Letter from Kenneth Kavanagh

A Fond Farewell for a Good Friend

Yesterday (March 1st) I lost one of the best friends with whom any human being can be so blessed—Bill Oliver.

Here in Cooperstown, Bill was known for his professional affiliation with Glimmerglass Opera, but far beyond those parameters he was known for the individual he personified in his everyday life. Personable, kind, thoughtful and just plain friendly, Bill could discuss Mozart as easily as he could engage one on the Red Sox.

When I was the college guidance director of a Long Island high school a long time ago, I was concerned about a candidate to Columbia and I wanted to speak with an admissions officer to do some follow-up. Calling and completely unsure of where I was going with this, I identified myself and asked to speak with an admissions officer. Only by an incredible roll of the dice about which we’d reminisce for years thereafter, I was connected to “Mr. Oliver.” From that moment on, we were off to the races. The comradery was instant and before long he was a frequent dinner guest at our house on Long Island.

Within a matter of time, Bill was promoted at Columbia to director of admissions (the youngest in its history) and a few years thereafter to director of alumni affairs. As those years rolled by, he became an intimate part of our family. He visited Cooperstown every summer. The kids would all look forward to “Bill’s coming.” Indeed, he became the godfather of my daughter, Lynn. He blended with this family instantly. He always referred to my wife Louise (Weezie) as “our rock” who held it all together. Indeed she was and still is.

The years went by and Paul Kellogg, then director of administration at Glimmerglass, offered Bill a position at Glimmerglass which coincided with the work he was doing for Columbia at the time. He turned it down. But the second time around, in light of Paul’s updated offer and other factors, he accepted and left Columbia. I distinctly recall the day Bill called me at my office to frame this. I must confess that I was worried for him, but in point of fact there was truly no need. Bill never looked back. He dove into the challenge and as the years went by Glimmerglass was the beneficiary of his work in a multiplicity of ways.

There is more, so much more that could be said herein. But suffice to say that Bill Oliver was in no uncertain terms an incredible guy whom I and my family are forever grateful to have included over all these years. There are no words to fill the void his loss has left in our lives. None.

As Bill would so often say: “We just have to turn the page, Ken. No choice.”

Kenneth Kavanagh
Cooperstown