In memoriam: Karl Wendel 1952-2024
I’m Karl’s older brother Dane Konop. We weren’t blood brothers, having
had two completely different sets of parents, but were brothers out of our
close friendship and deep affinity for each other.
Karl and I met one afternoon in September of 1970 on Philadelphia Street in
Indiana, Pa. It was the first week of classes at Indiana University of
Pennsylvania, where Karl was an 18-year-old freshman and I was a 21-year-
old, third semester senior.
I was coming out of Patti’s bar where I just had a bowl of chili for lunch
when I ran into Karl, who had that curly, frizzy, Art Garfunkle-like hair do
and was wearing pink cowboy boots and a shaggy wool vest like the one
worn by Sonny Bono on the cover of his first album with Cher. We struck
up a conversation. I said to him you don't look like you're from around
here. "Certainly not, near Philly,” he said. He asked me if there was
anything to do in this town, which he called "Squaresville." I said no, not
much really, except for in a few apartments scattered around town, like
mine.
I lived across the street from Patti's with Bob Beach, a blues musician,
Chuck Ball and his dog Kimo, and Bernie Miller, whose distinction was that
he had the longest hair of any guy in town and was a dead-ringer for those
paintings of a European-looking Jesus. Our place, which was four separate
sets of rooms with a shared kitchen and bathroom above a taxi stand, was
what the adults then would have called a hippie pad. I invited Karl over and
we talked for a couple of hours. He told me in later years that I was the
reason he stuck it out in Indiana because he said there was at least one hip
guy in town. Maybe he meant Bob Beach. From then on he always called
me his older brother. His son Michael still calls me Uncle Dane.
This may surprise you, but Karl earned a B.A. in psychology at Indiana and
was on IUP’s fencing team. Karl always had a keen interest in martial arts
and, some of you may know, went on to get a black belt in karate. Although
he loved the sport, the injuries he received practicing it ended up causing
chronic, debilitating pain in his later life.
Over the years, one of my favorite things to do was to visit Karl and his
girlfriend and later wife Tanyia, beginning when I was single and continuing
after Janet and I married and he and Tanyia married, when they had their
first son Karl, who we called K4, and then Michael and we had our son Dane
Christian, who was a couple years younger than K4 and a couple of years
older than Michael.
Karl and Tanyia’s parties when they were still single were unforgettable,
with great food and fine wine and populated by really interesting, beautiful
people, a winning combination.
The best outing I ever attended was the 30th birthday party that Tanyia
threw for Karl, when she hired a bus and transported Janet, me and about 30
other friends from their house near Harrisburg to the Serbian Crown
restaurant on Wisconsin Avenue in Washington, D.C., where we had a
private dining room. In advance of the party, Tanyia had given me the task
of securing the booze for the bus ride at a D.C. liquor store that Karl liked
that was near where Janet and I lived in Silver Spring, Maryland. Tanyia
had given me a list of wines and other alcohol she wanted and a big budget
to pay for them. I was a regular patron, but when I left with a couple
thousand dollars worth of Dom Perignon and other expensive wines my
status as a customer skyrocketed. From then on, when I went into Morris
Miller to buy liquor, I was treated like a prince, when it was Karl who was
the real prince.
Over the years, Karl was a regular at the Gabby Hayes Memorial Fishing
Tournament, which I founded in 1976. Each year, a dozen or so guys attend
the Gabby tournament in mid-April, where we fish Kettle Creek near Cross
Fork in Potter County and camp in the state forest near the stream. Karl was
always a Gabby camp favorite. As our sons got into their teens, several of
them, including K4, Michael and Dane Christian joined us. The young guys
were all drawn to Karl, partly in admiration of the Bowie knife he always
wore strapped to his hip, but mostly I’m sure because they thought he was
way cooler than their dads. [Here, Tanyia interrupted to correct me. It was
not a Bowie knife, she said, which she pronounced like David Bowie, but a
custom-made Rambo knife that he had seen in the first Rambo series.
Obviously, Tanyia had never seen Walt Disney’s “Davy Crocket at the
Alamo" and I had never seen any of the Rambo movies.]
This past April at the Gabby, instead of camping, I rented a luxury cabin
near Cross Fork for Dane Christian and me, and Karl joined us. After
almost 50 years of Gabby tournaments, my favorite Gabby memory is the
Thursday night before this year’s Saturday tournament, standing on the
porch of the cabin with Karl, drinking, reminiscing and watching it rain cats
and dogs, with streamlets of water coming off the hillside everywhere you
looked. We both were thanking our lucky stars we weren't camping.
Karl was having trouble walking and breathing, which was made worse by
our campfire, so he didn't go into camp on Friday. When DC and I got back
to the cabin, there was Karl still in his pajamas reading a printout proof copy
of the book about the French and Indian War I had recently finished writing.
He said he had planned to read only a few pages, take a shower and shave,
but said he couldn't put the book down. Except for the time he was in camp
for our Saturday evening camp meeting, when we awarded a trophy for the
largest trout caught, Karl spent the whole weekend in the cabin reading my
book. He told me he thought it was a great book, which has encouraged me
lately now that I'm having trouble finding a publisher. I’ll always be
thankful we had that one, final fun weekend together. That was the last time
I saw him.
Michael sent out an email note to the Gabby Guys informing them of Karl’s
death. Several of them responded with their own stories of Karl. I’d like to
read parts of a few of them for you.
The first is from Bob Prosperi, an IUP grad and former roommate of mine
who was a historian at the Gettysburg National Battlefield Park. Some of
you older folks may remember the Camp David Accords of September 1978,
when President Jimmy Carter negotiated a treaty between Israel and Egypt.
When Jimmy and Rosalynn and Egyptian President Anwar Sadat and Israeli
President Manachem Begin visited Gettysburg during the negotiations, it
was Bob who gave them their tour of the battlefield, which made front page
news in papers across the country and all national tv news broadcasts.
Bob wrote, “I met Karl at a party after I had gotten out of the army and
returned to Indiana in 1971. I woke up under a bush in the back yard the
next morning. And thus began our friendship. After he graduated and left
Indiana, the apartment that Dane and I shared became Karl's residence when
he returned to town. Usually he would show up in the middle of the night
with a crew of merry-makers and that's when the fun would start! Not long
after I left Indiana and returned to Gettysburg, Karl and Tanya moved to
East Berlin and we visited frequently, as I did when they moved to Dillsburg
and then to Selinsgrove, although less frequently. He and Tanya were
always the best hosts!”
This one is from Ty Albert, one of Karl’s oldest and best friends.
Ty wrote, “Karl was a mix of Errol Flynn and Hunter S Thompson. Never
another like him. I am saddened and shocked. Karl and I were very close
and for a period of years he was my best friend. There were numerous
adventures along the way. Karl brought me to the Gabby and I met Dane
through Karl. He and Tanya were there for me at a critical time in my life
that I’ll always remember. I love them like family because they are family.
Karl and I didn’t always stay in touch as we should have but seemed to pick
up where we left off when we did get together. I don’t recall a word in
anger between us. Ever. I loved Karl like a brother and will remember and
miss him as such. RIP. Thanks for being an important part of my life.”
This final one is my favorite tribute. It’s by Keith Robinson, also an IUP
grad and a former Navy shipmate of mine. Rob is a keen observer, having
been a journalist and bureau chief for the Associated Press in Indianapolis.
Rob wrote, “Michael, your dad was one of a kind, and I will miss him. I
knew him from our IUP days and also at Gabby camp over the many years.
I never saw him in a foul mood; I always marveled at how jovial he was
while also showing a strong, often domineering personality. He was one of
those people that if you were the most joyful, funny and attention-getting
person in a roomful of people, you no longer held that distinction when he
walked in. Beneath his often coarse exterior, he was always kind, respectful
and friendly to me. I always looked forward to seeing him at camp and
embracing him. I will have a beer in his remembrance. Probably two or
three.”
I wrote in a condolence note to Michael that his dad was a one-of-a-kind
social phenomenon who made an indelible impression on all who knew
him. He was like family to Janet, DC and me. We will miss him very much.
had two completely different sets of parents, but were brothers out of our
close friendship and deep affinity for each other.
Karl and I met one afternoon in September of 1970 on Philadelphia Street in
Indiana, Pa. It was the first week of classes at Indiana University of
Pennsylvania, where Karl was an 18-year-old freshman and I was a 21-year-
old, third semester senior.
I was coming out of Patti’s bar where I just had a bowl of chili for lunch
when I ran into Karl, who had that curly, frizzy, Art Garfunkle-like hair do
and was wearing pink cowboy boots and a shaggy wool vest like the one
worn by Sonny Bono on the cover of his first album with Cher. We struck
up a conversation. I said to him you don't look like you're from around
here. "Certainly not, near Philly,” he said. He asked me if there was
anything to do in this town, which he called "Squaresville." I said no, not
much really, except for in a few apartments scattered around town, like
mine.
I lived across the street from Patti's with Bob Beach, a blues musician,
Chuck Ball and his dog Kimo, and Bernie Miller, whose distinction was that
he had the longest hair of any guy in town and was a dead-ringer for those
paintings of a European-looking Jesus. Our place, which was four separate
sets of rooms with a shared kitchen and bathroom above a taxi stand, was
what the adults then would have called a hippie pad. I invited Karl over and
we talked for a couple of hours. He told me in later years that I was the
reason he stuck it out in Indiana because he said there was at least one hip
guy in town. Maybe he meant Bob Beach. From then on he always called
me his older brother. His son Michael still calls me Uncle Dane.
This may surprise you, but Karl earned a B.A. in psychology at Indiana and
was on IUP’s fencing team. Karl always had a keen interest in martial arts
and, some of you may know, went on to get a black belt in karate. Although
he loved the sport, the injuries he received practicing it ended up causing
chronic, debilitating pain in his later life.
Over the years, one of my favorite things to do was to visit Karl and his
girlfriend and later wife Tanyia, beginning when I was single and continuing
after Janet and I married and he and Tanyia married, when they had their
first son Karl, who we called K4, and then Michael and we had our son Dane
Christian, who was a couple years younger than K4 and a couple of years
older than Michael.
Karl and Tanyia’s parties when they were still single were unforgettable,
with great food and fine wine and populated by really interesting, beautiful
people, a winning combination.
The best outing I ever attended was the 30th birthday party that Tanyia
threw for Karl, when she hired a bus and transported Janet, me and about 30
other friends from their house near Harrisburg to the Serbian Crown
restaurant on Wisconsin Avenue in Washington, D.C., where we had a
private dining room. In advance of the party, Tanyia had given me the task
of securing the booze for the bus ride at a D.C. liquor store that Karl liked
that was near where Janet and I lived in Silver Spring, Maryland. Tanyia
had given me a list of wines and other alcohol she wanted and a big budget
to pay for them. I was a regular patron, but when I left with a couple
thousand dollars worth of Dom Perignon and other expensive wines my
status as a customer skyrocketed. From then on, when I went into Morris
Miller to buy liquor, I was treated like a prince, when it was Karl who was
the real prince.
Over the years, Karl was a regular at the Gabby Hayes Memorial Fishing
Tournament, which I founded in 1976. Each year, a dozen or so guys attend
the Gabby tournament in mid-April, where we fish Kettle Creek near Cross
Fork in Potter County and camp in the state forest near the stream. Karl was
always a Gabby camp favorite. As our sons got into their teens, several of
them, including K4, Michael and Dane Christian joined us. The young guys
were all drawn to Karl, partly in admiration of the Bowie knife he always
wore strapped to his hip, but mostly I’m sure because they thought he was
way cooler than their dads. [Here, Tanyia interrupted to correct me. It was
not a Bowie knife, she said, which she pronounced like David Bowie, but a
custom-made Rambo knife that he had seen in the first Rambo series.
Obviously, Tanyia had never seen Walt Disney’s “Davy Crocket at the
Alamo" and I had never seen any of the Rambo movies.]
This past April at the Gabby, instead of camping, I rented a luxury cabin
near Cross Fork for Dane Christian and me, and Karl joined us. After
almost 50 years of Gabby tournaments, my favorite Gabby memory is the
Thursday night before this year’s Saturday tournament, standing on the
porch of the cabin with Karl, drinking, reminiscing and watching it rain cats
and dogs, with streamlets of water coming off the hillside everywhere you
looked. We both were thanking our lucky stars we weren't camping.
Karl was having trouble walking and breathing, which was made worse by
our campfire, so he didn't go into camp on Friday. When DC and I got back
to the cabin, there was Karl still in his pajamas reading a printout proof copy
of the book about the French and Indian War I had recently finished writing.
He said he had planned to read only a few pages, take a shower and shave,
but said he couldn't put the book down. Except for the time he was in camp
for our Saturday evening camp meeting, when we awarded a trophy for the
largest trout caught, Karl spent the whole weekend in the cabin reading my
book. He told me he thought it was a great book, which has encouraged me
lately now that I'm having trouble finding a publisher. I’ll always be
thankful we had that one, final fun weekend together. That was the last time
I saw him.
Michael sent out an email note to the Gabby Guys informing them of Karl’s
death. Several of them responded with their own stories of Karl. I’d like to
read parts of a few of them for you.
The first is from Bob Prosperi, an IUP grad and former roommate of mine
who was a historian at the Gettysburg National Battlefield Park. Some of
you older folks may remember the Camp David Accords of September 1978,
when President Jimmy Carter negotiated a treaty between Israel and Egypt.
When Jimmy and Rosalynn and Egyptian President Anwar Sadat and Israeli
President Manachem Begin visited Gettysburg during the negotiations, it
was Bob who gave them their tour of the battlefield, which made front page
news in papers across the country and all national tv news broadcasts.
Bob wrote, “I met Karl at a party after I had gotten out of the army and
returned to Indiana in 1971. I woke up under a bush in the back yard the
next morning. And thus began our friendship. After he graduated and left
Indiana, the apartment that Dane and I shared became Karl's residence when
he returned to town. Usually he would show up in the middle of the night
with a crew of merry-makers and that's when the fun would start! Not long
after I left Indiana and returned to Gettysburg, Karl and Tanya moved to
East Berlin and we visited frequently, as I did when they moved to Dillsburg
and then to Selinsgrove, although less frequently. He and Tanya were
always the best hosts!”
This one is from Ty Albert, one of Karl’s oldest and best friends.
Ty wrote, “Karl was a mix of Errol Flynn and Hunter S Thompson. Never
another like him. I am saddened and shocked. Karl and I were very close
and for a period of years he was my best friend. There were numerous
adventures along the way. Karl brought me to the Gabby and I met Dane
through Karl. He and Tanya were there for me at a critical time in my life
that I’ll always remember. I love them like family because they are family.
Karl and I didn’t always stay in touch as we should have but seemed to pick
up where we left off when we did get together. I don’t recall a word in
anger between us. Ever. I loved Karl like a brother and will remember and
miss him as such. RIP. Thanks for being an important part of my life.”
This final one is my favorite tribute. It’s by Keith Robinson, also an IUP
grad and a former Navy shipmate of mine. Rob is a keen observer, having
been a journalist and bureau chief for the Associated Press in Indianapolis.
Rob wrote, “Michael, your dad was one of a kind, and I will miss him. I
knew him from our IUP days and also at Gabby camp over the many years.
I never saw him in a foul mood; I always marveled at how jovial he was
while also showing a strong, often domineering personality. He was one of
those people that if you were the most joyful, funny and attention-getting
person in a roomful of people, you no longer held that distinction when he
walked in. Beneath his often coarse exterior, he was always kind, respectful
and friendly to me. I always looked forward to seeing him at camp and
embracing him. I will have a beer in his remembrance. Probably two or
three.”
I wrote in a condolence note to Michael that his dad was a one-of-a-kind
social phenomenon who made an indelible impression on all who knew
him. He was like family to Janet, DC and me. We will miss him very much.
In Memoriam: James Colaianne
James Colaianne, formerly of Wexford, Pa., age 75, died June 6 in hospice
care at the Grandview Estates nursing home in Elizabeth, Pa. He had been in
declining health in recent years as a result of lingering complications from a
traumatic brain injury suffered in a bicycle accident while he was a graduate
student at Penn State University in 1977. Despite his injury, he had a long career
as a chemical engineer, serving as a project manager for the Dravo Corporation,
U.S. Steel, Gulf Oil, Proctor & Gamble and other companies, which included
assignments in South America.
He was the son of the late Eta and Samuel Colaianne, who was a severely wounded
WWII U.S. Army veteran.
Born on Jan. 2, 1949, Jim was a native of Apollo, Pa., and a 1966 graduate of
Apollo High School. He earned a Bachelor of Science degree in biology from
Indiana University of Pennsylvania, where he was a member of the Kappa Delta
Rho fraternity and one of the organizers of the fraternity’s annual “Walk to
Pittsburgh” to benefit Children’s Hospital. He earned a Master of Science degree
in chemical engineering from Penn State University. He was a veteran of the
Pennsylvania National Guard.
As a young man, Jim was a legendary and fearless white water kayaker and guide
on the Youghiogheny River at Ohiopyle, Pa. On one outing he was leading, a
group of Pittsburgh Steelers were being rowdy, not following his instructions and,
he felt, putting themselves and other boaters at risk. Finally, he had them bring
their boat to shore for some “adjustments,” then deflated the boat and sent them on
their way on foot back to their cars.
Jim was the consummate do it yourselfer, skilled in auto mechanics, plumbing, and
electrical work among other things, often eagerly helping his friends with home
projects. He took great pleasure in hosting parties and picnics for his legion of
friends in the Pittsburgh area.
Jim is survived by his brother Samuel Colaianne, Jr., of Apollo, Pa, sisters, Linda
Hall of Ligonier, Pa., and Mary Colaianne of Penn Hills, Pa., his daughter Jenna
Colaianne of Los Angeles, Calif,, and his former wife, June Metzger of Leland, N.C.
In Memoriam: Mark Bedont 1947-2021
Gabby Champion and GabbyHayes.net Webmaster Mark O. Bedont
I’m sad to report that my long-time friend and GabbyHayes.net Webmaster
Mark Bedont has died from complications from prostate cancer. Mark had
been battling the disease for the past two years, but lost the fight when it
recently spread to other parts of his body. He was 74 years old and retired
from the U.S. Department of Labor.
Mark was a native of West Mifflin, Pa., and earned bachelor’s and master’s
degrees from Indiana University of Pennsylvania. That’s where I met Mark
in 1973 when he returned to school after a tour of duty with the Army in
Vietnam and I returned after a hitch in the Navy in the Mediterranean.
Mark was a fixture at Gabby Camp over the years and one of the earliest of
what we now call the “Gabby Guys,” having made his first trip to Kettle
Creek with new I.U.P. friends Bob Prosperi, Larry Selby, Paul Phillips, Jerry
Scarpo and me in 1975, the year before the first Gabby tournament.
Mark was one of the nicest guys you’d ever want to meet, a favorite in
Gabby camp, aptly described by Gabby Guy Jeff Cousins as a “true
gentleman.” He was smart and gregarious, with a rapport for people
regardless of their background. Even when camping in the woods he
always looked neat and dapper, never disheveled.
In 2009, after decades of catching fish on Kettle and three times as the
tournament runner-up, Mark won the Gabby Hayes Memorial Trout Fishing
Tournament with a 13 1/2-inch rainbow. That same Saturday, he received a
Founders Award for contributions to the betterment of the Gabby
experience by Gabby.Hayes.net, the tournament website he created in
1999. With Mark’s endorsement, Julius Czarnecki, a member of the Gabby
Pocono Tribe, will succeed as webmaster of GabbyHayes.net.
Mark is survived by his wife Sally, son Alex, a Gabby Champion in 2014,
daughter-in-law Kari and three grandchildren, Mark, Melody and Elijah.
Mark was buried with military honors on Dec. 20, 2021, in the
Jerusalem Western Salisbury Church Cemetery in Allentown, Pa., his wife Sally's family church.
Founder Dane Konop
I’m sad to report that my long-time friend and GabbyHayes.net Webmaster
Mark Bedont has died from complications from prostate cancer. Mark had
been battling the disease for the past two years, but lost the fight when it
recently spread to other parts of his body. He was 74 years old and retired
from the U.S. Department of Labor.
Mark was a native of West Mifflin, Pa., and earned bachelor’s and master’s
degrees from Indiana University of Pennsylvania. That’s where I met Mark
in 1973 when he returned to school after a tour of duty with the Army in
Vietnam and I returned after a hitch in the Navy in the Mediterranean.
Mark was a fixture at Gabby Camp over the years and one of the earliest of
what we now call the “Gabby Guys,” having made his first trip to Kettle
Creek with new I.U.P. friends Bob Prosperi, Larry Selby, Paul Phillips, Jerry
Scarpo and me in 1975, the year before the first Gabby tournament.
Mark was one of the nicest guys you’d ever want to meet, a favorite in
Gabby camp, aptly described by Gabby Guy Jeff Cousins as a “true
gentleman.” He was smart and gregarious, with a rapport for people
regardless of their background. Even when camping in the woods he
always looked neat and dapper, never disheveled.
In 2009, after decades of catching fish on Kettle and three times as the
tournament runner-up, Mark won the Gabby Hayes Memorial Trout Fishing
Tournament with a 13 1/2-inch rainbow. That same Saturday, he received a
Founders Award for contributions to the betterment of the Gabby
experience by Gabby.Hayes.net, the tournament website he created in
1999. With Mark’s endorsement, Julius Czarnecki, a member of the Gabby
Pocono Tribe, will succeed as webmaster of GabbyHayes.net.
Mark is survived by his wife Sally, son Alex, a Gabby Champion in 2014,
daughter-in-law Kari and three grandchildren, Mark, Melody and Elijah.
Mark was buried with military honors on Dec. 20, 2021, in the
Jerusalem Western Salisbury Church Cemetery in Allentown, Pa., his wife Sally's family church.
Founder Dane Konop