John F. Reginato — founding member of OWAC, member of the California Outdoors Hall of Fame and the California Tourism Hall of Fame, tireless public servant, avid outdoorsman, and friend and mentor to many members — passed away July 28 in Tacoma, Wash. He was 89.
After an obituary written by former OWAC President Peter Ottesen was passed along to members via email on August 8, many responded with their own brief recollections of Mr. Reginato. Here are a few of those:
John was a one of a kind. He commanded respect and got it. I enjoyed John's serious side and his fun side. I'll always remember outings with OWAC at the biggest ranch in Northern California — the Roberts Ranch near Susanville — and how John put them together.
John will be missed and will have left his mark on the outdoor world. I'm glad I had a chance to know him.
—George Carl
John was a dear friend, and he is now at peace.
—Don Vachini
John represented the Shasta Cascade Wonderland Association for so many years that his very name conjures up cedar-scented breezes, singing reels, and birds dropping from blue skies. His contributions to the Outdoor Writers Association of California were so many and so varied that to try to list them would be like trying to name each grain of sand on your favorite beach.
A charter member, he served as OWAC's first secretary-treasurer and began a "gossip column," originally called "Update," in the inaugural issue of OWAC News, January 1986. The column continued in every issue through July 1993, at which time he appointed me as his successor. At the same time he handed over the job of OWAC treasurer to Phil Ford. And he continued to serve on the OWAC board.
Some saw in him a resemblance to Ernest Hemingway. To me he looked like Santa Claus: "his eyes, how they twinkled. His dimples how merry," set off by silky white shoulder-length hair and matching beard. He cast a big BIG shadow.
—Kathie Morgan
In the late 1960s, John Reginato began hosting us outdoor scribes as guests of the Shasta Cascade Wonderland Association for an extended weekend in late May. The purpose of these gatherings was to showcase the outdoors attractions available in the eight counties the SCWA served.
They would begin with a barbecue the evening of arrival at which we rubbed elbows with SCWA representatives and Department of Fish and Game officials and met travel, hunting and fishing guides who were to guide us in respective outings the next day.
Following that introductory barbecue came the annual poker game at the old Roberts Motel. Temperatures in Redding at that time of year frequently touch the 95- to 100-degree range. There was no air conditioning at the motel, only swamp coolers. Playing poker was a distraction from the heat as long as the beer stayed cold.
Following the outings the next morning, we attended the annual awards dinner at Redding’s St. Joseph's Catholic Church. Father John McGoldrick, who served the church, was an avid outdoorsman. Through Father John, with aid from that other John, the Willows Pheasant Hunting Association came to be. It opened thousands of acres of farmlands to public hunting for a modest fee.
Father McGoldrick also raised Labradors. He gave me one of his bitch’s last litter, a yellow lab we named Beau. He wasn’t much at hunting, but he was the best friend of every kid in the neighborhood.
John R's favorite bird was the bandtailed pigeon, which he hunted as a kid in the forest slopes above his home on the Sacramento River near Dunsmuir where he was raised. We shared many a hunt on that ridge over the years, along with one or the other of Reginato’s three Brittanys, Jolene, Jody and Jo-Jo.
Father McGoldrick passed away, as best I recall, about 15 years ago in a Sacramento hospice. Those two Johns were of the same mold: Serve the public first, then maybe share a bit what’s left.
There isn’t an OWAC member who ever had the good fortune to know these two Johns who would not agree that they were the best friends to one another, and of every outdoor person in California.
—Bill Beebe
Bill also sent a few photos of John. "These photos were taken on our last hunt together," he wrote. "At that time, John was ailing, and the hike to the top of the ridge where he hunted those bandtails most of his adult lifetime was getting too much to negotiate any longer."
