The Memorial Wall

Richard T. “Dick” Farmer, 86, founder of Cintas Corporation, business leader, and philanthropist, died peacefully on August 4, 2021, surrounded by his loving family.

Dick was born on November 22, 1934.  He married the love of his life, Joyce Barnes, shortly after she graduated from Miami University in December of 1956.  After being honorably discharged from the Marine Corps in 1957, Dick joined the family business as a sales representative, working his way up to president of the company, while expanding product offerings to include uniform rental.  In 1968, Dick left the family business to test a new concept that involved unique fabrics and processing systems, which ultimately revolutionized the entire industry. Within two years, Dick’s new company, Satellite Corporation, was so successful that it acquired the original family business. By the mid-1970s, Satellite had become Cintas Corporation.  Dick took Cintas public in 1983 and led it as Chairman and CEO until 1995, surpassing $1 billion in sales for the first time. He remained as Chairman for the next 14 years, and in 2009, was elected Chairman Emeritus.

A recognized business leader, Dick received numerous awards.  Highlights include his induction into the Greater Cincinnati Business Hall of Fame in 1996.  In 1995, Dick was honored as Ernst & Young’s Entrepreneur of the Year.  In 2010, Dick was honored by the Cincinnati USA Regional Chamber as one of the Great Living Cincinnatians.  That same year, he was honored as a Distinguished Veteran by the USO.

Dick was always involved in improving the communities in which he and Joyce lived. Dear to his heart was the Ocean Reef Club in Key Largo, Florida, where he served as Club Chairman. Because of the indelible mark he left on the club, he was inducted into the Ocean Reef Hall of Fame in 2018.

Similar to defining Cintas’ company culture, Dick and Joyce deliberately developed a family mission to transfer to succeeding generations the values and beliefs that had helped them prosper, including concern for the welfare of each family member and those less fortunate, a belief in the value of hard work, a commitment to honesty and integrity and a commitment to making their community and country a better place to live.  To further these values, in 1988, Dick and Joyce, along with their children, established the Farmer Family Foundation.  Since 2006, the Foundation has prioritized support for veterans, investments in education for at-risk populations, and programs that promote economic self-sufficiency and healthcare research. 

Dick, Joyce, and the Foundation were early supporters of veterans’ causes.  Dick served on the board of the Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund.  The Foundation assisted with the construction of medical centers across the United States to treat injured military members with PTSD and traumatic brain injuries.  Dick’s passion for veterans led the Foundation to establish and fund the Cincinnati VA Guest House as well as the donation of a VA Mobile Health Unit to provide healthcare outreach to veterans in remote areas of the community.

The Foundation has been a donor to the Catholic Inner-City School Education Fund since 1989.  This commitment to ensuring at-risk students are receiving quality education led to the creation of Accelerate Great Schools, which provides funding to recruit, launch, create and/or replicate great kindergarten through 12th-grade schools in Cincinnati.

Dick, Joyce, and their family have a deep love and appreciation for their alma mater, Miami University.  In 1992, the Farmers provided the cornerstone gift to Miami’s business school, leading to the creation of the Farmer School of Business.  Subsequently, in 2005, a major gift of $25 million to the university helped finance the construction of new business school facilities.  In 2016, the Foundation provided an additional $40 million, the largest gift in the school’s history, toward a campaign to ensure the school remains a top-tier, distinguished business school.  The Farmer School of Business has earned high accolades, consistently ranking among the best undergraduate business schools in the country. 

Dick and the Foundation have provided help and support to many organizations in his beloved hometown of Cincinnati and later to his community at the Ocean Reef Club.  In response to a diagnosis of Parkinson’s Disease, Dick and the Foundation have made significant investments in research to hasten progress in the search for a cure and better care for all Parkinson’s patients. 

Dick was the happiest hunting, fishing, and golfing with his close friends and family. He and Joyce traveled the world over the years on many incredible adventures. He loved spending time with his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.  He was an incredible man who made a lasting impact on numerous people’s lives and careers.  He was a compassionate gentleman, larger than life but always approachable for guidance, a chat, or sharing a good joke. Those who knew him best knew he was just a “regular guy.”

Dick is survived by his loving wife of 64 years, Joyce, his three children and their spouses, Brynne and Bob Coletti, Scott and Mary Farmer, and Amy and George Joseph, as well as grandchildren Kendell (Andrew) Mountain, Trent, Colin, and Quentin Coletti, Kailey Farmer, Sari (Alex) Diamond, and Zachary Farmer, Chase, Brennan (Bree) Joseph, and Claire Joseph, and great-grandchildren, William, Annabelle, and Mary Arden Mountain, and Beaudry and Scotlyn Diamond.  Dick is also survived by numerous nieces and nephews.  Dick was predeceased by his sister, Joan Gardner, and brother-in-law, Jim Gardner.

The family wishes to extend its heartfelt thanks to the wonderful and caring people who helped make Dick’s last several months comfortable. They are all remarkable people.

A Mass of Christian Burial will be held on August 17, 2021, at 10:00, am at the Cathedral Basilica of St. Peter in Chains, located at 325 W 8th St., Cincinnati, OH 45202. The Mass will adhere to COVID protocols as defined by the Cathedral, City of Cincinnati, and the State of Ohio.  Masks will be available for attendees at each entrance to the Cathedral and will either be optional or mandatory depending on guidance at the date of the Mass.

Shelby Collinsworth was born on May 22, 1927, in Artesia, California, to Esther Feguson Collinsworth and John Emory Collinsworth. He was a lifelong Southern California resident and dairyman. Shelby married the love of his life, Winnie Ferne Michael, and they spent 56 wonderful years together. He dairied with his father in Artesia and continued dairying in Ontario until he retired to Palm Springs in 2004. Shelby and his wife were active in their local church. In addition to church activities, he loved to travel, ride his bike, and spend time with his loved ones. He was philanthropic and was a supporter of several non-profit organizations. On August 4th, Shelby's battle with Parkinson's Disease ended. Shelby was predeceased by his wife, Ferne, his sister, Kelva, and both of his parents. He is survived by his three daughters, Shari, Lisa, and Leslie, his son-in-law, Mark, and his grandson, Westin. Shelby will be dearly missed by his loved ones.

Muhammad Ali, the three-time world heavyweight boxing champion who helped define his turbulent times as the most charismatic and controversial sports figure of the 20th century, died on Friday, June 3, 2016, in a Phoenix-area hospital. He was 74.

His death was confirmed by Bob Gunnell, a family spokesman. The cause was septic shock, a family spokeswoman said.

Ali, who lived near Phoenix, had had Parkinson’s disease for more than 30 years. He was admitted to the hospital on Monday with what Mr. Gunnell said was a respiratory problem.

Ali was the most thrilling if not the best heavyweight ever, carrying into the ring a physically lyrical, unorthodox boxing style that fused speed, agility and power more seamlessly than that of any fighter before him.

But he was more than the sum of his athletic gifts. An agile mind, a buoyant personality, a brash self-confidence and an evolving set of personal convictions fostered a magnetism that the ring alone could not contain. He entertained as much with his mouth as with his fists, narrating his life with a patter of inventive doggerel. (“Me! Wheeeeee!”)

Ali was as polarizing a superstar as the sports world has ever produced — both admired and vilified in the 1960s and ’70s for his religious, political and social stances. His refusal to be drafted during the Vietnam War, his rejection of racial integration at the height of the civil rights movement, his conversion from Christianity to Islam and the changing of his “slave” name, Cassius Clay, to one bestowed by the separatist black sect he joined, the Lost-Found Nation of Islam, were perceived as serious threats by the conservative establishment and noble acts of defiance by the liberal opposition.

Loved or hated, he remained for 50 years one of the most recognizable people on the planet.

In later life Ali became something of a secular saint, a legend in soft focus. He was respected for having sacrificed more than three years of his boxing prime and untold millions of dollars for his antiwar principles after being banished from the ring; he was extolled for his un-self-conscious gallantry in the face of incurable illness, and he was beloved for his accommodating sweetness in public.

In 1996, he was trembling and nearly mute as he lit the Olympic caldron in Atlanta.

That passive image was far removed from the exuberant, talkative, vainglorious 22-year-old who bounded out of Louisville, Ky., and onto the world stage in 1964 with an upset victory over Sonny Liston to become the world champion. The press called him the Louisville Lip. He called himself the Greatest.

Ali also proved to be a shape-shifter — a public figure who kept reinventing his persona.

As a bubbly teenage gold medalist at the 1960 Olympics in Rome, he parroted America’s Cold War line, lecturing a Soviet reporter about the superiority of the United States. But he became a critic of his country and a government target in 1966 with his declaration “I ain’t got nothing against them Vietcong.”

“He lived a lot of lives for a lot of people,” said the comedian and civil rights activist Dick Gregory. “He was able to tell white folks for us to go to hell.”

But Ali had his hypocrisies, or at least inconsistencies. How could he consider himself a “race man” yet mock the skin color, hair and features of other African-Americans, most notably Joe Frazier, his rival and opponent in three classic matches? Ali called him “the gorilla,” and long afterward Frazier continued to express hurt and bitterness.

If there was a supertitle to Ali’s operatic life, it was this: “I don’t have to be who you want me to be; I’m free to be who I want.” He made that statement the morning after he won his first heavyweight title. It informed every aspect of his life, including the way he boxed.

The traditionalist fight crowd was appalled by his style; he kept his hands too low, the critics said, and instead of allowing punches to “slip” past his head by bobbing and weaving, he leaned back from them.

Eventually his approach prevailed. Over 21 years, he won 56 fights and lost five. His Ali Shuffle may have been pure showboating, but the “rope-a-dope” — in which he rested on the ring’s ropes and let an opponent punch himself out — was the stratagem that won the Rumble in the Jungle against George Foreman in 1974, the fight in Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo) in which he regained his t His personal life was paradoxical. Ali belonged to a sect that emphasized strong families, a subject on which he lectured, yet he had dalliances as casual as autograph sessions. A brief first marriage to Sonji Roi ended in divorce after she refused to dress and behave as a proper Nation wife. (She died in 2005.) While married to Belinda Boyd, his second wife, Ali traveled openly with Veronica Porche, whom he later married. That marriage, too, ended in divorce.

Ali was politically and socially idiosyncratic as well. After the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, the television interviewer David Frost asked him if he considered Al Qaeda and the Taliban evil. He replied that terrorism was wrong but that he had to “dodge questions like that” because “I have people who love me.” He said he had “businesses around the country” and an image to consider.

As a spokesman for the Muhammad Ali Center, a museum dedicated to “respect, hope and understanding,” which opened in his hometown, Louisville, in 2005, he was known to interrupt a fund-raising meeting with an ethnic joke. In one he said: “If a black man, a Mexican and a Puerto Rican are sitting in the back of a car, who’s driving? Give up? The po-lice.”

But Ali had generated so much good will by then that there was little he could say or do that would change the public’s perception of him.

“We forgive Muhammad Ali his excesses,” an Ali biographer, Dave Kindred, wrote, “because we see in him the child in us, and if he is foolish or cruel, if he is arrogant, if he is outrageously in love with his reflection, we forgive him because we no more can condemn him than condemn a rainbow for dissolving into the dark. Rainbows are born of thunderstorms, and Muhammad Ali is both.”

Cassius Marcellus Clay Jr. was born in Louisville on Jan. 17, 1942, into a family of strivers that included teachers, musicians, and craftsmen. Some of them traced their ancestry to Henry Clay, the 19th-century representative, senator and secretary of state, and his cousin Cassius Marcellus Clay, a noted abolitionist.

Ali’s mother, Odessa, was a cook and a house cleaner, his father a sign painter and a church muralist who blamed discrimination for his failure to become a recognized artist. Violent and often drunk, Clay Sr. filled the heads of Cassius and his younger brother, Rudolph (later Rahman Ali), with the teachings of the 20th-century black separatist Marcus Garvey and a refrain that would become Ali’s — “I am the greatest.”

Beyond his father’s teachings, Ali traced his racial and political identity to the 1955 murder of Emmett Till, a black 14-year-old from Chicago who was believed to have flirted with a white woman on a visit to Mississippi. Clay was about the same age as Till, and the photographs of the brutalized dead youth haunted him, he said.

Cassius started to box at 12, after his new $60 red Schwinn bicycle was stolen off a downtown street. He reported the theft to Joe Martin, a police officer who ran a boxing gym. When Cassius boasted what he would do to the thief when he caught him, Martin suggested that he first learn how to punch properly.

Cassius was quick, dedicated and gifted at publicizing a youth boxing show, “Tomorrow’s Champions,” on local television. He was soon its star.

For all his ambition and willingness to work hard, education — public and segregated — eluded him. The only subjects in which he received satisfactory grades were art and gym, his high school reported years later. Already an amateur boxing champion, he graduated 376th in a class of 391. He was never taught to read properly; years later he confided that he had never read a book, neither the ones on which he collaborated nor even the Quran, although he said he had reread certain passages dozens of times. He memorized his poems and speeches, laboriously printing them out over and over.

From the New York Times

Emilio Campos Jr., 75, of Bradenton, Florida died September 7th, 2021, after a hard-fought war with a thief known as Parkinson's disease. His 20-year battle ended on a Tuesday afternoon, when the man known as Emil surrendered, peacefully and painlessly, to the will of his body—a betrayer and longtime co-conspirator of the thief.

Emilio was born October 10th, 1945, to Emilio Campos Sr. and Mary Campos in Sharon, Pennsylvania, and was big brother to four younger siblings. Born into a proud line of Spaniards who were deeply passionate about food and family, it should come as no surprise that the majority of Emilio's youth and adult life were spent walking (dare we say strutting?) the halls of restaurants. He could be washing dishes, scrubbing potatoes, filling maraschino cherries at the bar, manning the door, cooking, plating, putting out fires (both literal and metaphorical), or enjoying playful banter with guests. Whatever the task at hand, here was a man who poured himself fully into every aspect of what we mortals might call the dining experience. He was proud and relentless in his pursuit of greatness in the field, culminating in his crowning professional achievement: the Cité Grille. Alongside his partner and wife of nearly 28 years, Pamela Campos, Emilio fed the emotional, intellectual and physical appetites of many at what grew to be the epicurean heartbeat of Canton, Ohio for 15 years (1991 to 2006). Emilio—while dad to two, Jason and Mercedes—was a father to many. A lifelong sounding board to all who needed consult, direction, empathy, mentorship, love or strength. During his long tenure in the restaurant business, hundreds of people worked with him, and he impacted them all. Emilio is not a forgettable man. He had this uncanny ability to see clearly into the hearts of others and encouraged all to be their best and live their truth, sometimes yielding lifelong friendships gained, or less often, friendships lost. It is said that you can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs, and if you knew and loved the man, it's likely that you've been on the receiving end of a swift, well-deserved "crack," or one hell of a life-changing omelet. More than likely, you were lucky enough to experience both.

His kids remember fondly the road trips, adventures and great meals they shared as a family. Where Harry Chapin, Neil Diamond and Louis Armstrong seemed to play on repeat. Where the extraordinary nature of God's creation in Yosemite brought tears to a grown man's eyes. Where often strangers became his friends, whether a homeless man seeking help, a server who got a tip they didn't know they needed, or two elderly women out for a girls' night delighted in the admiration and respect of a longtime feminist. Where a Goofy character at Disney World made a man laugh harder than we thought possible. Where dinner time was not just a meal, but an opportunity to teach a lesson, whether the proper handshake, the power of looking someone in the eye, or how to tie a cherry stem in a knot with your tongue (a lesson we've still yet to master). The same man, who could stare awestruck at a breathtaking valley, would find equal emotional timbre at a piece of silverware not polished properly. He was equal parts heart, ambition, curiosity and critic. Ever seeking perfection in all that he did. And perhaps the last man who could buy a cocktail for a female stranger at the end of the bar, without getting a face full of Cosmo.

Emilio, a proud Marine Veteran, is predeceased by his brother, José Campos. He is survived by his loving wife Pamela; his children Jason Campos and Mercedes Hashimura; his son-in-law Taro Hashimura; his son's partner Becky Nissel; his granddaughter Indigo Hashimura; his three sisters Cynthia Tellier (Tom), Maryann Svarckopf (George) and April Stein; and a motley crew of family, friends, collaborators, co-conspirators, and let's be honest… a worthy nemesis or two.

'Done Too Soon' by Neil Diamond was a favorite of Emilio's. Never were three words more apt. Done too soon, Emilio will be missed every single day. He rests now a dignified man.

As a young man growing up in England, he knew some hardships and much family love, but he was driven to craft his own best life. First becoming the youngest graduate of his medical school at Manchester University and then in WWII wartime service as a Royal Army Medic, Dr. Howarth went on to develop his practice as a nationally-known Neurosurgeon in the United States. He again chose to serve, this time in the U S Air Force, rising to the rank of Colonel as a medical officer prior to relocating to help patients at the Sansum Clinic in Santa Barbara. Teaming up with his wife, Peggy, a RN, Dr. Howarth also provided care and support to those most in need internationally through Doctors Without Borders, before retiring at the age of 75.

His passion for travel and adventure took him all around the world, and this year alone he zestfully enjoyed resorts in Anza Borrego, Scottsdale, and Temecula. Art, music, and literature were equally important interests alongside science and research, and his familiar advice of doing it right the first time was always supported with loving forgiveness and guidance.

Dr J. C. Howarth would no doubt recognize his most important contribution as the leader of our family: wife Peggy Hughes Howarth, daughters Barbara Howarth Hancey, Jayne Howarth, Emily Howarth, Jennifer Howarth, and sons Joseph C. Howarth, Jr. and John Howarth along with five grandchildren and extended family in Canada. His fierce spirit, sharp wit, brilliant mind, and true love for life will be missed wholeheartedly.

DR. JOSEPH C. HOWARTH CELEBRATES HIS 100TH BIRTHDAY