TheBakersfieldCalifornian.com

Some teachers help you learn a few things.

Others change your life.

One person who nudged my life in a different direction was an ex-cop with a flat-top haircut and a gentle manner named William R. Dolan.

When I was in his journalism class at Arvin High School more than 30 years ago, Dolan kept assuring me that I was good enough to write for a living. Eventually, I believed him.

So I graduated from college, and spent 15 years as a reporter before taking a job as a report writer for the public school system, all because someone had faith in me.

Through the decades, Dolan remained a friend, often treating me to lunch at Lorene's Ranch House downtown, where we swapped stories and laughed while perspiring over the spicy chile verde.

Dolan died Sunday night of an apparent heart attack after collapsing at Chester Avenue Community Church, where he regularly attended services, according to relatives and the pastor, the Rev. Keith Fultz. Dolan, who was 97 years old, retired from successful careers in teaching and law enforcement. Funeral services are pending.

"He was reading a bible text, and when he finished reading, he put his head down, and that was it. He was gone," said Fultz. "A lot of people talked about Christ and the gospel, but he lived it."

The last bible passage read by Dolan is from the first epistle of John and says in part: "In this is love, not that we love God but that he loved us..."

Kern County Sheriff Donny Youngblood said even after retiring from the sheriff's department, where he served as undersheriff, Dolan remained a big supporter of law enforcement. That included stints as director with the Kern County Law Enforcement Foundation and as president of the Kern County Sheriff's Advisory Council.

"He was quite the icon in the organization," said Youngblood. "And he bucked the trend that law enforcement officers die young."

Dolan spoke several languages, took troubled children into his home, and influenced countless students as a teacher for the Kern High School District.

One of those students was me.

But most of the things I learned from Dolan didn't come from textbooks. In my senior year, when I was editor of the campus newspaper, Dolan often picked me up at my house before dawn so we could arm ourselves with wax and rollers to finish laying out the paper. Because a deadline was a deadline.

Dolan convinced me to take my first paying job as a reporter, which was as a sports correspondent for my hometown newspapers, the Arvin Tiller and Lamont Reporter. It was a tough job because sports weren't my strength, but I learned that most problems can be solved through hard work.

When I applied for my first car loan, Dolan offered to co-sign. Although his signature turned out to be unnecessary, it was a gesture I never forgot.

And Dolan had a keen sense of humor, even about his age. At his 90th birthday party, held at his church, I asked him what he was going to do when he reached 95.

His response: "At my age, I don't even buy green bananas."

Last year, I was selected to receive the civic leader award from Cal-State Bakersfield's Hispanic Excellence Scholarship Fund. By that time, Dolan could no longer drive, so my wife, Ester and I picked him up and took him with us.

At the beginning of my speech, I asked for a round of applause for my high school journalism teacher because I didn't know how many more opportunities I'd have to do so. Later that night, we took pictures and joked that we were going to hit the bars.

"Yeah, look for us in the jail logs," he mused.

Then I took Dolan home, and walked him to the side gate, watching as his slouching figure faded into the darkness.

Thank you for helping a 17-year-old farm worker kid believe in his writing, Mr. Dolan.

And for believing in me.