dlyon  Jan 14 2005 - 8:47am  Opinion/Editorial   

By Terese Karmel
If it wasn’t for Leroy Dissinger, it’s quite possible an entire generation of Willimantic men would be behind bars instead of becoming the lawyers, coaches, war heroes, university administrators, teachers and other upstanding citizens they became.
But Leroy Dissinger didn’t live long enough to see this band of “Roy’s Boys” make something of their lives. In 1967, he died of heart problems at age 66, nearly 20 years after he ended his six-year tenure as director of the YMCA when it was the center of city life on Main Street. There his enthusiasm, discipline and sheer athletic skills influenced countless Willimantic youth who might otherwise have gone astray.
And now nearly 40 years after his death, this band of brothers wants to honor the man who became a father figure and a person of inestimable influence on the direction their lives would eventually take.
Finding a fitting, lasting tribute was the topic of discussion recently at an informal gathering of a dozen or so “Roy’s Boys” at the Lebanon Community Center. Everyone agreed a plaque or naming a field for him would be an appropriate tribute to his influence and send a message to those who came after that such a man existed. They’ll explore the possibility of some sort of memorial at the fields where his teams played and if that takes some work with city and civic officials, this is an influential, energized enough group of men to get things rolling and bring in the community support it deserves.
Dissinger, who was executive director of the familiar concrete building on Main Street (now empty and in disrepair), from 1942-1947, didn’t care much for the administrative and paper-pushing responsibilities that his job also involved. He knew early on the best use of his time and skills was to get kids interested in, and participating in, sports so if he turned the other cheek, if the membership dues were out of reach for some of the boys (“poor as church mice,” one of them said at the Lebanon meeting), so be it.
“No one had any money, but they always seemed to get into the Y,” said Glenn Cross, a former Windham High and UConn basketball player. “I never understood how I was getting into the Y, but I was part of it.”
That’s what counted. How much does it cost, really, to give a kid a ball and a bat and let him swing away? Little kids don’t ask questions about memberships and dues. That’s adult stuff. They’re just glad to be able to head out to the field. This is what Leroy Dissinger delivered. And this is the legend that Roy’s Boys want to pass on about their mentor.
Dissinger came to the table with impressive credentials. He was a longtime scout for the St. Louis Cardinals, did a stint with the Red Sox in the same capacity, ran camps for scouts to recruit baseball players and also organized and managed the New Orleans Pelicans, a AAA club where many Major Leaguers rehabbed from injuries.
At this informal gathering in Lebanon, a flood of memories about Dissinger poured forth as each of the participants recalled something about him and his connection with them.
“Roy kept me off the streets,” said Phil Barry, former associate athletic director at UConn. “I could have gotten into trouble on the streets of Willimantic but instead I played ball, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday ...” his voice trailed off. Barry recalled the days when Dissinger refereed UConn basketball and he’d carry the ref’s little black bag with his clothes, whistle and other equipment for him. It was Barry’s way of being able to watch the games, but it was also a way to keep him connected to a man he was devoted to.
He had a lot of tricks up his sleeves that to a kid seemed like magic. “He’d lay on his back at the foul line (of the Y basketball court) and with a flick of the wrist, bounce the ball off the ceiling and into the hoop,” recalled one of “Roy’s Boys” that morning. It was the kind of “nothin’ but net” feat that Michael Jordan and Larry Bird pulled off in that McDonald’s ad, only apparently Roy Dissinger didn’t need any trick photography — just a bunch of disciples who believed he could do anything.
“Once he brought in a guy who could eat bananas under water,” someone else chimed in. What was the big deal about that? Who knows but it was funny and the kids loved it.
“I remember another time he brought in a guy named Benny who held the record for 800 straight free throws. Roy put him on the line and he missed the first shot.” No one remembers Dissinger’s reaction to that debacle, but does it really matter? It happened, the guys still remember it and that’s what counts.
Dissinger had all kinds of gimmicks to motivate his kids, gimmicks that are the oldest tricks of the trade for teachers. If a kid ran the 33 laps on the Y track that equaled a mile, he got a gold star. Sometimes he dangled autographed balls in front of them. “He got you to believe that one ball was signed by Stan Musial and another by Enos Slaughter but then one day my brother said ‘Geez, the S in Slaughter is the same as the S in Musial,’” recalled Barry.
Dissinger, an accomplished athlete in his day, lived across the street from the Legion Field. To keep his players fit and in line, he’d hit fungos from the field to his lawn while Roy’s Boys scurried across Windham Road from the Oak Grove field to catch them.
“I realize a lot more now than I did then what he taught me,” said Dick Kelley, a long-time city attorney who is among the prime movers behind the idea to honor Dissinger. “He taught me discipline, respect and responsibility.”
“This guy had the ability to get a bunch of kids together and create teams,” said Barry. Because it was during the war, he called the teams the Tanks, or the Generals, or the Cruisers — something military. Another thing he’d do is take a bunch of kids anywhere from 13 to 18, down to the railroad station, pay for the tickets and put them on a train to play Y-sponsored teams in Bridgeport, Hartford and other cities in Connecticut. Roy’s Boys, some of whom may have grandchildren 13 to 18, will continue to meet fairly regularly to plot out a way to honor the guy who had such a profound impact on their lives.
Some of the boys are scattered in different parts of the country; several from out of state made it to the meeting and others let their sentiments be known by mail.
“Although many years have passed, I recall very fondly and have almost a hero worship for Roy,” wrote David Hahn, an 80-year-old engineer living in Colorado. Hahn, who was born in what was then St. Joseph’s Convent and Hospital on Jackson Street, is desperately ill with cancer and so was unable to travel to Lebanon for the inaugural meeting of Roy’s Boys. He asked each of them to say a prayer for him and in a rush of honesty wrote that although “I don’t know if we’re ever really ready to depart this world ... I’m trying to be.” His life has been full, but one got the impression from reading the lines and between them, that like so many countless others, as he prepares to meet his maker, David Hahn is a better person because of Leroy Dissinger.

Karmel is the Chronicle feature editor.