Philip Livingston of Seaford is remembered as a beloved substitute teacher, father, grandfather, friend and a vital part of the community. 3/16/18 Madeline Lauria/The News Journal
A seat in the middle of Seaford High School’s auditorium is noticeably empty now that “Grandpa Bluejay” is gone.
Throughout the remainder of the school year, every concert, sporting event, celebration and graduation ceremony will be dedicated to Philip Livingston, who died after slipping off his boat dock on the Nanticoke River on March 3.
That’s because he surely would have been there, happily passing on sailing trips with his grown sons to support the students, who he called his "troops."
“We were the original three troops, but now there must be more than a battalion,” said his youngest son, Keith Livingston.
When police responding to the call about 5:30 p.m. Saturday, March 3, learned that the man they were searching the river for was born in 1928, they almost rolled their eyes as if they were wondering what was the rush, envisioning an old, fragile man plodding along with a walker, Keith said.
"No, no, no. Don't get the wrong idea," he said he told police. "He's supposed to be retired and worked four days last week as a substitute teacher. And he's on the schedule four days next week."
This wasn't a frail, old man they were looking for. Despite the date on his license, he always said he was just approaching middle age.
Rescuers were searching for a former FBI counter-espionage agent who spoke fluent Russian. A New York native who built boats with his boys. A man who saw the Sharpie invented. A former firefighter who could fly seaplanes and biplanes. An avid sailor. A mechanic.
A founder of Seaford's community concerts and the Woodland Ferry Festival. The man who brought the community its first public marina even though he had his own private dock. A freelance photographer, writer and first financial supporter of the local community newspaper.
He also, in his mid-80s, got a bloody nose playing touch football with students and had to be convinced to sit out the rest of the game.
A father, grandfather, great-grandfather and unfaltering influence on hundreds upon hundreds of students who now serve as principals, police officers and everything in between.
"He was a presence everywhere and you expected him to be there," said Seaford Mayor David Genshaw. "He was truly the type of person that every community needs. He served selflessly and loved the kids, and loved being a part of it all without any real recognition."
After his unexpected death, Livingston's newest generation of troops filled a basket with notes for the family – illustrations of the Woodland Ferry and an FBI seal, heartfelt poems and apologies for ever taking Grandpa Bluejay’s patience and respectful nature for granted – to honor the Seaford man who spent the last 25 years substituting at Seaford High and other local schools.
“Even the worst kids knew when Phil was the sub, to respect him and not give him a hard time,” said Seaford senior Dylan Norman. “And whenever they did, Phil would handle it with the most patience and caring. He did so much for us and we’re really going to miss him.”
Seaford High Principal Terry Carson said the school took about 300 of those notes to the Livingston family the Monday following his death. The next day, the basket was full again.
“The family said it gave them such peace and joy as they sat as a group and read all of these funny notes about bears and crocodiles and being a spy,” she said. “I can’t even tell you what a remarkable human being he was. If everyone learned to live like Phil Livingston lived his life, we’d have a great world.”
He made it easy for the students to compile 89 reasons – one for each year of his life – they loved the full-time substitute: his die-hard dedication as an Alabama fan, his love for his wife's homemade brownies, his empty promises to drop-kick students through a steel door if they misbehaved, and the guarantee that he would always be in the same seat, in the same aisle, in the same auditorium for every event.
The students Phil Livingston left behind may never get to the bottom of the elusive 2,000-foot mountain in Blades where teachers skipped school to wrestle bears, or what really happened to one teacher who Livingston said missed class after her thumbs got lodged in a crocodile’s ears and she was stuck riding the reptile all the way from the Nanticoke out to the Atlantic Ocean.
“Don’t laugh,” said his wife, Phillys. “There were some mothers that would go down after school and drive around looking for the mountain. I thought they were kidding me.”
Phil Livingston left behind enough stories throughout his 89 years – both fact and fiction – to keep the community talking for quite a while.
“You could talk to 200 more people and get 200 more stories,” said Rick “Gunner” Norman, the high school’s senior naval science instructor.
Norman said he already misses what he called the “Phil shuffle,” the gentle sound of the elderly man’s footsteps as he made his way down the hall.
“Then he’d come in and the jokes would start,” he said. “He would say, ‘I started coming here about three hours ago and I’m just now getting here.’ There was just something about that man – he was like a father and a grandfather and a best friend.”
The 89-year-old’s recent death hit Norman hard, like many others in the community, he said. He fully expected Phil Livingston – who worked at the school just two days before his fatal accident – would be Norman’s full-time substitute when he takes time off for surgery later this month.
“When the whole thing came out about his death, I was angry,” he said. “In my heart I felt this was a man who deserved to die in his sleep having pleasant dreams. In retrospect, he died doing exactly what he loved to do. He loved the water and his boat and he loved these kids.”
Keith Livingston said his dad would check on the boat at his dock daily.
"He's done it so many times," he said.
Saturday, March 3, was no different. Phil Livingston went to the dock to check on his boat when he found the broken dock line, his sons said. He had tied a new one on the boat, but strong winds that evening likely made for dangerous conditions. The boat drifted away from the dock and he fell into the 41-degree water. It took dive teams and rescuers hours of searching before his body was recovered the following morning.
"Mom was watching him with binoculars," said Keith Livingston. "She blinked and he was gone."
Phil Livingston wouldn't let his wife join him on the dock because of the high winds, Keith Livingston said.
As Phil Livingston’s wife of 69 years joined two of their sons and two grandsons to recall the family man’s long life of sales, flying, sailing, counter-espionage and creating scented markers in make-shift kitchen laboratories, laughter far outweighed tears.
No matter how laid-back Phillys Livingston thought her days or weeks in Crab Bite, Delaware, might be – the postmaster is still trying to figure out where that came from – her husband always seemed to have different plans.
Planning Seaford’s community concerts. Organizing the Woodland Ferry Festival. Starting a community police auxiliary. Showing up the shooting range instructor who thought an 85-year-old man couldn’t hit the target – except the expert marksman had been firing round after round through the same exact hole smack in the middle of the bull’s eye.
“He always had something cooking,” she said. “You name it, he did it.”
And forget family dinners out on the town. “I’ll be right back, I haven’t seen so-and-so in a while,” would be the mantra of the evening until everyone had finished their meal and his plate was the last one left. It might be cold as ice, but he would happily eat it. No problem, he was happy, his sons said.
Grandpa Bluejay, or Grandad Jay, might have skipped a few swim and soccer matches here and there, but he never missed a football game. He couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing his troops, Phillys Livingston said.
From her seat in the car – he wanted her to be comfortable, she said – she always had a perfect view of the scoreboard at those games, and of her husband as he purchased his ticket and snubbed the bleachers to instead take his place leaning against the chain-link fence. He didn’t want to take up too much space, his son Philip Livingston said.
“If you watch ‘It’s a Wonderful Life,’ that was Dad,” he said. “Dad was Jimmy Stewart. Dad was George Bailey.”
On his 89th birthday in November, after a day of substituting, he came home thrilled about the birthday card he got from the school.
“Oh, good for you, let me see it,” his wife said. He told her she’d have to come outside to see.
She obliged, wondering what he was up to this time. He pulled a large roll of paper out of the car, brought it inside the house and together they unraveled the wall-length banner filled with students’ birthday wishes around a central image of Phil Livingston in his daily substituting uniform: A blue oxford button down, a navy blazer, khaki pants and his red FBI tie.
The banner still hangs on a wall in their home overlooking the Nanticoke, near a large photo of the late sailor surrounded by flowers.
That’s not the first banner students ever made for him, Keith Livingston said. But that story starts with Livingston playing another football game well past the age everyone else has quit.
He was substituting for Norman, and in the middle of a game with JROTC students on the football field, going long for a pass. He heard his name and ran down the sidelines, ready for the ball. He was so ready.
The ball spiraled through the air and landed in Phil Livingston’s 86-year-old hands. Touchdown!
But some gnarly tree roots had other plans. He landed with a touchdown pass and a broken hip.
“And the kids would encourage him!” Phillys Livingston said.
His troops made him a get-well banner as he was recovering from his hip replacement about a year later. As soon as he recovered, he was back in the classroom.
Phillys said the outpouring of support from the community – hundreds attended his memorial service at the high school last weekend – is a little overwhelming.
“I knew he was like that, and I knew he knew everybody and touched many, but I didn’t think it was going to get this far,” she said. “But then again, if you stop to think about it, he’s probably sitting there saying, ‘Ah, they’re finally listening and they’re not talking!’”
A deep sadness lingered behind Phillys Livingston’s smiles as her family laughed over the football story and tall tales Phil Livingston became known for, the images of him falling asleep on a boat despite 30-knot winds, and a decades-old photograph of him with a new shop vacuum that had just sucked up the entire Christmas train while it was still running on the tracks.
“Don’t tell any lies,” she whispered gently, as the pain of her loss soaked through her sturdy embrace.
Contact reporter Maddy Lauria at (302) 345-0608, mlauria@delawareonline.com or on Twitter @MaddyinMilford.
SUSSEX COUNTY NEWS
Report: Sussex is the healthiest county in Delaware
Delaware Wild Lands permanently protects 160 acres in Sussex County
Rehoboth outfall work leaves 700-foot-long hole, steel abandoned in ocean floor
Don't miss a thing
Download our apps and get alerts for local news, weather, traffic and more. Search "The News Journal" in your app store or use these links from your device: iPhone app | Android app for phone and tablet | iPad app
Don't forget to "like" us on Facebook!
Join the Conversation
To find out more about Facebook commenting please read the Conversation Guidelines and FAQs