Man for all seasons embraced running
In his 93 years, Harry E. Kirsch was a trolley operator, an egg farmer, a bus driver, a combat Marine, a family man, a marathon runner, a guy whose passion for mowing the grass of his Butler County homestead led him to the tractor or the mower seven days a week — sometimes even when the snow was flying.
Known by a couple of nicknames — “Gramps,” to his family members and their friends, “Hot Harry” to the hundreds of runners he trained with over the years — Mr. Kirsch is described as unique, quirky, inspirational, and (said with a touch of humor by his daughter-inlaw) “maybe a little” obsessive-compulsive.
He died Wednesday, and his passing will be marked by a funeral procession expected to top a hundred through North Park, where he ran daily for decades.
He was a man of high energy and eclectic interests, but what set him apart perhaps above all else was that thing inside him that sparked him to begin each day with a song and a dance. Yes, a song and a dance. “Every day, as soon as he woke up, he sang a song and he did a little dance: A little dance like, ‘It’s a new day and it’s gonna be a good one,’” said his daughter-inlaw, Christine Kirsch, from the family farm in Adams.
Known by friends and neighbors as the “Kirsch compound,” the farm is a 35acre tract where Mr. Hirsch lived as neighbors with all of his surviving family members: his son and four grandchildren and their four kids.
“My father-in-law was one of a kind. He was a man who wanted very little, was appreciative of everything he had, and who was generous to a fault. He always had a smile on his face and he never said a bad word about anybody,” said Mrs. Kirsch, who has been married to Mr. Kirsch’s only child, Harry A. Kirsch, since 1970.
Theelder Mr. Kirsch grew up in Ross, and after graduating from Perry High School, he enlisted in the Marine Corps, serving from 1942 to 1945. His service took him to many World War II battles and many islands in the Pacific theater of operations. When the war was over, he talked of its camaraderie, the weather, the food, but never the gruesomeness of combat, Christine Kirsch said.
This was typical of his determination to focus on all that was good in life and in people, she said.
Following his discharge, he returned to the family home in Ross and took a job as a trolley driver — which turned into a job as a bus driver for the Port Authority Transit of Allegheny County, from which he retired in the 1970s. In 1948, he fulfilled a dream when he and his parents bought the farmland in Butler County.
But, having married a woman, Gertrude, who preferred the suburbs, they remained in Ross, and his parents and brother, Robert, moved to the farm.
Christine Kirsch said her father-in-law spent almost all his spare time on the farm, ultimately growing an egg operation with 1,000 chickens. He had an egg route that took him to neighborhoods from Butler County south to Pittsburgh. Every customer was a friend.
“He talked to everyone. He liked everyone,” she said.
Gertrude Kirsch developed an autoimmune disease and, throughout her years of illness and until her death, Mr. Kirsch tended her, his daughter-in-law recounted.
Following his wife’s death in 1977, he retired, moved to the farm, and began a new chapter of life that ultimately touched hundreds of people in the North Hills. At the age of 58, Mr. Kirsch became a marathon runner.
“He was amazing. An inspiration,” said Leslie Brody, 68, of Marshall.
They met in a parking lot of North Park one day, decades ago, as each was training to run in the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, D.C. Mr. Kirsch was a Marine veteran; Mr. Brody, a Navy veteran, was the son of two Marines.
“We became very close friends,” Mr. Brody recalled, noting that the 25-year age difference was irrelevant.
Mr. Brody witnessed the formation of a “spontaneous” club that included some 300 members and was led by Mr. Kirsch.
“It was called the Hot Harry’s North Park Runners,” Mr. Brody said, mentioning that members wore T-shirts and running shorts with Harry’s name on them.
“Harry was a very charismatic person. His enthusiasm was contagious. He’d meet someone who never dreamed of running a marathon and, not long afterward, they’d be running a marathon,” he said.
Mr. Brody recalled Mr. Kirsch’s energy boundless, and not just during his runs. Mr. Kirsch took the lead in arranging an annual trip of sometimes two busloads of runners to the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, arranging hotels, food and transportation.
“Everybody loved him,” Mr. Brody said.
The group still meets, although a stress hip fracture knockedMr. Kirsch from his running track when he was 80.
He had logged 50 marathons by that point, including races in New York City, Boston, Las Vegas and Pittsburgh.
He received a Golden Shoe Award from Runner’s World magazine, and a frostfree water fountain at North Park boasts a plaque that reads: “May the water you share here refresh you during your run at North Park and the Marathon of Life. Thank you, Hot Harry, Your friends 1997.”
“There’s no question that Harry has left this world a better place. He set a good example for the rest of us,” Mr. Brody said.
Christine Kirsch said her father-in-law had one hobby that matched his love of running: grass-mowing.
“He loved, loved, loved mowing grass. He did it every day. Sometimes it would be snowing — it didn’t matter,” she said.
He continued mowing through the summer of his 92nd year, at which point his health had deteriorated and he could no longer operate a tractor or a mower.
Despite his time-consuming hobbies, he volunteered at the Evans City Food Cupboard for decades, often three times a week.
Friends will be received from 2 to 4 and 7 to 9 p.m. Friday at the McDonald-Aeberli Funeral Home in Mars.
The funeral will be held at 10 a.m. Saturday at the funeral home, followed by a funeral procession — a “final lap” — through North Park. Burial will be in Plains Church Cemetery in Cranberry.