I'm not sure how my life would have unfolded without coach Arce's influence on me as a student, and more important, as an induvidual trying to figure out life. He gave me a  firm idea of what was fair and right and wrong. I have never respected a person in all aspects of life more than Coach Arce. He believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. And this did not stop when I left Claremont. I continued to stay in touch with coach through his last years, having spent a part of his 88th birthday with him in Claremont. He will ALWAYS be  #1 on my list of great Men - next to my father! God bless his life. And thank you, the Arce family, in sharing his full life with all of us.
Pearson Cotton
CMC '69
Calif. Stags '66

I just heard the news today. I was watching 30 for 30 on the '85 Chicago Bears and the players relationships with their coaches and how much an effect they had on the lives of the players especially off the playing field. I immediately thought to call coach Arce.
I have kept in touch with him over the last 50 years especially calling on his birthday in late June just a few days before my mother and a month before mine - all Cancers. A true humanitarian - ban ambassador of good manners, discipline, fairness, and passion for life.He touched souls in so many ways.
 
I could spend hours reflecting on the many ways that Coach made me think about what I was doing before I messed up; not by scolding but by a look, a body quirk or just a strong vibe.
I am at a loss to know that he is now with history but what a full and wonderful life of making friends all around the world and sharing the joy of making people feel human and appreciated. 
I hope to share  our unforgettable trip to Europe in '66 with the PowerPoint I composed for the 40th reunion of the California Stags in 2006. I was not able to share it in this format. It is a treasure of memories. And coach you were the one that put all this in motion.  I shall forever by in your debt for helping me become a responsible Man.
Pearson Cotton
California Stag '66
CMC'69
 

Coach William B. Arce, my “Coach”, my Mentor: I will miss you.  You were always “Coach”, until one day, you said to call you “Bill”.  I know that you have been coach and mentor to a few hundred young men, and I count my blessings to have been one of them.  You have meant so much to me and to my family for more than 50 years that it is difficult to completely embrace the meaning. 

First, let me say that you had the same values, the sense of right and wrong, as my own father had.  That was a good thing, especially for a bunch of 17 and 18 year-old kids away from home for the first time.    Plus, you had a great deal more patience than my Dad, which was a GREAT attribute.  These formed the basis for the immediate respect I had for you as a man, and as a teacher of baseball.

Next, you showed faith in me and in my peers as young men and as baseball players.  In the bargain, you required of us a responsibility to each other, to you, and the school.  It is impossible to explain how important it was to me personally to be selected to go to Holland as part of your group of players (as a mere sophomore), and to find out that I was in your plans for Stag baseball thereafter.    It was a highly motivating standard, without question.

In those first four years, we learned more than just some fundamentals and finer points of the game.  We learned, by example, when it was okay to grumble at the umpire (and when it wasn’t…usually by a word of reprimand); we learned what could be said, and importantly, what couldn’t (my personal favorite: “shake your head Ump, your eyeballs are stuck!”).  And, never let your voice be the single voice that everyone else could hear. 

We learned, usually at the expense of one of our own, a number of other useful lessons.  One example: if Coach chewed, we could chew.  But, it wasn’t okay to chew if you slid into third base, gagged on the chew, and had to leave the game.  If Coach didn’t chew, you didn’t either.  Another example: if Coach said to get a haircut or sit out the start of a playoff game, it meant ‘get a haircut’, not a trim so you could still play in your rock band.  Another one that stuck: I was probably more than 50 years old when I had my first beer with you.  Some lines are bright chalk in the sun.

Life’s little rules built character and built teams, and we learned them, had them reinforced and modeled by you; for me, they stood me well in my professional career (as a scientist!), and later as a coach in youth and high school sports.  My own sons owe you a lot indirectly in that regard, but also directly because they remember advice you gave them as little guys and as high school-aged athletes whenever I’d bring them on campus.

Coach, you had an amazing memory for people, events, and stories; you always seemed to know what was going on in our lives long after we were launched, and never failed to ask how things were going.  When I retired, you were concerned that I might not have enough to keep me busy, and that somehow, it could mean my early demise.  When I told you I was coaching high school baseball, you just chuckled and said that was plenty to keep me occupied.  In those years, I enjoyed the occasional times I could sit in the stands to watch the Stags with you, and pick your brain about coaching, reminisce, and talk shop.

One of my favorite times spent with you was just a few years ago, with a handful of the Holland bunch in a pizza joint in Claremont; you started telling us stories about the Battle of the Bulge in WWII.  I had not heard your stories before, and I think that we were like a group of little kids sitting there, hanging on every word.  Thank you for sharing with us.

I am grateful that our lot of “Vintage” alums could pull off a birthday celebration and Holland Reunion last year to celebrate your 90th  year as well as the 50th anniversary of the Holland Baseball Project.  And, I’m grateful for the few hours I was able to spend on the field with you at this year’s Alumni games.  I will treasure those times as much as I will miss you and your friendship and wisdom.

My first memories of Bill were when he courted and married my sister Nan (see pictures). Then as a Stanford student I used to go over to their house for dinners on Sunday nights. We both loved the banana and coconut cream pies that Nan used to make. Bill was then coaching in a Burlingame high schooll (I think). Baseball, Stanford in particular, were always favorites of conversation. On occasion I baby sat for their new son, Jim who was their "shiny new penny". After Stanford, my Navy stint and 7 years in Pennsylvania separated us, and inthe years since we only saw each other occasionally at Twain Hatrte and a few gathering at Jim's house. Once at Twain Harte he did open up about WWII. He was pasionate about what we fought for and respect for the those who fought. There was a time when he and Nan were in Paris and he asked someone for the time, or directions, and got a "snotty" response about American tourists. He calmly relayed to the young man that he had fought with men who died to liberate France and his right to be so disrespectful. The man apologized gave him the information. Typical of Bill, calm, well spoken, pasionate. He loved fishing for trout from Twain Harte. His lifelong friend and fellow baseball coach, Bill Alhouse had a cabin near Strawberry where they used to fish also. I will always treasure my time spent with Bill.. .

Legendary Coach and Baseball Ambassador Bill Arce passed away

Below is a link to an Web posting at "Grand Slam Stats & News".  This posting is full of amazing details on Bill's coaching career and life.  Very well written and chock full of fascinating information.  The family is reading through it and really appreciates how thorough it is.  We are learning and remembering a lot because of it.  Thank you very much for writing it, and thank you for the kind condolences.


https://catcher.home.xs4all.nl/bb16-0803-legendary-coach-and-baseball-ambassador-bill-arce-passed-away.htm

Our daughter teaches history at Claremont High School.

A few years ago, knowing that Bill fought in the Battle of the Bulge during World War Two, she asked if he would come to her class and share his experiences about the war, why he joined to fight and life in the United States during that time.  Bill, of course was delighted.

During his presentation it was evident that he was passionate about the righteousness of the fight to prevent the spread of evil and the supreme sacrifice many of his fellow soldiers made in this effort.  As he was starting to discuss the battle, a young man in the back of the room started to talk to another student and play with his IPhone (or some such device) and was clearly not paying attention. 

As related to me by our daughter, Bill stopped talking, quietly walked back to the young man, focused on him and said calmly "Son.  Many of my friends died so that you could have the opportunity to have the education you have here.  I will not allow you to show such disrespect to them as you are showing me and others in this class.  Leave the room if you cannot honor their memory as they deserve."  The student immediately apologized and paid attention.

He then walked back to the front of the class and teared up.  He told the class he thought often about the men he knew and who he saw wounded or die during that battle and during the war.  He told the students they all should be appreciative of what their grandfathers and others did to keep them free and to preserve our great country. They did it for them.

It was powerful.  It was heartfelt.  It was Bill.

This picture is taken at the American cemetery at Normandy beach.  Bill was showing his grandson Paul and son Jim the movement of his unit during the Battle of the Bulge. He was very proud of his service in Patton's infantry.  During this trip we visited Buttsdorf, Germany where he was wounded.