The Beach Boys’ “Be True to Your School” could have been written with Rick Coutin in mind.

As a student at Oregon State in the 1970s, Coutin drove an orange and black Plymouth Barracuda. As a sophomore, he wore the “Benny the Beaver” outfit and performed as mascot for home football and basketball games. As a junior, he was a member of the school’s rally squad, known by some then as “Rootin’ Tootin’ Rick Coutin.” He volunteered in the athletic department’s sports information office, sported an orange and black beret and often wore orange and black clothing.

“I was like Dee Andros’ son or something,” Coutin says today with a laugh.

Coutin lives in infamy for an incident involving Oregon basketball coach Dick Harter. March 9th is the 50th anniversary of the night when Coutin — parading the Chancellor’s Trophy around the Gill Coliseum court in the closing seconds of a Beaver basketball victory over the Ducks — was tripped by Harter.

In 2015, I wrote in depth on the incident for an article in the Portland Tribune. I urge you to read it here.

A half-century later, Coutin is 70, alive and well while still recovering from a bone marrow transplant nine months ago. He lives in Newhall, Calif., owns and operates Roofers’ Sheet Metal Supplies out of his home and continues to be one of the biggest Beaver sports fans on the planet. He acknowledges that the Harter incident provided him with his proverbial 15 minutes of fame.

“It wasn’t intended that way,” he says. “It was an accident, something I never envisioned happening. All I was doing was being me, the cheerleader.”

Do people still remember it?

“A lot of people do, if they’re still alive,” Coutin says. “The younger generation doesn’t know anything about it. If someone finds out or mentions it, they freak out. ‘You’re that guy? Oh my gosh — I was there!’ Anybody who was there, yes, they remember it.”

When I ask him if it’s hard to believe it has been 50 years, Coutin shakes his head.

“It’s hard to believe I’m 70,” he says. “I don’t feel it.”

Coutin — the newest sponsor for kerryeggers.com — is not the person today he was as a younger man. The victim of physical abuse as a youngster and a perpetrator as an adult, he spent many years after that in counseling and therapy sessions — after a couple of nights in jail.

He bravely tells his story here with hopes that he can provide inspiration to others who have fallen into the same behaviors and lifestyles.

“My dad is the poster person for mental health recovery,” says the eldest of Rick’s four offspring, Becky Coutin. “He is a testament to the fact that if you want to change your behavior with consistency and persistence in treatment, you can get better.”

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Richard Harlen Coutin grew up in Glendale, Calif., in Los Angeles County. He was the youngest child and only son of Elias and Anne Coutin. Elias ran Angelus Sheet Metal and Plumbing Supply, a business Rick’s grandfather had started in the 1940s. Elias and his brother were co-owners of the business for many years.

The Coutin family lived in a big house at 430 Coutin Lane.

“They named the street after my dad,” Rick says. “He had property there for a long time.”

During his formative years, Coutin was called “Ricky” by his many friends.

“We lived in a cul-de-sac in an area where there were 25, 30 guys around my age,” he says. “It was a lot of fun. It was wonderful riding my bike to my friends’ houses. At my house, we had a swimming pool, a playhouse, a basketball court, even two horses in the backyard. So it was a popular place for us kids to hang out.”

Coutin was not close to his sisters. They were into music and “the hippie scene.” From about five years old, Ricky’s thing was sports. He was tuned into Beaver sports at a young age, too, since a friend’s older brother was attending Oregon State.

“I was a sports nut,” he says. “My world was sports. My friends and I played Little League or basketball or football. I loved watching it and playing it.”

Elias Coutin had no interest in sports and didn’t attend his son’s games.

“He never came to anything I did,” Rick says. “His explanation was, he would get too nervous. My mom went once, when I tried out for Little League the first time. None of my family ever saw me do anything. They didn’t understand.”

Fortunately, the father of one of his friends showed interest.

“He would come and watch me play,” Coutin says. “He was like a surrogate father. He treated me like a son. He gave me inspiration and pep talks. I was grateful for that.”

Coutin says he had a “reformed Jewish upbringing.” His parents were devout, and Rick had a bar mitzvah when he was 13, “but I was never a real practicing Jew.”

The Coutins traveled internationally as a family, beginning when Rick was eight.

“We’d go on cruise ships, travel to Europe, to Israel, to Hawaii,” he says. “We went everywhere.”

During a lengthy conversation, Coutin says his relationship with his parents was “good. They loved me.”

He mentions several times that his father loved him.

“But when he got angry,” he says, “it was time to run.”

Rick’s friends didn’t know the inside story but could sense things weren’t right.

“I can remember leaving his house when we were kids, his dad yelling at him at the top of his lungs,” says Bill Paden, Rick’s closest boyhood friend.

Elias Coutin did not drink alcohol or take drugs.

“But he had an anger management problem,” Coutin says. “My dad hit me terribly at times when he got angry. That’s when the danger happened. I had some bad times. He had a short fuse. I loved my dad, but I also feared him.”

On a trip to Nice, France, when Rick was 7 or 8, there was a moment when “I thought I was going to die,” he says.

“One night, my dad wanted to go out. I didn’t want to go out. I was complaining. He was angry that I wasn’t acting like an adult. He beat the hell out of me right in front of my mother. I’ll never forget that night. I thought he was going to kill me.”

Did his mother ever attempt to protect him?

“She couldn’t,” Rick says. “She was a victim herself of abuse from my dad.”

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Coutin still looks back at his childhood as generally a happy time. He graduated from Glendale High in 1971 with Dwight Stones, who would go on to set the world record in the high jump. His basketball coach was Bill Westphal, older brother of eventual NBA All-Star guard Paul Westphal.

As a junior at Glendale High, Coutin and a friend made a visit to Oregon State’s campus.

“I fell in love with the place,” Rick says. “It’s a beautiful campus. It was away from the freeways and congestion. I had stars in my eyes.”

As a high school graduation gift, his parents bought him a $4,200 Barracuda 383 with dual exhausts, a black vinyl top and orange sides with personalized license plates — “Go OSU.”

“It got a lot of attention,” he says. “It showed I was serious about Oregon State. I wanted to show my true colors.”

Coutin lived his freshman year at Finley Hall, a brand-new dormitory.

“Even floors were guys and odd floors were women,” Coutin says.

It was a cultural experience for Coutin, who had few minorities as classmates at Glendale.

“It introduced blacks to me,” he says. “I had never associated with them before. We had a lot of jocks in our dorm. Some of them were black, like (basketball player) Cobie Harris and (football player) Percy Grogans. It was a lot of fun. I had some great interactions. We would play hearts and spades and ping pong — it was really competitive.”

Coutin had curly hair that he grew long.

“A couple of the black guys would comment on my hair,” he says. “One guy said, ‘This is what you need,’ and handed me a cheese cutter. That’s what I used to comb my hair for the next few years.”

The Afro hairstyle was Coutin’s calling card when he served on the rally squad in 1973-74. Though he wasn’t a gymnast, he learned to do flips off a springboard and how to walk on his hands.

“I got pretty good at it,” he says. “It was fun.”

After the basketball season his junior year, Coutin focused on academics and delved into broadcasting at KBVR and sportswriting with the Barometer. He served as media contact with the SID office for baseball and made one fateful trip to Pullman in 1974 with Coach Jack Riley’s ball club. The Beavers were swept in a three-game series — all losses by one run.

“Riley was upset,” Coutin recalls. “After the last game, I went into Washington State’s SID office to file my reports to the various media outlets. When I walked out of the office, the team buses were gone.”

There were no cell phones in those days. Coutin had only a few dollars in his pocket and no charge card. WSU’s SID handed him $18 to cover a ride home to Corvallis via Greyhound.

“The trip took 18 hours,” Coutin says. “It had dozens of stops. When I got back to Corvallis, I went into Riley’s office and said, ‘Hey Coach. Remember me?’ He just smiled and said, ‘Give a hoot, Cout!’ ”   

Coutin graduated from OSU in 1976 with a degree in speech communications and broadcasting. He hung around Corvallis for a few years. He thought he might like to be a sportswriter for a profession. Coutin took some classes at Linn-Benton CC and was sports editor of the school paper. He worked part-time in the sports department at the Gazette-Times.

“I enjoyed it,” Coutin says. “I cared about it, but I didn’t have the gift for writing. I was grateful for the opportunity, and I moved on.”

In 1979, he married Joni Chase, a Crescent Valley High and Portland State grad whose father was minister at the Assembly of God church in Corvallis.

“My family was Jewish; Joni was a Christian,” Coutin says. “My parents didn’t want me marrying a gentile. When I told him we were going to be married, my father said, ‘If you do, I’ll disinherit you.’ ”

Before the wedding, Joni converted to Judaism.

“She thought that might appease my family,” Rick says. “It didn’t work. We had a rabbi fly from Eugene to Southern California to meet with my parents, and they consented and showed up at the last minute to the wedding.

“But it was a rocky marriage from Day One. My parents treated me like a black sheep. They didn’t accept Joni. They were nice to her, but they weren’t happy about our marriage. Her parents were upset, too, that she converted to Judaism, but they were always nice to me.”

In 1980, Rick and Joni moved to Portland, where he earned a computer programming degree at Western Business College.

“It was suggested to me that computers were becoming the big thing,” he says. “But (working in that industry) wasn’t my personality.”

In 1982, Rick and Joni moved to Glendale, where he could be closer to his family. Rick got a job with a travel service and worked in the industry for nearly six years.

“My computer programming background helped, and I was working with people, developing relationships,” he says. “I loved it every day.”

But in 1988, family pressure caused him to leave the travel service and go to work with his father.

Says Coutin: “They said, ‘You have to help your dad. He’s too old. He needs you.’ My father always appeased me with money. I should have stayed in Oregon. But I gave in to the money and the family, and Joni was always on the outside.”   

Five weeks into his first stint working with his father, Rick was fired. He returned to the travel company for whom he had worked. Within a year, his dad reconsidered.

“The business is growing,” Elias told Rick. “I need you. I’ll double your salary.”

So Rick returned, and worked for his dad for 12 years. In 2000, father turned the business over to son. The next year, Elias died. Rick has run the company since then. He quickly dropped the plumbing division and focused on roofing and roofing supply.

“The business has grown a lot,” he says. “I enjoy what I do. I love making relationships. I love being with people — laughing, smiling, communicating. People are important in my life.”

Back to 1988: The Coutins were producing babies — four of them. First Becky, then Jered, then Elissa and finally Serena. Joni had converted to Judaism, but her heart remained with Christianity.

“In reality, she was very devoted to our children and her Christian faith,” Rick says. “She went to synagogue a few times. My parents put pressure on me. ‘If you don’t raise them Jewish, she’s going to raise them gentile.’ At first, the kids went to temple. Then I gave in and allowed Joni to raise them Christians, and she did a great job. She was much more responsible than me.”

In the early years of marriage and parenthood, Rick was finding out he was, in many ways, like his father.

“I pretty much emulated him,” Rick says. “My father didn’t drink or smoke; I didn’t drink or smoke. He bit his nails; I bit my nails. He hit his wife; I hit my wife.”

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Rick remembers the first time he met with his domestic violence counselor.

“How many times have you struck your wife?” he asked.

“A few times,” Rick answered.

“You deserve to be in this class,” the counselor responded.

Today, Rick understands he was in denial.

“I hit her more than a few times,” he says. “I was short-tempered and impatient. Many times, when I got angry, I took it out on her physically, verbally, emotionally. Joni was the victim. I had the anger in me, just like Dad. I hit my wife. It filtered down to the kids. I had a lot of issues. Anger was one of them. It was like a dormant volcano, ready to erupt.”

In 1996, when Elissa was seven or eight, she wandered away from the Coutin home. Her parents got a call from a neighbor, saying they had her daughter. They brought her back to the Coutin home.

“Instead of being sympathetic and understanding and showing love, I blamed her for my own ineptitude,” Rick says. “I started yelling at her, and I hit her leg. The more she cried, the more I hit her. My hurt turned into anger, and my anger turned into violence.”

The next day, Elissa complained of a stomach ache. Joni took her to a doctor. The doctor noticed bruises on her body and suspected abuse. Early the following morning, two policemen and a social worker showed up at the Coutin residence.

“Joni said to come downstairs for a minute,” Rick recalls. “I knew I was in trouble at that moment. My life was about to end.

“They talked to me, took me outside, cuffed me and took me to jail on a felony child abuse charge. One of the officers told me I could be going to prison.”

Rick’s parents bailed him out with a $50,000 bond.

“I was at a low point in my life,” he says. “I didn’t know what was going to happen. I’m very lucky I was given a second chance.”

Rick was at a crossroads in his life. He spent the weekend in jail. He retained a lawyer who had been involved with child abuse situations.

“He worked out a deal with Children’s Services,” Coutin says. “Instead of throwing me in prison, we worked out a deal where I could get help. There was hope for me. I had a family, and I wanted to stay with them.”

Rick was removed from the family residence. For 18 months, he lived with his parents. He was allowed only supervised visitation with his children. He continued to operate the business, but he had another job to do.

“I had to change for the sake of my kids, so they didn’t become perpetrators, too,” Coutin says.

He went through 10 years of rehabilitation— domestic violence classes, family therapy, individual and marriage counseling.

“That’s what it took,” Coutin says. “It’s not a short-term situation. It’s long term, and it was worth it.”

Gradually, Coutin went from denial to understanding.

“I learned I was a provider, but not a very good parent,” he says. “I learned a lot about domestic violence and about myself. I took accountability for what I did.”

Alas, Joni filed for divorce in 2002.

“I went through counseling for years to try to stop it,” Rick says. “I didn’t want a divorce. But I don’t blame her. Joni put up with me as long as she could. She is religious. She prayed for me. After 23 years, she couldn’t take it anymore. I deserved that.”

After the divorce, Coutin went about his life, running his business and repairing his relationship with his kids. He and Joni — who was residing in nearby Santa Clarita — got along amicably.

In 2010, Coutin was baptized and adopted Christianity.

“I gave my life to Jesus and converted from Judaism,” he says. “I knew Jesus was the Messiah. I had been wondering that for years. Serena was the one who took me to church. She went to a Christian college and decided she was a Christian. My life changed at that point. I’m a new person in Christ.”

Coutin is a member of Real Life Church in Valencia. Once a week, he teaches a bible study class.

“He also volunteers to help out doing things at different church events — parking cars, for instance,” Joni Chase Coutin says. “He is out there smiling and waving to get everybody in a slot.

“People enjoy looking for him. After he came back from recovery, some of the children would wave at him in the parking lot. They would come up and say, ‘We missed you.’ He made an impact on the children by being present and waving and showing a smile.”

The church “is like my second home,” Rick says. “I believe it’s a part of life that makes me a better person. I have learned so much about how to lead a good life. Now I am committed. My life is complete. I have been to Israel. I still have Jewish roots. But now I am a Christian.”

► ◄

In the early ‘90s, Rick was diagnosed with MDS — Myelodysplastic Syndromes, or bone marrow failure disorder, a form of cancer. Medication and shots were effective in controlling it for years. A couple of years ago, his numbers started dropping. In May 2023, Coutin underwent a bone marrow transplant.

After release from the hospital, he underwent 100 days of isolation. His doctor said someone had to live with him to serve as a caretaker. His children were all busy with their lives and their own children. Joni — retired after 26 years as an elementary school teacher — volunteered. She is Rick’s angel.

“All the kids wanted to do it, but their plates are full,” Joni says. “I said, ‘Sure, why not? I can do it. I’m up to it.’

“It’s a blessing to be able to step up and help. It has worked fine. We are pushing through all the hard things.”

Says Coutin: “I can’t thank Joni enough for what she has done for me. We get along very well. Our kids love that.”

“They’ve always loved each other,” Jered Coutin says. “It didn’t work out the way they had hoped when they were married, but it shows they do have that love for each other. She is a great woman to be doing what she is doing.”

Rick is nine months into recovery.

“Three months to go before the one-year mark, which is kind of a landmark,” he says. “The doctors tell me I could be a poster boy for getting better. They are amazed I have recovered so quickly.”

Coutin is feeling so well, he recently flew to Surprise, Ariz., where he spent five days watching Oregon State’s baseball team open its season.

“Rick is ahead of the ballgame in recovery,” Joni says. “We are really optimistic. He already has more energy than he has had in recent years. It is definitely a success story.”

So has been his conversion from domestic abuser to a better person.

“It has been a miraculous turnaround,” Paden says. “Rick more than bettered himself. He took responsibility for what he did. He said, ‘I have to make myself better,’ and he did it.”

Jered Coutin noticed, too.

“When Dad came back after he was removed from the house, he did a complete 180,” he says. “He was a different person in terms of how he parented us. To see that change was eye-opening. I admire his commitment to changing. He ended up doing twice the amount of counseling that was required. It is humbling to have that experience happen to you. I know it affected him a lot. I admire the way he handled it.”

Coutin’s ex-wife agrees.

“Rick is definitely a different person — night and day,” Joni says. “I am very proud of him for where he is at in life, the positive things he is doing, not just for family but for community. He is an awesome guy. I always thought he would arrive at that point at some juncture, that he would find himself and do things for others.

“I was pulling for him even in the hard times. I knew what he was capable of being. We all grow and mature and change. He is doing a fabulous job with that.”

Coutin feels there are “residual effects” from his previous behavior with one of his daughters.

“I was abusive,” he says. “It affected her. You don’t forget those things. All you can do is say you’re sorry and move on.”

Even so, Coutin says he has a “good relationship” with all of the children, and with his five grandchildren.

“We travel together,” he says “I watch (the grandkids) play sports and do other activities. Everything is good. I am blessed to be where I am today.”

There are many friends in Coutin’s corner.

“He is a great guy,” Paden says. “He has been friends with our family forever. Our kids grew up together. If you need him, he is always there for you.”

“Rick is a good friend,” says Dave Evenson, Rick’s pal in Corvallis. “We have a lot of the same interests. He loves Oregon State. He would be a great ambassador for the university, a spokesperson for the athletic department.

“He has a really good sense of humor. He is a good person. Religion has become an important part of his life.

It’s all positive. We have a good time together, and there is a lot of laughter.”

“Rick walks in a room and people take note of him,” Joni Chase Coutin says. “He stands out. He is a life-of-the-party type of person when he is around friends. That has always been the case.”

“What I appreciate most about my dad,” Becki Coutin says, “is his zest for life. He is always up for an adventure. He is like Peter Pan — definitely a kid at heart. He values having relationships with people. He is very loyal. He is a resilient person, and he has a really good heart.”

Rick may be closest with his only son, who calls him “goofy at times.”

“Every friend I had, he was like the favorite dad,” Jered Coutin says. “He was heavily involved with my youth sports. He cared. People notice that.”

Jered grew up “pretty secular.” When he was 22, his dad convinced him to write an essay to qualify for a free “birthright trip” to Israel. Jered did, made the trip and spent two weeks there as part of a group of 40 Jewish Americans.

“Seeing the country of Israel and hearing the history gave me a perspective on my family roots,” he says. “I wouldn’t have gone if not for him. I put in my essay, ‘This is for my dad.’ ”

While in Israel, Jered asked a female soldier to write “hero” on a piece of paper in Hebrew. Years later, Jered joined the Coast Guard.

“I ended up going to a tattoo shop,” he says. “I took out that piece of paper and had them do it on my arm. I’m not sure I’ve ever told my dad, but it’s in honor of him.”

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After going through some serious health issues, Rick Coutin has taken inventory on what his life has been about. There have been some downs, but an awful lot of ups. Near the top of the list were the five years he spent at Oregon State.

“I would like to have those years again, I enjoyed them so much,” he says. “Those were some of the greatest times of my life. Those days I treasure. It was so much fun to be at a university like that. I had some great relationships. That’s what it’s about for me. I love Corvallis. In some ways, I’m sorry I don’t live there. It’s always so nice to go back.”

The regrets for unsavory behavior, he says, will always remain. He won’t let them prevent him from continuing the progress he has made.

“Wish I could turn the clock back and change the past, but you can’t,” he says. “You can change the future. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

It’s not easy, Coutin says, but there is a cathartic effect to reliving the past.

“I’m grateful for the opportunity to speak to people who might relate to my life story,” he says. “Maybe by telling my story, it will help others.”

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Readers: what are your thoughts? I would love to hear them in the comments below. On the comments entry screen, only your name is required, your email address and website are optional, and may be left blank.

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