Kearney is gone, and we at the Rowing Club have lost an irreplaceable personality, a warm, chattering, always in motion presence who to many had been the personification and the lifeblood of the Club itself.

Kearney Johnston died Saturday morning November 22 at age 93. He had been in failing health for some time yet, until just a few months ago, was at the Club almost every day. For as many of us realized, the San Diego Rowing Club was Kearney's home.

On the front of the SDRC racing shirt is the Club's shield with the date "1888" - the year the Rowing Club was founded. The San Diego Rowing Club is now in its 116th year, and Kearney was an active member of the Club for well over half its history.

Kearney joined the Club in 1930, a recent graduate of San Diego High School where he was on the wrestling team - all 120 pounds of him. He started to row at the same time he went to work at the San Diego Union as a Compositor. For those who don't know about the pre-computer and electronic world, a compositor was one of the most difficult and prestigious crafts found in business or industrial firms. Kearney spent about 40 years at the Union, before retiring when the new electronic "cold type" replaced the compositors and "hot type".

When Kearney joined the Club it was as much of a social organization as an athletic facility, and Kearney was left to teach himself how to scull by watching others. In those days, with extended travel more difficult, most of the competitive events were intra-club and Kearny's favorite was the "Skeeter", a mile row around a 180-degree turn against the clock. Right up to his last years he was promoting "Skeeter" races at the Rowing Club.

Kearney was one of the handful of Club members who kept the spirit of the Rowing Club alive during the 1980's in Mission Bay, after the historic boathouse was lost to San Diego Harbor redevelopment. As mentioned before, Kearney had been the lifeblood of rowing at the Rowing Club for a number of years. He was then happy to see the San Diego Rowing Club renewed in a new boathouse, completed in 1991, made possible by a bequest of his old friend and former Rowing Club member, A. W. "Bud" Coggeshall.

For all those years Kearney never drove, but rode the bus daily to the boathouse - to row his single, to teach a new member how to scull, to jump into a double with anyone who might be around, to provide encouragement and coaching to any and all, or to sweep sand from the boat house, to tidy up the locker room, and feed the birds.

Shy was not a word to describe Kearney. He would befriend any and all - hesitant new members or experienced rowers, the juniors, rowing greats, coaches, the homeless sleeping near the boathouse, policemen, bus drivers, or those just wandering by within ear shot. And perhaps, most eagerly, the women members who seemed to always be giving him a ride, sharing a conversation, providing a meal or taking him out to dinner.

Almost always good-natured he could, on rare occasion, turn the air blue with string of comments that would do credit to the saltiest sailor. Usually, however, miscreants were referred to as "muttonhead" or "jackass."

Kearney outlived two wives, and with the death of Hilda in 1995, his home and his family were the Rowing Club and its members and former members. He had little or no money, and not much in the way of material goods. That is unless you consider his lifetime collection of rowing souvenirs and memorabilia.

The greatest item of wealth that Kearney did possess however, were the legions of friends and acquaintances who had the privilege and opportunity to meet and know "the ol' broken down sculler", and the legacy that will always remember him as part of the San Diego Rowing Club and as a part of the sport of rowing.

How to describe Kearny now that he has gone - energetic, friendly, sparkplug, talkative, busybody, supportive, positive, animated, leprechaun, gregarious - they all fit, but none are complete. Kearney was simply Kearney.

The Rowing Club also lost Del Beekley, just less than 3 years ago at age 102. His 85 years as a Club member is likely the only span of time to surpass Kearney. Now, with Kearney passing, our link to a storied history and past is gone. The world and the world of rowing is different today, maybe not better or worse, but different. Over the years, many old boathouses have had a "Kearney Johnston", a person, largely unknown to those outside their club, who, without compensation or reward, spent their lives helping others come to know the sport of rowing that they loved. Time has removed most of these people, and now Kearney from the sport. It is a loss that cannot be replaced and we at the Club are lessened because of it.