Charles A. McCoy
Tribute to My Friend
(The following is the eulogy to Charles A. McCoy presented by Don Johnson at his funeral in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, on August 6, 2007.
Ever notice that, at times, the simplest and most insignificant event can have a long-lasting, even lifelong, impact? My journey with Charles began that way long before we met.
In the mid-to-late 1950s, I served with the United State Navy in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on an island named Oahu in what was then the Territory of Hawaii. While visiting with a shipmate and his family, his wife, learning that I was from Oklahoma City, gave me the name and phone number of a cousin and asked me to call him upon my return home.
I did. And through a mutual interest in photography, we soon became friends. And it was through that friendship that I was later introduced to another photo buff, a local engineer named Charles McCoy.
Charles and I hit it off right away. Soon we and our wives were partying and going camping with our kids. As the friendship grew, so did our involvement in joint photographic projects – for a short period we operated a part-time business known as “Southwest Photo Specialists.”
Both former Navy men who served in the Pacific, we also discovered a mutual interest in hunting and firearms and, soon, hunting trips were added to our mix of joint activities. While I was an aspiring private pilot and had a few hours of training time, Charles was already licensed. One of my favorite flights was with Charles and Helen to Western Hills Lodge on Lake Fort Gibson near Muskogee. But, life happens. In 1969, I was transferred
to Phoenix and the hunting, flying and photo trips with Charles and Helen ceased. But notthe friendship. Through correspondence, oc-
cassional telephone chats and short visits it survived the 1970s and 80s to be rekindled in the 1990s when I began making annual trips to attend my family reunion and more regular visits became possible.Like many of you, I have been deeply affected by Charles’ death, but mostly by his life. During the past few weeks and months I have had occasions to remember many of the times we spent together and I believe some of them may give a glimpse into the mind and soul of my very good friend, Charles McCoy.
At the top of the list must be his deep and abiding love for his wife, Helen, and their daughter, DiAnn. In my mind, the three of them are all-inclusive, a single entity bound together by love and devotion. Their shared interests have permitted them to savor their time together as they engaged in quite conversations that should be the envy of most other families. You know, except when hunting or on the job, I cannot remember a single time that I ever saw Charles without Helen. And, his pride in DiAnn’s personal and business achievements was evident in his every mention of her and her activities.
When I think of Charles, I envision him in a comfortable chair with a slight grin on his face; new gadgets close at hand; a characteristic twinkle in his eyes as he engages in conversation about a new camera, a gun, an electronic device or some other mechanical object that had caught his attention.
While I never told Charles, it was those conversations that probably most impressed me about him. You see, while I enjoyed many such conversations, I often didn’t understand what he was saying. I’m not a technical person and my interests are too simple for his greater intellect, but I truly did enjoy those conversations.
To me, Charles was always thoughtful, reflective, curious and thorough. What I consider the consummate engineer. He, after all, was a design engineer for data communications equipment for the Apollo Space Project and one of AT&T’s top engineers.
He was also competitive and strived to excel.
I have a photo of Charles that I particularly relish. As an editor with Western Electric and possessing the plant camera, I was, by default, the plant photographer. As such, I became the possessor of the company’s new Hasselblad camera, that’s the brand the Astronauts use. We had planned a camping trip to Boiling Springs State Park near Woodward and Helen and Charles were to meet us at our house in Yukon. When they arrived, Charles came to the front door. As I opened the door, I held up the one-day-old camera and took a picture of a grinning Charles holding up his fist in a mock threatening stance.
During that trip, by the way, I put his attention to detail to use. While riding horses in the park, we were caught in a sudden downpour and spent most of the evening disassembling and drying out a two-day-old Hasselblad.
I more recent years, Donna and I enjoyed trips with Charles and Helen that were always too brinf as we traveled to Indian City in Anadaro, to the Museum of Natural History at OU, to dinner at Lake Thunderbird or to area restaurants. But the best times were spent on the deck of their home where, over conversation, we relished steaks cooked to perfection by Helen and drinks mixed by Charles, especially the pink lemonade that extended our visit until we could legally drive home.
Speaking of drinks, one of my favorite “war stories” concerns a party held in the basement of their home. Helen had purchased a professional quality radio studio tape recorder that they’d installed in the “party room.” Before the party in question, Charles had pre-taped all of the evening’s music. At their wet bar, he mixed me a Scotch & Soda which was prepared with a flourish as I watched. I failed to notice that later drinks were mixed by Charles with his back to me. Sometime later, he confided that Scotch drinkers were given only one drink made from 12-year-old Scotch. Future drinks were made from bar Scotch because, “ after one drink, Scotch drinkers can’t tell the difference.”
Charles was many things – a loving husband, a devoted father, a true friend, an excellent engineer, a pilot, a hunter, a photographer, among much more.
Professional photographers often refer to themselves and other pro photographers as “shooters.” The word is often also used for those proficient in hunting. Perhaps that adds meaning to another term I’d apply to Charles.
My friend, Charles, in addition to all the other enviable traits mentioned today, was always a “straight shooter.”
Thank you.
.gif)