ohn P. Mullin points out the familiar black and white photograph on his office wall, of himself in a tiger suit atop a table, black whiskers painted on his face, roaring at the camera. It was the same shot I'd seen in the '76 Tenakin, the Tenafly High School yearbook.

"He kicked the slats out underneath the table right after they took the picture. It was an accident, of course!" Mr. Mullin takes a little time out from his frantic pace to sit back and reminisce, straightening out his muppet tie as he does so. Over the passage of time, his once-dark moustache has evolved into a full gray beard, and behind his spectacles his eyes glimmer with fond recollections of his one-time student and friend Jon-Erik Hexum. The room, saturated with pictures and tiger paraphernalia, seems more like a museum or a curiosity shop than a faculty office. Dubbed the "Tiger Den," in honor of the THS mascot, it contains relics from the lifelong Tenafly resident's past, testimonies to his effusive personality and profound involvement in school and family activities. A plaque overhead shows Mullin in his earlier days as a '55 THS graduate accomplished in football and track, for which he was inducted into the Tenafly High School Athletic Hall of Fame. He points out a picture of himself as '76 class advisor in a group of students, fingers raised in a "we're number one" kind of gesture--all except for a young Jack Hexum, who's making demon horns behind Mullin's head. There's one shot of J.P. in more recent days, astride a camel with pyramids behind him, a memento of his work in creating a student exchange program between Egypt and Tenafly. Other photos show his two sons in football garb, and still more photos, his coaching work. A signed head-shot of Jon-Erik's hangs on a back wall between various tigers, urging him to tune into Voyagers! on Sunday nights. Any of the initial doubts I'd felt at the prospect of coming here had quickly been allayed, and I now felt like I was right at home with an old friend.

It was plain to see that J.P. Mullin was one of those rare teachers driven by intrinsic motivation and a contagious enthusiasm easily spread to anyone who came in contact with him. This was, no doubt, the same enthusiasm which had sparked Jack Hexum to become Mr. Everything in his senior year, that same carpe diem mentality that perhaps had first infused his own gutsy take-on-the-world attitude.

"He used to have all these funny voices," continues Mullin. "It was hard to tell when he was serious and when he was pulling my leg. One time he came up to me and told me he wanted to re-name all the hallways -- 'Lover's Lane,' and stuff like that. That time he was joking. "

Mullin remembers another time Hexum came up to him, and in a gruff-sounding voice told him he, as senior class president, wanted to paint the graduation year on the field house roof -- red, white and blue, in honor of the bicentennial. But that time he was serious, and much to Mullin's surprise, Hexum's plan was approved by then-Principal Knippel and school officials. Thus began a tradition which endured for years afterward.

"He instituted a lot of things here that still go on today. 'Hero Days' were started by him, a day set aside for students to honor their heroes; also, 'The Tux Show,' where students model the suits they'll be wearing to the prom."

Mullin recalls a return visit by Hexum after he made it big. "We met and had lunch at Friendly's (a New Jersey area fast-food chain). Their meal went without incident. "There were actually more people coming up to say hi to me!" he adds. But by the time they'd returned to Mullin's classroom, the entire hallway was packed with literally hundreds of students eager to catch a glimpse of their celebrated alumnus. Through it all, though, Jack was very gracious and generous with his time, a custom Mullin says he tries to continue today.

True to his word, Mr. Mullin offers to take me on a tour of the school, to which I eagerly agree. He leads me along one of Tenafly High's sprawling hallways. The first stop is the library, where he points out a memorial plaque on the wall, in honor of Hexum. On the face of the plaque is a photograph which I recognize as being from one of Jon-Erik's old pin-up posters. "He sent that poster to me," says Mullin. "And it was my way of giving the gift back to him." Underneath the picture, a caption reads:

Next, he leads me to a back room filing cabinet where he retrieves a file on Jon-Erik's career. Filled with newspaper and magazine articles, it also contains several personal letters he'd written over the years to his friends back home.

Afterward, we head into the school office where Mr. Mullin shows me the public address room. This room, he points out, unchanged from the way it was back in 1976, is the very same place where Jack would do his morning "radio" announcements with pal Bob LaFurno. The microphone as well as the transmitter are the same ones they'd used in their broadcasts. Following this, we head back toward Mr. Mullin's office, passing a glass-enclosed study hall along the way.

"He named that place 'The Pit,'" he remarks, and then, pointing to a nearby courtyard, adds, "and that was the 'Outdoor Pit!'" Then, in keeping with his generous spirit, he offers to give me a brief tour of a few of the places around town most familiar to Hexum. After retrieving his briefcase from his office, Mullin leads me out to his car in the parking lot, a shiny red Geo Prism, suitably highlighted with personal plates reading "Tiger 1."

As Mr. Mullin loads the trunk, I look around, realizing the significance of this location. "Is this the same place where he blocked you in after school by marching the band in front of your car?" I ask.

Mr. Mullin smiles knowingly, and replies, "My house was on fire that day! I mean literally on fire! Of course, after I explained everything, everybody cleared out of the way instantly, but still..."

As we continue on our way, Mullin tells me that Jack had actually lived with him and his wife after he graduated college, sleeping on the couch in the den of Mullin's Park Ridge home. Hexum's mother Gretha had given up the home on Elm Street for a move to upstate New York during that time, and Jon-Erik alternated residences at Mullins' and his Aunt's house in nearby Cresskill. Mullin had even let him borrow his car, then a hot-roddy Trans-am, to commute to various jobs he'd held in the area to help pay for his acting classes and rent.

A quick stop by the field house and the football field provides me with a couple of photo opportunities, and then, just up Knickerbocker Road going into Cresskill, we stop for a quick look at "The Hungry Peddler." Back in 1980 it was known as "Tattered Tom's;" there Hexum would appear during early morning hours with plunger and scrub brush in hand to clean the restrooms!

The sunlight begins to fade, and Mr. Mullin suggests we stop by the home of Hexum's Aunt Dorie and Uncle Ed; he's kept in contact with them in the years following Jon Erik's death and thinks they might enjoy hearing about the web-page. I heartily agree, after he explains that it won't be an imposition.

As we head toward their home in suburban Cresskill, Mr. Mullin waxes philosophical for an instant: If there is such a thing as destiny, and it does intervene in earthly affairs, then it was Jack's destiny to pack a life-time of living into the 26 short years he lived. Jack seemed to live everyday to its fullest, he explains, almost as if cognizant of the fact that his allotted time here would be of limited length. Mr. Mullin praises Hexum's sense of pinnache, of having the courage to boldly pursue his dreams, despite the incredible obstacles that stood in the way. He confides that he always wondered if he could "make it," as Hexum had, yet in looking back at the legacy of his work as a teacher and role model, it would seem that he already has.

--Doug Eames

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