[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 157 (2011), Part 15]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Page 21106]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                             JOHN TILLITSKI

                                  _____
                                 

                           HON. JACK KINGSTON

                               of georgia

                    in the house of representatives

                      Thursday, December 15, 2011

  Mr. KINGSTON. Mr. Speaker, when I was in 10th grade history class, 
the teacher caught me chewing gum. I don't know why it's so hard to 
chew gum without being noticed, but there I was caught and on my way to 
the Principal's office. I had never personally met him. He was a no-
nonsense man named John Tillitski.
  He asked me why I was sent to him. There weren't any official forms 
so when asked, you were expected to give a full report of your crime 
without equivocation.
  ``I was chewing gum, sir.''
  ``Oh,'' He looked me in the eye and added, ``Do you want to stay in 
school?''
  ``Yes, sir.''
  ``Fine, bend over.'' With that, he pulled a 12'' rubber sole of a 
shoe out of his desk, popped me on the hindquarters, and said, ``go 
back to class.''
  That was it, verdict, sentence, and punishment. It was over in 5 
minutes. Then I was back in class, sitting quietly, taking notes, and 
learning American history. No more chewing gum.
  That's the way John Tillitski handled things. Clear. Concise. Fair. 
Without drama, without red tape, just old fashion, even-handed, blind 
justice.
  It was 1971. He was a man suited for the time. We were the first 
white class to attend what had previously been the all black Burney 
Harris High School. The courts had spoken. The town was nervous, the 
administration tentative and the teachers incredibly challenged by the 
change set in front of them. Not Mr. Tillitski. He saw black and white 
not in skin color but in justice, fairness, and common sense. He could 
bridge the unsettled times with confidence.
  The fear was that every fight, skirmish, or incident could accelerate 
into a race riot. In this atmosphere he became the ``go to'' guy. 
Everyone knew he was a straight shooter. If the issue could be resolved 
quietly he could do it.
  A few years later, his son Chris and I decided to liven up the day by 
driving a motorcycle down the hall of the school. I should do the right 
thing and say it was a joint decision, but in the style of Washington 
politics I'll blame the whole idea on Chris, who in turn claimed his 
brothers Steve and Mike had pulled similar stunts. Down the hall we 
roared loudly as a jet plane. Soon, hundreds of students and teachers 
poured out of their classes trying to find out what had happened. We 
were surrounded by a mob of teachers and students, some laughing, some 
screaming, most in bewilderment. The principal was beet red in anger 
and unable to complete a sentence in his fury. Finally, Mr. Tillitski 
re-emerged from the throng. As the sea parted for his entrance, he 
simply said, ``Turn the damn thing off and get it out of here.'' We 
pushed it outside, order was restored, and we were duly punished.
  He was a man's man. Strong, gruff, and competitive. As the father of 
boys, he knew boys needed discipline, love, and nourishment. Once, 
Chris and I found an old canoe in the river. Its seaworthiness had been 
beaten out of it by a series of rapids. We took it home to restore it, 
a long shot at best but Mr. Tillitski supported our effort. When we 
finally got it to float, he was the first to give us boat paddles.
  Another time, Chris and I hopped a train and tried to make it to 
Myrtle Beach, S.C. We didn't disclose the details of our mode of 
transportation to our parents. We made it to Morehead City but ran out 
of track and trains headed in the right direction. Hitchhiking home, we 
informed our parents where we had been and announced that we'd try 
again soon. Rather than fighting about it, telling us we were stupid 
and how dangerous it was, Mr. Tillitski quietly let us borrow his prize 
green 1967 Mustang. Practically a sports car. Not a prettier sight was 
seen driving down the Myrtle Beach strip. He knew boys had to push an 
envelope but he also knew how to rein them in without killing our 
youthful spirit.
  As with so many influential men there was a great family structure to 
go along with them. John's wife, Joan, was a wonderful partner standing 
by him, raising the boys and making sure the family bond stayed strong. 
As a trained nurse she knew when one of the boys needed a trip to the 
hospital, a bandage or a good hug. They are an ideal couple.
  I was blessed to have people and educators such as John and Joan 
Tillitski in my life. In today's world with its confusion and 
uncertainty, we need more people with firm ideals and gentle hands to 
guide them. The world would be a better place.