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Dear Wheatley Wildcats and Other
Interested Persons,
Welcome to the Wheatley School
Alumni Association Newsletter # 258.
Larry Rosenthal (1965) Writes - “
I am pleased to announce The Fifth Annual(?) Unofficial
San Francisco Bay Area Wheatley Reunion Potluck—TFA(?)USFBAWRP-- to be held
Sunday, June 7, 2026, noon - 4pm, in my Berkeley back yard. Early signups
include fellow Berkeleyans
Peter Siegel (’66)
and my brother
Steve Roselaren (’67)
as well as
Barry (’65)
and Aldene Gordon
from the South Bay. Interested Wildcats,
please email me at
larros99@gmail.com
. Out-of-towners welcome!
Richard “Rich” Weissman (1972)
Writes: “Don’t forget to RSVP for the March 21 & 22,
2026 Wheatley weekend get-together at my home in the beautiful city of
Palm
Springs, California.
Saturday, March 21, 5:00 pm
- catered buffet dinner with champagne and wine, and
musical entertainment. Broadway star and singer Nicolas King is coming in
from NYC to perform live with accompanist Scott Smith on the piano! To learn
more about Nicolas, go to his website:
Broadway Star Nicolas King's Website
This will be an
incredible performance, which you can see up-close in my living room.
Sunday, March 22, 11:00 am
- catered poolside lunch. Casual and relaxing lunch to
end the weekend get-together.
We have over 70 people
attending thus far, so come join us. Simply email me your rsvp. Spouses,
partners, friends are welcome. Our house is designed for large events
There are no costs for
you to attend, as my husband, J.D. Horn, and I are hosting and paying all
expenses (you are responsible for your own accommodations and
transportation). To see photos of events at our house, go to my website on
the charitable/political page. Our home is located in the Andreas Hills area
of Palm Springs. Casual attire for both events. In the unlikely event of rain
(Palm Springs is a desert), both events will be indoors.
Spread the word to other Wheatley
graduates! Everyone is invited!
With love,
Rich Weissman
Class of 1972 (but
graduated in 1971 and not in the 1972 yearbook)
Attended North Side
grades 1-6, and then Junior and Senior High at Wheatley
Email:
rweissman@hotmail.com
Cell: 503.250.4545
Website:
www.richweissman.com
[[[Editor’s Note - Not
guaranteed, but I plan to attend - Art]]]
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Donna Brescia (1968)
Writes - “
I want to add something
to the
Charles Sansone (1963)
article on the football game in
October 1962 that Newsday predicted Carle Place would win 33-0. Of course,
I’m proud of my brother Frank, who scored a touchdown (received a pass from
George Gipp) and an extra point! This brought the final score to 13-12 in
favor of the Wildcats. A big upset for Carle Place. Above is a photograph of
Frank’s notes on that Football Schedule from 1962. He was, of course,
ecstatic with the outcome, and he noted his performance on the schedule.
Coach Jack Davis had brought him onto the Varsity team after he ran a 96 yard
touchdown as a Freshman! He went on to play for Ithaca College and became a
phys ed teacher in Jericho for 30 years.
In other news: Our
mother,
Jeanine Brescia
, who taught at North Side School for
30 years, just turned 106 last week. She had attended North Side as a child,
went to
Roslyn High School
(before Wheatley was built), and
then on to
New Paltz Normal (now SUNY New Paltz)
where she met
our dad. I’m enclosing a picture of her on her birthday at 106!
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David Zazula (1974) Writes
- “
I enjoyed reading what Charles
Sanzone wrote about Wheatley beating Carle Place in football in 1962. My
older brother, Steven (1963) was on that team. Jeff Carduner lived a few
house away on Clover Lane. Their dog, a huge
Bouvier des Flandres
,
would regularly show up in our backyard, enter the house through the sliders
in my parent’s bedroom, run through the kitchen (giving my mom a heart
attack, as she was deathly afraid of dogs, and leave through the front door,
helped by his willing accomplice, me. My brother and Jeff were best friends.
I recognized other names on that team, as well, that were my big brother’s
buddies. I wasn’t at that legendary game, and have no recollection of it, but
thanks to Charles for bringing back memories of a great era.”
Denise Paine (1973) Writes - “
The most recent Newsletter (# 257) devoted a whole lot
of space to political commentary, for which I thank you, Art. In a
functioning democracy all voices must be heard. What saddens me is that
contributors here do not seem open to respect, consideration or discussion;
if we can’t find ways to be open and curious about others’ opinions, then we
will only perpetuate the divisions that injure and would destroy democracy
itself. We all need to loosen up and listen more. Let’s ask better questions
and listen to others! What do those with differing views love about their
vision for a ‘good’ society? What values do we share? How can we coexist
peacefully as neighbors and citizens? I hope for all of us that we can find
ways to navigate this.
Gene Razzetti (1961) Writes -
“Art, I had not wanted to get into this thread.
However, let me just add an ‘I was there’ comment.
I returned from Vietnam
in September, 1969. My mother, father, and uncle met me at the airport, and
that was all the “welcome” that I needed. That said, I was lucky.
Back then, members of the
military travelled in uniform, to receive discounts on tickets – especially
airline tickets. It was written in our travel orders. Accordingly, we were
obvious and vulnerable through no fault of our own. Many of the hecklers back
then were, in addition to being mentally challenged, doing whatever they
could to avoid their own military service. They were the only babies’ that
they worried about being killed. The great escape back then was either to
Canada or to an unusable master’s degree program. Good job,
Paul Giarmo
(1976).
Best to all, Gene“
Francine (Halfon) Rosenberg (1981)
Writes
- I was inspired to write
by Steve Ehre’s commentary in the Wheatley Alumni Newsletter # 257
(2/18/2026)
Steve,
Ted Tchack, and Merle Levine
greatly influenced my life when I joined
School Within a School (“SWS”)
in or about 1978. It was my first ‘radical’ decision, and it went against the
advice of some of my teachers and friends, but it was one of the best
decisions I ever made. Looking back now, as I enter the final chapter of a
long and satisfying career as an educator, I can also see how SWS had a
profound influence on my beliefs about education....students need choice,
ownership, and adults who see them as whole human beings. At Wheatley, many
of my other teachers saw me only as a ‘good girl’ who earned A’s and could
get into a competitive college. I remember Steve seeing me as a person and
believing that my hopes and dreams and my emotional well-being were more
important than my grades. Professionally, I have spent 40 years working with
and leading schools for students with profound special needs, behavioral
health, and substance abuse challenges. Creating environments where young
people feel safe, valued and ‘seen’ has always been central to my work. I
first learned this in SWS.
I am also fascinated to
learn about the redistricting of North Side and Willets Road based on
religion, and about the racism of which I was only vaguely aware when I was
growing up. My family was unusual....we were Jewish but lived in Mineola. I
currently work north of Boston, MA, as the Executive Director of an
Educational Collaborative (kind of like BOCES in NY...my job is to run
schools for students who can’t be successfully educated within their home
district). I work with 20 different school districts and see the disparities
in the services students receive based on zip code. Like on Long Island, we
have small, wealthy suburban districts, adjacent to larger, more urban
districts.... It would be so much more sensible from both an economic and
equity standpoint for some of these districts to merge, but issues of
classism, racism and politics prevent those discussions from ever getting off
the ground.
I entered the field of
special education believing that public schools played a critical role in
‘leveling the playing field’ and creating equitable opportunities. I have
always viewed my work as civil rights work, and I have been disheartened in
recent years that we seem to be going backwards in so many ways. But
reflecting on history helps put matters into perspective.
Since I don’t often
write, I’ll add a brief personal note. In addition to my career in education,
I am fortunate to have raised two amazing sons, and now have the pleasure of
two beautiful granddaughters. I am in close touch with my siblings,
Karen
Halfon (1984) and Marc Halfon (1987).
Art, thank you for
providing this connection!”
Barbara (“Bobbi”) Gelberg
Freundlich (1967) Writes - “Hi, Art - I was interested and saddened reading
of Evy Barrow’s passing at 99. My mother, who passed in February 2025, also
at the age of 99, adored Evy and always spoke of her with great love.
1959 - Stephen Kaplin - Deceased -
Steve died on February 13, 2026, at the age of 84.
1961 - Tim Jerome - Musicals Man
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L-R - Tim Jerome
and Art Engoron at Il Tinello East, 244 East 46th Street, New York, NY,
2/18/2026
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The painting
behind us, unobstructed.
1967 - Barbara (“Bobbi”) Gelberg
Freundlich - “
In November of 2024
I fell into a coma for 5 days. One of my first rational thoughts after a
month of hospitalization and rehab was to write to
Art Engoron
(1967)
before he posts my obituary. (Whew! That was close!).
Two marriages, two gorgeous daughters, and two fantastic grandsons after
graduation, I am, miraculously, still alive and living in Manhattan. Best,
Bobbi”
1969 - Gerald Gersh - College was
Traveling the World for 2 1/2 Years.
Gerry Writes -
“My college career was storied, starting with Friends
World College (“FWC”). There was no Quaker influence. I began by traveling to
different countries for 2 1/2 years straight. I started in Mexico; crash
course in Spanish; learning about ‘progressive education’; listening
in-person to Paul Goodman, John Holt (‘Why Children Fail’), Paolo Freire.
Paolo believed that if you taught farmers words that involved their everyday
lives, they’d be motivated to read. His method was so effective that the
farmers ended up being able to read their land contracts and saw that the
government was screwing them, so Brazil kicked Freire out of the country.
I was in Mexico for six
months, during which I hitch-hiked a yacht to El Salvador and a scorpion
stung me. That resulted in one of my few talks with God, because I believed
that I was going to die. I was collecting wood to make a fire on the beach,
where two friends and I were going to camp. Picking up a piece of wood, I
instinctively knew it was a scorpion sting because it felt exactly like an
electric shock or current when you mess around with an electric socket.
🦂
I ran down the
beach trying to remove and shake my t-shirt, thinking the ‘alacran’
(scorpion) was on it. Like in the movies, a doctor was walking along the
beach, heard what had happened, and used my shirt to make a tourniquet. He
told me to go to the hotel up on the cliff. My thumb was numb, but the staff
said that a sand spider might have bitten me. “You know it’s a scorpion if
your throat starts to close and feel scratchy.” They got me a taxi and told
me the doctor would probably be in the local bar. My female friend went into
the bar but came right out saying, ‘The doctor is drunk and he’s denying he’s
a doctor.’ At this exact moment, I swallowed, and my saliva felt like sand
going down my throat. Scorpion! It was this moment, looking up at the ceiling
of the cab, more confused than terrified, that I quietly asked, ‘Do you want
me to go now?’ My friend heard this, freaked out, and went back into the bar
screaming at the doctor until he approved opening the clinic. I got one
injection in my arm and the second in my ass for a painful minute. We
returned to the hotel, which was gracious in giving us a free room. I was
burning up with fever and getting delirious before passing out. When I awoke
in the morning, my thumb was still numb, but otherwise, I felt fine. I looked
at the silver ring I had bought in Taxco (near Mexico City, famous for its
silver), and it was black. Sweating out the poison all night resulted in a
chemical reaction that produced carbon on the ring.
Then a big jump to East
Africa:14 months in Uganda and Malawi, but mainly Kenya.
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There, I was
learning the purest form of Swahili, in a remote Arab-African harbor town
called Lamu, when I contracted malaria. The most independent decision of my
life was saying ‘no’ to FWC’s rule that after 5-6 months, you had to move on
to another country. Having become proficient in Swahili, it made no sense for
me to move on, so FWC threw me out.
I wrote my thesis on how
both Africa and India faced the same identity crisis. Each continent had a
hundred languages. A dilemma. For Africa, do we make everyone learn Swahili
to nationalize the continent and maintain identity? Or do we teach English to
keep up with the West. For India it was Hindi. English won out. I saw this
played out in Lamu. The weekly soccer contest was attended by very pious
Muslims in their white gowns and caps rooting for the fisherman boys. Once
the game started, they went crazy, screaming and cheering. The fisherman
boy’s opponents were the western-influenced boys with dazzling red and white
uniforms, coached much better, so they usually won. This trend of winning
most of the time mirrored the way the culture was trending. FWC ended up
giving me college credits for the year, after reading my paper.
After Lamu, I decided
that I wanted to see gorillas in Rwanda Burundi. I found a 70-year-old guide
who had close to 10 kids and a bunch of chickens running around, all living
in a thatched-roof hut. We walked for miles through the jungle. At the exact
moment we that we saw leaves partially eaten, meaning we were close to
gorillas, the guide told me to look down. Tiger paw prints! So we had to turn
around and go all the way back. I took a several-hour bus back to Kampala,
Uganda. As I got off, the city was being overrun by soldiers. The ruthless
General Idi Amin had just initiated a coup against statesman Milton Obote,
1/25/71. (Obote was so bright, he translated Shakespeare into Swahili.). In
those days, being white had its privileges, and I was left alone as if I was
invisible.
I headed back to Kenya.
The FWC base was 200 miles of dirt road to a town called ‘Eldoret.’ FWC had
bought an old English colonial hotel for its students. It was there that I
befriended a sociable and lovely African named ‘Jesse.’ His skin was so
black, it was more of a beautiful dark purple. His English was quite good.
One afternoon, we were talking as Jesse was lovingly petting a chicken in his
arms. He asked me at one point, ‘Would you like to have dinner with me
tonight?’ I said, ‘Sure’, and within an instant, Jesse put the chicken down
and cut its throat. On another note, several black students from the US,
influenced by the Black Panther movement, came to Kenya to ‘meet their
brothers.’ The Africans, however, had no idea what they were talking about,
and it was hard seeing the faces of the disillusioned black students.
A last highlight of East
Africa: my closest fellow student and friend, Charlie. He had a great laugh
and played guitar, and he chose FWC over Harvard, He went solo to Tanzania to
live in an Ujamaa village (Jamaa in Swahili means family), the closest thing
to a Kibbutz. We decided to go camping for a week in the Serengeti. We had
made money on the black market and bought a VW. As you enter the Serengeti
National Park, there is a warning sign about lions: ‘If a lion enters your
tent at night, stay calm until the lion leaves.’ Honest!! The very first
night, we built a huge camp fire so it would burn for hours and parked our VW
up to the zippered entrance of our tent. As we tried to sleep, we could hear
an occasional lion roar in the distance that went right through our bodies.
Approximately 3-4 am, a very loud sniffing sound occurred around our tent. It
got worse when we heard a slight scratching sound against the frail tent
fabric. Any second it would rip. Charlie and I gripped our Bowie knives and
machetes. In abject fear, I whispered to Charlie to scream as loud as he
could on the count of three. We did that and shocked/scared the lion away. We
had become animals ourselves in those 5-10 seconds. Finally, I did get a
chance to visit
Jane Goodall’s
house. On the way
to the bathroom, a young, large lion starter playing/gnawing at my boots
until an aide, laughing, pulled him off of me. Terrifying!
Then, six months in
India. My introduction to Bombay, now called Mumbai, was extreme poverty. So
many people sleeping on the streets. The people would do anything to make
some money. As if in a carnival, a father was holding his 3 or 4 year old son
by his ankles and swinging him in a fast circular motion, intentionally
having his son’s head miss the pavement by an inch. Many children had their
fingers cut off at birth so that they could become a professional beggars by
shoving their stumps in your face.
I proceeded to the coast
of Goa, where a boy was selling delicious white shark meat and Cokes on the
beach. One problem. The Coke had ice in it, and I contracted Hepatitis A from
the water. Luckily, I came down with it in the middle of the country and in
the most westernized state of the country, Bangalore. I recall my jaundiced
eyes and jumping out of a bunk bed and collapsing to the floor, being so
weak. Somehow, I got to the hospital and was given good treatment. Then, on
to Calcutta, which made Bomba’s poverty look pale by comparison.
The last leg of my trip
was seeing ‘one of the seven wonders of the world,’ the Taj Mahal. The shades
of white marble were beautiful. In fact, during the war with Pakistan, India
had to cover it with a huge canvas so it wouldn’t glow at night and be bombed.
The Taj was truly perfect in its symmetry, but human error always crops up.
The King at the time built the Taj for his Queen. When you enter the
building, you immediately see something strange. The mausoleum of the queen,
Mumtaz Mahal, was placed in the exact center of the room. The marble
mausoleum next to hers, off center, is the King’s. The ‘After Thought
Theory,‘ the most accepted historical explanation for the off-center grave,
is that Shah Jahan did not originally plan to be buried there. He was deposed
by his son, Aurangzeb, and spent his final years under house arrest in Agra
Fort. Upon Jahan’s death, Aurangzeb had him buried next to Mumtaz Mahal,
breaking the symmetry.
The last leg of my 2 1/2
years away was Nepal/Himalayas. Everest is 29,000 feet. The average jet flies
at 30,000. I took a small plane from Kathmandu to Pokera in order to get
closer. Everything was ALL cloudy until, suddenly, the clouds vanished and
the white mountain appeared. I got nauseous because there was matter existing
in space that didn’t belong. For scale, the European mountains are the height
of the foothills of the Himalayas.
My sister’s wedding
brought me home, or maybe I’d still be traveling, lol.
I went to
The New
School
for a year and then finished at
Goddard
,
which saved my soul. I took classes in Physiological Psychology, Jazz/Rock
Dance, and Photography; got a 3rd class radio license; and every Saturday
night, I’d go ‘on the air,’ broadcasting hit songs all over Plainfield, NY:
‘Saturday Night Motown with Gerry’. I performed a One Man Show on the stage
that
William H. Macy
helped build.
David Mamet
went there, too; and one of the Chicago Seven taught there. I
saw the Aurora Borealis one night, vertical fluorescent green shimmerings for
hours. A true wonder of the world. The shimmering lasted for hours, until a
whipping motion made them disappear into the apex of the night sky.
So that’s a taste of my
travels. I don’t talk about them a lot, because they’re so personal to me,
but this felt worth it to share with everyone. I still work virtually three
days a week as a psychoanalyst with my specialty being ‘tolerating intimacy’
for individuals, but a lot of couples call saying, ‘What does that mean?’ My
son is an Assistant District Attorney, of whom I’m very proud, and I am still
in love with my beautiful wife.”
1974 and 1984 - Christopher
Franzino and Jeffrey Schneider
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L-R - Chris
Fanzino (1974) and Jeff Schneider (1984)
Jeff Writes - “I am a
doctor practicing in South Florida, and I have had a patient named Chris
Franzino since 2007. In 2020, his Long Island accent was too much to resist,
and I asked him from where he came. He told me, “Wheatley!”
We just bumped into each
other again, and I suggested we take a photo for the Newsletter. He brought
me a Wheatley hat, and here we are!”
Chris Writes -
“I don’t want to be outdone by Jeff Schneider’s hat,
even though he is the best doctor in South Florida.
”
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1977 - Mitch Winn - Report
on His Kids
Mitch Winn Writes -
“I would like to announce some great news from my kids,
both also Wheatley graduates. My daughter, Amanda Winn (Class of 2008), is
now doing her fellowship in pediatric endocrinology at Children’s Hospital of
Pennsylvania (University of Pennsylvania), and she married Dr. Harrison Spatz
(a Roslyn HS grad) in December! My son, Jason Winn (Class of 2013), just had
the film which he directed accepted for this year’s Beverly Hills Film
Festival!
Go Wildcats! Mitch Winn”
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Mozzie and Sugar are on
Charlie Nash’s (1973; graduated in 1972) Greeting Card.
1963 (Donna Harmelin Rivkin) -
❤️
1964 (Richard Ilsley) -
❤️
1965 (Sharon Neely Halm) -
“As always, a fascinating read.”
❤️
1966 (Claude Levy) -
❤️
1967 - Barbara (”Bobbi”) Gelberg
Freundlich
- “Thank you, Art, for
your dedication to keeping everyone informed and connected - your Newsletters
are wonderful memory joggers for me.”
1968 (Jed Berman) -
❤️
1968 (Donna Brescia) - “
Hello, Art - Thanks for all the work you do on the
Wheatley Alumni Newsletter! It’s always a delight to receive.”
1969 (Gerry Gersh) -
“Thank you for your tireless work.”
1972 (Arlene Acker) -
❤️
1972 (Lori Waltzer Bernstein) - “
Thank you for all of your hard work in keeping us
Wildcats connected. I treasure each edition.”
❤️
1973 (Denise Paine) -
❤️
1974 (Melanie Artim) -
❤️
1974 (David Zazula) -
“Art, thank you for publishing this great Newsletter
and taking me back to a wonderful childhood each week. I am truly grateful
for your efforts.
[[[That’s “A” to “Z” in a
single year]]]
1977 (Amy Brumer) -
“Thank you so much for all the effort you put into
this Newsletter.
❤️
1977 (Mitch Winn) -
“Thanks again for your hard work publishing the
Newsletter.”
All underlined text is a
link-to-a-link or a link-to-an-email-address. Clicking anywhere on underlined
text, and then clicking on the text that pops up will get you to your on-line
destination or will address an email.
Thanks to our fabulous
Webmaster,
Keith Aufhauser (Class of 1963),
you can regale
yourself with the first 255 Wheatley School Alumni Association Newsletters
(and much other Wheatley data and arcana) at our website:
The Wheatley School Alumni Association Website
Also thanks to Keith is
our search engine, prominently displayed on our home page: type in a word or
phrase and, wow!, you’ll find every place it exists in all previous
Newsletters and other on-site material.
I edit all submissions,
even material in quotes, for clarity and concision, without any indication
thereof. I cannot and do not vouch for the accuracy of what people tell me,
as TWSAA does not have a
New Yorker
style fact-checking
department.
We welcome any and all
text and photos relevant to The Wheatley School, 11 Bacon Road, Old Westbury,
NY 11568, and the people who administered, taught, worked, performed, and/or
studied there.
Art Engoron, Class of 1967
That’s it for The Wheatley School Alumni Association Newsletter # 258. Please send me your autobiography before someone else sends me your obituary.
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Arthur Friedrichs Engoron, Class of 1967 WheatleyAlumni@aol.com ArtEngoron@gmail.com www.wheatleyalumni.org +1 (646) 872-4833 |
