Remarks of Jack Hoeschler Given at the Memorial for Jake Hoeschler, Sr

August 25, 1989

Jake always liked to say: "The party's what you make it." He felt you had no excuse for having a bad time, no matter where you were. This is a celebration of Jake and a remembrance of his contributions to family, friends and community. Jake has done his part in making this celebration. Now it is up to us to enjoy and make the most of these sweet and salty memories.

Jake was above all else a memorable character. He had a larger-than-life personality that at various times and at the same time challenged, exhausted, inspired, irritated and entertained us. His crazy quilt personality was made up of irregular and sometimes overlapping pieces: salesman, showman, sportsman, storyteller, promoter, and yes, prankster. These pieces of his personality were backed by a fierce loyalty to family and community. The whole was bounded by good fortune and stitched together by native ability and endless energy.

We have decided to divide our remembrances of this crazy quilt of a man along his principal interests. Janice will talk about Jake as a family man from her unique viewpoint as his only daughter. Jim will discuss him as a sportsman. Jay will give us an appreciation of what it was like to be Jake's junior partner in business. I will focus on some of the other traits that made him a larger-than-life character.

Jake was always at heart a salesman. I first appreciated him as the consummate salesman when I worked alongside him at the drugstore Saturday nights in the 1950s. The drugstore had a shelf of patent medicines no one wanted to sell and equally few wanted to buy. Among the clerks, these were known as "Jake's dogs." He would take a bottle from the shelf and thrust it into the hands of the cure-seeking customer. This might be a bottle of Sloan's Liniment, Lydia Pinkham's potion or any of a half dozen other things of which you never heard. As a result of Jake's positive conviction..., as well as the regenerative powers of the human body and the grace of God, health soon followed -- or at least no harm was done.

Jake's drugstore tour de force came when he sold 190 proof alcohol to Iowa farmers. Most of these Norwegian bachelors came in for one bottle but left with three when Jake convinced them that the price was soon to soar because so much alcohol would shortly be needed for fuel in the space rocket program.

Jake prided himself that he could sell anything. I think he aimed to sell something to everyone in Lacrosse what with the drugstore, the real estate office and the cemetery.

The flip side of Jake the salesman was Jake the showman and promoter. He had a native sense of how to put one a good show. All he needed was a stage prop or two.

For instance, on his first visit to the famous Antoine's Restaurant in New Orleans about 40 years ago, he was passing the front desk on his way from the men's room when a group of ladies asked if he were their restaurant tour guide. Jake could not pass up the opportunity and, of course, said yes. With that, he grabbed a pack of souvenir postcards from the desk that showed the famous rooms in the restaurant and, after distributing them to the ladies, he proceeded to lead them through those rooms. Even though he had never been in many of them before, he told an appropriate story about each. At the end of the tour, he realized that he had not found the wine cellar that was prominently pictured. When asked about that, he explained that the need for special temperature and humidity controls prevented a tour of that facility.  The ladies understood and gratefully tipped him. He thereupon returned to dinner.

It was only a short distance from showman to prankster for Jake.

Jake never felt he needed a ticket for an event - a small stage prop would shield his sleight of hand.

For example, faced with a sold-out flight from Florida and only one ticket, he got past the gate by ostensibly carrying on a case of oranges for mother. He never got off, however. He hid in the lavatory during the takeoff and landing - being careful not to lock the door, lest the crew see it was occupied. During the rest of the flight, he merely worked the aisles talking to friends and acquaintances and no one except my mother ever realized that he never had a seat.

At the Metropolitan Opera performances in Minneapolis, his tux was the prop. He would walk boldly in just before the curtain rose, direct the ushers to help several people quickly to their seats, and use the activity as a distraction while he slipped into any available seat down front.

Jake's most famous stage prop was his trumpet.

Whenever we were short a ticket for a Badger game in Madison, he would hand his ticket to someone in the party, grab his trumpet and run fill tilt toward the turnstiles. As he hurdled them, brandishing his trumpet, he would shout "I'm in the band and I'm late." This was always enough.

When Jay was little, Jake would often sit with him on the beach in Florida playing a soulful tune. More than once he convinced passersby that his wife had left him with the child. This, he said, was how he was supporting himself. Tips and dinner offers often followed.

The trumpet, the mongoose, the moose mating horn are props that will now be retired along with his paisley sports coat.

No description of Jake is complete without reference to his outrageous language. He never really reformed in that regard. In recent times, he didn't seem so bad, however, because the rest of society has moved more in his direction. Still, if he had continued his original plan of paying ten cents to the grandchildren for every swear word, my kids’ college would be paid for by now.

I started by describing Jake's personality as a crazy quilt. It would be a mistake, however, to focus only on the colorful patches -- the Jake stories. There was more to him that that. He was more than just an oddly patched blanket. Jake was a work of art, and it was his native intelligence and his energy, coupled with his sense of humor, that made him an heirloom to us all.

I can't help but feel that Lacrosse will be a little quieter and a little duller without him.