When I first heard about the passing of "Chummy'' Hayward, poet John Donne's "For Whom The Bell Tolls'' piece immediately popped into mind. "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the man...Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.'' Then follows the more familiar, "therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.'' Chummy came quickly to mind because, if ever there was a man who was involved with mankind -- and whose death really diminished me, it was Chummy. I truly felt like a chunk of myself had been washed away with Chummy's death.

Since Chummy's death, at age 85, on June 27, 1997, several laudatory articles have been written about his astounding abilities as a cricketer, his countless philanthropic and civic contributions, and his sterling leadership of the Bermuda Olympic Association. All good and certainly most richly deserved. What follows here is a more casual, personalised portrait of the Chummy Hayward I knew, and the warm memories he inspires.

Whitfield Frederick "Chummy'' Hayward, MBE, OBE, MCP, had a rare and unquenchable "lust for life''. Paired with that zest was a "joie de vivre'', a peppery joy of living, and an unremitting spirit of adventure. Chummy always had to see what was around the other side. He challenged life every step of the way. Most men with those characteristics would be happy to rest on their oars once in a while and let life happen to them. Not Chummy. He topped himself with a hearty whoop-de-do attitude, a contagious, positive spirit of "we can do that, win that, accomplish this or that or overcome whatever'' -- and all of that was more in natural character for Chummy than any man I've ever met. He was a bona fide original.

While Chummy was certainly an accomplished businessman who did mighty well both as an employee and later partner of J.S. Vallis of Hamilton's Front street, most people who knew W.F. Hayward got to know him as a man whose well-chosen nickname fitted his persona beautifully.

As is unfortunately the case with older folks, many younger Bermudians knew him only by his latter years, that nice man who once had been active in all kinds of Bermuda sports, but whose quad or quintuple by-pass and loss of a leg to diabetes had slowed him down enormously. All I can say is, "you sure missed knowing the guy in his dynamic days'', because Whitfield F. Hayward was one stupendous man -- truly "a Man For All Seasons''. I have to be careful here that I don't go overboard on Chummy -- but in the vernacular of the day, "he really was something else!'' -- In plain statement of fact W.F.H. was one of the most immediately likable, most affable, gentlemanly, gifted, charming, deferential, most dynamic, enormously energetic, contagiously charismatic, challenging, and most synergistic men one could hope to know! I don't know of anyone who ever had anything to do with Chummy who didn't come out the better for being exposed to all this...

It was a pure joy to have worked with Chummy. One could always look forward with pleasant anticipation to "the next time'' one was to see him. He was delight on the hoof. What's more, Chummy could be an effervescent pixie one moment, a down-to-basics businessman the next, a fierce but fair competitor the third...and all the while be one of the best roving ambassadors Bermuda ever had.

Like most good leaders, Chummy also had some foibles: a quick to rise and quick to subside temper, short tolerance for those who didn't give their all, or for the lazy or sloppy approach to anything. Frequently, like most dedicated men who are sure of themselves, Chummy just wanted to have things his own way. Minor shortfalls in an otherwise peerless fellow.

One of the first things one learned about Chummy was that he positively bristled with "ideas''. Ideas on any and everything: sports, conjuring up a marketing plan, anticipating further needs, or charting courses of action on ways to solve whatever problem popped up. As most of you might agree, it's always stimulating to be around a person like that. Permit me to look back, to the summer of 1947. I had just graduated from Harvard, and was debating spending two more years at Harvard to get an advanced degree. However, World War II had me in the US Marine Corps for four years, and I was anxious to "move on with my life''. At that point in time another marvellous man, Bill Brooks, who was Harvard's Swimming Coach (and "the longtime Bermuda Athletic Association Coach in prior years), asked me if I'd like to coach swimming in Bermuda. I jumped eagerly at the prospect. Bill's wife, Grace (Gorham) Brooks was ill that summer; so Bill had to remain in Boston. Bill felt it was important to start getting the Bermuda swimmers and divers in top shape for the 1948 London Olympics.

When I first arrived in Bermuda I stayed at a guest house in Hamilton. then followed three weeks of the dreariest rain I can recall. ("That's odd; it positively never rains that long here in June!'') Definitely a downer. Chummy felt sorry for me and invited me to come live with him, Dottie and his family in their house beside the Eagle's Nest-BAA swimming pool. Life immediately became merrier. Dottie couldn't have been nicer, the kids were good, and the sun came out! Chummy was an "early to bed'' fellow. I, however, was bent on learning first hand what Bermuda night life was like. Much to my regret, however; for Chummy would come into my room in what seemed the eeriest hour of night, trying to nudge and shake me awake. Groggily, I'd try to respond to his, "Bob, ...are you awake?'' What was worse, he actually sounded cheery in the dead of night.

"The Coffee's on. C'mon, I have a few ideas I'd like to discuss with you!'' Again mit der cheery and bright. Whatsamatterwiththisguy? I remember resolving, `I've got to get this guy to go to bed later'.

Slowly I bumbled my way into the merciless brilliance of the kitchen. True to his word, Chummy already had the coffee poured. Then, as if the necessary preliminaries had now been dispensed with, Chummy would launch full speed into a plan he had to inspire more swimming activity on the south shore by fixing up the moss green pool at the old Belmont Manor or some such. The location or project didn't matter, that message I slowly got after several such encounters. What did matter was Progress, in whatever form. Something better, larger, handsomer, wider. Expansion. Progress. Avanti! Accomplish! Occasionally, Chummy's desire to accomplish ran broadside to what Dottie, Chummy's marvellous wife, wanted. As with all husbands, Chummy would try to finesse Dottie. I recall a few spirited discussions about that. In the end Dottie usually prevailed, but somehow or other Chummy was a good loser who also managed to win a few. They were a great duo! A tremendous cricketer, water polo player, soccer player, wrestler, bowler...I've often described Chummy to other Americans as "the equivalent of All-America in practically everything he did''. Chummy had a particular affinity for gifted athletes, whatever their sport. It seemed like he could sniff out their promise long before others discovered it. He admired them and tried to further their athletic pursuits every way he could.

A vibrant, canny, stand-up man of hickory-hewn character, Chummy even faced down the Nazis. Perhaps it's somewhat apocryphical, in the way such events take on vivid colouration after better than 60 years -- but Chummy's confrontation with the Nazis took place at the 1936 Olympics, (the Games where US track speedster Jesse Owens infuriated Hitler and rendered his "Master Race'' theories by winning 4 gold medals)...Bermuda was the first of the Commonwealth Nations to parade into Berlin Stadium. Chummy was sternly advised that it would be both smart and politic to "dip his colours'' to Der Fuhrer as he passed Hitler's box.

Instead Chummy held his colours resolutely high.

Add courage to Chummy's attributes. So many "that's Chummy all right!'' stories come to mind whenever I think of him. Most make me break into a smile.

Among other things, enterprise and opportunity were native to W.F.

Hayward...E.G., Chummy and I were driving back from a swim meet in St.

George's. "Are you in a hurry,Bob, he gently inquired... "Why, no.'' "...Good. I'd like to stop off at Hamilton Hospital if you don't mind''...We stopped. I helped Chummy carry x-number of cartons of a "new product'' which he wanted to distribute samples of to several new mothers. It was called "Lactogen''.

Farewell to a great ambassador I'll never forget that name. Chummy had a way of brightening the moment with genuine, cheery congratulations and his lighthouse grin. And Chummy's consumer base for Lactogen widened arithmetically, I'm sure, just the way most of his undertakings did. In Chummy's mind, just because one was already doing four things didn't obviate building up a fifth. The important thing to be drawn here is that Chummy wasn't being a mere huckster. He sold, sure, but he radiated joy that evening and made several hearts a mite lighter. That was Chummy's style.

I cherish many other memories of "Life With Chummy'' that inevitably bring on a smile or an out-loud chuckle...WW II was over and many returning veterans hadn't yet "settled back'' into pre-war conventionalities. Instead, many revelled in relaxed celebration. Paraphrase: they could get pretty raucous!!...We used to hold money-generating B.A.A. Swimming Carnivals. One attraction was the New York Athletic Club's water polo team, several times US National Champions.

On more than one occasion, after the nautical events were over, we adjourned to the hotel's patio. There, as the evening got older, songs containing lyrics like "Ireland was Ireland when England was a pup'' and other outrageous sentiments could be heard. Sound wafted wide and large from the terrace of The Eagle's Nest dance pavilion. Among other directions it bombarded the relatively nearby Royal Governor's Residence. The sudsy songfests were all in fun, but one could only hope that umbrage was not taken. (One of the loudest voices belonged to a brilliant Columbia University Physics Professor whose mind had been affected by his work on the atomic bomb's "Manhattan Project''.

This gifted gentleman and his N.Y.C. Police Lt. brother, Ed, were two of Chummy's favourite friends. Also included in the NYAC a cappella chorus was "Dutch'' Fissler, a powerhouse freestyler who was the only one who could legitimately claim that he had beaten the incomparable Johnny Weismuller during "Tarzan's'' prime. They were a wonderful, outgoing bunch of guys.) On impulse soon after, I took it upon myself (Chummy was in no way to blame!) to stop at Government House and ask to see his Excellency if his busy schedule would permit. (I had asked earlier why the special Governor's box at the Bermuda A.A. Pool never seemed to be occupied. "The Governor has a standing invitation, and the box is always ready and available. He just never comes'', I was told.) I recall a rather starchy lieutenant-aide giving me a fixed stare of "how dare you''. As I said, it was on impulse...However, I lucked in when the Royal Governor himself emerged, asked what I wanted. I introduced myself, said maybe I was feeling a mite guilty about the wild Irish rose bouquets that might be wafting his way. The marvellous man laughed, acknowledged that he and his wife had heard a few of the lyrics and "we wondered what was going on up there!'' ... "I must say'', he added puckishly, "it does sound like it's quite festive!'' It was a perfect opportunity to extend a cordial invitation for him and any guests he would care to bring to our next carnival.

To Chummy's astonishment and mine ("You mean you actually went to Government House and extended the Governor an invitation?!'') The Governor did come.

What's more, he and his entire party had a great time. The NYAC water polo team got a chance to meet the Governor and his lady in person. Bonhomie and harmony reigned. It was all a singular success. Moreover, I'm happy to report that the Governor returned more than once. He admired and enjoyed watching the tentative young beginners as they successfully managed their first 25-yard competitive swim. And he loved watching Frances Gosling first give a diving exhibition, then later in the evening cavort with Henry Rubella in their comedy act off the high board.

Nice memories.

Generosity is another word that comes easily to mind whenever Chummy's name comes up. I know he dug down personally to more than make up for fund raising shortcomings whenever any Bermuda team: cricket, soccer, track, swimming or other, went on international trips to England, Canada, Finland, the US or other foreign locations. As a man of means, I don't believe Chummy ever forgot his beginnings as one of a very large family of 6 boys and 6 girls growing up in Bermuda. Spontaneity and generosity were named Chummy.

Sports of all kinds captivated Chummy. He loved boxing, and especially enjoyed his warm relationship with Gil Clancy, the CBS-TV fight commentator, and with Gil's classy fighter Emile Griffith, World Lightweight and Welterweight Boxing Champion. Conversely, if one were to visit the International Swimming Hall of Fame Complex in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, conspicuously embedded in the concrete Walk adjacent to the pool are (donations by) The Bermuda A.A. and W.F. "Chummy'' Hayward. With Chummy, Bermuda always came first and foremost.

One very poignant memory involving Chummy...In 1948, en route back home from the London Olympics, several Olympic champions stopped off to give some performances in both Hamilton and St. George's. Included were: Bruce Harlan, the new Olympic springboard gold medalist, and Hobie Billingsley, the silver medalist (who later coached with immense success in the Big-Ten). Bruce was on his honeymoon, having just married his college sweetheart, "Frances''. Chummy was appreciative of the US Olympians stopping off in Bermuda before returning home. He threw a big party for them, and we all had a superb time. It was, I believe, only two summers later when Bruce and Hobie were giving a tower exhibition in Connecticut. It was rainy, but Bruce and Hobie insisted the show go on. While helping dismantle the tower, Bruce fell to an early death on poolside. It was a terrible irony that the Adonis who could do the toughest, most complicated dives from tower or springboard became the victim of a slippery scaffold. Chummy, particularly, felt that one deeply. Bruce and Frances made a picture-perfect wedding couple.

We had other water shows with the best of the best of the aquatic world competing. During one, Chummy introduced a young diver named Bob Clotworthy to Mike Peppe, who was then US Olympic Coach as well as the Ohio State Coach.

Mike was down to watch his then National AAU Diving Champ, Bob Stone, compete.

"Where's this new diver you're taking about?'' asked Mike..."Right there, up on the 3-metre board,'' said Chummy. Mike took one look, signed Bob up, and Bob went on to win the NCAA's, both high board and low board, several national AAU titles and the Olympics as well. Later he was head coach at Princeton. As we noted earlier, W.F. Hayward had that keen eye for spotting budding talent.

His prescience about sports personalities was widely acknowledged and recognised.

Quite a singular man was Chummy Hayward!! His like maybe a very, very long time arriving.

Obviously I have an immense abiding liking for Chummy. So does my wife, Margaret, for both Dottie and Chummy and their family. Margaret first met them in 1947 on her initial visit to Bermuda. Now, 48 married years, four sons and six grandchildren later, our fondness for the Haywards remains undiminished.

Our own sons still have vibrant memories of Chummy showing them "First of all how to make your own kite...and then how to really make it fly!'' one Eastertime many years ago. We loved watching Chummy. He could make most anything fly! Your memory burns on undiminished, Chummy. Ave atque vale, hail and farewell, old friend. You will indeed and in deed be sorely missed. The torch of your memory will burn on brightly.

ROBERT F. "BOB'' AARON Seagate Colony-1003 2830 Shore Drive Virginia Beach, Va. 23451 ROVING AMBASSADOR -- W.F. (Chummy) Hayward, who died last year.