While I’m sure Jack Kennedy, Rich Hammond, Greg Craig and others of Joe’s class of ’67 may have much more to say about Joe, I remember him very well as a pillar (literally—he was the tallest) of the basses. He was a pillar in other ways as well. Probably the most dependable Krok during his years with us, Joe could always be counted on to take care of some detail or other that needed doing. He didn’t need to be asked–he just quietly, unassumingly got it done.
Joe was a born optimist, upbeat in every way, always seeing the fun in any situation, even when the rest of us might be pretty pissed about it.
Joe (and his parents) regularly made their home (in Needham, I think it was) available to the Kroks as a gathering place. One personal note: I was the recipient of a sofa from Joe’s parents—an enormous, overstuffed piece from their summer place that became the favorite place for my roommates and me to snooze when we should have been studying. The flowered pattern was great for absorbing the multitude of pizza, moo goo gai pan and liquor stains we subjected it to and for the three years we had it, there were always copious amounts of sand that would emerged from deep in its folds, making some of our late night snacks fairly gritty. The sofa itself smelled like the raw bar at Anthony’s Pier Four. Joe’s summer home must have been close to the beach. In the depth of winter, a short nap on that sofa was like a quick trip to the Cape or the North Shore. The damn thing was so heavy it took Joe and three more of us to get it up our entry way. My back has never been quite the same since.
Joe was the type of guy who had nothing but good to say about anyone he ever knew. He was simply a sweetheart of a guy, who deserved many more years among us than he got, but who, by the accounts of others who knew him after his Harvard years, made very good use of just about every moment he had.
-Robert Croog ’66