Offering a final salute to the legacy of Bud Ossey: ‘He went out on top’

Buddy Barnes, past president of the Society of American Military Engineers, presents Bud Ossey with a 75-year pin in a ceremony held in June (Photo courtesy Andrew Young/Portland Post of SAME)

I thought Bud Ossey would live forever.

I don’t really mean that, of course. Forever isn’t in the cards for anybody.

But after 101 very solid years on the planet, with his health reasonably stable and his intestinal fortitude beyond mortal levels, I figured those who called him friends — and there were so many of us — would be lucky enough to have him around for at least a couple of more years.

Bud died Friday at Meridian Park Medical Center, four days after taking a fall in his room at Bonaventure of Tigard senior living facility. He died peacefully, says Don Ossey, the youngest of his three sons.

“Dad had a wonderful, full life,” Don says.

Don’s father was widely considered Oregon State’s No. 1 sports fan, which he was, having been a charter member and past president of the school’s athletic booster group — established in 1939 as “the Buck of the Month Club.” He had held Beaver season tickets in football and basketball since 1946.

But Bud was so much more than that.

He was a World War II veteran who enjoyed a long career with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, then had a second career as a successful insurance man.

A month before he died, Ossey was honored by the Society of American Military Engineers with a 75-year pin as one of the national organization’s distinguished Fellows.” He was the first person to have continuous membership for 75 years in the organization’s 100-year history. On the same day, the Portland chapter announced establishment of the “Bud Ossey scholarship,” to be given to an engineering student with some connection to the military at a college in Oregon.

Family meant everything to Ossey. He and wife Maxine were married 70 years before her death in 2013. They traveled to Australia about 25 times over the years to spend time with their middle child, Bob, and his family. In addition to three sons, Bud had four grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

After family came sports. Ossey saw his first Oregon State football game as a five-year-old in 1924. Bud — 5-foot-6 on a very good day — played Rook basketball as a freshman in 1937 and varsity tennis before graduating from OSC in 1943.

He was an accomplished golfer, with a handicap that topped out at 3 or 4, a former Seniors champion and medalist at the Oregon Coast Invitational in Astoria. Ossey shot his age on the golf course from ages 69 to 96.

(I played with Bud several times and never beat him. When he was 96, he shot 94 at Tualatin Country Club. I limped in at 97.)

Ossey was an outstanding bowler who participated in a men’s bowling league for many years. As a youth in the mid-1930s — that’s right, the ’30s — he played American Legion ball against the legendary Johnny Pesky. Later, Ossey coached Little League for several years and served as president of the Portland Amateur Baseball Association and the Old-Timers Baseball Association of Portland.

In the early ‘70s, the Oregon State men’s golf program was on the chopping block. Ossey organized a fund-raiser that helped save the program. On Aug. 30, the 50th annual Bud Ossey Scramble is scheduled for Tualatin CC. Bud will now be honored posthumously.

Ossey’s strength was in building relationships, especially with members of Beaver Nation. He knew every Oregon State football coach since Lon Stiner and most of the school’s basketball coaches since Slats Gill. Wayne Tinkle and Pat Casey are among those who hold Ossey in the highest esteem.

I’m not sure I’ve ever known a person with so many friendships.

“I have to be the luckiest guy in the world to have so many great friends,” Bud told me not long ago.

Toward the end, though, all of his peers were deceased.

“When you’re 101, your friends are gone and most of your family is gone,” Don Ossey says. “He outlived his relationships.”

One of Bud’s friends was my late father, John Eggers, the former sports information director at OSU. I met Bud as a young boy but didn’t really know him until much later. Sometime in the mid-2000s, I think, he invited me to visit him at his home adjacent to Tualatin CC, beginning a friendship that lasted his lifetime. He had a marvelous personality and a dry wit, an affection for a vodka and tonic and an arsenal of stories that I never tired of hearing. He was a father figure to me, and to a few of my peers as well.

I wrote about Bud several times, but my favorite piece is one I did in 2014 off a lunch in Corvallis with Ossey and Andy Landforce, who were then 95 and 97, respectively.

https://pamplinmedia.com/pt/12-sports/243539-105899-beaver-alums-reunite-reminisce

Maxine’s death hit Bud hard, and though he never truly got over it, he got through it, thanks to his plethora of friends and his love of sports. His long-time membership at Tualatin “provided him a great source of joy and friendship,” Don says. A 100th birthday celebration at Tualatin in November 2019 was a festive affair.

“We roasted him a little bit and marveled that he was still alive and doing well,” Don says.

Shortly thereafter, though, COVID-19 left the senior Ossey isolated and lonely.

“That was the hardest thing,” Don says. “I couldn’t go see him — nobody could. He couldn’t go out. He struggled with that. He struggled with being on his own, anyway. He voiced his frustration to me several times.”

Bud Ossey with another state-of-Oregon legendary sports figure and good friend — broadcasting great Bill Schonely

But Ossey was a survivor, and a tough guy. Over the last 18 months of his life, he underwent four surgeries — first for a broken right hip, then to have a gall bladder removed, then to repair the right hip when the surgery failed. He kept getting off the deck, though. His will to live was astonishing.

Last Monday night, he tripped going to bed, breaking his left hip and left arm.

“Dad was anemic, so they had to give him two transfusions before they could operate,” Don says. “They operated on the hip Tuesday night and put the arm in a sling.

“On Wednesday, he was feeling pretty chipper and alert while on pain meds, cracking jokes and giving nurses a bad time. He was in his element — surrounded by a bunch of pretty girls.”

On Thursday, Bud was less responsive, sleeping most of the day. On Friday morning, he took a turn for the worse. By late afternoon, he was gone.

Bud had his wits about him to the end. And his wit.

“Dad had two holes-in-one (through his golf career),” Don says. “I got my first one last week and he told me, ‘You’re one short.’ ” 

There will be no memorial service or celebration of life.

“He didn’t want one,” Don says. “Every year, the Oregon State scramble will be a memorial to him. We’ll raise a glass to toast his memory.”

When people asked me how old Bud was, I’d tell them, “he’ll be 102 in November.”

Now he won’t get there. He won’t live forever after all. Bud Ossey left a legacy, though, that won’t soon be forgotten.

“Dad had a great life,” son Don says. “For the most part, he was happy and healthy. He went out on top.”

So long for now, Bud. I’ll keep the ice warm for you.

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