In my mid twenties I worked for Hazel, Beckhorn and Hanes, one of the top zoning law firms in the DC metro area as a clerk/messenger. I was finishing up my B.A. after going to night school for five years working as a carpenter. “Til” Hazel asked me one night right as I was getting off work what kind of car I owned. I told him I had a brand new Citation. 1981. He said, OK. I want you to do me a favor. I need you to take my Cadillac and drive my friend to Dulles to catch a flight. It was a great place to work. I didn’t have class. I was more than happy to do so. Who I was taking to the airport was a man who, by a simple conversation, threw an anchor of perspective through the middle of my soul.
He owned Tyson’s Corners at the time. I never forgot his story. Didn’t realize the significance of who he was until years later. It surprised me when he naturally got into the front passenger seat as opposed to the back seat like I was his chauffeur, which I was expecting. We got to talking. He was Jewish and we talked about Israeli politics and their latest challenges with Arab neighbors. This was of particular interest to me as I was hoping to be a DIA Middle East Analyst after graduation. Something about that triggered him quietly, telling me a story about D-Day. He had hit Omaha Beach in the first wave. On the beach he was ordered to assist the “bangalore” detail that was attempting to blow up the concrete bunker/barrier, now made famous in “The Longest Day”, blocking the route off the beachhead for thousands of trapped US soldiers. (A Bangalore torpedo is an explosive charge placed within one or several connected tubes. It is used by combat engineers to clear obstacles that would otherwise require them to approach directly, possibly under fire. It is sometimes colloquially referred to as a “Bangalore mine”, “banger” or simply “Bangalore”.)
One by one the assigned soldiers were killed as they attempted to get the bangalore charge under the wall far enough for it to do the job. The cost of a few more feet at a time was another after another dying, doing their job without hesitation. As it turned out he would be the last one running past the bodies, slamming the tube the rest of the way under the wall and pulling the detonator fuse.
All the while in the car he was just looking forward, telling the story with a calm voice full of emotion and memory like he was witnessing it live again while somehow needing to tell it out loud to somebody. I was in awe.
He handed me a twenty as he got out which I vigorously declined and told him how much I admired what he had done.
He insisted I take the money and said, “son, you take this money and remember to always be kind and generous. There is always one next good thing to do”.
This encounter changed my life. I spent about 45 minutes with this man. I was in awe of his story. Had an immediate appreciation for the character of the man. Humble. Direct. Zero guile.
I’ve written two books. The Champion’s Brain and Media MedEvac. When I sell them or give them away in person that is how I sign them. There is always one next good thing to do.
I’m glad the Nationals won him an MLB World Series in 2019. The man won one for me many years ago.
(Links to informaion on Ted and Til below.)