When I left Swarthmore in Fall ’66 and came to San Francisco, Dennis Moe was already working as a hospital orderly in Berkeley Since I was kind of at loose ends for part of that first year, staying at Dennis’ place in Berkeley for a couple nights a few different times was an anchor for me. Dennis combined an unassuming friendliness, quiet thoughtfulness, an apparent solidity - Upper Midwest style, with an interest in New Age spiritual currents. In late ‘68, he stayed for a bit in my communal flat in San Francisco.
We lost touch some time in ’69. In March, 1970, I caught sight of him in front of the Holy Order of Mans center in San Francisco. I stopped, and we talked. At later times, I went by there and asked after him. There was an implication that they had sent him to another city, but the members of the Order told me very little. Finally, in Fall of ’71, they told me Dennis had committed suicide, but still didn’t say to what city he had been sent. I’ve missed him, and have wished that I understood more of what happened. I believe Dennis was the only member of our class who was a military veteran when we all started Swarthmore.
I met Dennis on the train on my way to Freshman orientation. I decided back then the take the train from Los Angeles to Philly. I took the Union Pacific City of Los Angeles from LA to Chicago and then got on the Pennsylvaina RR from Chicago to Philly with my cello, typerwriter and luggage in tow. Getting washed up in the train car bathroom in the morning on the way to Philly, I met Dennis, who was also shaving or something like that. We started to talk and realized we were both going to Frosh Orientation at S'more. I liked him immediately and decided that S'more was going to be okay, having never set foot on the campus before. (I was interviewed by Dean Hoy at the Green Hotel in Pasadena.) Dennnis had a quiet intelligence, kindness, and felt very mature to me, which he was since he was already a veteran at that point. We had lovely and thoughtful conversations the rest of the way to Philly. I was very sad to hear of his passing. He was an important part of our class. My thanks go out to his spirit. He made a somewhat overwhelmed and lonely young man from So Cal feel more at home, more anchored and more assured.
I remember Dennis as a friendly, self-confident veteran. I believe he had been a medic in the Army. He and I were both originally from Minnesota and in addition to our many conversations at Sharples and on campus we spent many hours on the road together going to and from Minneapolis- St. Paul on school breaks. I still remember Dennis struggling at the wheel of his red VW bug as a Midwestern winter wind nearly swept us off the road. He helped acclimate me to Minnesota and the US after an 11-year absence abroad during my formative years. He was a good friend “in the know”. Dennis knew the Minneapolis – St. Paul area like the back of his hand. He introduced me to Ceasars’, a bar near the University of Minnesota which specialized in beer from all over the world. Dennis was always upbeat. He had several stories to tell, some outrageously funny, most of them based on real life experience.
At some point during my second year at Swarthmore I realized Dennis was no longer there. It didn’t occur to me to check up on him. He was the mature, self-confident one. He was the last one I would have guessed who needed help. My own life began to spiral out of control during the spring of 1966. By the time I recovered both Swarthmore and Dennis were history. Several years later I learned of his passing. When I inquired about cause of death I received no reply. It was only by reading Stephen Morse’s comments a few days ago that I discovered how Dennis died. I was shocked. It seemed so out of character. If anyone knows anything more about how Dennis passed I’d really be interested.
The Dennis Moe I knew is the one Stan and Jim have also written about. He was a great and steady friend. When he stayed at my flat in San Francisco in late ’68, he had given up his job and Berkeley flat; as I remember, he was headed out on the road for a while. Less settled, sure, but so were a lot of us at some point in the late 60’s. Didn’t seem at all suicidal. I had gone by the Holy Order of MANS (HOOM) center in San Francisco asking after Dennis when I was on leave from the Army. It was after I got out of the Army in November ’71 that I was told he’d committed suicide. The man at HOOM said that because I ‘d been there repeatedly, he informed me of this but without any more detail. At that point a male figure behind him in the shadows told him, “Brother, you’ve said enough.” Like a clip from a noir film. I ran into Lawrence, his former flat-mate in Berkeley soon after that, let him know about Dennis, and said I was disturbed by, maybe suspicious about, the incident at HOOM, but he just thought that a group promoting service was embarrassed by the suicide. I regret not trying to contact Dennis’ folks at the time. In the spring of ’67, Dennis and I had driven about 200 miles south from the Bay Area to a commune he knew about and then drove north toward the New Age mecca of Esalen at Big Sur. A landslide had made Highway 1 impassable, and we drove at least 50 miles south till we got to a road that would take us to 101 north. We never got to Esalen. Recently, I have thought of this incident as possible metaphor for the last stage of his life: en route to New Age enlightenment, he hit a roadblock.
I did some research on the matter and this is what I came up with. He was last seen by a member of the class in San Francisco in March,1970. When Steve Morris inquired about him repeatedly in 1971 at the Holy Order of Mans (HOOM), a “new age” religious group where Dennis had been staying, he was finally told that Dennis had committed suicide. The individual who revealed this was almost immediately told to keep his mouth shut by a second HOOM member who overheard the conversation (Pease seen Steve's comments above).
The events above led us to believe that Dennis had passed away in San Francisco or at least California. When I checked with the City of San Francisco and then the State of California, there was no death certificate. I found information and a roster of ex-members of the Holy Order of Mans together with their email addresses online. The group was disbanded in 1988. I sent a letter of inquiry to nearly everyone on the list. Thank God for email and multiple addressing. I received two responses. Neither individual could remember Dennis at all. One of them, Fred Krueger, claimed Dennis could not have been a HOOM member, at least not a full member, in the San Francisco area because he himself was there from 1970 on and would certainly have remembered him. So first the Holy Order of Mans says Dennis committed suicide and now they’ve never heard of him. It made me skeptical, if not downright suspicious of the members of what’s left of the organization. In all fairness Fred Krueger may have arrived after Dennis departed in 1970. The key would be a death certificate stating the cause of death.
I also checked back with Swarthmore. Lo and behold … the school gave me additional information which included a link (https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/39683291/dennis-gilman-moe) to Dennis’s gravestone and burial location (Mora, Minnesota) together with the date of death (23 Feb 1971). I was thus able to obtain Dennis’s burial permit from the City of Mora. They were unable to give me a death certificate because he did not die in Minnesota.
The burial permit indicated that Dennis had passed away at General Hospital in Kansas City, Missouri, not California. The state of Missouri will not release a death certificate except to next of kin or to law enforcement in an ongoing investigation. If of our legal eagles know a way around this restriction, please contact me.
Dennis’s gravestone says “Vietnam” on it. I checked a roster of all the names on the Vietnam Wall memorial in Washington D.C. Dennis’s name is not on the Wall. I remember Dennis telling me he was a conscientious objector. He had already completed a stint in the army as a medic before he came to Swarthmore and before Vietnam heated up. It would have been very unlikely for him to re-enlist sometime after seeing Steve in March 1970, go to Vietnam, be wounded, and then die at a civilian hospital in Kansas City MO on February 23rd, 1971. Had he gone to Vietnam and been wounded, Dennis would have been taken to a military medical facility.
I was tempted to try a mass mailing to everyone with last name of Moe in the U.S. This would have been a massive undertaking with a low probability of success. Dennis’s parents are deceased. He was an only child, at least by his father’s last marriage.
There was something else. Kathy Conner (‘68) had been Dennis’s girlfriend while he was at Swarthmore. She probably knew him better than anybody else in our class. Kathy and I haven’t seen each other in over 50 years. She eventually responded to my inquiry. She mentioned that beneath Dennis’s friendly outgoing manner there was a dark side. He was not dangerous to others but possibly to himself. As soon as she heard of Dennis’s death, her first thought was that it was suicide.
I’ve decided to terminate my research on Dennis, at least for now. Anyone who wishes to examine the matter further is certainly welcome to take it from here … especially if they know how to wrangle a death certificate from the state of Missouri.
Just checked Whitepages for people with the name Moe in Mora, MN. There's quite a passel of them, even someone named Denise Moe. I would assume that there must be some who are related to Dennis. The Dennis I remember was a sturdy guy, but look at all the GIs who are committing suicide these days. Perhaps Stan or Cathy would know, but the thought occurs that Dennis might have had an internal conflict over a gay or bi side, though San Francisco in the late sixties was more a hippie than a gay mecca.
Stephen C. Morse
When I left Swarthmore in Fall ’66 and came to San Francisco, Dennis Moe was already working as a hospital orderly in Berkeley Since I was kind of at loose ends for part of that first year, staying at Dennis’ place in Berkeley for a couple nights a few different times was an anchor for me. Dennis combined an unassuming friendliness, quiet thoughtfulness, an apparent solidity - Upper Midwest style, with an interest in New Age spiritual currents. In late ‘68, he stayed for a bit in my communal flat in San Francisco.
We lost touch some time in ’69. In March, 1970, I caught sight of him in front of the Holy Order of Mans center in San Francisco. I stopped, and we talked. At later times, I went by there and asked after him. There was an implication that they had sent him to another city, but the members of the Order told me very little. Finally, in Fall of ’71, they told me Dennis had committed suicide, but still didn’t say to what city he had been sent. I’ve missed him, and have wished that I understood more of what happened. I believe Dennis was the only member of our class who was a military veteran when we all started Swarthmore.
J. Stannard Baker
I met Dennis on the train on my way to Freshman orientation. I decided back then the take the train from Los Angeles to Philly. I took the Union Pacific City of Los Angeles from LA to Chicago and then got on the Pennsylvaina RR from Chicago to Philly with my cello, typerwriter and luggage in tow. Getting washed up in the train car bathroom in the morning on the way to Philly, I met Dennis, who was also shaving or something like that. We started to talk and realized we were both going to Frosh Orientation at S'more. I liked him immediately and decided that S'more was going to be okay, having never set foot on the campus before. (I was interviewed by Dean Hoy at the Green Hotel in Pasadena.) Dennnis had a quiet intelligence, kindness, and felt very mature to me, which he was since he was already a veteran at that point. We had lovely and thoughtful conversations the rest of the way to Philly. I was very sad to hear of his passing. He was an important part of our class. My thanks go out to his spirit. He made a somewhat overwhelmed and lonely young man from So Cal feel more at home, more anchored and more assured.
Jim Rigos ((Blatnik))
I remember Dennis as a friendly, self-confident veteran. I believe he had been a medic in the Army. He and I were both originally from Minnesota and in addition to our many conversations at Sharples and on campus we spent many hours on the road together going to and from Minneapolis- St. Paul on school breaks. I still remember Dennis struggling at the wheel of his red VW bug as a Midwestern winter wind nearly swept us off the road. He helped acclimate me to Minnesota and the US after an 11-year absence abroad during my formative years. He was a good friend “in the know”. Dennis knew the Minneapolis – St. Paul area like the back of his hand. He introduced me to Ceasars’, a bar near the University of Minnesota which specialized in beer from all over the world. Dennis was always upbeat. He had several stories to tell, some outrageously funny, most of them based on real life experience.
At some point during my second year at Swarthmore I realized Dennis was no longer there. It didn’t occur to me to check up on him. He was the mature, self-confident one. He was the last one I would have guessed who needed help. My own life began to spiral out of control during the spring of 1966. By the time I recovered both Swarthmore and Dennis were history. Several years later I learned of his passing. When I inquired about cause of death I received no reply. It was only by reading Stephen Morse’s comments a few days ago that I discovered how Dennis died. I was shocked. It seemed so out of character. If anyone knows anything more about how Dennis passed I’d really be interested.
Stephen C. Morse
The Dennis Moe I knew is the one Stan and Jim have also written about. He was a great and steady friend. When he stayed at my flat in San Francisco in late ’68, he had given up his job and Berkeley flat; as I remember, he was headed out on the road for a while. Less settled, sure, but so were a lot of us at some point in the late 60’s. Didn’t seem at all suicidal. I had gone by the Holy Order of MANS (HOOM) center in San Francisco asking after Dennis when I was on leave from the Army. It was after I got out of the Army in November ’71 that I was told he’d committed suicide. The man at HOOM said that because I ‘d been there repeatedly, he informed me of this but without any more detail. At that point a male figure behind him in the shadows told him, “Brother, you’ve said enough.” Like a clip from a noir film. I ran into Lawrence, his former flat-mate in Berkeley soon after that, let him know about Dennis, and said I was disturbed by, maybe suspicious about, the incident at HOOM, but he just thought that a group promoting service was embarrassed by the suicide. I regret not trying to contact Dennis’ folks at the time. In the spring of ’67, Dennis and I had driven about 200 miles south from the Bay Area to a commune he knew about and then drove north toward the New Age mecca of Esalen at Big Sur. A landslide had made Highway 1 impassable, and we drove at least 50 miles south till we got to a road that would take us to 101 north. We never got to Esalen. Recently, I have thought of this incident as possible metaphor for the last stage of his life: en route to New Age enlightenment, he hit a roadblock.
Jim Rigos ((Blatnik))
An Update On What We Know About Dennis
I did some research on the matter and this is what I came up with. He was last seen by a member of the class in San Francisco in March,1970. When Steve Morris inquired about him repeatedly in 1971 at the Holy Order of Mans (HOOM), a “new age” religious group where Dennis had been staying, he was finally told that Dennis had committed suicide. The individual who revealed this was almost immediately told to keep his mouth shut by a second HOOM member who overheard the conversation (Pease seen Steve's comments above).
The events above led us to believe that Dennis had passed away in San Francisco or at least California. When I checked with the City of San Francisco and then the State of California, there was no death certificate. I found information and a roster of ex-members of the Holy Order of Mans together with their email addresses online. The group was disbanded in 1988. I sent a letter of inquiry to nearly everyone on the list. Thank God for email and multiple addressing. I received two responses. Neither individual could remember Dennis at all. One of them, Fred Krueger, claimed Dennis could not have been a HOOM member, at least not a full member, in the San Francisco area because he himself was there from 1970 on and would certainly have remembered him. So first the Holy Order of Mans says Dennis committed suicide and now they’ve never heard of him. It made me skeptical, if not downright suspicious of the members of what’s left of the organization. In all fairness Fred Krueger may have arrived after Dennis departed in 1970. The key would be a death certificate stating the cause of death.
I also checked back with Swarthmore. Lo and behold … the school gave me additional information which included a link (https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/39683291/dennis-gilman-moe) to Dennis’s gravestone and burial location (Mora, Minnesota) together with the date of death (23 Feb 1971). I was thus able to obtain Dennis’s burial permit from the City of Mora. They were unable to give me a death certificate because he did not die in Minnesota.
The burial permit indicated that Dennis had passed away at General Hospital in Kansas City, Missouri, not California. The state of Missouri will not release a death certificate except to next of kin or to law enforcement in an ongoing investigation. If of our legal eagles know a way around this restriction, please contact me.
Dennis’s gravestone says “Vietnam” on it. I checked a roster of all the names on the Vietnam Wall memorial in Washington D.C. Dennis’s name is not on the Wall. I remember Dennis telling me he was a conscientious objector. He had already completed a stint in the army as a medic before he came to Swarthmore and before Vietnam heated up. It would have been very unlikely for him to re-enlist sometime after seeing Steve in March 1970, go to Vietnam, be wounded, and then die at a civilian hospital in Kansas City MO on February 23rd, 1971. Had he gone to Vietnam and been wounded, Dennis would have been taken to a military medical facility.
I was tempted to try a mass mailing to everyone with last name of Moe in the U.S. This would have been a massive undertaking with a low probability of success. Dennis’s parents are deceased. He was an only child, at least by his father’s last marriage.
There was something else. Kathy Conner (‘68) had been Dennis’s girlfriend while he was at Swarthmore. She probably knew him better than anybody else in our class. Kathy and I haven’t seen each other in over 50 years. She eventually responded to my inquiry. She mentioned that beneath Dennis’s friendly outgoing manner there was a dark side. He was not dangerous to others but possibly to himself. As soon as she heard of Dennis’s death, her first thought was that it was suicide.
I’ve decided to terminate my research on Dennis, at least for now. Anyone who wishes to examine the matter further is certainly welcome to take it from here … especially if they know how to wrangle a death certificate from the state of Missouri.
Christopher L. King
Just checked Whitepages for people with the name Moe in Mora, MN. There's quite a passel of them, even someone named Denise Moe. I would assume that there must be some who are related to Dennis. The Dennis I remember was a sturdy guy, but look at all the GIs who are committing suicide these days. Perhaps Stan or Cathy would know, but the thought occurs that Dennis might have had an internal conflict over a gay or bi side, though San Francisco in the late sixties was more a hippie than a gay mecca.