The bells were ringing the day three former girlfriends cornered Jack Arnot, got him out of bed, dressed him and herded him into church. He was a "out of a book." I nicknamed him "Smilin' Jack" after a comic book character.
Jack passed away on Christmas Day 2016 and it has taken me this long to get this together as I see a nation in dyspepsia; not the small town in Illinois of the same name. It is my great regret Jack is not here to talk about current events. He had the best perspective on history, the nation and politics of anyone I have ever known. We had been talking every Sunday for about a year.
I had no idea he was alive when I mentioned him in a piece on the last anniversary of the JFK assassination. A former student who reads this blog informed him of the piece and he called me. When I knew him Jack was a serious drinker and I could not believe he made it past 60, but here he was on the phone! "Yeah, one day I just put the glass down and said, "That's it," and I have not had a drink since." How many men can do that? I could believe it of him. He had that kind of mind; clear and decisive.
Jack Arnot was a blend of John Wayne and Jack Nicholson. He called me "Cochise" for my Indian blood, but not in front of our students. He always maintained professional decorum in school. It was his life. Teaching was everything to Jack. He was the best I have ever seen and have been around teachers all my life up to that point.
Jack had working class roots. His first job out of high school was delivering auto parts on a motorcycle. Then he joined the US Navy, wound up in Hawaii with the responsibility of driving the Commanding Admiral's wife all over the island, shopping. Jack loved the Navy, but the hitch ended as the itch began. He needed something solid and wound up in UCLA studying history to become a teacher. He had a natural gift for the subject and dealing with young people. They loved him and I will hear from several who read this blog.
A greater dinner party guest you could not have when the discussion was the nation and politics. My favorite thing was to have dinner parties with interesting people, carefully cast to produce a lively discussion of "the business," the nation, science or whatever I could put together. A visiting producer, editor or specialist would cause me to hit my personal phonebook. Jack was the salsa on the enchilada at my table many times.
Jack passed away on Christmas Day 2016 and it has taken me this long to get this together as I see a nation in dyspepsia; not the small town in Illinois of the same name. It is my great regret Jack is not here to talk about current events. He had the best perspective on history, the nation and politics of anyone I have ever known. We had been talking every Sunday for about a year.
I had no idea he was alive when I mentioned him in a piece on the last anniversary of the JFK assassination. A former student who reads this blog informed him of the piece and he called me. When I knew him Jack was a serious drinker and I could not believe he made it past 60, but here he was on the phone! "Yeah, one day I just put the glass down and said, "That's it," and I have not had a drink since." How many men can do that? I could believe it of him. He had that kind of mind; clear and decisive.
Jack Arnot was a blend of John Wayne and Jack Nicholson. He called me "Cochise" for my Indian blood, but not in front of our students. He always maintained professional decorum in school. It was his life. Teaching was everything to Jack. He was the best I have ever seen and have been around teachers all my life up to that point.
Jack had working class roots. His first job out of high school was delivering auto parts on a motorcycle. Then he joined the US Navy, wound up in Hawaii with the responsibility of driving the Commanding Admiral's wife all over the island, shopping. Jack loved the Navy, but the hitch ended as the itch began. He needed something solid and wound up in UCLA studying history to become a teacher. He had a natural gift for the subject and dealing with young people. They loved him and I will hear from several who read this blog.
A greater dinner party guest you could not have when the discussion was the nation and politics. My favorite thing was to have dinner parties with interesting people, carefully cast to produce a lively discussion of "the business," the nation, science or whatever I could put together. A visiting producer, editor or specialist would cause me to hit my personal phonebook. Jack was the salsa on the enchilada at my table many times.
Jack was one of my best friends and I seem to have a rough and tumble taste for close friends. My longest friend in life is a man who did not speak to me for seven years! Not a record I am proud of, but in defense I seem to be attracted to quirky people with great talents and flaws. It is a characteristic of those with such intellects and abilities. I have only met one exception, truly talented man with no quirks! That is his quirk! Thus, my hypothesis is valid!
Jack and I drove across the country on US 8, a northern route in 1971 with my big German Shepard, Boris that understood human conversation. Traveling with Jack was like being on a guided tour or seminar. We got to the Little Big Horn site of the Custer massacre.
Jack knew the site as if he had been with Custer and went into a full lecture of Custer and Benteen's moves, ending with the last scene, on the very spot where Custer went down attacking an encampment of 15,000 "hostiles" finishing grandly with, "It was here! It was right here!"
When Jack finished the exposition, gesturing to the huge area where the Indians were encamped, Boris uttered "Aoo Arf" which is dog language for "Holy shit!" Jack understood, looked at him saying, "That is one smart dog!" That evening Boris came into a truck stop after we left him out in the VW bus! The manager did not object and brought him a plate with two raw burgers on it. All the truck drivers around us applauded seeing how well behaved he was. Something had spooked him in the parking lot or he would not have left the bus knowing I would bring him a hamburger and fries.
Jack was with me on a reconnaissance trip for a film project in Europe in the summer of 1972. He showed me the location of the outhouse where Martin Luther both resolved a bout of constipation and the reformation in what is referred to in historian circles as, "The fart heard round the world!"
Unfortunately, we had serious trouble as he wanted to drink all day and drive my new VW Kamper with the upgrade Porsche engine that later powered many adventures. Europeans are very stiff on drinking and driving. They confiscate the vehicle, so I said "No way!" He left me in Vienna. Nonetheless, I completed the trip, but we did not speak until after Christmas. We got back together New Years thanks to some lady teachers that thought we should be speaking again. That was what having Jack for a friend was like and I can only imagine what he was like for women: The picture speaks volumes.
We were all glad to know Jack Arnot. He was a really great teacher and I wanted him to document his teaching ideas in a book, but could never get it done as he did not type and avoided computers. I also believe he did not know from where his great talent came. He always said if he had not been a teacher he would have been a preacher. He had that essence and I suspect was as great a mystery to him as it was to his friends.
Adrian Vance
Jack and I drove across the country on US 8, a northern route in 1971 with my big German Shepard, Boris that understood human conversation. Traveling with Jack was like being on a guided tour or seminar. We got to the Little Big Horn site of the Custer massacre.
Jack knew the site as if he had been with Custer and went into a full lecture of Custer and Benteen's moves, ending with the last scene, on the very spot where Custer went down attacking an encampment of 15,000 "hostiles" finishing grandly with, "It was here! It was right here!"
When Jack finished the exposition, gesturing to the huge area where the Indians were encamped, Boris uttered "Aoo Arf" which is dog language for "Holy shit!" Jack understood, looked at him saying, "That is one smart dog!" That evening Boris came into a truck stop after we left him out in the VW bus! The manager did not object and brought him a plate with two raw burgers on it. All the truck drivers around us applauded seeing how well behaved he was. Something had spooked him in the parking lot or he would not have left the bus knowing I would bring him a hamburger and fries.
Jack was with me on a reconnaissance trip for a film project in Europe in the summer of 1972. He showed me the location of the outhouse where Martin Luther both resolved a bout of constipation and the reformation in what is referred to in historian circles as, "The fart heard round the world!"
Unfortunately, we had serious trouble as he wanted to drink all day and drive my new VW Kamper with the upgrade Porsche engine that later powered many adventures. Europeans are very stiff on drinking and driving. They confiscate the vehicle, so I said "No way!" He left me in Vienna. Nonetheless, I completed the trip, but we did not speak until after Christmas. We got back together New Years thanks to some lady teachers that thought we should be speaking again. That was what having Jack for a friend was like and I can only imagine what he was like for women: The picture speaks volumes.
We were all glad to know Jack Arnot. He was a really great teacher and I wanted him to document his teaching ideas in a book, but could never get it done as he did not type and avoided computers. I also believe he did not know from where his great talent came. He always said if he had not been a teacher he would have been a preacher. He had that essence and I suspect was as great a mystery to him as it was to his friends.
Adrian Vance
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