By David A. F. Sweet
Many remember the best-seller Tuesdays with Morrie, when sportswriter Mitch Albom visited his dying college professor for months until the elderly man passed away.
My Saturdays with Larry – Larry Crone, the lifelong Lake Forester who died recently at 93 – were different from that book in many respects. Far from being my college professor, I didn’t even know Larry until a few years ago, thanks to an introduction from Associate Pastor Kristie Finley from the First Presbyterian Church of Lake Forest. And when I met Larry, he was far from dying – he was in pain a lot and often lonely, no doubt, as his wife Lera had passed away in 1998, and they had no children. But his aching body hadn’t fully betrayed him, and his mind was sharp.
But in many ways, as Albom felt he was in a class again with his long-ago professor, I sat there as a student with Larry. I would argue that no one knew more about Lake Forest than the mustachioed gentleman. Larry conjured up stories from well before I was born about his beloved American Legion, Lake Forest High School (a 1948 graduate) and old stores I had never heard of, much less visited.
He had lived here for about 90 years, save for a stint serving in the United States Air Force during in the Korean War. He liked to say he met his wife when they were both in baby strollers in the neighborhood – Larry grew up just east of the football field at Lake Forest College, and he lived for more than 60 years a few punts away on Washington Circle, in the house where Lera had grown up. He worked at Jensen’s Shoe Store on Market Square in his younger days, and he was a mailman in town for decades. For a few years, I believe, a dog used to show up as he left his house on the route, and he’d follow Larry from house to house before returning to who knows where.
Because of his ailments, I saw Larry at the Warren Barr rehabilitation facility off Route 41, Whitehall in Deerfield, Sedgebrook in Lincolnshire, along with Balmoral in Lake Forest and Lake Forest Hospital. But mainly, I ventured to his house. I’d knock, he’d loudly say “Come in!”, and I would see him ensconced in his chair watching a Cubs’ game or old war movie. He’d turn it off, I’d ask him a few questions, and he would talk, often going on long, interesting tangents about Lake Forest memories.
Rest assured I was not Larry’s only visitor. I’ll miss a few names, but Bob Shaw, Gale Strenger Wayne and John Johnson saw him often. No one, however, was as dedicated as Liz Gescheidle and her husband, John. From paying his bills to driving him to church to buying him a hospital bed for his final days at home, they were truly saints. One of Larry’s fondest memories was being honored at Wrigley Field a few years ago and waving to the crowd, thanks to the Gescheidles’ efforts.
Larry loved being honored during a Cubs' game at Wrigley Field.
Lake Forest Day arrives in a few weeks, and Larry attended close to 90 of them. As I wrote in the Dialogue recently, “He remembers what they were like as a boy during The Great Depression. He recalls the time two elephants joined the parade, as well as the day he served as the grand marshal, waving to the crowd from a convertible. For years, the Korean War veteran ran the event’s raffle for the Lake Forest American Legion – which operates Lake Forest Day – and helped build the Post’s hamburger and beer stands in West Park, along with picking up empty soft-drink bottles to return to vendors.”
In this era of easy travel and scattered families, it’s hard to imagine another nonagenarian who will be able to say he spent all but a few years of his life in Lake Forest. Larry, you were a local legend.
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