1972-1974 Connecticut: The People

Posted on February 15, 2021 by Mike

Friends, memorable acquaintances, and relatives. Continue reading →

I met a large number of people working at The Hartford. Here is an alphabetical list of the ones that I remember. At the end are a few people whom I remember only by first name. If no department is mentioned, the person worked in Life Actuarial. If no specific responsibility is mentioned, it is safe to assume that the individual was an actuary or actuarial student.

The only think that I remember about Larry Abbott is that he always came to work without a suit coat. He kept a sports coat near his desk to wear to meetings in other departments. I think that he worked in Group Actuarial.
I did not know Pat Adams very well. I remember criticizing her pitiful sneeze in the study room. I also remember that she took—and passed actuarial exams two at a time.
Lou Aiello was a clerk in Life Actuarial. He might have worked for Alan Gibb. He batted .500 (1 for 2) for the Mean Reserves, and his hit was the most legendary in the history of the team.
At some point I sat near Barb Bednarz. I think that it might have been when I came back for the summer of 1975. I remember talking to her about Monty Python and explicating my theory that a human being trained from birth to run on all fours could win Olympic medals.
Paul Campbell arrived after I did. He was a Variable Annuity actuary. He played once or twice for the Mean Reserves softball team.
Jim Cochran came to Hartford in 1973. He and his wife Ann were close friends. They taught me a subset of the rules to Sheepshead. Jim played on both Mean Reserves teams and took my place on the golf team. He was the outsider in the 345 Club carpool. I keep in touch with him via email. Some people called him “Crow”. I think it had something to do with the original spelling
Tom Corcoran has been my close friend for over forty-eight years. Having grown up in the Boston area, in the seventies he still pronounced his last name in almost exactly the same way that Jim Cochran pronounced his. Tom, who participated in nearly every aspect of my life at the Hartford, married Patti Lewonczyk on 1/07/77.
Sue Comparetto worked as a clerk for nearly every insurance company in Hartford. We got married on 12/08/12, when it finally made sense for tax purposes. She took the photos for the Mean Reserves softball album.
Carolyn DesRochers was a supervisor in the Individual Pensions Department. I worked with her while attempting to determine the source of the problems with the annual reports for the policyholders. She was married to Chris.
Chris DesRochers¹ started, I think, a year before I did. I succeeded him in the role of preparing a monthly report for Jan Pollnow. He was married to Carolyn. I think that I helped them move.
Paul Engstrom played both years for the Mean Reserves softball team, but I don’t have any clear memories of him.
Wayne Foster ran the payday pool. He had been a communications specialist in Vietnam. He was awarded a Bronze Star for completing an international phone call.
Don Francis was the #2 man in the Life Actuarial Department. He played softball with us a few times, but I did not know him very well.
Tom Garabedian worked in the Group Actuarial Department. He was one of the best players in both basketball and softball.
Paul Gewirtz was the senior actuary in the Individual Pensions area. I think that he became a fellow of the Society of Actuaries while I was at the Hartford. He made a memorable contribution to the lore of the Mean Reserves softball team.
Alan Gibb was a supervisor in Life Actuarial. I did not have much interaction with him.
My only contact with Bob Goode, a top executive, was a very nerve-wracking phone call during my short period working for Mike Winterfield.
I am not sure where Les Gubkin worked. He somehow found out about the Mean Reserves and joined the softball team in 1973.
Jim Hawke began working at the Hartford in 1973. We soon became close friends, and we still stay in contact by email. He played a little softball for the team, but he is most famous for the picnic with Ethan, Sue, and me on Bunyan Mountain. He also took over my bedroom in the 345 Club and my spot in the carpool.
I remember Jim Housholder, but the only conversation that I recall clearly was when he explained about a new product he was working on—a whole life policy with a death-exclusion rider.
Kevin Kirk worked in Individual Pensions. He and his wife came over to have supper and watch The Wizard of Oz with Sue and me in East Hartford. Kevin played on both the basketball and softball teams.
Donna Kolakowski was one of the youngest clerks. She attended some of our events. I went to lunch with her and Jim Hawke a few times.
Jim Kreidler once called me a jock, one of the greatest compliments that I ever received. He wimped out in the epic tennis match of 8/18/73. He went to England to work there.
Patti Lewonczyk² was a supervisor in Individual Pensions. We worked together on proposals. She married Tom Corcoran. They went on vacations with Sue and me in the twenty-first century.
Frank Lord³ played on the softball team. He might have also played basketball, but his best sport was tennis. He was the first person that I knew who drove a BMW. I saw him in 1988 at the Mark Twain House when I won the story contest.
I think that Mel Majocha worked at the Hartford somewhere. She went out with Tom Herget. I went to her parent’s house for a cookout once. I will never forget how she said goodbye to me.
Dave McDonald was Secretary (boss) of the Individual Pensions Department. He asked me to investigate the problem producing the annual statements for customers.
Gail Mertan went out with Tom Garabedian. I don’t know where (or if) she worked.
Marsha Monico went out with Tom Herget. I don’t know where (or if) she worked.
Bill Mustard played golf with John Sigler, Norm Newfield, and me. I think that he worked in IT at the Hartford.
Norm Newfield was a tremendous athlete. He worked in Human Resources. He played on a flag football team in New Britain, and he participated in my football pool. He was part of our foursome in golf and an opponent in the golf league.
Scott Otermat⁴ was my supervisor in the Individual Pensions Department. His favorite author was Ayn Rand. He had a dog named Cinders. I helped him move to Bristol. He liked to work on his MG. His full name was actually Scott C. Otermat, Jr. I tried to get him to promise to name his first-born Scott C. Otermat The Third so that his initials would be the same as his first name.
Damon Panels lived across the street from the tower building. He occasionally gave a soirée in his apartment. Sue and I went to see him years later in Bloomfield, CT.
Tony Piccerillo was a recent graduate of Trinity College who worked in Individual Pensions.
Jan Pollnow hired me. He was a star play on both athletic teams. He was my last boss before I moved to Plymouth.
Russ Pollnow was Jan’s brother. I don’t know where he worked but he played on the 1974 softball team.
Parker Prine worked with Norm Newfield in Human Rellations. He played in the football pool and won one week. Tom Herget accused me of making him up and keeping the winnings for myself.
Ann Randazzo was Don Sondergeld’s secretary and the unofficial office manager of the Life Actuarial Department.
I don’t know where Keith Reynolds worked. He played softball and went to bars with us.
Bob Riley was a supervisor in Life Actuarial. He was Sue’s boss and a first baseman on the 1974 team.
I don’t know where Charlie Robinson worked. He played on the softball team.
David Rowe was an exchange student from England who worked as an actuary in Life Actuarial. The four bases on a softball diamond confounded him. Traffic on roundabouts in England goes clockwise.
Gerry Schwartz, an employee of the Operations Research Department, had the dubious honor of managing the HP-3000 computer system.
John Sigler was my golf and tennis partner. He also played on all of the Mean Reserves teams.
Fred Smith played on the basketball teams. He was famous for being able to read paper tapes.
Don Sondergeld was VP and Actuary (big cheese). He never berated me publicly for insulting his wife. In 2021 he is still an active member of the Hartford Bridge Club.
Mike Swiecicki⁵ left the Hartford before I did. I remember him as being a phenomenal player at games that required hand-eye coordination.
Laurie Weisbrot (a guy) worked in Group Actuarial. When he passed the tenth exam he purchase a vanity plate: LRW-FSA.
Mike Wheeler played on the softball team both years.
Jo White was a senior clerk. She played a lot of golf, mostly at the Buena Vista Golf Course in West Hartford.
Ron Wittenwyler played third base on our softball team in 1973. His wife Jane came to some games.
First names only:
- Bill: Norm Newfield’s partner in the golf league;
- Jackie: Sue’s landlady in Rockville;
- Lisa: who worked for Don Francis;
- Paula: a clerk who worked for Patti Lewonczyk and whom I made cry;
- Ray: a supervisor in Individual Pensions;
- Ron: who married Jackie.
- Tad: a clerk who worked for Alan Gibb.

Sue Comparetto had a million friends. I have undoubtedly forgotten more than I remember. Here are a few that I met during this two-year period.

Marlene Boulerice was with Gary Gudinkas at the time. Sue went to high school with her.
Diane DeFreitas was Sue’s roommate in East Haddam.
Gary Gudinkas was a short guy who was with Marlene. Sue knew him from high school.
Karen Peterson worked at Travelers Equity Sales with Sue and went on the trip to Alaska with her.
Diane Robinson⁶ worked at Travelers Equity Sales with Sue and went on the trip to Alaska with her. We visited Diane a few times at her home in Vermont.
Pat and Stan Slatt had a very large python and a boa constrictor.
Bob and Susan Thompson had a dachshund and a very old Plymouth.
Sue knew Evelyn Umgelter from high school.

It took me years to sort out Sue’s relatives on her mother’s side. I’m only listing first names. Except for Effy, their last name in 1972-74 was Locke. Almost all of them lived within a mile or two of Sue’s childhood home on North Maple in Enfield. Sue was older than all of her cousins and siblings, and I was older than she was. So, I am pretty sure that all of the people of Sue’s generation were living at home during this period.

Bob was the only one of Effy’s brother who left Enfield. He moved to western Michigan and worked as an engineer. Sue and I visited his family in the nineties.
Carol⁷ was Bob’s wife.
Charlie⁸ was Effy’s brother. He was an electrician who did work for Sue’s Father. He lived within a couple of miles.
Chet⁹ was also Effy’s brother. He was buried in his military uniform. He lived within a couple of miles.
Effy Slanetz¹⁰ was Sue’s mother.
Elsie¹¹ was Chet’s wife.
Gene¹² was Charlie’s wife.
Glenn was a son of Ted and Judy and therefore Sue’s first cousin. He lived a few miles away in a new house
Jimmy was a son of Ted and Judy and therefore Sue’s first cousin.
Judy was Ted’s wife. They lived across the street from the Slanetz home.
Molly¹³ was Sue’s Grandmother and Effy’s mother. She lived in a room attached to Ted and Judy’s house. She loved to play bingo.
Paul was Chet’s son. a grave-digger, and Sue’s first cousin.
Patti¹⁴ and Cathy were Charlie’s daughters and therefore Sue’s first cousins. I did not know them very well.
Susie was Ted and Judy’s daughter and Sue’s first cousin.
Ted was Effy’s youngest brother and therefore Sue’s uncle.
Timmy was Chet’s son and Sue’s first cousin.

In contrast, I am not sure that I met any of Sue’s uncles, aunts, and cousins on her father’s (Slanetz) side during this period. I got to meet a lot of them at a Slanetz family reunion that was held years later at Sue’s family house.

Art¹⁵ was Sue’s dad. He farmed when Sue was little. When I knew him, he had a corporation with several irons in the fire—construction, trash, water, and who knows what else.
Betty was Sue’s youngest sister.
Don was Sue’s only brother.
Karen was Sue’s younger sister. She was older than Betty and Don.
Margaret¹⁶ Davis was Art’s sister. She had three children.
- Mark was the brains of the family. I saw him once in Houston, and he has visited our house occasionally.
- Robby still lives in Enfield in 2021.
- I met Diane only briefly. I think that she in South Carolina in 2021.

Chris DesRochers died in 2013. His obituary can be read here.
Patti and Tom Corcoran married while I was coaching debate in Michigan in the late seventies. They had two children, Brian and Casey, who in 2021 both live in Burlington, VT, with their respective families. Patti died in 2011. My tribute to her can be read here.
Frank Lord died on July 3, 2020. His obituary is here.
Scott Otermat left the Hartford in 1980. He died in 2016. His obituary is here.
Mike Swiecicki left the Hartford before I did. He died in 2015 after a twenty-five year career as an actuary with CAL PERS. His obituary is here.
Diane Robinson died in 2009
Carol Locke died in 2018. Her obituary is here.
Charlie Locke died in 2017. His obituary is here.
Chet Locke died in 2004. His obituary is here.
Elsie Locke died in 2018.
Effy Slanetz died in 2002. Her obituary is here.
Gene Locke died in 2018.
I think that Molly Locke died in 1990.
Patti Locke Caswell died in 2019. Her obituary is here.
Art Slanetz died in 2017. His obituary is here.
Margaret Davis died in 2010. Her obituary is here.

1972-1974 Connecticut: The Mean Reserves

Posted on January 15, 2021 by Mike

_t+1/2V_x Continue reading →

The above expression is the actuarial depiction of a “mean reserve” for a life insurance policy. The age at issue is x, and, if I remember correctly, the number of elapsed years is t. V is the symbol for reserve. The +1/2 indicates that it is valuated halfway through the year. Thus, it is the “mean” (average) reserve value for the year.

The Hartford Life hired four young men as actuarial students in 1972. Because of my time in the Army, I was the oldest and the last one hired. The other three were all recent college graduates, and they were all named Tom: Corcoran, Garabedian, and Herget. The three of them shared more than the name Tom; they were all quite interested in sports (especially baseball and basketball), and they were all pretty good athletes as well.

I was almost as interested in sports as they were, but my baseball (documented here) and basketball (documented here) careers were not exactly sterling. Besides, my favorite sport has always been football, and my biggest passion was college football, which was almost unknown in New England—at the time Boston College was the only school in New England that played in the top division, as opposed to five in the state of Michigan alone.

Tom Corcoran¹ was a recent graduate of Brown. He grew up in Stoneham, a suburb on the north side of Boston. He was a die-hard fan of the Sawx and the Celtics. He also played for the rugby club at Brown. Tom was strong, and he knew a lot about basketball, or at least a lot more than I did.

Tom Herget² was from Aurora, IL, west of Chicago. He had just graduated from the University of Illinois, where he majored in parties and minored in math. Tom had uncanny success in basketball with his devious moves near the basket. He was without a doubt the friendliest guy whom I have ever met. He also often made Jack Benny look like a big spender.

Tom Garabedian³, a graduate of Bowdoin College in Maine, lived within walking distance of my apartment in East Hartford. Tom was a skillful ball handler and very quick. He was often asked to defend the opponent’s best scorer, even those who were six or more inches taller.

At some point in the summer we were joined by John Sigler, who was a year or two older than I was. He transferred to Life Actuarial from the Data Processing Department. John graduated from the University of South Carolina. His favorite sport was golf, and he was very good at it. We played golf together a lot. More details are provided here. His basketball game was about on a par with mine.

By the end of the summer the five of us knew each other pretty well. I had not worked with any of them but Tom C., Tom H., John, and I were on the twenty-first floor, and we usually ate lunch together. Tom G. worked in the Group Department, but we all knew him pretty well.

Tom Herget, who had quickly made friends with many people in both buildings, somehow learned that the Hartford was sponsoring a basketball league. He decided to put together a team. He recruited all five of us along with a handful of other guys. The ones that I remember were:

Kevin Kirk.

Kevin Kirk, the only non-actuary on the team, worked in the Individual Pensions Department. He was a point guard on his college team at Belmont Abbey, a small college in North Carolina.
Jan Pollnow was one of the very best players in the company. He went to the University of Wisconsin.
Fred Smith was a big strong guy who was a force under the boards.
Frank Lord was an actuarial student who had attended Dartmouth. His best sport was tennis.

Jim Cochran.

I am quite sure that there was at least one more player for our first game. I distinctly remember that we had ten players. Maybe Mike Winterfield played. In 1973-74 Jim Cochran, who came from Wisconsin, played as well.

I was 6’1″, 145 lbs. when I left the Army.

The games were old school—there was no three-point line. None of the teams had uniforms. However, we did have real refs, and they did not swallow their whistles. I was once called for a technical foul when I emoted the word “Geez” after an opposing player who was dribbling with his right hand karate chopped me with his left. On the other hand, several charging fouls were called on opposing players who sent me flying with incidental contact on drives to the basket. I wasn’t flopping. These guys were husky, and I was a reed with a high center of gravity.

I think that it was Tom H. who came up with the name “Mean Reserves”. It was a brilliantly wonky idea. He also supplied a few of us with “warmup jackets”, which were actually shirts evidently abandoned at the dry cleaners by an unidentified auto service place. Tom bought them for a buck or two. The other two Toms got one with “Rocco” embroidered over one pocket. Mine said “Neal”. Tom got one for himself as well, but it was anonymous. We wore them faithfully to the games. I am sure that our opponents were impressed.

The gym at Northwest Catholic.

The aptness of the team’s name was demonstrated in the first game, which, like all the others was played at Northwest Catholic High School in West Hartford. We played against five guys who were in their thirties or forties. We pressed the entire game, and we played two platoons who relieved each other every five or ten minutes. We had to lay off a bit in the second half. The opponents were so winded that they were nearly ready to quit (or maybe die).

We had pretty good teams both years. We won a lot more often than we lost. After each victory most of us would gather for pizza and beer at The Keg,⁴ a restaurant/bar on Sisson Avenue. We might have gone there when we lost, too. We did not need much of an excuse to keep the party going.

In both years the best team in the league was the one representing the company’s Mailroom. One of their guys was by far the best player in the league. He towered over everyone, and he could consistently hit jump shots from the top of the key. We put Garabedian on him, and that helped, but if he ever got the ball near his spot, the scorekeeper could just record two points without looking.

I remember once that we were scheduled to play the Mailroom, and with a minute or two left in the warmup time, only three of their guys had shown up. Just a few seconds before they would have had to forfeit, two or three more guys appeared and played the whole game in blue jeans.

I also remember that one guy from the Mailroom was not very tall and was quite portly. We figured him for the weak link, but we were wrong. Not only could he dribble and shoot, but he could really jump, and he was also in pretty good shape.

I think that I showed up for every game, but I was seldom much of a factor. I only have one other vivid memory. We were scheduled to play a good team from (I think) Operations Research. They had two really good players, a ball-handler whose name I don’t remember, and a scoring machine whose last name was Kolodziej.

We were shorthanded. Jan Pollnow and Fred Smith did not play. Tom Corcoran was pressed into playing center, and I played most of the game at one of the forwards. Tom said that we should play a zone defense and told me that my responsibility was to keep Kolodziej from going “back-door.” Seeing the blank expression on my face, he explained that when Kolodziej got the ball on my side to let him go and to stand next to the out-of-bounds line between him and the basket so that he could not drive past me under the basket. To drive to the basket he would need to go where the guards could help defend him. To my astonishment this strategy worked.

We all played our best game, and we proved that we could win without Jan. This was the only time in my life that I ever played more than half of an official basketball game that was won by my team. The beer and pizza tasted very good that night.

I do not have any paperwork or photos for the basketball games, and my memory is faulty. Sorry.

* * *

Fortunately, I have a treasure trove of information and photos for the softball teams. Sue Comparetto⁵ and I put together an album documenting the first two years of the Mean Reserves softball team. Here is the introduction to that tome.

Spring 1973 found the weekday residents of the twenty-first floor tired but restive after their first successful basketball season. A memorandum was circulated by the Men’s Club announcing the organization of a softball league for that summer. The whole floor responded with the usual enthusiasm to such memos, but basketball captain R. T. “Tom” Herget happened to read the memo before throwing it away, and, remembering his old mushball days in Illinois, he decided to try to organize an entry.

A typical reaction to Tom’s recruiting was Kevin Kirk’s “What?” Paul Gewirtz thought that a softball game was played with a Nerf ball and a hoop. Eventually, however, enough “players” responded to form an all-volunteer team!

The first thing that the team needed was a name. Tom remembered the stories that used to be passed around on LaSalle St.⁶ about the legendary T. V. “Mean” Reserve. Mean passed up a promising career as a relief pitcher for Eddie Feigner’s King and His Court softball team to pursue a lifelong ambition of correlating the five-step delivery with mortality among professional bowlers. “Just the thing to inspire the team to greatness”, thought Tom, but his suggestion that the team be known as the TV’s was rejected, and we were stuck with the same name as the basketball team’s—the Mean Reserves.

Bunting is common in fast-pitch softball.

Slow-pitch softball uses the standard ball that is twelve inches in circumference. Each team has ten players in the field. The extra player usually plays in the outfield. Pitches must be underhand with an arc of between three and ten feet. Bunting was not allowed. Leadoffs and stealing of bases were also verboten.

Everyone who played on the basketball teams also played softball. The following guys also joined us in 1973:

Jim Cochran, who also played on the basketball squad later in the year, led the team in hitting with a .538 average, in 1973.
Wayne Foster, who ran the payday pool, was the only Vietnam veteran (that I know of) on the twenty-first floor. he told me that he was awarded a Bronze Star for putting through an international phone call for the guy who maintained the list. He played first base.
Charley Robinson from the Special Risk Underwriting Department played in about half of the games.
Scott Otermat⁷, who went to Oberlin College and was my supervisor in the Individual Pensions Department, shared pitching duties with Frank Lord and me.
Ron Wittenwiler was a very good third baseman, but he only came to a couple. of games.
Les Gubkin also played in a couple of games. I remember him, but not where he worked.
Mike Swiecicki⁸ was a very athletic actuarial student, but he only played softball once or twice.
Paul Gewirtz bought his first baseball glove before showing up for one game. He played more in ’74. His defensive play was, well, noteworthy.
Paul Engstrom was a good enough fielder to play shortstop. He also was a bigger factor in ’74.

John Sigler hit .480 in 1973.

We did not actually win any games in 1973, but we made the playoffs anyway. We were eliminated in the first round.

Achievements: Tom Corcoran had eight RBI’s. Tom Garabedian scored eight runs. I led the team in hits and at-bats and was second in both runs and RBI’s.

In 1974 (the rebuilding year) even more people played:

Bob Riley was a Rock at first base
Don Sondergeld had only one official at-bat, but he appeared in quite a few of Sue’s photos.
Jim Hawke, often called “Hawkeye” in tribute to his thick glasses, held a masters degree in math from UConn. He also played a really hot ragtime piano. You have probably heard of his son Ethan, the famous actor.
Mike Wheeler played in several games, but I don’t remember him at all.
Lou Aiello only batted twice, but he got one hit and one RBI that no one will ever forget.
Jim Housholder only batted once.
Keith Reynolds was a fast runner who could cover a lot of ground in the outfield. He worked on another floor.
Paul Campbell, was hired as a Variable Annuity actuary in the middle of the season.
David Rowe was an exchange actuary from England. He had one hit in four at-bats. He might have done better, but he sometimes ran to third base when he hit the ball. We also had to keep reminding him not to carry the bat on the base paths.

Bob Riley was our rock at first base in ’74.

One of Tom C’s round-trippers.

Achievements: Tom Corcoran was again the star of the team with twenty-four hits, nineteen runs, twenty RBI’s, three triples, and four legitimate home runs. He also was our best outfielder. He actually gunned down a few overly ambitious base runners.

I led the team (and the league) in hitting with a .720 average. I also hit one comical home run.

Over the two years I had 33 hits in 54 at-bats. This was quite a change for the guy who only hit the ball once in his first entire season. How did I do it? Well, there were several important factors.

No, Tom H. is not left-handed. I included this photo to show my heavy aluminum bat. The street in the background is the one that aided my home run.

I had bought a very heavy aluminum bat, which I still have. No one else could stand to use it.
I stood at least two feet away from home plate and towards the front of the batter’s box. When the ball came over the plate it was outside and slightly behind me.
After I entered the batters box, look longingly toward left field and then point the bat in that direction. Often this charade would induce the right fielder and the short fielder to take several steps to their right.
The right fielder was usually the team’s second-worst fielder (after the catcher).
I concentrated on hitting the bottom center of the ball while stepping toward right field. This swing always imparted left-to-right (slice) spin to the ball.

Frank Lord’s 1-8 pitching record was the team’s best.

I only made seven outs in 1974. Three or four of them came in one frustrating game in which the opposing pitcher threw the ball with the back of his hand toward the plate. This put backspin on the pitches. My swing usually produced soft line drives between first and second. In that one game, however, I was able to hit nothing but ground balls and weak pop-ups.

I tried to emulate his technique in pitching practice, but I could not consistently throw strikes. I don’t think that I would ever be able to master it.

Memorable events: We won a game! I don’t remember which team we beat, but Frank Lord was the winning pitcher. We made the playoffs again. This time we lost by only 8-6 to the Staggers, the top-seeded team. It was easily our best game. The explanation is here.

Sue missed all of my 33 hits, but she did get this shot of me coaching 3rd base in street clothes.

Here is how I hit a triple and a home run. In both cases I hit soft line drives over the first baseman’s head. When the ball hit the ground it made a right turn because my swing always produced a slice. In the first case I was standing on third by the time that the ball made it to the infield. In the other case the ball made it to the street, which sloped rather sharply away from the infield. The ball actually was picking up speed when the right fielder picked it up. I was crossing the plate as the ball reached the first baseman.

No one who was present will ever forget Lou Aiello’s RBI single. Lou had not played a lot of baseball. His other at-bat for the Mean Reserves was a strikeout, which is almost unheard of in slow-pitch softball. It is important to note a few things that provide context for his successful plate appearance.

1. Many pitchers backed up three or four steps as soon as they released the ball.
2. Most teams put their worst defensive player at catcher.
3. Catchers never crowded the plate. They generally stood several feet back and fielded pitches on one bounce if they fielded them at all.
4. As I mentioned, both bunting and base-stealing were illegal.

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On his second at-bat Lou swung and missed a couple of times. The crowd shouted encouragement. Lou then connected, but just barely—the bottom of his bat grazed the top of the ball, causing it to roll to a stop a few feet in front of home plate. The Mean Reserve bench erupted with “Run, Lou, run!” The catcher was stupefied, and the pitcher was slow enough charging back in to get the ball that Lou had reached first base before the throw. Meanwhile, the Mean Reserve who had been on third scored easily because the catcher was still confused and made no move to defend home plate.

This episode goes down in the Mean Reserve annals as “Lou Aiello’s Swinging Bunt”.

Don Sondergeld had a nice swing, but he only had one official at-bat for the team

So, yes, we occasionally had a left-handed second baseman. You won’t see one in the majors, but then again, the Mean Reserves did not turn many double plays. We put Paul at second base because the vast majority of infield balls are hit to the other side of the field.

In this game, however, someone hit a rather sharp grounder almost right at Paul. Instinct took over, and Paul reached down to catch the ball with his bare left hand rather than his gloved right hand. He did a good job of stopping the ball, and so I moved over to first base and positioned myself to catch his throw.

To everyone’s surprise Paul did not pick the ball up and throw it to me. Instead, leaving the ball in the base path, he turned and purposefully jogged into right field. I hurried over to get the ball. I barely beat the pitcher and shortstop there, and I reached for the ball. Meanwhile, the hitter had rounded first and run past the three of us. When I picked up the ball, there were no Mean Reserves near second base. So, the hitter got a really cheap double.

This did NOT happen.

knocked his thumb off

I swear on George Brett’s pine-tar bat that this is a true story.

1. Tom Corcoran married Patti Lewonczyk from the Individual Pensions Department. He still has a house in Wethersfield, CT, but he also has an apartment in Burlington, VT, where both of his children, Brian and Casey, and their families reside.

2. In 2021 Tom Herget and his wife live in his home town of Aurora, IL. He sends me a Christmas card every December.

3. In 2021 Tom Garabedian is living in the Boston are.

4. The family that owned The Keg moved the operation to Farmington in 2002. The Hartford Courant covered that event here. The building at 99 Sisson Avenue is now a Wood N Tap restaurant.

5. Much more information about Sue can be found here.

6. The headquarters of the Society of Actuaries was on LaSalle St. in Chicago. It subsequently moved to the suburb of Schaumburg.

7. Scott Otermat left the Hartford in 1980. He died in 2016. His obituary is here.

8. Mike Swiecicki left the Hartford before I did. He died in 2015 after a twenty-five year career as an actuary with CAL PERS. His obituary is here.

1972-1974 Connecticut: Actuarial Exams

Posted on January 14, 2021 by Mike

Studying and taking. Continue reading →

The official title of my job at the Hartford was “actuarial student”. I had two responsibilities—helping with the actuarial work assigned by my bosses and studying for the actuarial exams sponsored by the Society of Actuaries (SOA). It is more complicated now, but in 1972-74 there were ten exams (called “parts”). To become a Fellow of the SOA one needed to all ten. Passing the first five granted one the title of Associate.

I can hardly believe than an associate (ASA) would have the temerity to sell advice to other test-takers.

For actuaries advancement at insurance companies depended much more on success on the exams than on performance at the workplace. Becoming a Fellow was a big deal. At least one person at the Hartford immediately after passing the tenth exam got a vanity plate for his car with his initials and “FSA”. Some people hired tutors for difficult tests. It could easily be worth the expense; at the time surveys ranked actuaries as the highest-paid occupation in the United States. For decades the number of actuaries increased by over 6 percent per year, and in the seventies demand still exceeded supply.

The actuarial exams were held twice a year—in May and November. The first four were offered both times. Some of the other six were offered in May; the rest were scheduled for November.

Everyone who has taken them agrees that the exams are very challenging. A few people have taken more than one at a time, but most thought that one was enough. Less than 50 percent of the people pass each test. Many people, myself included, dropped out along the way. The ones taking the higher level exams were by no means a random sample; they had shown the ability and determination to outdo some really smart people again and again.

The Hartford, as well as most other insurance companies, granted actuarial students time during work to study for exams. I think that we got thirty hours for each exam period. Most people took the hours in increments of an hour or two at a time. I always studied in the morning. I came in early and then used an hour and a half of study time. My recollection is that to maintain this privilege one needed to pass at least one exam per year.

The study room on the twenty-first floor was between the elevators and an exterior wall. It consisted of a conference table and, if memory serves, six or eight chairs. For the most part everyone took advantage of the time to study silently and diligently. Occasionally, of course, someone (usually Tom Corcoran) would doze off. We just let them sleep unless the snoring got too loud.

I remember two unusual occurrences. The first involved Pat Adams, an exceptional student who never made any noise in the study room. [This is a good story, but it would be better if I could somehow act it out.] One morning Pat clearly needed to sneeze. She inhaled sharply and then let the breath out. She inhaled sharply again and then emitted something much closer to “Pfft” than “Ahchoo” (or, in my case, a Category 5 blast of AHCHOOOOOO repeated up to eight times).

Upon hearing Pat’s timid sneeze I felt compelled to break the monastic silence of the study room in order to declare that hers was the most pitiful sneeze that I had ever witnessed.

The other occasion of note occurred when Mike Swiecicki and Damon Panels became embroiled in an argument over who was on third base in the ninth inning of a baseball game from a decade or so earlier. It was the kind of dispute that could be solved with Google in less than a minute, but, of course, that was not possible in the seventies. Mike and Damon went on and on, each adding details from his own recollection to try to persuade the other to cede the point. I don’t remember if either of them was ever proven right. It is important to not that no one reported them for breaking the vow of silence because everyone judged that the strictures of l’omertà applied.

UConn offered evening classes at its Hartford campus for the first four exams. I took two of these classes, and I seem to remember that the Hartford paid the tuition.

Marking C for every question is a bad strategy.

Over the years I took the first six exams. All the questions on the first five tests were multiple choice. The multiple choice questions were very carefully designed so that all of the answers seemed reasonable. To discourage guessing, a percentage of wrong answers was subtracted from the number of right answers.

Each exam was scored on a scale from 0 through 10. The minimum passing score was 6 on each test. Here is a description of my experience with each exam:

Part 1: The topic was “general mathematics”. Most of the questions involve algebra and/or calculus. I took the exam in my sophomore year at U-M. I did not study at all. My score was a 6. I thought that I had done much better than that. I probably guessed too much.

Sue Comparetto took this exam several times, but she did not pass. Of course, she also did not have the benefit of study time or free classes.

I took a chance when I was young and answered only the probability questions. It worked out better for me than it did for Og Oggilby.

Part 2: The topics were probability and statistics. The first time that I took it was in November of 1969 right after I had taken classes at U-M in both subjects from Cecil Nesbitt. I was too busy with debate and other extracurricular activities to study. More details can be read here. I was not worried about passing, but I should have been. I only received a 4.

I took the test again in May of 1970 in Ann Arbor. Once again I did not study even for a minute, this time out of ennui and disillusionment with the world in general. I was especially shaky about statistics. As the tests were being distributed, I decided to skip all statistics questions except the ones that I was absolutely certain of. In actuality, I answered every probability question and no statistics questions at all. I assumed that I had flunked, but I somehow squeaked through with a 6.

Part 3: The topics were finite differences (about which I remember absolutely nothing) and compound interest. I took this exam in November of 1972 in Hartford. During the previous few months I had attended classes in these subjects at UConn/Hartford. The subject matter seemed rather simple, and I used all of my study time, but I still only managed a 6.

Jordan's textbook was our bible. — Jordan’s textbook was our bible.

Part 4: The topics was life contingencies. I took the test in May of 1973. Many actuaries considered this the most difficult exam. Once again I attended the classes in Hartford. This time I supplemented my study time with some additional time, but the weather was starting to get very nice in late April and May. By then I also had something of a social life. I counted myself lucky to score a six.

Part 5: There were four exceptionally boring topics: 1) demography (the study of individuals moving in and out of groups over time); 2) principles underlying the construction of mortality and other tables; 3) elements of graduation of mortality tables and other series; 4) sources and characteristics of the principal mortality and disability tables. If the choice had been mine, I would never have considered studying any of these topics. I hated every second that I spent in all four areas.

I took this test in the fall of 1973, a very bad period for me. There were no classes. I studied as hard as I could at the Hartford, and I tried to make myself study at home. However, there were many distractions, and by then I had pretty much decided that I wanted to abandon the world of insurance and return to U-M if possible to coach debate. At the end of the exam, I was pretty certain that I had failed, and I was right. I got a 4.

Part 6: There were three topics: 1) actuarial aspects of life insurance accounting; 2) valuation of liabilities; 3) investment of life insurance funds. I took this test in the spring of 1974. By then I had already been offered the coaching job at U-M, and I accepted it. I planned to leave the Hartford forever in August.

I really wanted to pass this test. I knew that I would never use any of the knowledge that I was cramming into my skull, but I did not want people to think that I was quitting because I could not pass the exams. As it happened, however, my social life had improved by that point. That factor, my excitement about the adventure that awaited me in the fall, and the fact that the accounting aspect was insufferably boring made it difficult for me to keep my nose to the grindstone.

The first part of the exam was short answer/essay. I felt pretty good at the break about my performance. However, I did not feel at all good about the multiple choice questions in the afternoon. I was therefore not surprised when I received another 4.

The investment part of this exam was ludicrous. The Society still used a horribly dated textbook that recommended that companies concentrate their investments in downtown real estate properties occupied by department stores like F.W. Woolworth and S.S. Kresge. A few typewritten pages were provided to students to replace these comical suggestions.

After I left the Hartford area, the thing that I missed the least was studying for and taking the tests. The math was not as difficult as what I encountered at Michigan, but at least half or the material was, for me, horribly boring.

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1972-1974 Connecticut: The Mean Reserves

1972-1974 Connecticut: Actuarial Exams