John ‘Jack’ Andrew Fitzgerald

John “Jack” Andrew Fitzgerald, 99, died of COVID-19 on Dec. 28, 2024. He leaves behind a legacy as long as his colorful life.

Funeral services will be held Wednesday, Jan. 8, at Gunderson Funeral Home in Monona, Wisconsin. Visitation will take place from 2 to 4 p.m., followed by a military service with honor guard, rifle squad, and taps.

Burial will be at Restlawn Cemetery in Wausau, Wisconsin, on Thursday, Jan. 9, at 1 p.m.

Born in Menominee, Michigan, on Feb. 2, 1925, Jack grew up in Allouez, Wisconsin, with his four siblings. He was deeply shaped by two defining events of the 20th century: the Great Depression and World War II.

Jack, his siblings, and their dear mother endured economic and emotional hardship as a result of his father’s alcoholism. These challenges inspired Jack to be a loving, generous, and fully present father to his own children.

During the Great Depression, Jack delivered Grit, known then as the “Great American Family Newspaper,” and both Milwaukee newspapers to help his family make ends meet. This experience sparked a lifelong love of reading the morning paper.

In middle school, Jack fell in love with music, inspired by Glenn Miller’s big band sound. He hoped to play the clarinet but had to settle for the trumpet – an instrument that would profoundly shape his life.

A lifelong Green Bay Packers fan, Jack rode his bike to City Stadium, where he could get in free with a paying adult. After Dec. 7, 1941, the attack on Pearl Harbor, he joined the Packers’ Lumberjack Band, playing the trumpet in place of musicians who had gone off to war.

As a 10th grader, Jack listened to President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s radio address following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, describing it as “a day that will live in infamy.” Eager to serve, Jack enlisted in the U.S. Navy on his 18th birthday rather than waiting to graduate high school and risk being drafted. His dream was to join a capital ship’s band and play the trumpet, despite the fact that he could barely dog paddle.

While he wanted to do his part to defeat fascism, Jack faced two significant obstacles: he was colorblind – during a time when ships relied on colored flags for communication – and nearly blind due to lasting effects of whooping cough as a child. A friend helped him pass the military induction colorblind tests, and a compassionate medical officer, moved by Jack’s visible disappointment at being told he didn’t qualify and would have to join the U.S. Army, gave him another chance.

Jack’s performances with the Packers’ Lumberjack Band had earned him membership in a musician’s union. This membership card validated his status as a “professional musician” and allowed him to audition for a ship’s band. His dream of serving on a capital ship became a reality when he was assigned to the U.S.S. Saratoga, an aircraft carrier that shared his birth year.

During his service, Jack earned three battle stars for combat in the Marshall Islands, action with the British Royal Navy task force in Java and Sumatra, and the bloody battle for Iwo Jima in March 1945. He volunteered to be a First Loader on a Quad 40 anti-aircraft gun, much to the dismay of his bandmates, who preferred safer battle station duties inside the ship at aid stations.

When Japanese kamikaze planes attacked the Saratoga, Jack’s gun stayed fixed on its target – a plane heading straight for his position. He loaded four-shell clips as fast as he could until a massive explosion sent water and plane debris showering over him. A kamikaze plane had struck the ship amidships at the waterline, just ahead of his gun pocket, leaving a hole large enough to drive a semi-truck through. The blast killed everyone manning the adjacent 5-inch gun.

Though Jack’s hand was cut by shrapnel, he refrained from seeking medical attention when he saw the severity of injuries among others awaiting triage. Out of respect for the busy medics, he did not apply for a Purple Heart.

After the Saratoga limped back to Bremerton, Washington, for repairs, Jack was promoted to Gun Director Operator for his exemplary service, despite being teased as a “four-eyes” – the only enlisted sailor on the ship wearing glasses, as poor vision was disqualifying for the Navy draft at the time.

After the war, Jack attended the University of Wisconsin-Madison on the GI Bill, earning bachelor’s and master’s degrees in music education.

Jack loved his time in San Diego, California, during the war, so he and his wife, Marge (née Kramer), decided to move west to Mission Village to start their family. There, he taught high school music and supplemented his income by working part-time summer jobs, including selling insurance at Sears (even then, Southern California had a very high cost of living for a young public school teacher).

In 1963, Jack moved his growing family back to Wisconsin after being hired as an associate professor at the newly opened University of Wisconsin-Marathon County. Tasked with building the music department and program from the ground up, he served as department chair, created the UWMC Band and the Swing Choir, and taught Music Appreciation to hundreds of students. His self-deprecating humor, easy smile, and passion for classical music made his classes a favorite among those seeking elective credits.

After divorcing his first wife, Jack married Marsha Krueger in 1973. Together, they were gracious hosts, welcoming friends and his children’s teammates into their home for activities like sledding down the backyard hill to the frozen creek and playing board games such as Pictionary and Trivial Pursuit. Jack was notorious for his playful competitiveness, often sneaking extra cards or cutlery into fast-paced games of “Spoons” to gain an advantage.

Jack loved cross-country driving, long before conveniences like cruise control and intermittent wipers became standard. He could drive for hours without a break, often accompanied by his youngest daughter, Paula, who read Laura Ingalls Wilder books aloud to him. During the summers, Jack earned extra income by traveling throughout northern Wisconsin, conducting daylong clinics for high school bands and choirs.

Summer family vacations were a hallmark of Jack’s life, often spanning three weeks on the road to the West Coast. These trips included stops at national parks such as the Black Hills, the Grand Canyon, Mesa Verde, and Alcatraz, as well as visits to other historical landmarks. San Diego and California held a special place in Jack’s heart, making them recurring destinations for family adventures. Closer to home, the family enjoyed tent camping at Rib Mountain, local county parks, and the Wisconsin Dells. Jack was known for embarrassing his kids during hikes by wearing Bermuda shorts, black socks, sandals, and a red handkerchief tied over his bald head (which was often similar to the attire he wore while spending many thousands of hours on a riding lawn tractor mowing the grass or hauling shovelfuls of sand out of the pond behind the house at Reed Road).

Jack was a “superfan” for his children’s activities long before the term was popularized. As a dad, he was supportive, generous, and occasionally over the top in the best ways. He once attempted to bring a bass drum to a D.C. Everest girls’ basketball game in Marshfield to counter the home fans’ noisemakers. In 1977, he drove to Colorado Springs over Thanksgiving (in the days when air travel was very expensive) to spend a few days with his son, a cadet at the United States Air Force Academy.

Christmas was his favorite season: amazing music to direct or perform, gifts to give and open, garish trees to decorate, and LOTS of delicious sweets like chocolate-covered peanuts and peanut brittle. His kids cracked this code early on, spending hours dog-earring and marking up pages in the Sears Christmas catalog, hoping to score a new Erector Set or cardboard dollhouse castle. These toys required hours of tedious assembly work the night before, most of which he enthusiastically relished.

In 1988, Jack married Debra Anklam, and they eventually settled in Lodi, Wisconsin, where they built their dream home nestled into a wooded hill. Together, they enjoyed feeding birds, salting paths for deer, and taking leisurely rides on the Merrimac Ferry to enjoy ice cream on the far side of Lake Wisconsin, near Devil’s Lake State Park. Jack found joy in creating criss-cross patterns on his lawn reminiscent of a Brewers outfield and inventing razor-blade-studded defenses to fend off persistent squirrels and raccoons from their bird feeders. The couple also cherished annual winter trips to Daytona, Florida, USS Saratoga reunions, and visits to the Black Hills, where Jack always replenished his stash of fireworks.

While living in Lodi, Jack led the Soon-to-be-Famous town band, performing in small-town parades across south-central Wisconsin. Deb occasionally joined in, playing the bass drum when needed. Jack also played with groups such as the Blessed Brass in Madison, the Retro Swing Band, and the renowned Civil War 1st Brigade Band of Watertown, Wisconsin. Of all the musical groups he participated in, the Civil War Band remained his favorite, thanks to its authentic instruments, period uniforms, and historical arrangements.

Jack lived a life of service to his country, his family, and his students. He taught and directed music for 44 years, beginning at John Edwards High School in Port Edwards, Wisconsin, continuing at Kearney High School in San Diego, and concluding at UW-Marathon County in Wausau, Wisconsin.

In retirement, he joined VFW Post 2260 in Madison. Over three decades with the VFW, Jack played taps at over 3,000 veterans’ funerals. He often received a free cup of hot chocolate from a local coffee shop when wearing his VFW Rifle Squad uniform. Jack’s quick wit, World War II veteran plates, and down-to-earth charm also earned him leniency from law enforcement; once, after being pulled over for driving 75 mph in a 55-mph zone in his Prius, he quipped, “Are you sure? I don’t think this car can go that fast.” The deputy laughed and let him off with a warning.

For 25 years, Jack drove from Lodi to Eden Prairie High School to share his World War II experiences with his daughter Sheila’s 10th-grade U.S. history students. Treated like a rock star, Jack was frequently asked for autographs and selfies. Students often said his stories and photo presentations were the highlight of their academic quarter.

Jack was a lifelong learner and a voracious reader, keeping books or magazines in his car – along with candy bars stashed in the glove compartment, which he called “blizzard food,” just in case he needed to wait for any length of time.

At 45, Jack began playing racquetball and went on to win several state-level championships in his age group. He continued to play until his early 80s, often joking that his best YMCA competitor was a pregnant Madison woman in her 30s. At age 90, he hired a trainer at the Madison YMCA to help improve his strength and balance. His oft-stated goal of reaching 100 years was just 39 days away.

Jack contributed to every community he was part of. He helped gather signatures to save the Merrimac Ferry and volunteered to direct the Monona United Methodist Church Bell Choir, where his wife Deb participated. Known for his humor, Jack delighted in giving unique door prizes on tour buses or at team banquets. One of his personal mottos was, “If no one else will volunteer, then I will.” He also embodied the attitude of “walk like you know where you’re going and act like you belong,” which served him well on many occasions.

As a grandfather, Jack took great joy in supporting his grandchildren’s activities, whether at hockey rinks (Derek and Claire), basketball courts (Kathleen), or softball diamonds (Claire). Summers with grandsons John, Sean, and Ryan at the Oshkosh Experimental Aircraft Association fly-in were another highlight. Mentioning an upcoming piano recital, forensics meet, or choir concert guaranteed a short-notice visit and dinner with Grandpa at Culver’s.

Jack was very competitive and loved to “play,” whether it was Scrabble, Boggle, backyard badminton, or touch football games during halftime of Packers games. After finishing the lower level of their home, he and Deb purchased a pool table, where he spent hours playing with anyone willing. Grandson Derek fondly remembered shooting pool with Jack until 3 a.m. during a visit as a teenager. Jack was determined to wring every minute from every hour, epitomizing the phrase “carpe diem.”

The COVID-19 lockdown deeply affected Jack’s active life. Coupled with an Alzheimer’s dementia diagnosis in 2019, his world grew smaller and more confusing. Deb faced the challenges of allowing him to remain at home as long as possible until April 2024, when he moved to Dove Healthcare in Lodi. There, Jack received compassionate care from a team of dedicated professionals.

Jack was preceded in death by his parents, John B. and Gladys (Gagnon), his sisters Irene Olson and Mary Miller, and his brother Rockne.

He is survived by his wife of 36 years, Debra Anklam; his brother Franklin; his children John (Kim), Maureen, Sheila (Sandra Schmidt), and Paula (Dave); his grandchildren Sean (Karen), Ryan (Hannah), Kellyanne (Mark Powers), Kristy (Ben), Kathleen, Caitlin (fiancé Jeremy), Maddy (Chandler), Derek (Jorie), and Claire; and his great-grandchildren Caleb, Reeve, Henry, Maisie, Zoe, and Kora Rae.

Memorials may be directed to the UW-Wausau Campus Foundation’s John Runkel Foundation, the Alzheimer’s Association, or an organization of your choice.