IN MEMORY
ROBERT MARTIN 1948 - 1964
We obtain our list of classmates from Mt. Lebanon.Org for initial uploading to the site. Robert Martin did not have a photo in the yearbook, but I left his name on the roster since I remembered him.
My memory was confirmed by Heidi Wells while identifying Mellonaire photos...he was one of the Presidents. She further confirmed that we all went to Markham together and on to Mellon and the high school...of course I remembered him. What I did not remember is that he passed away in 1964. Heidi lived in the same neighborhood, his sister was Heidi's favorite babysitter and it was the first time Heidi had been to a funeral home. Those would be memories that would have stayed with me. No obituary is local as the parents were from Texas and returned his body there for burial.
Although he did not graduate with us, Heidi and I thought it would be a nice trubute to remember him to those who might remember him during our K-10 years and honor him in our IN MEMORY section.
September 28, 2017......His Family Sisters Maggie and Nella and brother John THANK YOU for your beautiful comments:
My name is Maggie Martin Rowe, and I'm Rob Martin's little sister. Not so little anymore! Heidi Wells was kind enough to share your emails with my sister Nella, and she shared them with my brother John and me. The three of us were so moved by and grateful for your posts about Rob. It is comforting to realize that many of you remember our brother.
When Rob killed himself we were all blindsided by it. I was 10 years old and slept through everything - the deep sweet sleep of a child. When my mother told me that Rob had been shot, in my mind's eye I saw a stranger shooting him on the street. That scenario made more sense to me, certainly, than him taking his own life. No one saw it coming, and in those days any hint of depression or any other sort of mental illness was not talked about or acknowledged. People regarded these things as weaknesses to be brushed under the rug, not as conditions to be discussed, pondered, treated and helped. I believe that is why our teachers didn't address Rob's death. They did not know how. Even today it is hard for people to talk about suicide, though so important for us all to do so.
Even after all these years, the questions and pain remain, but as Cliff so eloquently talked about, the pain lessens so that we can get on with our lives. We reach a point of realization that some questions will never be answered. We hold our loved ones with gratitude and hope and try to open up avenues of discussion, communication and kindness where we can.
My parents remained on Inglewood Drive for another 20 years before moving back to Texas. They are both gone now, but they lived to ripe old ages. Nella, John and I all live in Grand Rapids, Michigan where we and our families enjoy being neighbors and getting together often.
Thank you all for remembering our lovely brother Rob Martin.
Maggie Martin Rowe, Nella Martin Pearson and John Martin
Rande McCollum (Macchiette)
How cathartic this dialogue has been. All these years, and yet always on my mind. And none of us ever talked with each other about these feelings..then. Did others feel alone with their grief all those years ago? I sure did. Walking to school by his house every day, and just simply a difficult high school memory in general. What a difference fifty years makes!
Thomas F. Remington
I remember Rob and his suicide. I remember the shock, confusion and guilt I felt hearing about it. We were in -- I think -- German class together, but I didn't know him as a friend. He was very quiet, rather withdrawn. Who knew what turmoil he must have been undergoing, but certainly he never showed it outwardly. My mother confirmed that he had died by suicide, and that I should not feel responsible. Certainly the school said nothing. Depression in that era was hidden, considered shameful, and often not recognized. Thank goodness that has changed.
Robert M. Meyer
And how both ironic and fitting that this discussion is occurring during National Suicide Prevention Week (Sept 10-16)...
Charles H. Cox
Rob Martin was one of my best friends, with whom I shared many common interests, though not the traditional ones of classes, school sports or school activities. The Martins lived about 1/2 mile down the street from my family on Inglewood Drive. So we regularly walked together to/from Markham, Mellon and the high school. On sunny summer days we would ride our bikes all over Mt. Lebanon, on cloudy days we would play ping pong in Rob’s basement – he won more games than I did – and one night a week we would watch the TV show Twilight Zone. We also shared a common heritage: we were both children of parents from the south, the Martins from Texas and my family from Tennessee. Among the southern traditions our parents instilled in us was to refer to them as ma’am and sir. So when our moms would tell us to make our beds, the response was not ok or yeah, it was yes ma’am. And when our dads told us to take out the trash, the response was yes sir.
I clearly remember the night of his suicide. I was working on the stage crew that night for a rehearsal of a high school play. Mr. Campbell, who was one of the faculty sponsors and also my German teacher, offered to give me a ride home. Inglewood Dr., like most streets in Mt. Lebanon at about 11 pm, was normally dark and quite. But when we got to the Martin’s house it was anything but. There were a myriad of first responder vehicles, all with lights glaring and radios blaring. The next morning my mother woke me and gave me the news: Rob Martin was dead. I don’t remember much more about that day, except that many of my friends reached out to me, two of which I remember specifically. One was Ralph Harding, who had also first heard the news when his mother woke him. Mrs. Harding drove Ralph over to my house so Ralph could walk with me to high school. The other classmate I specifically remember was Marty Morris, who had comforting words for me once I got to high school. I have thought about Rob’s death, trying to see if there were some clues about what he was contemplating. I was not a particularly perceptive guy back then – not sure I am a whole lot better now – so it could have been right in front of me and unless Rob said something like “hey I’m so depressed, I’m thinking of killing myself” I would have missed it. But the thought that I should have noticed something, and hence possibly could have done something, still haunts me.
There is a quote from Menander, the Greek dramatist, which seems particularly relevant: “He whom the gods love dies young”. As all the comments in this section attest, Rob was loved not only by his family but also by many of his class mates. We can be comforted in our pain from his dying so young by the thought that he was also loved by God.
Rande McCollum (Macchiette)
Thank you Charles, for your additional thoughts and candor about Robert. Perhaps those of us who did live on Inglewood, did feel it harder and longer because we knew what a wonderful family lived in that house, and never could wrap our arms around the reasons and the forever sadness as we passed that house every day. Knowing how close you were to him, means so much, and certainly adds to the sadness and mystery of the why.
Didn't his parents return to Texas? I know his older brother, John went to college and has taught at Rice University all is life. I don't remember where the sisters ended up. But thought his parents had returned to Texas eventually.
Cliff Mandell
To be totally honest, I don't think I knew Rob, even though I attended Mellon. I must have seen him there, perhaps had a class with him and if there were a photo of him, it may help to remember but I have no recollection of his tragic passing. So, why am I posting this? Perhaps because when it comes to suicide, I have firsthand experience. Not many of you know, but I lost my son, Peter, to suicide 22 years ago when he was just 22. When he died, he did not just kill himself but he also killed untold thousands of people who may have come from him into the unforeseeable future and may have changed the course of history. I can say with honesty, I do have a pretty good idea what Rob's parents went through. It was without a doubt, the worst time of my life: it's like getting your heart torn out with a claw hammer. Please don't get me wrong: I am not writing this in order to gain anyone's sympathy. But rather, with the hope of being able to help anyone who may be dealing with the passing of a loved one and they are probably left with more questions than answers. I can tell you from my experience, that there is hope. While it is true that the pain never goes away, but after a while the intensity subsides and it becomes tolerable. I also received great support from our friends and I saw a councillor for a number of years after who specialized for the survivors of suicide. But during those five years after his death, I had no less than eight different jobs. I was not sure if I would ever be able to work again but eventually, I was able to function somewhat normally. When you are a parent and loose a child, and especially to suicide, it's natural to feel tremendous guilt because it is our responsibility to raise up our children in order to equip them to not only to survive in the world but to be happy and healthy. I had a choice: I could be angry with God and try to squelch the pain by filling my life with temporary pleasures, or I could say, "God, what are you trying to teach me and how can I use this knowledge in order to help others?" In a nutshell, here is what I've learned: Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I suppose the only exception to this would be someone who had a terminal illness, but even then, miracles do happen from time to time. My blessings to all and may this year be sweet and may you and your family be happy and healthy.
Elaine L. Andrews
Cliff -- thank you for sharing your painful experience and suggestions. I can't imagine losing a child, at any age, let alone so young. I too had trouble remembering Robert (Bob?) Martin as of the first post, but as others wrote about their memories an image came alive for me. I had forgotten what happened, and appreciate Sue, Heidi, and many who posted for helping us to remember. Though I've been away from the Pittsburgh area for 50 years (yikes!), I love the sense of caring and community that we still share. I've recently lost a brother to suicide, and know from that experience how many others have had someone in their family who chose this path. So much lost promise. It's helpful to share ideas about a path to understanding.
Robert R. Todd
Cliff thanks for your heart felt and heart wrenching post. My condolences. I have two sons who are still with me and can’t fully understand what you went through. When I returned for the reunion I drove the old neighborhood like I’m sure everyone else did. When I drove up Inglewood and passed Robert’s house I had the same thoughts of 54 years ago how sad that must have been for his parents. I wondered if the people living there now even know that Robert committed suicide in it. It’s a shame this discussion about Robert’s suicide didn’t take place after it happened. I never spoke to anyone about it. I know that veterans have a higher risk of suicide than the rest of us. So this discussion of suicide and its impact on remaining family members as you have so poignantly described is important and needs to be passed on. Suicide can be prevented. Again thanks Cliff for that touching post it must have been very difficult to share that tragedy with classmates some who you don’t even know. God bless you and your family.
John Hammerschlag
The posts regarding Bob Martin are probably the most meaningful and substantive posts of any posted on this websitie. I honor all of you who have contributed.
Ralph L. Harding
I got to know Rob through our mutual friend, Charlie Cox. I enjoyed hanging out with Rob. He was quiet, pleasant. Like so many of you, his death came as a shock and he was the first of my friends to die.
When this thread of comments started up, it made me feel uneasy. Why bring all of this up? Why now? But this amazing dialog has helped to bring closure to many of us -- after 53 years. It has been far too long. Thank you all for sharing your thoughts.
Ralph