Long time coming:
Now 93, Bonnie Gould finally attends a Stanford diploma ceremony — 61 years after he graduated.
Back in 1954 when Bonnie “Chuck” Gould earned his master’s degree in education from Stanford University, he was a decorated World War II veteran, a young father of four, and already busy teaching elementary school. Walking some stage to pick up his sheepskin seemed trivial compared with the rest of life. So he skipped the ceremony.
That didn’t go over so well with his wife, Margaret “Boots” Gould. And as the years slipped by, it didn’t sit so well with Gould himself, even though he never mentioned it to anyone.
On Sunday, he made up for that. Big time. At age 93.
Sporting the black cap and gown he passed up 61 years ago, Gould joined 208 other graduates as they walked the commencement
stage for the Stanford’s Graduate School of Education. Back when he earned his master’s, there would have been four young children and a wife cheering him on — but now, after a full lifetime of producing what became six children, 10 grandchildren and 13 greatgrandchildren, he had a huge crowd of relatives crying and clapping — with the entire graduating class giving him a standing, yelling ovation.
And there, sitting front row, was his wife of 71 years, watching with a smile that reflected decades of pride, love and delayed gratification.
“I tried to get him to go to this all those years ago, but we had the children and he had the work and he was so devoted,” Margaret Gould said as he watched him slowly but firmly stride across the stage. “But now — my heart is pounding. I am so excited — it’s like me up there.”
Appropriate coda
Gould, the sort of man who defines the word “spry” at his age, reckoned it felt just about as good to be handed his degree now as it would have in 1954. Maybe even better.
Back then, the degree would have been a starting point, a promise of the future. Now, after having retired from a 46- year career as an elementary-and middle- school teacher, coach, principal and superintendent of the Redwood City School District, that piece of paper is instead an emblem of a life well conducted in the service of educating children.
“I guess not having done this for all those years just sort of got out of hand,” Gould said. “Back then, I thought other things came first. But now — what an honor. I suppose it has a little something to do with being 93 years old.
“At my age, I’m just glad to be anywhere,” he said with a chuckle. “But this, today — this feels great.”
The actual diploma had been sitting for many years in the Goulds’ family home — in Palo Alto, and then in Union City when the couple moved there a few years ago — buried in boxes in a spare room. It got unearthed for its special airing Sunday, and got a new diploma envelope for its trouble.
The whole thing would have never happened if not for 34- year- old granddaughter-in- law Crystal Sturgis of Roseville, who in the past year started compiling a history of him for the family.
“He is an amazing man,” said Sturgis. “I mean, the things he did in World War II — these people, you usually only read about these days. But Bonnie — he was there. And what a wonderful career he had as a teacher. I just thought we should have that history in the family.”
Sturgis started her research last fall with his Navy service in World War II, where as a lieutenant he directed ship fire with the Army’s 77th Division in the Pacific — and wound up at the unusually brutal Battle of Okinawa. He was so effective, flattening the reputedly impregnable Shiri Castle to rubble, that he earned a Bronze Star from the Army.
Settling into teaching
Then she got to his academic career. Born in Savona, N. Y., Gould worked on the family farm but always wanted to be a teacher, so he earned a bachelor’s degree in education from Taylor University in Indiana. That was in 1943, and with the war on he did what so many other young men did at the time — he married his sweetheart, Margaret, and enlisted in the military.
After the war, he and Margaret settled in Palo Alto, and he began teaching in Redwood City. But with the GI Bill going strong, he figured he might as well get a master’s degree, so in 1946 he strolled into the nearby Stanford campus one day and asked what that would involve.
“They looked at my qualifications and said, ‘ Well, classes start Monday,’ so that’s when I started,” he said. “I absolutely loved every minute of going to Stanford after that.”
In fact, he loved the university so much he worked the ticket booth at the football games and raved about the school for all of his life to his kids. “I’ve been married 71 years, and the family always came first,” he said Sunday. “But Stanford — that’s number two.”
“Dad never mentioned the fact that he didn’t go to his own graduation ceremony, but he always made a big deal out of education and how much he loved Stanford,” said daughter Wendy Gould Miller, 53, of Palo Alto. “It’s amazing to see this happen today. He is such a good guy. We’re so proud of him.”
The Gould family request for his walk across the stage was an easy sell to the School of Education.
“When Crystal called us and asked, ‘ Would it be possible for my grandfather to graduate?’ of course we instantly said yes,” said Eamonn Callan, who as associate dean of student services has been calling out the names of the education school’s graduates for 11 years. “No second thoughts. I mean, what a story — and just look at the man. Does he look spry or what?”
‘ It’s an honor’
Callan is going back to teaching after this year, so Sunday was the last time he’ll call out graduate names at commencement. That meant Gould, who was the final grad to walk the stage, became the last name he called.
“To have someone who’s had such a remarkable career and who contributed so much locally — well, it was a no- brainer that we would want to celebrate him,” Callan said. “It’s an honor to call his name.”
Gould kept a straight, solemn face as he did his long- awaited walk and fetched his diploma envelope and a hug from the dean. He sat down again and stared straight ahead for a few moments, taking it all in. Then he leaned close to his wife and asked: “Did I muck it up?”
Margaret Gould patted his hand and stared him straight in the eyes.
“No, dear,” she said. “You did great. You did great.”