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In Memoriam
Robert
Raymond
Burlingame
June 23,
1924 –
December 26,
2000
Written by
Tom Raymond
Bob
Burlingame:
Christian
and devoted
family man.
US Navy
veteran and
American
patriot.
Athlete and
student,
teacher and
coach. He
was my first
cousin, as
his mother
was my dear
Aunt
Katherine,
my dad
Charles’
older
sister. Bob
joins them
now, along
with his
father Cris,
and his
three older
brothers,
John, Alfred
and Edwin,
and other
Raymond
grandparents
and uncles
and aunts
and cousins,
joins them
in God’s
Great White
Light that’s
beyond all
human
comprehension.
Bob
“Burls” was
my brother,
certainly my
brother in
Christ, but
more than
that. He was
a direct
influence on
me for much
of the fifty
years that I
can recall
his
presence. I
like to
think we
were as
close as my
three
natural
brothers,
Charles, Bob
and Jon.
Cousins
usually have
platonic,
“how-you-doing”
relationships,
but a few of
my cousins –
and Bob was
among them –
have been
closer than
that. After
all, first
cousins
share 50%
identical
blood, same
as
half-siblings
who usually
regard each
other simply
as brother
and sister.
And you
know,
brothers and
sisters and
close
cousins not
only express
interest in
what you’re
up to but
are also
free to tell
you when
you’re out
of line, as
did Bob to
me – for
me – on more
than one
occasion
when I
deserved it.
And he was
one of only
a handful
who still
called me
Tommy.
Bob was
the first to
take me to
baseball’s
Mecca,
Yankee
Stadium,
with
six-year old
Mark in tow,
in 1961,
Roger Maris’
banner year.
Shortly
thereafter
his Aunt
Anita, my
mother,
died, and
Bob and Nan
took me
under their
wing a bit
before dad
remarried. I
suspect Bob
hoped I’d
develop into
the ball
player he’d
been, that
indeed Mark
eventually
did become.
But I let
him down;
couldn’t hit
a slider.
But because
I too became
a sailor,
perhaps Bob
still
favored me
over some of
the others.
When I was
in the
service
myself, in
the Vietnam
era, Wendy
and I were
pen pals,
and I know
Bob and Nan
and Mark
were there
looking over
her
shoulder.
When I’d
come home on
leave I’d
see them
first in
Albany, then
come on up
to
Cambridge.
After I got
out of the
Navy in 1969
and was back
in school at
Hudson
Valley, I’d
spend Sunday
afternoons
at the
Burlingames’
watching the
Football
Giants on
the tube and
playing hoop
at halftime
with young
Mark in the
driveway, in
the snow!
At a time of
great social
unrest in
America,
when a lot
of kids
headed out
to
“Woodstock
Nation”, Bob
and Nan’s
kids
remained on
course due
to their
parent’s
prime
example. I
guess there
can be no
greater an
honor for a
parent. Bob
commanded,
not
demanded,
respect.
Bob was
really
frustrated
at some of
the hippie
types
floating
around then.
In addition
to being the
head
baseball
coach at
Albany
State, he
was also a
wrestling
coach, and
one day
decried a
comment one
of his
wrestlers
made about
his chosen
style of
comportment.
Instead of
the
athlete’s
traditional
short-crop
of hair,
this guy
opted for a
lot of shag,
and when Bob
asked him
why he
didn’t want
to polish
his image a
bit, the guy
responded,
“I don’t
want to be
one of those
All American
guys.” To
which Bob
lamented,
“Well, why
not???” Bob
just
couldn’t
figure it
out. Years
later, when
a talented
“Neon-Deion”,
“Prime-Time”
I’m-so-great-I-gotta-have-two-nicknames
Deion
Sanders
broke onto
the national
scene with
his gold
chains, ala
motor-mouth
Muhammad
Ali, Bob
again
bemoaned,
”For crying
out loud,
Tommy, where
do they
get
these
guys?” Bob
just didn’t
get it. He
didn’t get
why the new
generation
didn’t get
Jesus’
message of
“He who
would be
first shall
be last and
he who would
be last
shall be
first”. A
message no
doubt taught
them by
their
grandmothers
in their
youth, as
our
Grandmother
Blossom
surely
taught us,
but clearly
lost on
these
multimillion-dollar
court
jesters of
today.
A few
years ago,
with his
faithful
wife Nancy’s
help, Bob
compiled his
“Saltwater
and
Baseball”,
essentially
his
autobiography.
He wrote of
his boyhood
years spent
first in New
Jersey then
on Amsterdam
Avenue in
Manhattan,
where he
learned to
pivot at 2nd
base when he
wasn’t
cheering on
Mel Ott at
the Polo
Grounds.
Then at the
height of
WWII he went
to sea, his
part as a
direct
participant,
with his
brothers and
my dad and
other close
relatives,
in that
greatest of
US national
challenges.
That was his
tour in the
South
Pacific,
chronicled
in his
letters to
home, to
Aunt Kattie
and Uncle
Charlie,
then looking
after her in
the house
here in
Cambridge on
Academy
Street
called “Snug
Harbor”. If
you’ve been
privileged
to have read
Bob’s bio,
you
discovered
something of
a literary
twist
because, in
the third
person, he
turned the
story to one
of a “Rob
Raymond”,
using only
his mother’s
maiden name
and thus
honoring the
family
Raymond. He
wrote of a
student
athlete and
young
husband, of
a semi-pro
baseball
player, and
then of a
coach who
had a long
and
successful
career at
Albany
State. He
concluded
his journal
with
thumbnail
sketches of
the standout
ball players
he mentored
over the
years,
citing the
qualities of
leadership
in each of
his stars
and team
captains. To
win, he of
course
recognized,
“you gotta
have the
horses”, but
they have to
be
effectively
led in times
of strife.
So what of
the
character
qualities to
which he
wrote? Those
would be
perseverance
and courage,
honesty and
integrity,
gentleness
yet firmness
of resolve.
Today we add
Bob’s name
to his own
list of
those role
models,
those heroes
and
mentors.
In the
past few
years, as I
crossed
what’s
probably my
own life’s
midpoint,
I’ve come to
more sharply
value Bob’s
and my
common
Raymond
heritage. In
doing some
digging I’ve
come across
some
ancestors of
equally high
caliber to
Bob and his
star
ballplayers.
From our
grandfather
Robert
Rossiter
Raymond
(Sr.), we
can document
our roots in
America back
ten
generations,
to at least
1629 in New
England. We
find an
unbroken
Raymond line
of male
heirs who
were
successful
ministers
and
educators,
journalists
and
businessmen.
Some were
soldiers and
explorers
who helped
open up the
American
West a
century and
a half ago.
Two have
mountaintops
bearing the
Raymond name
in the High
Sierras of
California,
Raymond Peak
for a mining
engineer
(Rossiter W.
Raymond),
and Mount
Raymond for
a sea
captain and
owner of a
steam ship
line in the
time of the
49ers
(Israel W.
Raymond).
The latter
first
championed
Yosemite as
a public
park to be
preserved.
Still
another was
the first
Western
explorer to
steam up the
Yukon River
with the US
Army Corps
of
Engineers,
which turned
into a tale
of raw
survival at
the end of
the journey.
In
fact, the
Burlingames
and Raymonds
have a
goodly
presence in
the
tradition of
the US
Military
Academy at
West Point,
beginning
with Bob’s
great-grandfather
General
Charles
Walker
Raymond, who
was #1 in
his class of
1865, our
Yukon
navigator in
1869. Our
grandfather,
Robert R.
Raymond
(Sr.), class
of 1893,
retired as
full
colonel,
Corps of
Engineers,
and brought
the Raymonds
with their
seven
children to
settle in
Cambridge
for the
first time
in 1920. We
add the name
of his
brother, our
great-uncle
Jack
Raymond, a
USMA
graduate of
1897. Then
in the next
generation,
Bob had two
uncles of
West Point,
our mutual
Uncle Bob,
Robert
Rossiter
Raymond
(Jr.), class
of 1919, and
Cousin Bob’s
Uncle
Charles, my
father,
class of
‘31.
Indeed,
Bob’s own
father Cris
was himself
a graduate
in 1912.
Furthermore,
our youngest
Raymond
aunt,
Virginia,
married my
dad’s 1931
classmate
Chester
Ott. Bob’s
three uncles
retired as
colonels,
and finally,
the latest
in the “Long
Gray Line”
is one of
the Ott
grandsons,
Captain Carl
Ott, class
of 1993. So
what’s the
point of all
this? Well,
we can
complement
the
leadership
characteristics
that Bob
wrote about
in his
personal
story with
those of the
West Point
motto, those
of “Duty,
Honor,
Country”,
and can
likewise
attach these
firmly to
Coach Bob
Burlingame.
So it’s only
fitting that
his name is
inscribed
now for
posterity in
the Sports
Hall of Fame
at SUNY, the
State
University
of New York
at Albany.
Bob
loved to
dabble in
poetry, to
golf, to
show off his
baseball
memorabilia
in his home
in Sarasota,
FL. He loved
to visit his
coaching
“alma
mater”,
Albany
State, and
his old
hometown, to
stay close
to friends
and family.
So today, to
Saint Luke’s
Episcopal
Church here
in
Cambridge,
the Raymond
family
spiritual
center for
eighty
years, where
Bob and
Nancy
Knights were
married in
1949, he now
comes home.
Not long
ago, in July
of ‘99,
family and
friends all
gathered
here in
Cambridge
and gave
thanks to
God for Bob
and Nan on
the occasion
of their 50th
Wedding
Anniversary
in this
church, and
then we
wined and
dined and
reveled in
their
cherished
memories at
the
refurbished
Cambridge
Hotel. The
next day I
was
flattered
when Bob
invited me
down to join
in for
breakfast
where he
“held
court”, if
you will,
for a bunch
of us,
including
the sons of
long-time
compatriot
Ray Luke,
Doug and
Steve. That
was just
before Doug
ascended to
the head
football-coaching
slot at
Cambridge
Central,
only to go
on to take
his team to
an
undefeated
season that
fall and the
NY State
Championship
for their
class. I
like to
think that
surely some
of Coach
Bob’s
character
and wisdom
and
leadership
were not
lost on
Coach Doug
that day.
A few
years
before, in
1993 we also
rendezvoused
here, and at
West Point
for the
Centennial
Celebration
of our
grandfather’s
1893
graduation.
Most of us
then wrote
of our
favorite
memories of
Cambridge
and of our
life’s
proudest
moments.
Among Bob’s
were Wendy’s
academic
achievements,
her stellar
SATs, and
Mark’s
tenure in
the employ
of no less a
character
than one Mr.
George
Steinbrenner,
in the NY
Yankee minor
league
system. Bob
was a Braves
fan of late,
but I guess
tolerated
the Yankees’
latest run,
since so
many of his
loved ones
are big on
the mystique
of The Bronx
Bombers.
May Bob
rest in
peace now,
in the
eternal
peace of our
Lord and
Savior Jesus
Christ. May
his memory
and his love
continue to
live well on
within his
dear wife
Nancy, and
in his
children
Gwendolyn
and Mark
Raymond, and
in his
grandchildren,
Jason Porter
and Kara
Elizabeth.
I’m sure he
would tell
you that all
five have
been the
most
precious of
gifts in his
life from
God. But it
was on the
day after
Christmas in
2000, in the
last year of
the 2nd
Christian
millennium,
that he
turned these
gifts over
to the rest
of us in
this world,
and he is
now looking
down on us,
watching
over us,
asking us to
look after
them.
-Thomas M.
Raymond
(Bob’s first
cousin)
June 2001
Post Scripts
·
Within a
week of
Bob’s
passing, the
world
entered a
new
millennium,
Jan. 1,
2001.
·
Bob was soon
interred at
the new
National
Cemetery
near
Saratoga
Springs, NY.
·
In June, we
gathered at
Saint Luke’s
Episcopal
Church for a
memorial
service.
·
On 9/11,
Bob’s
America –
the nation
that, in his
lifetime,
had fought
and won WWII
and the Cold
War (wars
waged by
sovereign,
flag-bearing
nations
under
centuries-old
rules of
Just War
Theory)
entered a
new era, the
War on
Terror,
asymmetrical
warfare
(i.e.
unilaterally
an Unjust
War.)
·
Nancy joined
Bob in
eternal
peace in
April of
2005.
- TMR,
December
2010,
Beaverton,
OR
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