Obituary
William Samuel Roush Jr.
William S. Roush Jr. passed away unexpectedly at his home in Milwaukee, WI on July 3, 2013. He was born in Des Moines, Iowa March 11, 1954 to William and Eulonda Roush. He grew up in La Crosse, WI attending Central H.S. and enjoying the local coulee region. Bill was involved in the boy scouts and liked to swim and play golf at the La Crosse C.C. He was a distinguished scholar graduating from Duke University with honors. His goal was to become a lawyer, and he accomplished this by 1980, earning a law degree from Marquette University in Milwaukee, WI. He joined the firm of Friebert, Finerty & St. John, where he practiced law for 16 years, developing a substantial practice and reputation as one of the most knowledgeable practitioners in environmental and administrative law. He became known for his far-ranging understanding of the legal, engineering, and scientific issues of those fields. Bill continued his work in environmental and administrative law with the firm of Davis & Kuelthau, and later as an independent practitioner, where he provided exceptionally knowledgeable advice to his clients concerning compliance and enforcement issues. A tenacious and resourceful litigator, Bill stood as an example for his peers.
During his years practicing law for Friebert, Finerty & St. John, Bill married Nancy Hanna of Milwaukee and had three children. Their first child was a girl, Jackie, followed by two boys, Erich and Elliot. Nancy and Bill were later divorced but he loved his children and was proud of their accomplishments. Jackie earned a teaching degree and is currently attending law school in Madison. Erich graduated from UW Madison as a Veterinarian. Elliot graduated from UW Madison and is a computer programmer. Bill had a very special friend, William Guis of Milwaukee, a fellow lawyer. William Guis was always there for him as a close companion, helping him as recent health problems developed hindering Bill’s mobility. Bill was greatly loved by his parents William and Eulonda Roush, his brother Stan Roush, his children, relatives, and friends. Bill and Stan were always close throughout the years and would discuss computer issues and the state of Badger athletics, or the Packers and Brewers, over long phone sessions. Bill would come back to La Crosse frequently for family and Holiday occasions. These were special family times when Bill’s mother Eulonda would cook exquisite meals that were the centerpiece for family celebrations. His father, William Roush Sr. always supported Bill with sage advice along with patient and unconditional love. As a family, we cherished our times together, and will keep our love for Bill alive through our fond memories. Bill will be remembered for his kind manner, sense of humor, and quick wit.
Bill Jr. is survived by his parents, William and Eulonda Roush, his brother, Stan Roush, and his three children Jackie, Erich, and Elliot Roush. His memorial service will take place on Saturday, August 3rd at 11:00 a.m., with visitation beginning at 10:00 a.m. The service will be held at First Congregational Church located on the corner of Losey Blvd. and Main St., La Crosse, WI. A luncheon will be held immediately following the service in the community room at this location. Memorial donations can be made in his name to the First Congregational Church of La Crosse, where Bill was confirmed. All Relatives, friends and loved ones are invited to attend.
Bill was a kind neighbor with a good heart and a sensible mind. Our kids knew him as Mr. Bill and loved him for the person he was: a gentle, simple, yet contemplative man. He once told us as we decorated our house at Christmas time with our kids, “Cherish these moments.” We did and will continue to do so, perhaps even more so because of his words. Our condolences to the entire family: Your loss runs deep, and you will be in our thoughts and prayers.
Throughout our school years together, Bill was a dear friend (or occasionally “frenemy”) and a classmate whose rapier-quick wit was a rich and ready source of entertainment for the rest of us, even when you were the subject of the joke. The Class of ’72 had quite a competitive little group of “brainiacs,” and Bill was among the best of them. He also had his sensitive side, and I recall sitting around as he and his best buddy Phil sang and played guitar together for a few of us other friends. Words cannot express how saddened I am to hear of your loss. Please accept my deepest condolences.
Yes, Cindy. With Phil living across the street from me, I saw Bill often. I believe it was in my front yard where some of this guitar playing occurred. What great fun that was!
We never had to wonder what Bill thought – he let us know! What a great sense of humor he had and shared with us.
What a terrible loss for his family and his friends.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Roush and Family,
I was so saddened to learn of Bill’s passing. He was my neighbor up in Ebner’s Coulee and ’72 Classmate. He had a great wit and we had many great conversations and discussions on a variety of topics. Often Bill would take the opposite view just to keep me on my toes. The Class of ’72 was diverse, intelligent and shooting for the stars…Bill was a shining example of those attributes. Because he loved the environment, I share this Native American Prayer with you.
“I give you this…one thought to keep.
I am with you still, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the sunlight on the ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush,
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not think of me as gone,
I am with you still in each new dawn.”
Thoughts and Prayers, Johanna
Remembering Bill
Bill Roush was one of my best friends in life, from late junior high, through high school, and onto college where we roomed together our freshman year at UW-Madison in Ogg Hall, and then rented a house on Drake Street. Throughout those growing up and maturing years we did most everything together from night and weekend skiing at Mt. La Crosse to golfing, to tennis, to playing guitars, you name it, and always, always driving around aimlessly weekend nights for years on end with Mike Hutson and Scott Pickett, the four of us looking for the heart of Saturday night, which turned out to be one of Bill’s favorite songs, but which in reality we never quite found and continue to search for to this day. After college we went on to our separate careers, me in journalism and music, Bill in law, but stayed in touch, remained friends, and we each stood up for one another in each other’s wedding, and watched the other move into the world of married life, and eventually parenthood. In other words, I could write and write and write and never scratch the surface of all the life experiences, conversations, escapades, philosophical discussions, songs, riffs, jokes, games, bluffs, stunts, and general living life stuff we did together. For better or worse, I owe my love for motorcycles to Bill who lent me his Harley Sprint my sophomore year of college when he purchased his Norton Commando. He could have sold it, but instead held onto it long enough for me to try my hand at riding. I was bad. I kept laying it down, crashing. I quit riding for 30 years after the last slide in the rain, but learned my lessons in road rash back then and perhaps saved my life thanks to Bill’s help early on. He was generous to a fault, he always picked up the tab and he always drank top shelf Scotch, usually Johnny Walker Black. He lived hard and packed a lot more living into his days than most, sensing I think that when the good times come you better recognize and enjoy them. Raise your glass to them. They’re not guaranteed. They don’t always come back.
Bill was one of the brightest, yet most stubborn and belligerent people I’ve ever known. He hated to lose a game. He would practically bet his life on winning. He had a spine, a strong one, and all of those around him knew he could take the hard stuff and was willing to suffer to prove his point and stand strong. At spring break our freshman year of college, Bill and I and two other college buddies, drove a Driveaway Car out to Los Angeles. You basically get a free ride but then give up the car to its owner. From Los Angeles we had no transportation. The four of us hitchhiked up to San Francisco, where one of the guys’ hippie sister was living. This was early 1973. Hippiedom wasn’t quite over yet. When we arrived at the Haight Asbury address, the sister and everyone else in the apartment greeted us at the door. They were all naked. We were speechless. What do you say to naked hippies? You avert your eyes and say, Hey, how’s it going?
We stayed a few days, enjoyed the sunshine, then it was time to head back to Madison and college. So Bill and I partnered up in the hitching, and went out and hit the road. Some of the rides were pretty bad. One guy in a Porsche drove 110 mph through the desert in the night and then said he was tired and wanted to take a nap and told us to get out. He locked the car and went to sleep. We paced around the car outside to keep warm, blowing on our hands. The desert was cold, cold. We were freezing. But the moment of truth came in Colorado in a spring squall of snow and rain. We were somewhere maybe 70 miles from Denver, not getting rides then, ending up in a small town, both of us shivering. I spotted a Trailways bus sign. I said, “Bill, let’s take the bus to Denver, stay with grandparents there for a few days and then fly back to Madison.” I’d had enough of the Jack Kerouac dream. We weren’t Woody Guthrie. We weren’t Jack Kerouac. We were college boys far from home. But Bill would have nothing of it. No matter how I tried to reason with him, talk him into it, he refused to give up on his personal goal of hitching all the way back home. He would show his parents. He would show his friends. He would show everybody. To not continue on was to let himself down. It was a test, too much of a compromise, maybe even a bit of a personal failure to end the quest early. He refused. There was an inner core there. Solid steel. Impenetrable. Fireproof. He was tough. I didn’t see the sense of it. I went to Denver, he kept hitching. And while it was for sure hard for him to keep thumbing in the storm, he achieved something important for him, meaningful, and memorable to the rest of us. Bill stuck to his guns. Bill kept hitching through the night. Bill Roush was Bill Roush. He was one of the good ones, one of the strong ones all right.
I was utterly shocked to hear of his early demise and now feel a deep deep sadness and a loss that words don’t describe, that can not convey or touch or give meaning to. I can’t imagine how his family feels, but they should know that they have all of Bill’s friends’ condolences and sympathies and feelings going out to them, and that memories of Bill will live on as long as we do. He’s on a new road now. But he’s with us still.