“Success comes to those who hustle wisely,” wasn’t just the saying gilded onto a golden belt buckle regularly worn by long-time Alameda resident, Bill Rogers--but a lifelong pursuit. He embodied this mantra for almost 87 years, until December 14th, when his final hustle--just a few weeks shy of his 87^th birthday--came to an end. Whether he had the buckle made, or simply found a dusty box full of them during one of his frequent adventures to one of his trusted thrift stores, no one can truly say. But for decades, many a graduating friend or relative could count upon receiving this pragmatic reminder to be inspired--and keep your pants up.

 

William Mathews Rogers’ love for malleable metals and memorable maxims began December 30, 1928 in Duluth, Minnesota, where he was the youngest of four children born to Miriam and Carl Rogers. She was a graduate of the prestigious Institute of Musical Art (later named Julliard), and he was a traveling salesman for the Burroughs Adding Machine Company. A young Bill absorbed his mother’s love for music and, later, his father’s pursuit of the sale. While a teenager, he became the drummer for the Downbeats, a jazz ensemble that gigged around the northern Midwest. In addition to honing his musical chops, he was drawn to the nearby train and ship yards, where Bill would go to watch the incessant loading and unloading of goods, minerals and materials between trucks, trains and cargo ships. Thus, it likely wasn’t a surprise when he got creative with his stated age of “16” and began working as a deckhand on a cargo ship, spending his WWII summers traveling the Great Lakes. Bit by the marine engineering bug, he enrolled at the University of Minnesota, then later the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Boston, where, when not studying, he rowed for the crew team and fraternized with fellow Delta Tau Delta pals. He sailed off with a degree in Marine Transporation, and continued life on the water with stints in the Merchant Marine, as well in the Navy as an ensign.

 

Bill worked for General Electric, National Research Corporation, then Engelhard Industries, for whom he would work as a sales engineer manager in pollution control. From time to time, he could be seen racing go karts and motorcycles at Daytona Raceway, or flying his own two-seater Luscombe Observer for business and pleasure, the latter often involving a pizazzed Boston University graduate social work student hailing from Middletown, NY, named Elizabeth Decker. The two eventually married in 1966. Boston’s bohemian Rowes and Commercial Wharfs served as their home during these years, where Bill—when he wasn’t hauling old cars through their front window or via their freight elevator--might be seen artfully balancing a full champagne glass on top of his head while dancing the Twist.

 

After giving birth to two sons, Matt and Eben, and living in an old Newburyport firehouse, Liz and Bill moved the family west in 1975, landing in Alameda. When he wasn’t travelling for work, Bill could be seen hunkered in his garage restoring Jaguars, Deutsch-Bonnets, Panhards, Morse Woodies, and Studebakers, as well as shoe shine, Pachinko, and slot machines. He also refereed rugby and soccer, and co-founded the Junior Olympic Baseball league with his buddy, Conrad “Big C” Branson, and coached their team, the Whippets, to a championship.

 

In 1997, Bill retired from Engelhard after forty years, and, after a year of successfully fighting prostate cancer, got his teaching credential and began teaching metal shop at Hayward High School. Around the same time he became a volunteer for the USS Potomac moored in Oakland’s Jack London Square. This reignited his passion for the naval marine lifestyle, so at the ripe age of 75 he obtained his Third Assistant Engineer’s license. He quickly hustled a teaching gig at the California Maritime Academy in Vallejo, where he taught in the classroom and traveled the seas on the USS Golden Bear as an instructor.

 

Bill loved his canines—Duke, Chauncey, Rufus, Cedric, Bella--as much as he loved his cars, and never turned away a good pun. He is predeceased by his parents, his brother Carl, and sisters Ellen and Kathryn; and will be missed by his wife, Liz, sons Matt and Eben, their wives Deepa and Heather, and their grandchildren Maya and Kishan, Anaya and Maris.

 

A memorial celebration of his life will be held later this year. If desired, donations can be made in Bill’s name to the USS Potomac Association.

 

 

--San Francisco Chronicle