Edward Olcott Bulkley
Aerospace engineer

Edward Olcott Bulkley, a resident of Claremont Manor, who died on June 17, 2009, would have marked his 85^th birthday today, Independence Day.

Mr. Bulkley symbolized independence-—from his birth to Olcott and Isabel Bulkley in Pasadena at the same hospital where his daughter would be born, through his years in management and aerospace to his retirement and life in a cabin in the woods of southern Oregon for over two decades—and left many impressions on family and friends during those years.

After growing up in Long Beach, Mr. Bulkley attended California Institute of Technology before leaving to serve in the U.S. Army during World War II as a Signal Corps photographer. After the war he returned to Cal Tech where he met Elizabeth “Betty” Faggard at a Cal Tech/Occidental dance. The couple married in 1947 and lived in the home he had built in South Pasadena during summer vacations from college. Following his graduation from CalTech in 1949, Mr. Bulkley was involved in engineering and management positions in the aerospace industry, including the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in La Canada where he was involved in the Ranger and Surveyor moon landing projects.  His particular responsibility involved telemetry to bring back signals from seismographs on the moon. Following his retirement from Hughes Aircraft in 1985, he and his wife moved to Oregon where they lived until coming to Claremont Manor in 2006.

Mr. Bulkley’s avocational interests included sailing and racing small sailboats in Southern California and Hawaii, travel and camping, especially in wilderness areas, and helping others—from computer programming for the Rogue Valley Symphony to assisting neighbors with everything from fixing cars to personal health needs.

Mr. Bulkley was remembered at memorial services held on June 20, 2009 at the Claremont Friends Meeting.

Niece Susan Dorn recalls, in particular, her purchase at the age of 16 of a small red pick-up. “Uncle Ned,” as he was known at the time (the name would later change to “Ed”), insisted on carefully inspecting the entire vehicle, finding that it needed a tune-up and new brakes. “What I didn’t realize immediately was that we were going to then fix these things ourselves, not take the truck into the shop.” Ms. Dorn recounts that the project evolved into a weekend of trips to the auto parts store, learning how to change oil and pulling wheels down to the core and installing new brake pads—“something,” she says, “I never even knew existed before that weekend, let alone understood how they worked…Though Ned was quiet and sometimes seemed distant…in that one weekend I realized he was not distant at all, just that he ‘cared for others’ in a different way. He cared by sharing what he knew best, and when he did he gave his all.”

Mr. Bulkley’s younger sister, Kay Philips, recalls that as a young child, her brother’s “favorite word of endearment for me was ‘Stupid’…But as we aged, we became good friends…and he changed my name to ‘Bud’—a step up from ‘Stupid’.”

“To me,” Ms. Philips notes, “he was a big brother who became my friend; quiet but steady; a teacher’s pride and joy; a boat enthusiast; a talented writer…He played the viola well in the school orchestra. He could play any piece on the piano by ear…In turn, he was a clear and patient teacher himself, so good at explaining things. He taught me how to make root beer and cap the bottles; how to feed his white rat and my tiny mouse; and how to play monopoly—and more important things too.”

Son-in-law David Speak admits that he never really knew what name to use for Mr. Bulkley. Mr. Speak explains that it was difficult to use the “Mr. Bulkley” designation for “a guy whose stern exterior usually (not always) gave glimpses of something much airier underneath. He named his jet-black cat ‘Snowball’. He secured bright red bandannas to use as napkins at our wedding reception because it was his impression that his Girl Scout daughter was inseparable from her bandanna.”

Mr. Speak also recalls that Mr.Bulkley was sometimes practical to a fault. “It was easier to name the next dog Dan, like the last one, than it was to get a new nameplate for the doghouse. Yet his practicality had some pretty quirky results. When he discovered big box (store) shopping he bought a GALLON of yellow mustard because it was way cheaper by the ounce. A gallon of yellow mustard lasts two people a long time in a log cabin in the woods—a lifetime, as it turned out”.

But Mr. Speak adds that Mr.Bulkley met challenges in his life, especially during the last three years of Parkinson’s disease. “We don’t get to choose such things.” he notes, “We walk in the path that opens before us. Ed walked that path with remarkable verve.”

Beverly Bulkley Speak recalls her father’s presence: “You were there to get me off to a good start in life….when I was first learning to sail and I lost race after race…you were there and taught me that it was okay to come in last place, if I at least finished the race..and you were there for your three special granddaughters, as they moved into adulthood…and to our newest family member, your ‘little friend’ Savannah…you were there with Mom, sharing music and memories and the joys of 61 years of marriage…your lessons and your love are a part of each of our lives—Thank you, Daddy, for always being there”.

Mr. Bulkley is survived by his wife of 61 years, Betty Bulkley of Claremont, daughter and son-in-law, Beverly and David Speak of Claremont; by his granddaughters, Julia Hobson of Ontario, Emily Speak of London, England and Margaret Speak of Claremont; by his great-granddaughter,  Savannah Genesis George-Speak of Claremont; by his sister and brother-in-law, Kay and Charlie Phillips of Palo Alto, and by his nieces, Carol Cummings of Bethesda, Maryland and Susan Dorn of Brunswick, Maine, and their families.