Ten years ago

Yesterday and today mark the 10th anniversary of a pair of tragedies that anyone who was at Newington High School at the time remembers well: the unrelated deaths, on consecutive days, of junior Bob Aniello and freshman Jen Partridge. Back in 1997, I made a memorial website for Bob and Jen, which is still online.

Bob (or "BoB," as he was widely known) was a classmate of mine, and a friend. He lived in Hartford but was bused to school in Newington, which was unusual because he was white; most of the "Project Concern" kids, like most Hartford residents generally, were black or Hispanic. Bob once joked that he could cross the street in Hartford without looking, and traffic would stop for him, because people "don't want to kill the last white kid in Hartford." :)

Me and Bob at an NHS football game.

Alas, Bob wasn't impervious to his own demons. He committed suicide on Tuesday night, November 18, 1997 -- a total shock to everyone who knew him. The school was in stunned mourning all day Wednesday after the news broke... and then things got even worse. That afternoon, Jen -- who I didn't know personally, but who shared a lot of mutual friends with Bob -- was hit by a car while riding her bike, and killed.

Needless to say, it was a terrible, terrible week at NHS. The deaths were bookended by a pair of nonfatal car accidents involving NHS kids, one of them quite serious and involving two close friends of mine (one of whom was also very close to Bob), another less serious but on school grounds Friday morning, mere minutes before the principal was to address the school about the week's tragedies. There were also unverified rumors of other tragedies -- e.g., a janitor suffering a heart attack -- and fears of "copycat" suicides. It felt like the whole world was crashing down around us; people were talking about the school being "cursed." A week that had begun with normal high-school concerns -- I remember my friend Angela off-handedly saying on Monday morning that she hoped she could "survive this week," meaning get all her work done -- ended with the trauma of Bob's wake after school on Friday, and his memorial service that night.

Hard to believe it's been ten years since all that happened. I vividly recall that Wednesday morning, November 19, 1997; I was in Dr. Pilotte's chemistry class when someone asked me if I'd heard about Bob, and I said no, and they told me he'd killed himself the night before. I spent much of the rest of the class staring, in numb disbelief, at a poster of a frog on Dr. Pilotte's desk. (I always hated that frog, for the rest of the school year.) I remember getting home from school that day, my dad asking me how my day had been, and responding, "Terrible." I didn't even know how to put it into words. And then I also vividly remember the phone call later that night, around 10:30 PM, with the rumor that somebody else had died (we didn't yet know who), and watching the 11 o'clock news as WFSB's Dennis House reported that an NHS freshman had been hit by a car. But which freshman? I didn't find out until the next morning.

Over the weekend, as I was sorting through a box of old photos from both high school and college, it occurred to me that when I look back on my NHS and USC experiences, I tend to mentally compartmentalize them into "before" and "after" periods, in each case defined by a tragic event in the fall of my junior year. College, of course, is split into pre-9/11 and post-9/11. But just as profoundly, high school is split into pre-11/18 and post-11/18.

It's cliché to say it, but I lost a bit of my innocence that week, and nothing ever seemed quite the same afterwards, because sudden, tragic deaths of friends and loved ones had become a real possibility, not just something that happens on TV or in the movies, or to other people. Ten years ago, it happened to all of us at NHS. (And it's happened far too often since. As my dad wrote after a similar string of tragedies two Novembers ago, "Bob Aniello. Jen Partridge. Christina Guyon. Sarah LeFoll. Brendan Horan. Coach Richard Hastings. Master Police Officer Pete Lavery. NHS Resource Officer Ciara McDermott." Also Elizabeth Carlson, Chris Kotch and Joe Michalski. And, more recently, Daniel Gorski, Jon Calderone, Nick Tine, Tim Hazelton, and Kerri Donlin. Terrible tragedies all. So many young people, taken too soon -- four of them from my graduating class alone, Bob included.)

Anyway... rest in peace, BoB and Jen.

Comments

[Jessica Benson Evans]

I'm glad to know that I'm not the only one who feels like my high school career, and to a lesser extent my teenage years, were defined by the deaths of BoB and Jenn. I think of them every year, and can't believe that it's been 10 years. The saddest thing for me is seeing that we've all grown up, gotten jobs, gotten married, etc, while they never had that chance. I'm sure that all towns have their fair share of tragedies, but it does seem to me as well that Newington has had more than is normal. Thanks for helping to mark the anniversary.

[josh]

Rest in peace, BoB & Jen.

I was in Mrs. Roberts' class--11th grade Honors English. A few of the girls who had had 1st period with BoB came in crying, and I asked another student whom I knew had first with those girls and asked what had happened. He just stared at me blankly and said, "Bob Aniello killed himself last night."

BoB was a friend of mine, and he was a friend of many, many others. Speaking to other students after his suicide, I know now that he gave "warning signs," that we as teenagers were wholly unprepared to seek.

In this particular case, I place much of the blame on the teachers, guidance counselors, and other adults in BoB's life, who failed to see the tragedy ahead of time. Rationally, as a teacher, I understand that we can't always find every single depressed student, but it is (and always has been) in BoB's memory that I take my role as a mandatory reporter seriously. When faced with depressed students, I talk to them not only about my own personal struggle with depression, but the effect of BoB's death on my life.

Furthermore, there is one more item about BoB's death that has irked me since the days and weeks following his death. Although the administration at NHS "officially" recognized Jen's death and her individual tragedy (through interviews with news media), there was never any "official" recognition of BoB's death. School officials always mentioned Jen's name and said "among other tragedies in the NHS community" or something to that effect. Mercifully, I have not been in a situation since I became a teacher where a student at that school died.

Of course, I put a lot of blame on those adults, but I really didn't know what BoB's life was like, now that I think about it. I called him a friend, but he was not a close friend of mine. After his death, I was able to piece together the hell his life had become. And I still partially blame myself, too, for not spotting some of the warning signs.

My best memories of BoB surround his constant playing with the several-foot-long chain he had attached to (one of) his tongue piercings. And his green hair.

BoB, you have not been forgotten. I keep my eyes out for others in trouble, and I try to be the adult that you probably needed.

[Marty West]

Sorry for you loss.

On a lighter note...is that a UCONN Starter jacket?

[Brendan Loy]

Yes, Marty, it is. I did grow up in Connecticut, after all. I loved that UConn jacket.

Josh, what a fine tribute to BoB, making a conscious effort as a teacher to prevent other tragedies like his. Very admirable and fitting.

With regard to the administration's decision not to talk to the media specifcially about BoB's death, I wonder whether: 1) there might have been a request from his family that they do so (pure speculation on my part, I have no idea); and/or 2) they wanted to avoid "glorifying" his suicide and thus potentially inspiring copycats (something BoB's father was very, very concerned about, as he expressed in his bravely delivered, impassioned plea to BoB's friends during his eulogy).

I'm not saying the administration handled it the right way, necessarily, I'm just suggesting they might have had good reasons and motivations that weren't apparent to us at the time.

Besides which, it was a very difficult situation for them, too. I remember mentally comparing Mr. Hoey's Friday-morning address to the school with the Queen's address to her subjects in England a few months earlier, after Princess Diana's death. Everyone wanted the Queen/Principal to say something, and then when she/he finally did, it seemed so inadequate... too little, too late... not emotive enough, etc. ... but could anything really be adequate? Again, I'm not defending how it was handled, but I'm willing to give them a bit of slack. They were muddling through, just like we were. And our emotions were very raw, so any misstep on their part would loom very large.

Sadly, I imagine the NHS administration has probably gotten better at handling tragedies over the last decade. They've certainly had adequate practice. :(

[josh]

Good comparison, Brendan, but the Administration at NHS never (never) officially acknowledged or allowed our class to acknowledge BoB's death. You remember that we tried to get the '97-'98 yearbook dedicated to BoB and Jen's memory; the Administration denied that request. Rumor (again, the rumor) was that they didn't really have a problem with dedicating it to Jen, but they did have a problem with, as you put it, "glorifying" BoB's suicide.

However, in years past, I have seen other schools in my district deal with this tragedy in a very different way--publicly acknowledge what happened, at least to the students. Something that I think would have made Mr. Hoey's Friday Morning Announcement more tolerable would have been if we were able to have frank discussions about suicide. None of my teachers did. I had more discussions about suicide with teachers after the shootings at Columbine than after BoB ... and which affected me more?

BoB's death affected me greatly (I was suicidal in high school, and BoB was one of the reasons why I didn't go through with it), and it has shaped my outlook since. Your analogy is apt, Brendan, but I think that it could have been handled much differently.

[Brendan Loy]

Re: "allow[ing] our class to acknowledge BoB's death," didn't the administration play some role in helping organize things for students who wanted to attend BoB's wake after school on Friday? Or am I misremembering that?

Anyway, I agree with you the public acknowledgment, at least within the school, would have been better. It's not like people didn't already know what happened. It was totally crappy how the news got out, entirely via the rumor mill. And I agree re: "frank discussions about suicide." I had one class (or rather, study hall) with such a discussion, but that was it.

With regard to the yearbook thing and, especially, the talking-to-the-media thing, I'm just saying I can understand where the administration was coming from. And again, we don't know what, if anything, BoB's family may have requested. Personally, unless there was a contrary request from the family, I think the administration should have let us dedicate the yearbook to BoB and Jen, particularly since it would be published many months later, when the immediate fear of "copycat" acts would presumably have passed. But while I disagree with their decision, I can understand their reasoning. That's all I'm saying.

[josh]

Ten years later, as an adult and as a teacher, I can totally understand their decision. I still disagree with it, however.

[Brendan Loy]

Fair enough.

[Leanna Loomer]

Parents of Class of '99 students were at the high school the evening of the night BoB shot himself. It was the first pre-college meeting parents of juniors had, and was the beginning of the various meetings leading up to college. We went home feeling like a new world was opening for you. I wondered afterwards if BoB's parents had been at that meeting. The future, lost just as it appeared.

Ever since BoB's death, the John Mellencamp song ('Jack and Diane'?) with your favorite line, Brendan, about making sixteen last as long as you can, has made me think of BoB. When you and the rest of your class turned seventeen, you were leaving BoB behind, to be forever sixteen.

[Becky]

Are you videotaping a high school football game there? I seem to remember you regalling me with tales of your football program's epic losses. How adorably nerdy!

It sucks when young people die. There was a kid in my grade school class who died of leukemia and it was really sad for everyone when he finally lost that battle. His mom sang "you are my sunshine" at the funeral. :(

[Brendan Loy]

Yes, indeed I am videotaping a high-school football game, and I don't doubt that it was in fact an epic loss. :) I used to videotape athletic events and then capture screen-grabs from the videos for the Living Room Times. I didn't have a digital camera, but I had a TV Card on the family computer, so that was the only way for me to produce almost-instant digital images for the LRT.

[Jen]

Funny how I rarely check Brendan's site, however, today I did and saw the blog about Bob and Jen. It made my stomach drop because of all the feelings it brought back. I remember sitting next to Josh in English, hearing the news. I also remember feeling like the school administration was just trying to move on from something that you don't move on from. I also remember meeting with Mr. Hoey after with a group of classmates (bren and josh, you were there, i think) and it seems like the adminstration wanted to do better but just didn't know how. I still think of that week sometimes, and i remember the sadness, but i also remember that we as a school came together for each other.

[Brendan Loy]

You know, Jen, I had totally forgotten about that meeting, but now that you mention it, yes, I was there.

You're right that the school came together. As so often happens when tragedy strikes a given community, in many instances it brought out the best in people, whether it was comforting a hysterical classmate at the wake or just generally trying to be there for one another. I also think it made us more aware of being sure to try and look out for one another and keep tabs on those who might be in trouble. I know at least in my case, there were several instances where I went to a counselor or otherwise took quick action because I was worried about someone. Heck, my parents still have a second phone line which is a legacy of that time -- we used to have only one phone line, and it very often tied up with modem use, and I wanted to be sure that people would be able to reach me, in case there was some sort of emergency involving a classmate in trouble... so I made an impassioned plea to my parents to get a second phone line, for that very reason, and they did. Funny the random legacies that live on... they may soon finally get rid of that line, because they're thinking about getting Cable/DSL at last, but for the last decade they've had it, and it all started with the events of this week ten years ago.

[jlr]

That's not something I remember, Jen. I may have been there, but I'm not sure. What I remember about that week, aside from sadness and aside from the togetherness of the entire student body, is what felt to me like the lack of action by the adults around me. I remember walking to the library with Kate after school after Jen's accident, and I remember some reporter from Channel 3 trying to interview us; both of us just kept walking. A few students, if I recall, did speak to the reporters, and I remember feeling even worse about that after seeing the report on the news that night.

The one thing I'll say was that the administrators did manage to keep the media off of the school's property, but they sure as heck swooped in as soon as we left campus.

[Jackie]

BoB left a message on Pauly's answering machine before he shot himself that said to us, "Remember how I told you we are the masters of our own destruction? Well, I was right." and that was it. He was angry at us all before he died, we didn't know why...the last time I saw him alive he grabbed two packs of cigarettes from Pauly's carton and walked out of the room with a wink and blew a kiss at me. I loved that kid - still do, something about him was different from our other friends. Jen was my first friend here, and I was supposed to walk with her to the crosswalk but I didn't. I still have guilt about that - I even gave my daughter her middle last name.

I miss them both so much as I know all of thier friends do. Thank you SO MUCH for posting this and keeping the memorial website up. It really means a lot.

As far as the administration goes -they were AWFUL to our group and was one of the many reasons I dropped out of school. I couldn't stand to be watched like I was going to stick a gun in my mouth next, treated like a freak because I wore black and listened to Marilyn Manson. They should have been different, they should have handled things differently - and I don't recall the media but I know that I was just in a daze for a long time after.

It's very interesting to hear other persepectives. I just hope my kids never have to go through something like this...

[Jackie]

Another thought I had on my mid-day break was about the media and Lenny's eulogy, I remember at the wake that Bob's mom asked me if I could wake him up because he'd been sleeping for too long. That was frightening. I remember that his parents refused to tell us where he was buried as well...I now think his ashes are in a Bloomfield cemetary, but if you go and see the graves surrounding it it's just odd. Bob told us he felt ignored at home because he was different, and said he'd keep his hair green forever until they try to wash it out. I didn't know what that meant but it was obvious at the wake that he knew they'd try to wash it out...is anyone else still thinking they might be traumatized from this?? I was thinking I was nuts for a while, that no one else must think about them as much. Anyway...enough rambling.

[Brendan]

NOTE: I deleted/edited a few comments of mine, and one from Ilona, because in retrospect it occurred to me that I probably shouldn't have been bringing a couple of people's names into the discussion who I did. Sometimes I get carried away in reminiscing with friends & family, and almost forget that I'm on the Internet. :) Anyway, it's nothing personal, Ilona, I just thought it was probably better to delete my comments, and I had to delete yours too because it doesn't make sense without mine preceding it.

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