Pat Goeters eluded death over and over until his luck finally ran out on April 1st, 2024. He was the father of Herman “Pat”, Fredrick, Carroll, Edward, Burton and Benjamin Goeters and of Beth Goeters
Reese. He was the grandfather of Susanna, Jessica, Joanna and Geoffrey Goeters and Fritz and Cary Reese. He was the brother of Kitty Goeters Bronec (Len) and Joe Goeters (Charlotte) and the life-long friend of Ron Bedford. He became the friend of his tenacious personal trainers, Dara Kelly and Samantha Draper and the “extra husband” of his treasured helper Marlaine Fevrier. He was the beloved (and only) husband of Jackie Kann who never got over the miracle of their meeting.
Pat was born somewhere in Germany but came to the United States as an infant and grew up in Houston, Texas in a home run by two women, his mother and grandmother. He got an
undergraduate degree in architecture from the University of Houston and a Master’s in urban planning from Yale. He was an architect, city planner, general contractor, professor, writer and
photographer. He worked for the California and Massachusetts Housing Finance Agencies as well as for the Boston Housing Authority. He was the founder and CEO of Natural Homes in Tallahassee, Florida and of a short-lived enterprise called Electric Photography and Ribs. He was writing about his rise and fall as a professor at Yale when he died – the book will be issued posthumously this fall. He loved music of all sorts--jazz, blues, R and B, country, zydeco, rock, a bit of Mozart and Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. He regretted never having learned to play the drums.
Pat was creative and inventive. He had a fake business card on which he called himself an “alchemist” and he was indeed able to transform common objects into precious ones. He could look at a scraggly piece of land in Tallahassee and envision and then design an unusual home to sit on it; he could point his camera at a crowd standing in a subway station in Boston, and turn the scene into an Impressionistic photograph; he could observe a losing team of Little Leaguers, that included a number of his own sons, and coach it into a state championship; could go to a dilapidated public housing project and picture its transformation into livable units; he could look at a raw piece of chicken and turn it into a never-to-be-repeated dish of subtle flavors; he could meet a young(ish) woman on the train and imagine her becoming his wife.
Some found Pat charming and others found him difficult. Some family members called him “Grumpy” or just plain “G”. He was proud to call himself a curmudgeon. He was a man of conviction and
integrity. He did not back down from his beliefs, even if that made others uncomfortable. He always rooted for the underdog and was moved to tears repeatedly by sports teams coming from behind; Seabiscuit galloping furlongs ahead of the competition; students outshining their skeptical teachers; unlikely couples falling in love. He was an expert on military blunders through the ages but was also awed by the heroism of the Allied Forces of WWII. He gave up cigarettes and alcohol exactly once and never looked back. The T-shirt he was wearing when he died said “Fight Truth Decay”.
If you would like to honor Pat, please do so by contesting an unjust rule, stepping on a self-righteous person’s toes or making a donation to the kind of cause Pat would have supported.