Back in June, Pingry’s Archivist, Peter Blasevick, made his way to “the vault”, Pingry’s impenetrable, fireproof room containing more than 12,000 confidential student records, and a whole history of high school life—good grades and bad ones, awards and detentions, letters of praise from parents and the occasional letter of concern from a teacher. Here among the secure and closely guarded files was one whose access was only granted for this piece, and held particular interest: the file of a 1956 graduate, one Bob Meyer, who was due to receive the Nelson L. Carr ’24 Service Award during Pingry’s annual Athletics Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony. The award, given for faithful and dedicated service in support of Pingry, was an acknowledgment of his larger-than-life presence in the community, a presence most visible in the football stands, and, for a long time, a presence unseen but rather felt as an anonymous supporter of need-based financial aid. He was, in short, a man who had changed more than a few lives.

When the file was removed, Peter inserted a slug for the missing folder that noted the date and reason for removal. In the meantime, it was kept locked in his office, where the archives were carefully looked after. Opening the file revealed an assortment of old yellowed paper, with more than a few sheets as fragile as tissue paper after all these years. Page after page revealed Bob Meyer’s high school life, beginning, as most student’s life at Pingry does, with a letter of congratulations to his parents:

 

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May 12, 1953

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Meyer:

I am very happy to inform you that on the basis of your son’s entrance examinations and other qualifications the Admissions Committee has accepted him as a student in the Fourth Form (Grade 10) in The Pingry School for the coming school year. In view of the unusually keen competition for places, your boy is to be congratulated and we sincerely wish him every success with us…

 

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Bob entered Pingry in the tenth grade, though he did not have the most auspicious start. In fact, he was initially reluctant to attend Pingry at all, though there was never any doubt that he was going. “Back in my era, parents ran the show,” he says firmly. All the same, he was hesitant to switch schools. “Well, I’ll be honest. I did not want to go to Pingry. I’d been in the Millburn public school system for ten years, from kindergarten through ninth grade.” He was happy where he was, and making a difference there, too. “I don’t want to blow my own horn,” he says, “but I was an impact athlete in three sports—football, basketball, and baseball.” Still, it helped that his local friends Ted Hauser and Louis Ruprecht were already at Pingry, and that they would all be playing football together. His reluctance dissipated once he joined Pingry’s football team. Or, as Bob puts it, “After a couple of days of banging heads together on the football field, I was in the fold, so to speak.” From there on in, whether it be in academics or in sports, he embraced all the community had to offer. “Once I got to Pingry, I loved it,” he admits.

“There was an intensity about it,” recalls Mr. Ruprecht of their time at Pingry, “that I would imagine is still there because academics were placed on a very, very high level. The kids that were really respected were not necessarily the popular ones or the great athletes, but the kids that were really bright. And that was a great thing because Bob and I and Ted were not at the very top of the class by any means. We were athletes. But the kids that we looked up to were really smart.” It was this heady mix of intellectual pursuits that so captivated them. “The life of the mind was really respected,” says Mr. Ruprecht, “and I think that really deeply affected all three of us.” 

Yet there was something else, too.

“It went beyond just the intellectual life,” recalls Mr. Ruprecht, with some reverence. “There was a real emphasis at the time, and I believe it’s still true, on developing the individual into a person of character. It was that character matters.” Indeed, the honor code, which was central to Pingry’s school life and community, was a constant source of inspiration and reflection. “I’m sure  [that is] is why he loves Pingry so much,” suggests Mr. Ruprecht, “because they do care about developing character. And that’s very much Bob’s philosophy, and the way he raised his kids, and the way he has conducted his life—that character matters.” He pauses here before stating simply, “A school that develops character is probably the greatest gift that can be given to a kid.”

Of course, the academic rigor consumed much of their time, and they became better thinkers and writers in the process, and better teammates as well, and, just as each file in the archives would reveal, they grew, over time, into good people.

“Pingry was great in that regard,” he says. “Really trying to teach people how to become good people. Good citizens.” And no matter how much the world has changed from the time Bob Meyer and Lou Ruprecht walked the halls and charged around on the football field, that remains true today. In fact, on the main page of the school’s website, a thumbnail states simply:

We Graduate Good People.

“That’s the thing that sticks out the most about my Pingry education,” recalls Mr. Ruprecht. “The love of the life of the mind, and the intentional development of character.”

 

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Bob played multiple sports at Pingry, including football, baseball, and basketball. After graduation, he attended Colgate with his friends Ted Hauser and Mr. Ruprecht, and one summer saw him toughing it out working an oil rig with Mr. Ruprecht. After college, he joined the Marines, where he was a marine aviator, making carrier landings at night. In 1963 he married Margaret Anne Saur. His best man was Mr. Hauser, and Mr. Ruprecht was one of his ushers.

Bob went on to attend law school at Seton Hall University, where one of his teacher’s was a rising young lawyer and a tough adjunct professor—his old friend, Mr. Ruprecht. 

According to their friend and Pingry classmate, Bob Pyle, this unexpected teacher-student dynamic between friends led to a few challenges. Seated in the back of the class would be Bob Meyer, trying his best to concentrate, while Mr. Ruprecht would stand in front of the class teaching, trying just as hard to concentrate. According to Mr. Pyle, “Neither one of them could barely keep a straight face.”

Even though it was decades ago, the experience has stuck with him. “He gave me a B, I remember that,” says Bob.

 

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“Gung ho.” That’s the word Mr. Hauser uses to describe his lifelong friend, Bob Meyer. “Brave and dedicated.” Those words, too.

“He’s the most patriotic, gung ho guy in any endeavor to which he is included,” he says. “He’s the kind of guy you want at your backside. He’d take care of any situation, just totally committed to anything he did. An amazing, amazing character.”

“He is very passionate,” says Mr. Ruprecht with an amused smile, perhaps thinking of their heated discussions on politics. “When he does something, he does it full bore. He really gets involved in it. And that’s a wonderful characteristic.”

According to Mr. Hauser, Bob is not someone who does anything halfway, a characteristic that made itself known starting all the way back when they played football at Pingry, with Bob inspiring his fellow teammates to give it their all. “His efforts were obvious,” he recalls. “He would put in whatever he could…” and then, echoing Mr. Ruprecht here, he adds, “There was nothing less than full bore effort.”

In Mr. Hauser’s view, his friend’s enthusiasm for what he believed in touched on zeal, and was infectious. “How dedicated he was in any relationship, or working relationship to an organization—an almost extreme fanaticism to the cause.” Simply put, if Bob Meyer believed in you, his presence and support was going to make you better.

“Anything he was associated with,” observed Mr. Hauser, “he wanted to strengthen and help out in any way that he could.”

And that included the Pingry community.

 

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For ten years in a row, Elaine Weaver has sat in the same seat in the Pingry football stands. She brings along two cushions, one for herself, and one for her husband, though he rarely sits in it, since he is the announcer for the games. About ten years ago, as she was watching her older son play, a distinguished looking man caught her attention. “I saw this older gentleman walk into the game and he sat near me,” she says. “We started talking, and then he moved up and sat right next to me because I had an extra cushion… and we just started talking. He introduced himself to me as Bob.”

Elaine had no idea who Bob was. After all, they were both there to watch a football game. “To me, he was just someone who loves football, which—you have me at that. That’s all I need. I’m a football mom.” Game after game, Elaine would see Bob walk up the stands towards her, until the cushion next to her became his seat. “Everyone knew that was Bob’s seat,” she says. Occasionally, friends and fellow football fans would ask her if the older gentleman was her son’s grandfather. “And I would say no, this is my friend Bob. And that’s just how I referred to him. My friend Bob.”

This is how they carried on, for years, two friends in the football stands, occasionally yelling at the referees (“That’s what you do at football games when they make a bad call,” she explains, “you yell at the refs.”) After a few years, Bob casually mentioned that he provided an anonymous need-based financial aid scholarship for students at Pingry. It eventually became clear to her that it was a rather large donation. “I just had no idea the financial benefit he was giving to Pingry until close to seven years of talking with him,” she says. “He was just a nice guy I could talk football with.”

Then, in January 2023, Elaine received a phone call from Director of Institutional Advancement David Fahey in regards to her younger son Jason, who played football at Pingry. The call was unexpected, and Elaine wondered if her son was in trouble at school. “Why is Mr. Fahey calling me?” she recalls thinking. “Is Jason in trouble? Is it something bad?”

Mr. Fahey calmly explained that he wanted to speak to Jason.

“Well, isn’t he at school?” she asked, baffled.

Yes, he was, Mr. Fahey explained, but he needed her permission to speak to him about his tuition assistance. It was supported by a familiar name:

Bob Meyer.

“I just froze,” she admits. “I had no idea that this man that I had been having great conversations with every football season, and getting hot chocolates with, and always having snacks in my bag for him… I had no idea he was supporting my son at Pingry.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” she recalls, her voice cracking with emotion. “So I wrote him a letter.”

 

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June 12, 2023

My friend Bob,

   That is how I cordially introduced you to the Pingry fans at the football games. To me when I met you, you were a Pingry football fan coming to see a game. Then we started talking. You were so much more than that. You had wonderful stories about your time at Pingry, your college years at Colgate and your family. We complained about football calls and cheered the successes on the field. You were the person that everyone knew I was saving a seat for at the Pingry home football games. (Eric, of course, doing the announcing in the booth never sat in the stands during game time) One day you told me that you sponsored an anonymous Pingry scholarship in honor of your dear friend and classmate. I kept that conversation to myself so as to not give up your anonymity. I had thought, what a wonderful gift to give to a deserving student. You were helping students fulfill a dream. My older son, AJ, hopes to establish a sports scholarship in the future, and I mentally compared the two of you. I was proud of both of you for wanting to give a student an opportunity to attend Pingry while pursuing their football aspirations. I hoped he could also accomplish that gift that you pledged.

    Then I got a call from the Pingry school one day while I was at work. I had learned a secret. My younger son, Jason, was a recipient of your beloved and honorable scholarship. I froze. I was speechless. How could that have happened, that my child, who you and I watched run on the football field, be blessed with your special gift. Even months after learning this secret I am still awestruck. I am proud of Jason, for so many reasons, but proud of him for meeting the criteria set forth in honor of your beloved friend. 

    Bob, you allowed Jason an experience and an education that some only can dream of. Thank you. Thank you for making a hope, a reality. Our family will be grateful for your gift, well, forever. Jason will tell his children about Pingry, and the stories will carry on. You have contributed to a legacy. Thank you.

Your friend, Elaine Weaver.

 

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It’s hard to say what motivates a person to give, to be driven to make a difference in the lives of others. For those around Bob Meyer, who have been touched and challenged and transformed by his presence and support and friendship, they are only left to speculate.

“It’s obvious that he really cares about people,” says Mr. Ruprecht slowly. “Especially young people. And that’s a wonderful characteristic. And he’s always been that way. He’s always been a guy that really cared a lot about other people.”

Perhaps this is the way Bob has always been, from the first time stepping out onto the football field at Pingry, to all those moments in high school that refined and challenged the development of his character.

“I think Bob has lived his life so fully,” admires Mr. Ruprecht. “He became a marine aviator making carrier landings at night. Bob really pushed himself, throughout his life, to be the best he could be. Whether it was, working hard academically, going on to graduate school, whether it was working really hard in sports or whether it was serving his country in a really difficult capacity as a carrier pilot. He's never been afraid of giving it his all to everything he does. And it's a great thing that he's been as successful as he has been because he believes in when you're playing the game you don't leave anything on the table or anything on the field. You give it all. And he's always given it his all.”

It’s clear that Bob is an inspiration to his close friend. “He exhibits all of the best of what you’d want to see in a person who really cares,” before adding with a laugh, “if I could only straighten him out politically, he’d be perfect.”

If you ask Bob, the responsibility to make a positive impact is obvious and straightforward, something he learned from his old football coach at Pingry: “You get out of life what you put into it.”

Still. There must be an extraordinary reason to make such an extraordinary impact on so many, right?

Bob insists this is not the case. Pingry graduates good people. And he is simply a good person.

“I do believe in the old philosophy: to whom much is given, much is expected,” he says. “And I think that I’ve been given a lot. And I think it’s my duty, my obligation, my responsibility, to give back as much as I can.” He pauses here for a moment. “So, if it means financially supporting scholarships, that is one way to do it. And I’ve been fortunate to be able to do that. And I will continue doing that, and I’ve got some mechanisms in place now…to make that happen on a going forward basis until I meet my maker—which hopefully won’t be for a while,” he adds with a laugh.

“I want to see a lot of Pingry football games between now and then,” he says with a wistful smile. “So you’ll see me on the sidelines or in the grandstands.”

No doubt he’ll be sitting with an old friend.

 

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Pretty soon, Bob’s file will be carried back down to the vault, tucked away once again amidst the thousands of records of students who passed through these halls, enthusiastic kids and smart kids and perhaps even briefly reluctant kids, but all of them, in the end, good kids. The content of his file will be organized neatly, where a letter tucked near the top will stay. It was an old letter from Bob, requesting a copy of a driver education course he took, explaining he needed to provide proof to his auto insurance company. It read simply:

Oct. 16, 1962

Dear Pingry:

Hope everything is well up there in Elizabeth, N.J. and that the football team is racking up another impressive record. How I would like to take in a Pingry football game once again…

 

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To contact the author: Sara Courtney, Communications Writer