Fallen Hero: The late Tony Azarian could never say no

BY PETER JACKEL, April 27, 2000

You can hear the mournful horn of a coal train slowly rumble by, 100 yards or so from where he died. The spookiness of this place on the northern outskirts of Racine is heightened by a raw spring wind that seems to grow more dominant as the rumble of the train gradually diminishes in the distance.

There's a makeshift plastic orange fence that surrounds a hole, a cavernous hole filled with the emptiness so many are feeling over his loss. How you wish a fence would have been in place April 15, when a dirt slide within the depths of that hole claimed the life of Racine's Tony Azarian as he inspected a sewer pipe.

You lean over the fence and peer into that hole, now partially filled with water, and you can feel the vast emptiness. Metaphors continue to flash in your mind as you look up and scan the landscape. An uprooted tree just to the south. The sun setting over those lonely railroad tracks, where that coal train rolled by just minutes earlier.

Near the fence, you notice a memorial of flowers and crosses for this widely known local businessman, coach and father. A signed wrestling head protector from a wrestler he once coached dangles from the fence. Stuffed in the fence is a dirty red and white T-shirt with the unmistakeable scrawl of a youngster. It says, "Dear Tony. Thanks for saying, 'Never give up.' "

Community remembers Azarian

A steady rain fell on Tuesday, April 18, for one of the largest wakes held in Racine. Darryl Sturino, a director at the Hansen Funeral Home, estimated that between 4,000 and 5,000 people attended the wake at St. Mesrob Armenian Apostolic Church. Mel Larsen of Image Crafters worked around the clock for two days printing memorial folders. About 150 flower arrangements, three times more than what Sturino considers a large amount, decorated the church. There was up to a 3 1/2-hour wait to view Azarian's body. And nearly 300 cars were in the funeral procession.

"I've been doing this for 12 years and I've never seen anything like this,'' Sturino said.

But then, there haven't been a lot of people like Anthony Alan Azarian, whose 41 years on this planet seemed to be one big contradiction.

He made his living as head of the Sam Azarian Wrecking Company. But for every building he wrecked, it seemed that Azarian built a dozen friendships. Growing up, he devoted himself -- as a football player and wrestler -- to putting opponents on their backs. But off the field, he helped so many people to their feet.

"It was almost The Tony Azarian Make-A-Wish Foundation,'' said Angus McNeely, Azarian's best friend since the two were in the second grade at Wind Point Elementary School. "If you asked him for something, it was an almost unhesitating 'yes.' He was disappointed that he didn't help you soon enough. And everything was unconditional with Tony.''

How unique was Azarian? Almost 24 years after Azarian's Horlick High School football team lost to Antigo in the first-ever WIAA Division 1 championship game in November 1976, four members of that Antigo team attended Azarian's wake.

"That's just unbelieveable,'' said Dick Wojick, Azarian's football coach at Horlick.

There always seemed to be something special about the fourth of Sam and Louise Azarian's five sons. Raised under the iron-fisted dominance of his father, who died of a heart attack at age 52 in 1982, Azarian was taught the discipline to make the most out of what he had.

Despite his limited physical size, Azarian was a warrior as an athlete who tolerated nothing less than the best from himself and his teammates. Horlick could have a four-touchdown lead late in a game, yet a grunting, snorting Azarian would still be throwing his 5-foot-9, 151-pound body around the field. And if any teammate decided to take that play off, they could expect an earful from Azarian.

"Tony had a great amount of intensity,'' Wojick said. "That word is used loosely in sports, but how many kids who are 151 pounds make all-state as a defensive lineman?

"I've coached huge programs and great athletes, but as far as I'm concerned, I've never coached a kid with greater intensity.''

It was that intensity that embodied Horlick's run to that historic first state championship game during Azarian's senior year. As fullback and nose guard on that team, Azarian was an emotional force on both sides of the ball who almost seemed to will the Rebels to success at times.

"Moreso than anything, he was the embodient of what coach Wojick wanted us to be,'' said Roy Wittke, Horlick's quarterback that season. "He was the spirit of the '76 team.''

Azarian went on to overachieve as a football player and wrestler at UW-Whitewater. When he graduated in May 1982, five months after his father died, Tony took over the family's business and built it to new heights. He would accept nothing less of himself.

"Tony had the education and it was just a matter of time before he started to build this business,'' said Sam Azarian Jr., the second-oldest of the five Azarian sons. "He wanted to succeed at whatever he did and he would take all measures to be successful.

"Tony was everything I strived to be. I mean, I was so proud of Tony and what he did. After a while -- and it didn't bother me because I loved him so much -- he was like my older brother. I looked up to him.''

As did so many children in this communuty

The same person who terrorized opponents in competition was a soft touch with the children he always loved. He had four sons and two daughters with wife Vannette, his high school sweetheart, and was pleading with her for just one more child during the last few years of his life.

"He wanted me to have my tubes reversed because he wanted more children,'' Vannette Azarian said. "I just said, 'First of all, Tony, do you know how expensive that is, and second, I'm tired.' But he would say, 'Just one more. Just have your tubes reversed and we'll have one more. And if we don't do it that way, we'll adopt.'

"He wanted to help other kids. He was always like that.''

Even with the time-consuming responsibility of running the company his father started, Azarian always found time for a community of kids -- in addition to his own. A typical day for Azarian was running home for a quick dinner after work, dashing out to coach a football or wrestling program for Racine Youth Sports, and then discussing strategy on the phone with another coach for an hour or so.

"I mean, I shared him,'' Vannette Azarian said. "He was hardly ever home with me.''

He quietly paid the RYS fee for kids from families who couldn't afford it. And if he showed any favortism as an RYS coach, it was toward the least-talented kids.

"If there was somebody who wasn't quite as good as some of the others, as long as they were giving 100 percent, he would put them in the right position where somehow they would contribute,'' McNeely said. "And that really helped build the self-esteem of the kid.''

As McNeely filed past Azarian for a final farewell during that wake last week, so many other images came alive.

Just last year, a beaming Azarian fired up some of his company's heavy-duty vehicles to give McNeely's two small sons a ride. Then there was that time a few years ago when McNeely called Azarian from his Florida home to tell him he lost his job.

"He said, 'You want to work up here?' That was the first sentence out of his mouth,'' McNeely said. "I wouldn't have been able to work out in the field, but he would have found something for me to do around the office or something.''

The emptiness sets in again and McNeely asks why Tony had to die. But maybe he knows.

"When Tony was a sophomore on the Horlick JV football team with us, coach Wojick pulled him up to the varsity to fill a big hole at nose guard,'' McNeely said. "Everybody on the JV was initially saying it wasn't fair and we were wondering how we were going to win games, but we realized Tony was better off.

"The players on the JV all had to suck it up a notch and play a lot harder to fill the huge shoes. Tony watched all the JV games and expected us to win.

"God must have had a huge hole to fill and called his best person up early to fill the hole. We all know Tony is in a better place just like the JV team knew. And I know Tony would want all of us to bring our game up a notch to fill the hole he left behind.''