It was October of 2013, and I was attending an alumni gathering at State College High School. It’s what you do when you’ve been away from home for 39 years and want to renew old friendships.
I also wanted to help honor the memory of Andy Bingaman, a graduate of State High who had served as an FBI agent of stellar reputation until his 2006 death from lymphoma. Andy was the son of our high school principal, Paul Bingaman. Having previously been portrayed in an episode of “Criminal Minds,” Andy was now being honored at SCHS as one of two “Alumni of the Year.”
The other alum who was being celebrated that day, Jim Houck, captured my attention not only because of his accomplishments but also because of his last name.
Houck had retired from the U.S. Navy as a Vice Admiral, serving in the position of Judge Advocate General. Military attorneys are generally referred to as “JAGs,” but this guy was no ordinary JAG. He was the JAG—the 41st Judge Advocate General of the Navy. And that means he was in charge of the 2,300 attorneys, enlisted legal staff and civilian employees within the worldwide Navy JAG Corps. So now the 1976 graduate of State College High School had come home to Penn State Law, where he was serving as the interim dean, accompanied by his SCHS classmate and wife of more than 30 years, the former Susan Antle.
But what about that last name? Some 45 years earlier, I had worked as a part-time sports writer for the old Pennsylvania Mirror, and our executive editor was Paul Houck. Was Jim related to Paul? Probably not, I decided. “Houck” sounded like one of those common German families that give Pennsylvania its Dutchiness.
I shook Jim’s hand as the reception ended and said, “You aren’t related to Paul Houck, are you?” I’ll never forget how little he said. Or how impressively he said it.
“He’s my dad,” was the simple response to my question. But in just those few words I felt I had gained a window into the man’s life, perhaps his soul. His tone was truly remarkable, conveying a deep reservoir of love and respect.
I then mentioned how kind the elder Houck had been to me in the late 1960s — amazingly kind. After all, I was just a teenager who took box scores over the phone and covered local sports events. Paul Houck didn’t need to even know my name, but he always greeted me and sometimes invited me into his office to make sure I was doing okay.
My comments obviously struck a chord with Jim. His eyes moistened. I was stunned, and I was impressed. How could this man — strong enough to reach the rank of Vice Admiral — be so tender toward his father? How could this man — tough enough to lead thousands of legal professionals — become emotional in a conversation with someone he had just met?
And then I wondered if such a love for his father might actually be the source of Jim Houck’s strength. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Paul Houck was never one to hog the stage, but he was always close at hand to encourage the other performers. The way he encouraged me in little bite-sized gestures was the way he undergirded his own son in a huge but quiet way. Take a look at the adjoining photo and you’ll see what I mean. Jim is at the left, being congratulated by Secretary of the Navy Richard Danzig upon his promotion to Captain in 2000. Paul is in the background — restrained on the outside but beaming on the inside.
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I ran into Jim a time or two over the next couple of years but didn’t get a chance to really talk with him. As Father’s Day 2016 approached, I decided it was time to get the full inspirational story of the Admiral and his father.
So, Jim Houck, how did your dad help to prepare you for a life of challenge and success? What did he teach and what did he model?
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Gentle Strength. “I like to think he was gently strong or strongly gentle. I always knew he was the big authority figure in my life, but he never claimed that authority by trying to intimidate or bludgeon me. For example, I struggled with being at the Naval Academy my first couple years there. I was doing fine, but I didn’t know whether I wanted to be in the military. He spent a lot of time listening to me, a lot of time listening. Finally he said, ‘It’s your decision, but I know you and I think it’s right for you.’ And that’s all it took.”
But Jim, wasn’t there ever a time when your father was a bit more assertive? “Well, yes, February 14, 1970 was when my Dad wanted me to go to a wrestling meet in Rec Hall with him. I couldn’t have cared less about it, and I had something else I wanted to do. But he insured that I went with him. The meet between Penn State and Navy ended in a tie. From that day forward, I was absolutely hooked on wrestling, and I had gotten my first look at people from the Naval Academy.” (Despite two broken collar bones and a knee injury, Jim did “crack” — or perhaps I should say “enter”– the varsity lineup for State High in his junior year. Meanwhile, his younger brother, Tom, who according to Jim was the far better wrestler of the two, now operates a youth wrestling center called “Top of the Podium” in Sterling, Va.)
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Two-Way Respect. “I remember one day we were driving along Benner Pike, and my father was in a dispute with someone and it had become public — maybe through a letter to the editor. I asked him if it bothered him if people didn’t like him. He said, ‘You can’t worry about whether people like you, but you want to make sure they respect you. And you can do that by working hard and by taking everyone as seriously as you take yourself.’ I never forgot that. My father was really big on showing other people respect. He could talk to anybody — the president of the university, the guy pumping gas, the steel workers he met when we lived in Pittsburgh. He treated everybody the same. That was a great thing for me to see.”
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Investment of Time. “He was always there whenever I was doing anything of significance. We played hundreds or thousands of hours of pitch and catch in the backyard. He was really busy with his work, but he was still there for me. It sounds too good to be true, but it is true.
“He was willing to hug me, put his arm around me, to be physically affectionate in an era when many dads were not. He always told me he was proud of me. We would go somewhere and get in a conversation in the car. Mom would see the car come in the driveway, and then we wouldn’t come inside for 30 or 45 minutes. ‘What were you guys doing?’ she would say. And we would always say, ‘We were just talking.’ “
Where will Jim Houck’s thoughts go on Father’s Day? No doubt, he’ll be talking to his own kids — Danny, pursuing a Ph.D. in theology at Southern Methodist University; Stephen, a student at the University of Michigan Law School where Jim once earned his law degree; Lauren, a two-time University of Virginia graduate and high school math teacher in Charlottesville, Va.
But Jim will also take some time to reflect on his dad. And what would he say if he could speak directly to Paul at this time? “The obvious, I guess. ‘I love you…you made my life.’ ”
Retired Vice Admiral James W. Houck, interim dean of Penn State Law
