting arrest and obstructing police.
He was convicted in June for the robbery attempt, in which he struggled with an off-duty Racine police investigator and threatened to kill him.
The total prison term handed down was was 65 years, but several of the sentences will run concurrently.
Monday’s courtroom scene was likely a familiar one for Jordan, who has been in and out of prison constantly since the mid 1960s. Sometimes he was out on parole. Other times he escaped.
His life since his teen years has been characterized by armed robberies and escapes. Vuvunas said Jordan’s record “is one of the worst records this court has ever seen.”
According to court records, Jordan’s problems with the law began between 1961 and 1974, when several times he had run-ins with Racine police.
In September 1964, Racine County’s juvenile court turned him over to the Department of Health and Social Services and he was placed in the Wisconsin School for Boys at Wales. He was released in January 1965.
In 1965, he was convicted in Racine of armed robbery and burglary, but that conviction was erased in 1974. In April 1967, he committed an armed robbery in Effingham, Ill., and was sentenced to one to three years in prison. After serving time in Illinois, Jordan was returned to Wisconsin and paroled in July 1970.
Less than one month later, he committed another armed robbery in Racine. While in Illinois attempting to help recover items taken in the robbery, Jordan escaped from Racine police. He was captured and in February 1971 sentenced to 12 years in the Green Bay Correctional Institution.
In February 1973, Jordan was transferred to the State Farm in Union Grove. Eleven months later, he escaped from the farm. A 2½ year sentence for the escape was stayed and Jordan received probation.
He was again paroled on Nov. 19. On Nov. 20, 1974, Jordan was arrested and charged with committing armed robbery while an escapee from the Union Grove farm. Charges in that incident were considered later in a separate case. Three months later, Jordan committed armed robbery in Janesville and was sentenced to 10 years in prison, with a six-month jail term to run concurrently.
Jordan was sent to Oakhill Correctional Facility in Dane County. On Aug. 31, 1978, he escaped. Eventually he turned up in Avon, Mass., where on Dec. 1, he robbed a bank. He was charged with kidnapping, three counts of assault with intent to commit murder, assault and battery, use of a dangerous weapon, armed robbery and unlawful carrying of a firearm.
He was sentenced to six to 15 years and sent to the Massachusetts Correctional Institution at Walpole. On Dec. 15, 1986, he was paroled and returned to Wisconsin. On February 25, 1986, Jordan was released from prison on his mandatory release date for the 1975 robbery.
On Jan. 6, 1987, he was arrested for the Piggly Wiggly incident.
Jordan represented himself during the trial, which became characterized by his flashes of hostility toward Vuvunas, Assistant District Attorney Eric Guttenberg and the jury.
He said the case was decided by an “all-white, biased jury.” Referring to witnesses who testified against him, Jordan said, “All these people came and lied.”
But Vuvunas got the last word.
“The evidence in this case was absolutely overwhelming,” Vuvunas said. “The evidence was so overwhelming in this case that it really didn’t matter whether you had an attorney.”
Vuvunas, citing Jordan’s extensive criminal record, said it is clear the only choice was to impose a stiff prison term.
“You are an armed robber,” Vuvunas said. “I don’t think you’ve changed your spots. You’re still an armed robber.
“This court has to make sure that a person as dangerous as you be kept out of the community for a very long time.” •
EPILOGUE:Jordan remains incarcerated at the Stanley Correctional Institution in Chippewa County, Wis. He filed a number of lawsuits from prison, one seeking $2 million from the Racine County district attorney, the Wisconsin attorney general and the head of the Wisconsin Department of Corrections. A federal judge denied his motions for damages and early release from prison.
This is one of my favorite stories from my newspaper days. Fritz was a decorated veteran of the 82nd Airborne, a former Green Beret and a colorful character who became well-known and beloved in Wisconsin and Tennessee.
By Joseph Hanneman Racine Journal Times
Fritz Bernshausen has walked 4,500 miles — just to deliver a message.
You might have seen him, two times a week, carrying the American flag from his south side Kenosha home, through Racine, to downtown Milwaukee.
What could be so important?
“I have a message,” Bernshausen said Friday on his way through Racine. “Walk America. That’s all it is. Two words — one verb, one noun.”
Bernshausen, 59, started walking the trail to Milwaukee about 3 1/2 years ago. In July, he started packing Old Glory to grab more attention.
“This is the 119th time I’ve done it,” he said. “I’m going to keep walking with that flag until I see some indication of a transposition of those two words — America walks.”
Bernshausen believes in foot power over gasoline power. You know, pedestrians over petroleum.
“America is in trouble all the world,” he said. “I figure the only way to solve that problem is to make America energy self-sufficient.”
Bernshausen said he is concerned about tensions in the Persian Gulf and Middle East, tensions he says cause two much risk and danger, just for the oil.
“A lot of boys are probably going to die for a barrel of oil,” said Bernshausen, a veteran of Army special forces from the Vietnam War. “It ain’t worth it.”
“I’m concerned about my country,” he said. “I consider myself a public-spirited American…. This is my contribution to America.”
That contribution usually takes between 10 and 13 hours per trip, depending on the weather and how many people stop him along the way. If they ask, he gladly obliges.
“I got stopped by a policeman, I got stopped by a kid and a public works man,” he said, just before a photographer caught up with him. “I’m going to have to roll up the flag and run like hell.”
On occasion, Bernshausen packs some fruit to hand out to people along the route, which has become so familiar he said “I can almost do it blindfolded.”
Besides the flag, there is one other important bring-along.
“I carry some toilet paper,” he said, “just in case.”
While Bernshausen’s message is serious, the flag and the walking are good-natured ways of prodding citizens to think about fuel consumption.
“It’s real important to me,” he said. “It’s just too important (that) you can’t be serious.”
In that spirit, he quotes a phrase to sum up his effort: “Get off the wheels and on the heels.”
Once the long journey is finished, Bernshausen usually takes the bus home from Milwaukee’s Wisconsin Avenue. That was not the case on Friday. He met his daughter for dinner in Milwaukee and had to accept a car ride home.
A tough sacrifice for the cause.
(From the Aug. 29, 1987 issue of The Journal Times)
EPILOGUE: Fritz Albrecht Bernshausen died on March 13, 1993. He was just 64. He is survived by a son and four daughters. He requested that his cremains be scattered from an airplane at 1,200 feet — a paratrooper’s jump altitude.
An escaped federal prisoner from Indiana was captured by Racine County sheriff’s deputies early Saturday after he took a hostage, went on a three-state crime spree and shot an Oak Creek police officer, authorities said.
Ronald R. Plummer, 39, a federal prisoner awaiting sentencing in Indianapolis, and his alleged accomplice, Elizabeth Bonvillain, 31, a jail social worker, were captured in a town of Raymond barn after they took an apparent drug overdose.
Both were in critical condition early today at St. Luke’s Hospital in Racine. A nursing supervisor said the couple were starting to come out of drug-induced comas they had been in much of the day.
The couple are under armed guard. If they regain consciousness, they will be turned over to Oak Creek authorities to face charges of attempted murder of a police officer, police said
They also face a long list of charges in other jurisdictions-so many that police had not sorted them all out late Saturday. Charges could include kidnapping, federal escape, attempted murder and possession of firearms by a felon.
Meanwhile, Oak Creek Police Patrolman John Edwards, 26, was treated at a Milwaukee hospital, then released after he was shot in the hand and nearly shot in the chest, police said.
Edwards was shot about 4:15 a.m. in the parking lot of the Union 76 Milwaukee Truck Stop, at Highway 100 and Interstate 94, as he routinely checked what he believed to be a suspicious vehicle.
“The driver of the car got out and had two guns pointed at officer Edwards — one in each hand,” said Oak Creek Police Lt. Gerald Stahl.
Plummer ordered Edwards to lie on the ground, but the patrolman turned sideways and started to run, Stahl said. Plummer fired a shot at Edwards.
“The bullet came from the side and hit his badge,” Stahl said. The bullet ripped a hole in the badge, which was knocked off, but the bullet did not enter Edwards’ body. A second bullet struck Edwards’ right index finger.
The escaped bank robber then got back in his car and fled south on I-94 with Edwards in pursuit.
Police lost sight of Plummer and Bonvillain as they headed west on 7 Mile Road in Racine County. About 6 a.m., Racine County sheriff’s deputy Jeff Holmes spotted Plummer’s car parked in a driveway at 3526 7 Mile Road.
Authorities from Racine County, Milwaukee County, the State Patrol and the U. S. Marshal’s office surrounded the barn next door after the Racine Police Department’s dog, Bonny, picked up the couple’s scent.
Bonny was sent into the barn at 3516 7 Mile Road ahead of officers and bit Plummer on the arm. Police found Plummer and Bonvillain in an animal stall, covered with hay, and semi-comatose from an apparent barbiturate overdose, authorities said. Two .38-caliber pistols were found.
Bonnie Falkowski, co-owner of the barn, said she found three “really big” prescription pill bottles and a bottle of water next to where the fugitives were found.
The bottles, which apparently had a woman’s name on them, were empty, Falkowski said. “It makes sense,” she said. “They probably had the water to take the pills.”
Spree started in Indiana
Plummer’s bizarre journey to Racine County began Friday in Indianapolis, where he was awaiting sentencing for a June 1987 robbery of an Evansville, Ind., bank.
He was brought to Indianapolis from the federal penitentiary in Lewisburg, Pa., where he was serving a sentence for robbing two Ohio banks and a federal savings and loan, police said.
Plummer apparently self-inflicted a hand injury at the jail and was taken to Wishard Memorial Hospital in Indianapolis for treatment, according to the Marion County (Ind.) Sheriff’s Department and the Indianapolis office of the FBI.
Plummer was shackled to a gurney in the X-ray room when Bonvillain, wearing a nurse’s coat and armed with the pistols and a bolt cutter, burst in and tried to give the gun to Plummer, police said.
“Evidently, the gun was on a table,” said Garry Schoon, FBI special agent in Indianapolis “Both the deputy and Plummer went for it. The deputy grabbed the top of it.”
Schoon said Plummer attempted to fire the weapon at the deputy, but the officer’s hand blocked the gun’s hammer from making contact with the bullet. Confronted with the loaded pistol, the deputy backed off. Plummer and Bonvillain took X-ray technician Donald Elsner hostage, and fled to a waiting car.
Fled in rental car
About three blocks away, on the Indiana University campus, they dumped the escape car and got into a rental car and fled north on Interstate 65, police said. Elsner was released unharmed in the Chicago area and the duo continued north on I-94 into Wisconsin.
Police believe there was “a considerable amount of planning” involved, said Sgt. Randy Russell of the Marion County Sheriff’s Department. “It looked to be fairly well thought out,” Russell said.
Police found a sketch of the hospital’s layout in the original escape car, Russell said.
Schoon said Bonvillain apparently met Plummer at the Hamilton County, Ohio, jail in Cincinnati, where she worked as a counselor. “They did have some contact in the Hamilton County Jail,” Schoon said.
Hamilton County authorities said Bonvillain was acting coordinator of the mental health unit at the Hamilton County Justice Center in Cincinnati. She was employed by Correctional Medical Services Inc., which provides service to the county.
She apparently met Plummer in February 1988 while he was awaiting trial on two Ohio bank robbery charges, police said. She called in sick on March 17 then began a vacation last week, Hamilton County authorities said. Last Monday, she purchased the two pistols in Cincinnati, police said.
On Thursday, she checked in to the Inntowner Motor Lodge in Indianapolis. Shortly before leaving for Wishard Hospital she took three calls from Plummer, who was in the jail, police said.
If the couple survive the drug overdose, they could face a long list of charges and warrants from numerous law enforcement agencies.
“He would be considered for kidnapping charges, probably federal and state,” said Jon Wendt, FBI special agent in charge of Wisconsin. “Traditionally, you look at the more violent crime first.” Marion County will consider “five or six” charges against the pair, Russell said, on top of charges being considered by the U.S. Attorney. ♦
EPILOGUE: In December 1990, Plummer was sentenced to 100 years in prison for the kidnapping of X-ray technician Elsner. He was earlier sentenced to more than 130 years in prison for a series of bank robberies. ….Bonvillain pleaded guilty to armed escape and conspiracy to commit kidnapping. In September 1990 she was sentenced in Marion County, Indiana, to 20 years in prison.
If you want a prosperous new year, make sure to eat some cabbage before going to bed on New Year’s Eve. And be careful not to sneeze.
Oh, and if the first man you meet on New Year’s Day is a priest, make sure your will is up to date, for death may soon follow.
Superstitions? Folklore? Exactly, but if you believe them, you’re not alone.
Humans have practiced and believed New Year’s superstitions for centuries, says a University of Wisconsin-Madison expert on folklore.
“Many of the things we celebrate have their origin in ancient practices,” said Harold Scheub, professor of African languages and literature. “There are hundreds of them. Some of them are really weird.”
For instance, Scheub said, it is believed a person who drops and breaks a light bulb on Christmas day will face financial ruin in the coming year. If a colored bulb is broken, a close relative will die, he said.
Sneezing on New Year’s is said to bring misfortune.
In many European countries, the first person to set foot in a home on New Year’s Day — dubbed the “first footer” — will determine what the new year will hold.
In Scotland, if the first footer is a redheaded man, the year will hold misfortune. A dark-haired man is preferable, Scheub said.
In years past, a lump of coal brought by a first footer was a good sign. “A lump of coal traditionally was something that was valued,” he said.
Many New Year’s superstitions and celebrations are rooted in the belief that the last week of the year is when spirits, fairies and witches roam the earth and the forces of nature can be influenced, he said.
“At midnight on New Year’s Eve, strange things will happen,” Scheub said, relating the folklore. “It is one of the most magic times of the year.
“These are times nature is going through great stress,” he said. “We human beings are trying to have an influence on it.”
The noisemakers that sound off at parties when the clock strikes 12 were traditionally used to frighten off the evil spirits of the old year, he said.
“Trying to undo the horrors we’ve committed in the past — this seems to be what New Year’s always was,” Scheub said.
It is also said that anyone who ventures into the pasture at midnight will hear the cattle speaking the names of people who will die in the new year, he said.
New Year’s has also been the time that wishes were made for good crops and pregnancy. On New Year’s Eve in Germany, young boys would cut fresh boughs from a tree and ritually “beat” young girls. On New Year’s Day, the girls would reciprocate. It was thought to increase fertility, Scheub said.
In Java and some African countries, sham fights were staged between people representing the new year and those representing the old. Today’s bowl games are a similar representation, he said.
Even many Christmas traditions pre-date the time of Christ, according to Scheub.
The Christmas tree could have its origin in Norse countries, where people would place lighted candles in pine trees to keep the spirit of the forest alive until spring. Holiday candles could come from an old English tradition of extinguishing the hearth fire at New Year, then relighting the fires from a community bonfire.
“People all over the world practice these things in their own way,” Scheub said.
“All of these in one way or another are filled with hope,” he said. “We seem to need a period in our year when we say goodbye to the past.”
One last thing. If you wake up on January 1 with a splitting headache, what does that foretell for the New Year?
MILWAUKEE – Herman “Rocky” Espinoza has always wanted to be a police officer, but he will never get the chance to realize that dream.
“He’ll wear his police shirts every day,” says his mother, Deborah Exner of Monroe. “I even bought him a police siren for his bike.”
Rocky, 12, a Racine native, counts several police officers among his good friends and owns a toy gun and authentic handcuffs.
“He’s the good guy,” Exner said. “That’s probably straight from his mouth. He really holds that status so high.”
Rocky has always been a boy full of life, rarely complaining and always looking out for his mother. But for seven years, Rocky has battled an inoperable cancerous tumor growing at the base of his brain.
Time after time he fights back from the effects of the tumor, but there is little doctors can do for him.
“I don’t think I ever put it to him that he’s going to die,” Exner said. “I put it to him that this is just a kind of stopping ground. The next stop is heaven. He understands that.”
Despite the troubles that have fallen upon him, Rocky shows the courage and optimism many adults would envy. On Friday, he lay in his bed at Children’s Hospital of Wisconsin, resting.
Pinned to his hospital gown was one of his favorite police badges. On the cassette stereo, a song from his idol, John Schneider, played softly.
Nice and simple, just how he likes it.
Exner walked around the side of the bed, leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek. She took his hand, looked into his half-open eyes and said a few reassuring words.
Behind Exner’s kind eyes and smile lie the thoughts of a woman who knows her son’s illness is beyond her control. All she can do now is make him comfortable.
Threat of death
Last month, Rocky had to return to Milwaukee after he began having seizures caused by the pressure the tumor exerted on his brain.
“All through the seven years there’s always been the threat of death,” Exner said. “No matter how bad the doctors thought it was, he popped out of it. (Doctors) don’t believe it. They are just amazed.”
The disease is to the point that doctors cannot keep up with an expanding cyst caused by the tumor. He has had three operations in three weeks to relieve the pressure.
Despite Rocky’s strong will to live, the cancer is exacting its toll.
“He’s been through so much,” Exner said. “I think he’s just real tired of fighting. He’s not giving up – he’s just tired.”
Rocky has trouble responding when people talk to him, but not always. “When I came into the room, I bent over and kissed him and said, ‘I love you,’ ” Exner said. “He said, ‘I love you, mom.’ “
Herman picked up the nickname “Rocky” because his cancer was diagnosed when the “Rocky” movies were popular. Besides, Exner said, he has been a real fighter.
“I took it worse than he did. I cried,” she said. “He took it really well. He has always just said, ‘It’s OK, mom.’ He knew he was real sick. He knew it was something he would have to deal with the rest of his life.
“He used to wake up in the middle of the night, just screaming with incredible headaches. I thought it was nightmares.”
When the headaches would not go away, she took Rocky to a Racine doctor, who referred him to a neurosurgeon at Children’s Hospital.
“Dr. Dunn could tell that the tumor was quite large,” she said. “He told me right away that there wasn’t any hope at all. There wasn’t anything they could do.”
But Rocky kept fighting back and giving himself extra time.
‘I’m not a wimp’
Outgoing and charismatic, Rocky lever lets on if he has any fear of his illness, relatives say. Before he went in for a recent operation, he told the doctors, “I’m Rocky – I’m not a wimp.”
Bob Pitts, of Mount Pleasant, Rocky’s uncle, said he told the boy to get better so they could arm wrestle. But Rocky couldn’t wait – he stuck his arm out and put up a pretty good fight.
“When he was first diagnosed,” Pitts said, “he wasn’t supposed to make it three months. He’s fighting every inch of the way.”
Rocky also enjoys riding a bicycle. “He was just learning to ride the bike again, then he had to come back here,” she said.
Schneider, who played Bo Duke on the “Dukes of Hazzard” television series, met Rocky at a Janesville concert last year and gave him his ID bracelet, which is now one of Rocky’s “most prized possessions,” Exner said.
On Friday, Schneider heard Rocky was back in the hospital and telephoned the family to check on him, relatives said.
A former student at Trinity Lutheran School, Rocky was not real big on the books, but he did like school.
Financial toll, too
Exner said she has accepted Rocky’s illness, but admits it has been hard for her in many ways.
“I don’t work, because I stay home and take care of Rocky,” she said. “It’s very hard. Right now I’m trying to find some ways of getting some more financial support.”
Rocky’s medical bills are paid mostly by Medicaid. But Exner has to pay her way to Milwaukee and back, which she said is difficult on a very limited income.
“Financially, I’m very strapped,” she said. “I couldn’t get any help to buy a car” and had to take a loan. “Now, I’m a little worried about that.”
‘Going to heaven’
The biggest toll is emotional.
“It’s hard to face it,” Exner said. ‘What puts me at peace with death (is) he is definitely going to heaven. That gives me peace.
“Sometimes I just wish I could trade places,” she said. “God has always made me a promise that says ‘I’m not going to push you any more than you can handle.’ “
Exner’s adjustment to Rocky’s terminal illness has included hysteria, a lot of tears and anger. But she said her main concern is seeing that Rocky does not suffer.
“If his life is going to hurt him any more, with the love I have for him, I’d rather see him at peace in heaven, ” she said.
“If he does die, I guess a part of me will die too. But I don’t want to be selfish. He’s been through enough. We’ve done as much as we possibly can and now its time to stop.”
Exner’s pain seemed well hidden on Friday. She and her relatives were able to laugh and recall their favorite stories about Rocky. She knows the pain is not over.
“When he actually does die, I think I’m going to fall apart,” she said.
Instead of focusing on the bad things that have happened, Exner counts the good times she has had with her son.
“I’ve had 12 of the hardest but most wonderful years with that young man,” she said. “I’m just thankful for that.”
She said the mother-son bond between them could not be stronger.
“I think that kid is a miracle,” Exner said. “I’m just proud to be his mom. I don’t know what I did, but I’m glad he’s mine.” ♦
Herman “Rocky” Espinoza, the former Racine boy who battled an inoperable brain tumor for several years, died Sunday in a Milwaukee hospital, wearing his favorite police shirt and badge.
Rocky, 12, who dreamed of growing up to be a police officer, died in his sleep Sunday morning at Children’s Hospital of Wisconsin.
“I was able to hold him, just like I wanted,” said Deborah Exner, Rocky’s mother, who now lives in Monroe. “When it came right down to it, it was just Rocky and I.”
Exner said she was sleeping on a cot next to Rocky’s bed when a friend noticed his breathing getting shallow. Exner said she got up, put music from Kenny Rogers and John Schneider – two of Rocky’s favorites – on the cassette stereo, then held his hand and waited.
Rocky wore the police uniform Exner had trouble getting off him at home. He will be buried in it, she said.
“l just held his hand and tried to talk to him,” Exner said. “I believe he was very, very peaceful ….I talked him into heaven.”
Diagnosed with cancer at age 5, Rocky was in and out of the hospital many times, fighting the effects of a cancerous brain-stem tumor. Only expected to live months after the tumor was diagnosed, Rocky bounced back time and again
Most every day he would wear the police shirt and badge given to him by a family friend. He also owned a toy gun and a pair of authentic handcuffs.
Even in the hospital, dressed in only a green gown, he wore one of his badges. This time, it seems, the badge was one of courage.
He got the nickname “Rocky” because the Sylvester Stallone movies were popular at the time and because his family felt he was a fighter. Exner said Rocky dealt with the disease without much fear.
“He was a very brave boy,” she said. “There were no tears.”
Rocky’s corneas were donated to the Lion’s Club eye bank and doctors removed his brain to study the large tumor they were unable to stop, she said. Funeral arrangements are pending in Racine.
Relatives described Rocky as an a eternal optimist who was always looking out for other people. On Sunday, Exner recalled one such occasion.
Rocky was being examined at the Shriner’s Hospital in suburban Chicago, Exner said, when the doctor asked to speak to her in the hallway.
“Rocky just spoke up and said, ‘Wait a minute, I’ve got something to say,’ ” Exner said. ” ‘It doesn’t matter if you can do something for me. You just keep on helping all the other kids.’ “
Exner said although the seven-year ordeal has been painful for her, she was doing pretty well on Sunday.
“I’m very much at rest right now,” she said. “He went out like a champ and I was proud of him.”
Bob Pitts of Mount Pleasant, Rocky’s uncle, said, “I’m going to miss him very much. I think he was just a brave little boy. Now he’s at peace.
Late last week, Exner sat in the cafeteria at Children’s Hospital and described how Rocky would wake up screaming in the middle of the night, with what she thought were nightmares. When his headaches persisted, they sought medical help and the tumor was diagnosed.
At times on Friday, Exner laughed when recalling the good times she had with Rocky. At other times, pain seemed to well just beneath the surface when she discussed their pending separation.
“I get real angry sometimes,” she said. “At first I think, ‘Why me? Why not someone else?’ Then I get realistic about it, because who would I want to wish that on? Nobody.”
Exner, who described her son as “a miracle,” said she wants to write a book about the experience.
Family members attributed Rocky’s long survival with the massive tumor to a strong character, medical help and love.
“I think he made it this long because of his doctor (David Dunn) and this hospital,” Pitts said.
Exner thought about that statement for a moment, then added her own reason Rocky fought so hard:
Herman “Rocky” Espinoza never realized his dream of becoming a police officer, but on Thursday, local police will give him a funeral escort usually reserved for their distinguished comrades.
At least four squad cars and officers from the Racine Police Department, the Racine County Sheriff’s Department and the Sturtevant Police Department will escort Rocky’s procession from the funeral home to the church and cemetery.
After reading newspaper accounts of Rocky’s seven-year fight with a brain-stem tumor, several officers had planned to present him with police badges and hats Monday at Children’s Hospital of Wisconsin.
Rocky died early Sunday in his mother’s arms.
Deputy Chuck Kwapil said officers then decided on the escort “to have an opportunity to show how he touched our lives.”
“I think it was the bravery,” Kwapil said. “He was a fighter all the way through. He cared about other people and I think that was touching.
“He would have been one heck of a policeman,” Kwapil said “It would have been nice to work with someone like that.”
Racine police provided an Officer Friendly hat and badge that will be placed in Rocky’s casket. The sheriff’s department will also present the family with an officer’s hat and badge.
“It has just been unbelievable,” said Bob Pitts, Rocky’s uncle, of the police response. “I think he would be the happiest little boy on earth.”
Pitts said when the family heard of the police offer of an escort, “We all had tears in our eyes.”
Pitts said Rocky “was always the good cop. To have a will that strong is something.”
A Racine native who most recently lived in Monroe, Rocky spent nearly every day at home wearing a Sturtevant police shirt he got from a family friend.
When a relative recently gave Rocky a bicycle, his mother bought him a police siren. Even when he was struggling for his life in the hospital, his favorite badge was pinned to his hospital gown. And the day he died, he wore the uniform in which he will be buried.
“I don’t know of anybody that read (news articles) that couldn’t be moved by his courage, what he was facing and his concern for others,” said Racine Police Sgt. Thomas Cooper.
“If somebody cared that much about being a police officer, it’s the least we can do, to show him the same respect we would show an officer,” said Sheriff’s Deputy Jim Aiello.
“I’ve never come across anything like this, and I’ve been on this department 14 years,” said Sturtevant Police Sgt. Robert Mallwitz.
“There you’ve got a real, legitimate hero.”
The escort will begin about 10 a.m. at Strouf-Sheffield Funeral Home, 1001 High St., then proceed to Trinity Lutheran Church, 2065 Geneva St. After a funeral service, the procession will head to Calvary Cemetery, 2510 Kinzie Ave. ♦
Herman “Rocky” Espinoza did not win his seven-year struggle with an inoperable brain tumor, but on Thursday, his dream came true.
The buoyant 12-year-old’s strongest wish in life was to serve the public as a police officer, but terminal cancer ended his life Sunday. Even in death, his wish was not forgotten.
Dressed in a blue police shirt, tan pants, badge, handcuffs and holster. Rocky was escorted to Calvary Cemetery by a procession of 13 law enforcement officers and eight squad cars.
The officers, representing the Racine County Sheriff’s Department and police from Racine, Mount Pleasant, Sturtevant and Caledonia, said they were not just honoring a courageous boy, but one of their own.
“He’s one of us now,” said Sturtevant police Sgt. Robert Mallwitz, a member of the escort. “It was just an honor to help a kid realize a dream.
“I was very proud, very honored to be there,” Mallwitz said.
At the funeral home, one officer stood at attention in a silent watch outside the visitation room. Others passed through the room in a show of solemn respect.
The procession to the church and cemetery was complete with a line of squad cars with emergency lights flashing. Nobody would have been prouder than Rocky.
At the cemetery, a police honor guard stood watch as Rocky was moved to his final resting place under a sugar maple. Atop the casket was perched a lone hat with the Racine Police Department logo on the front.
Inside the casket was Rocky’s collection of badges and hats from several other police departments. Even a teddy bear tucked inside wore a sheriff’s hat and miniature badge.
These were the symbols of a child’s very existence.
The officers who attended did not know Rocky, but the pain of loss was visible in their faces. They knew what their presence meant.
“We’re thinking that his dream did come true – finally,” said Racine Patrolman Scott Barrows, known to many children as Officer Friendly.
“He probably did see us there,” said Caledonia police dispatcher Pam Vanko. “I was glad that we could kind of help him with that dream.”
Mount Pleasant Patrolman Steve Swanson said he was proud that a young boy had such strong feelings for police.
“He came as close to being an officer as anyone has come without being sworn,” Swanson said. “(We) were in awe of his courage and strength.”
The escort was a fitting end to the story of a boy who, from the time he knew what the word police meant, wanted to be an officer. Despite a cancer that for seven years grew in his brain stem, Rocky spent his days and nights thinking of a time when he could wear the real uniform.
Officers in attendance Thursday believed Rocky wore the real thing.
“If he would have pulled through, he would have been one hell of a cop,” Mallwitz said. “It just seems unfair, a kid that’s so good gets taken so early.”
“I don’t think I could have gone through what Rocky went through for as long as he went through it and have the attitude he had,” Swanson said.
Students from Rocky’s former school, Trinity Lutheran, said goodbye with several songs at a funeral service. The school’s bell choir played music that for a brief moment drew a smile from Rocky’s mother, Deborah Exner.
The Rev. Patrick Baynes, of Trinity Lutheran Church, summed up what many in the church were undoubtedly feeling.
“Death can leave us helpless, because for once there is nothing we can do,” Baynes, said. “No treatments. And more frustratingly, no more words.” ♦
Deborah Exner knelt over her son’s grave, quietly arranging the fresh flowers she placed in a decorative orange jack-o’-lantern.
She carefully plucked blades of grass from around the small wooden cross that marks the site, pulled a daisy from the planter and slowly walked away.
The mixture of pain and acceptance on her face went a long way toward explaining what her life has been like for the past eight years.
For the mother who one year ago lost her only son, Rocky Espinoza, to an inoperable brain tumor, it is still hard to come to Calvary Cemetery. “I don’t go to the cemetery very often,” she said. “It doesn’t do anything for me at all. It’s a very empty feeling.”
Rocky died of cancer after a seven-year fight with the slow-growing tumor that expanded at the base of his brain.
An optimistic 12-year-old Racine native, Rocky lived a dream of one day becoming a police officer. He wore a police shirt, hat and holster every day at home. His bicycle was proudly outfitted with a siren. Even while at Children’s Hospital of Wisconsin, he wore a badge on his green gown.
But despite his strong dreams, the cancer proved to be stronger, claiming his life on Oct. 11, 1987.
Racine County’s law enforcement community was touched by Rocky’s respect for the badge. At the visitation service, dozens of Racine police officers filed past the boy’s casket during shift change.
And 13 officers gave him a police escort to the cemetery and a full honor guard – the kind of respect usually reserved for fallen colleagues.
Rocky was buried in his favorite police uniform.
Exner said she saw her son’s death coming, but was not prepared for the pain that would rack her existence and lead her to question the worth of her own life.
“I don’t think I really believed it was going to happen,” she said. “I felt, ‘It can’t happen to us – we’ve succeeded too many times.’ “
Those successes included Rocky’s recovery from numerous operations to relieve pressure from the tumor.
Exner recalled one day after Rocky was home from the hospital, he fought with determination to push his “police” bicycle up a steep hill in order to keep riding. Dreams of being an officer “motivated his whole life,” she said.
But trips to the hospital got more frequent. The tumor began exerting a heavy toll. One day, Exner told doctors enough was enough. She told her son it was OK to die.
Nearly one month after Rocky died in his sleep, that decision sparked doubts and guilt in Exner’s mind and began a tumultuous grieving process.
“I really felt like I was selfish,” Exner said. “I should have kept on doing everything I possibly could.
“Sometimes I even felt like he cheated me,” she said. “He shouldn’t have went, he should have fought harder “
After seven years of caring for a terminally ill child, the death left Exner without direction.
“I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with my life, and I still don’t,” she said. “He was all I knew.”
In November 1987, Exner hit rock bottom. All the calm she experienced directly after Rocky’s death gave way to painful emotions and thoughts of suicide.
“I felt there was nothing left in this world for me,” she said. “Everything I fought for and lived for was gone.”
Guilt continued to plague her.
“Did I do the right thing?” she asked rhetorically. “I felt like I had been selfish, because I wanted it to be over. I felt it was time to just stop and let God take over.”
Period of escape
There was a period she didn’t want to think about Rocky or be near children or hospitals.
She sought to have her fallopian tubes tied, but her doctor asked her to wait. She backed away from the idea and now says she might someday adopt children.
It took months to realize there was no blame to be laid for the cancer, Exner said. She became comfortable that she made the right decisions.
“The doubt is still there at moments,” she said. “But Rocky and I had this understanding about the whole thing. He trusted me and I trusted him.”
The healing has come slowly, but Exner said the grief is starting to ebb. She’s now able to remember the good times and can read news articles about Rocky without crying.
On his birthday last month, she bought toys and gifts – the kind Rocky liked – and gave them to sick children at a hospital in Monroe, where she now lives.
She cleaned out his room and donated much of his belongings to charity. She saved some favorite mementos, however.
‘Not really gone’
“Whenever I still feel real, real low, I’ll go in and open the trunk and look through that stuff,” she said. “I realize he’s not really gone, he’s inside of me.
“I think, ‘If I could have one more hug, or say, I love you, one more time,’ ” she said.
While it was Rocky’s illness and death that led to the pain Exner continues to endure, he may well be the key to healing.
Sense of pride
“The main thing that keeps me above water is that his life was for the good,” Exner said. “It makes me proud, he was such an understanding and caring child. It makes me feel I did my job as a mother. I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone like him in my life.”
Asked whether she was starting to heal, Exner looked away in careful thought, seeming for a long moment to be somewhere else. “I feel more stable. I don’t think Rocky would have wanted me to quit,” she said. “He was always proud of me – it always made me feel good. I still have to go on.”
The future might well hold opportunities for working with the terminally ill and their families, she said. But for now, Exner is trying to remember.
She wants to someday write a book about her son and what they went through together. But first there are questions and conflicts to be resolved.
“I’m still searching for the reason all this happened to me,” she said. “I couldn’t see it being for nothing.” ♦
Tony Melendez has serenaded Pope John Paul II and performed in front of thousands, but he says he is still shocked by the emotional reaction from the people he touches with his music.
“Some of the people’s responses are so touching,” Melendez said. “I can’t believe the response Some come crying and give me a hug. Some want to kiss the same cheek the pope kissed.”
The strong reactions are not just because Melendez, 26, sings with a smooth tenor voice, or that he plays nearly flawless acoustic guitar.
People are inspired because Melendez was born without arms and plays guitar with his feet, in a seemingly effortless manner.
Whole new world
“The music has just opened up a whole new world for me,” Melendez said before a performance Saturday night at St. Rita’s School, 4433 Douglas Ave.
“It’s been scary,” he said of the reaction he gets. “I’m not used to that overwhelming thrust toward me.”
Melendez, of Chino, Calif., performed for about 200 people at St. Rita’s, combining Christian music, storytelling and a healthy sense of humor.
Melendez is at ease with the fact he has no arms and does not consider himself handicapped. He even calls his company “Toe Jam Music.”
He told the group he stopped using prostheses because “my feet could do it so much faster quicker, neater. People ask me, ‘Do you eat with your toes or your feet?’ ” he said. “I eat with my mouth.”
With the guitar flat on the stage before him, Melendez’s bare feet glided up and down the strings effortlessly, while he sang about hope, inspiration and God.
As he walked to and from the stage, people pulled him aside for a hug, or kissed him like he was their own son.
“It still to me is very surprising,” he said. Crowd response comes from “a lot of young, and old. It’s really neat.”
Melendez earned national recognition last year when he played and sang for John Paul II– a performance that so moved the pontiff he touched Melendez’s legs and kissed his cheek.
Eight months later, Melendez recalls that performance as “a moment in my life I never thought would happen.”
John Paul’s reaction was nothing short of shocking to Melendez.
“I thought I was going to sing, then ‘clap, clap, clap and go home,” he said. “It really was a true blessing for me when he came over and gave me that kiss.”
In the time since, Melendez has been to 29 states, sometimes doing three performances a day.
Melendez was born in Nicaragua in 1962. His mother took thalidomide, an anti-nausea drug that caused the birth defect he has overcome. He spent much of his life in schools for handicapped children, but decided as a high school sophomore he wanted to be in public schools.
It was at about that time, when he was 16 he first tried playing his father’s guitar, after learning how to tune it with his feet.
“I did it and it just worked, and I kept at it,” he said. “I didn’t consider it practice. I loved it so much, I played five to six hours a day.”
While still getting a case of stage fright now and then, Melendez said the music helped him grow. He now promotes a pro-family, pro-love message during performances.
Music opens doors
”Once I start, it just automatically flows,” he said “Once I’m up there, something just takes over.”
Music “opened a lot of doors,” he said. “It’s given me a little more sense of security.
“I think they (spectators) sometimes go home saying, ‘If he can do it, I can do it,’ ” Melendez said. “When people go home, they feel a little bit better about themselves.”
Jose Melendez Jr., Tony’s concert manager, told the St. Rita’s crowd he learned things by watching his brother. He said one day when the pair was younger, he wanted to play Frisbee, but could not bring himself to ask, for fear he would hurt Tony’s feelings.
But Tony picked up the Frisbee in his toes and threw it, striking Jose in the face. It was then, Jose said, he realized his brother’s strength.
“That’s the first time I saw his arms and his hands.” ♦
Postscript: Tony Melendez continues touring, recording music and sharing his story around the world. He performed for Pope John Paul II four more times. He has recorded a number of contemporary Christian albums. He is married and lives in Branson, Missouri.