Former coach of Track & Field and Cross Country at the University of Wisconsin - Madison. During his career, he coached 19 All-Americans and 3 NCAA champions, and led Wisconsin to its first ever NCAA cross-country national championship. He was selected as NCAA cross-country coach of the year three times. He also served as president of the National Cross Country Coaches Association.
Wisconsin State Journal, Friday, April 15, 1983
"Crash injuries kill UW's track coach
----
Dan McClimon, University of Wisconsin-Madison head track and cross country coach, died Thursday afternoon of burns he received in the crash of a small airplane on a Cross Plains farm.
McClimon, 41, of 428 Virginia Terrace, received burns over 73 percent of his body and was pronounced dead about 5:30 p.m. at the University hospital Burn Unit, according to Dane County Deputy Coroner Don Scullion.
The pilot, George Walker, 49, of Platteville, who owns three pharmacies in the Madison area, remained in critical but stable condition late Thursday at the Burn Unit. He received second-degree and third-degree burns and a fractured rib in the crash.
Two investigators from the National Transportation Safety Board were at the scene Thursday trying to determine the cause of the crash, which occurred sometime after 11 p.m. Wednesday.
McClimon was returning from a recruiting trip to Illinois late Wednesday when Walker radioed the Truax field tower about 11 p.m. and asked permission to make a visual rather than instrument landing at Morey Airport, Middleton.
The eastboard single-engine Piper Cub apparently crashed shortly afterward on the Michael Ripp farm along Airport Road in rural Cross Plains.
Despite his injuries, Walker left the plane and struggled through mud and rain until he reached the Ripp farmhouse.
About 1 a.m., Lora Ripp said, she answered a knock at the door and saw Walker standing in the doorway. He told her there had been an airplane crash and that another man still was with the plane.
'I got him in and sat him on the chair,' Ms. Ripp said. Then, her brother and a famile friend helped him to bed in another room.
Walker told them he had gone down a hill to reach the farmhouse and Lora's brother, Neil, and the friend went outside in search of McClimon.
'There's hills all around our house so they scouted the whole area,' she said. 'The man (Walker) said he followed a ditch down so they kind of followed the ditch.'
Ripp smelled the burning wreckage and located McClimon and the plane wreckage about a quarter mile south of the house.
Rescue workers brought McClimon on a stretcher down to the farmhouse. He and Walker were taken to the hospital in Madison Fire Department ambulances.
Deputy James Meicher, an evidence technician with the Dane County Sheriff's Department, said the plane, flying about 15 to 20 feet off the ground, apparently hit the top of a tree and traveled about 400 feet across a cornfield and into a wooded area.
'If these people would have been 30 feet higher, the whole thing wouldn't have happened,' Meicher said.
The wreckage was strewn over an area 60 to 70 feet wide and more than 400 feet long.
Lack of fuel or engine failure apparently did not cause the crash. Meicher said the plane's engine was operating and the propeller cut huge gouges in several trees.
McClimon has been UW-Madison head track coach for six years and head cross-country coach since 1971. He formerly coached at Loras College in Dubuque, Iowa, and Blackhawk Junior College in Moline, Ill.
Surviving are his wife, Pat, and three children, Chris, 16; Molly, 11; and Colleen, 8."
Madison Capital Times, Friday, April 15, 1983
"McClimon's humor, compassion remembered
---
A SWITCH WAS flipped and the purr of the projector was silenced. 'Sad, isn't it?' pondered the assistant football coach. 'I'm finding it very difficult to concentrate this afternoon.' His eyes were still fixed on his office wall. Seconds earlier, he had been breaking down the film of a recent scrimmage. Now, upon reflection on the morning's tragic news, he may have felt like breaking down and weeping.
Dan McClimon's presence in Camp Randall Stadium was not isolated to the third floor cross country and track office which he occupied with his own assistants. Before his team had ever captured a national championship, McClimon carried an infectious enthusiasm through the dimly lit corridors of the University of Wisconsin athletic department. In sum, he covered far greater distances than any of his 19 All-Americans. It was difficult for many to concentrate Thursday.
The projector began purring again. But the eyes of the assistant coach were still fixed on a blank wall. McClimon was a frequent visitor to football practice. He used to stand in the tunnel on even the most blustery afternoons - a towel draped around his neck; a thin windbreaker sheltering him from the elements. He enjoyed kibitzing about the game and the players, many of whom he shared with Dave McClain.
Later on this day, the assistant coach would learn of Dan McClimon's death. And then, he may have broken down and wept. Many of McClimon's athletes, past and present, did. Others just ran on the streets. Many were too numb to even answer the phone.
IN DOCUMENTING his accomplishments, there's a certain amount of guilt. McClimon realized that his 'non-income' program would never get its full due. But he only asked for a fair share. The recognition of his success, however, never caught up - until his own departure. Perhaps it's a cruel commentary on priorities, misplaced as they may be. Publicly, he rarely complained of being slighted. Instead, he just campaigned all the harder for his athletes. His wry sense of humor, his sincerity and his compassion were the tools that he handled so well. And with them, he melted friend and foe alike - and there were very few of the latter. Like any good runner, he never deviated from his pace. He never looked back.
On a splendid July afternoon in 1980, Dan McClimon was talking about the imbalance in sports. He was discussing the summer Olympics - the games that never were held - and he was depressed because 'Steve Lacy made the United States Olympics team and no one in Madison knows about it.'
He was bewildered over the fact that the community was still taking bows for the Winter Olympics while ignoring the achievements of Lacy. As the conversation progressed, McClimon outlined the limitations placed on runners such as Lacy and he underlined the unfairness of the training situation.
The word 'amateur' bothered McClimon. He was confused by its definition and its hypocrisy. And he suggested that stipends - equivalent to scholarships - be awarded to competitors so as to make it much easier for them to prepare for the next Olympiad.
'It's all so distorted,' McClimon said then, raising his voice ever so slightly. 'The salaries they are making in baseball are ridiculous. I mean here is some guy playing second base who only has to throw the ball 70 feet and his .225 and he's making $300,000 a year.'
McCLIMON SAT back in his chair and laughed; poking fun at himself for getting so emotional about the subject. And then smiling, he concluded, 'But it is crazy. And like I said - so distorted.'
So were the circumstances surrounding his death. Dan McClimon won't be measured by how far he ran. But how he ran. His athletes, his friends, and his associates don't have to apologize for looking back and remembering."
Wisconsin State Journal, Friday, April 15, 1983
"Crash injuries kill UW's track coach
----
Dan McClimon, University of Wisconsin-Madison head track and cross country coach, died Thursday afternoon of burns he received in the crash of a small airplane on a Cross Plains farm.
McClimon, 41, of 428 Virginia Terrace, received burns over 73 percent of his body and was pronounced dead about 5:30 p.m. at the University hospital Burn Unit, according to Dane County Deputy Coroner Don Scullion.
The pilot, George Walker, 49, of Platteville, who owns three pharmacies in the Madison area, remained in critical but stable condition late Thursday at the Burn Unit. He received second-degree and third-degree burns and a fractured rib in the crash.
Two investigators from the National Transportation Safety Board were at the scene Thursday trying to determine the cause of the crash, which occurred sometime after 11 p.m. Wednesday.
McClimon was returning from a recruiting trip to Illinois late Wednesday when Walker radioed the Truax field tower about 11 p.m. and asked permission to make a visual rather than instrument landing at Morey Airport, Middleton.
The eastboard single-engine Piper Cub apparently crashed shortly afterward on the Michael Ripp farm along Airport Road in rural Cross Plains.
Despite his injuries, Walker left the plane and struggled through mud and rain until he reached the Ripp farmhouse.
About 1 a.m., Lora Ripp said, she answered a knock at the door and saw Walker standing in the doorway. He told her there had been an airplane crash and that another man still was with the plane.
'I got him in and sat him on the chair,' Ms. Ripp said. Then, her brother and a famile friend helped him to bed in another room.
Walker told them he had gone down a hill to reach the farmhouse and Lora's brother, Neil, and the friend went outside in search of McClimon.
'There's hills all around our house so they scouted the whole area,' she said. 'The man (Walker) said he followed a ditch down so they kind of followed the ditch.'
Ripp smelled the burning wreckage and located McClimon and the plane wreckage about a quarter mile south of the house.
Rescue workers brought McClimon on a stretcher down to the farmhouse. He and Walker were taken to the hospital in Madison Fire Department ambulances.
Deputy James Meicher, an evidence technician with the Dane County Sheriff's Department, said the plane, flying about 15 to 20 feet off the ground, apparently hit the top of a tree and traveled about 400 feet across a cornfield and into a wooded area.
'If these people would have been 30 feet higher, the whole thing wouldn't have happened,' Meicher said.
The wreckage was strewn over an area 60 to 70 feet wide and more than 400 feet long.
Lack of fuel or engine failure apparently did not cause the crash. Meicher said the plane's engine was operating and the propeller cut huge gouges in several trees.
McClimon has been UW-Madison head track coach for six years and head cross-country coach since 1971. He formerly coached at Loras College in Dubuque, Iowa, and Blackhawk Junior College in Moline, Ill.
Surviving are his wife, Pat, and three children, Chris, 16; Molly, 11; and Colleen, 8."
Madison Capital Times, Friday, April 15, 1983
"McClimon's humor, compassion remembered
---
A SWITCH WAS flipped and the purr of the projector was silenced. 'Sad, isn't it?' pondered the assistant football coach. 'I'm finding it very difficult to concentrate this afternoon.' His eyes were still fixed on his office wall. Seconds earlier, he had been breaking down the film of a recent scrimmage. Now, upon reflection on the morning's tragic news, he may have felt like breaking down and weeping.
Dan McClimon's presence in Camp Randall Stadium was not isolated to the third floor cross country and track office which he occupied with his own assistants. Before his team had ever captured a national championship, McClimon carried an infectious enthusiasm through the dimly lit corridors of the University of Wisconsin athletic department. In sum, he covered far greater distances than any of his 19 All-Americans. It was difficult for many to concentrate Thursday.
The projector began purring again. But the eyes of the assistant coach were still fixed on a blank wall. McClimon was a frequent visitor to football practice. He used to stand in the tunnel on even the most blustery afternoons - a towel draped around his neck; a thin windbreaker sheltering him from the elements. He enjoyed kibitzing about the game and the players, many of whom he shared with Dave McClain.
Later on this day, the assistant coach would learn of Dan McClimon's death. And then, he may have broken down and wept. Many of McClimon's athletes, past and present, did. Others just ran on the streets. Many were too numb to even answer the phone.
IN DOCUMENTING his accomplishments, there's a certain amount of guilt. McClimon realized that his 'non-income' program would never get its full due. But he only asked for a fair share. The recognition of his success, however, never caught up - until his own departure. Perhaps it's a cruel commentary on priorities, misplaced as they may be. Publicly, he rarely complained of being slighted. Instead, he just campaigned all the harder for his athletes. His wry sense of humor, his sincerity and his compassion were the tools that he handled so well. And with them, he melted friend and foe alike - and there were very few of the latter. Like any good runner, he never deviated from his pace. He never looked back.
On a splendid July afternoon in 1980, Dan McClimon was talking about the imbalance in sports. He was discussing the summer Olympics - the games that never were held - and he was depressed because 'Steve Lacy made the United States Olympics team and no one in Madison knows about it.'
He was bewildered over the fact that the community was still taking bows for the Winter Olympics while ignoring the achievements of Lacy. As the conversation progressed, McClimon outlined the limitations placed on runners such as Lacy and he underlined the unfairness of the training situation.
The word 'amateur' bothered McClimon. He was confused by its definition and its hypocrisy. And he suggested that stipends - equivalent to scholarships - be awarded to competitors so as to make it much easier for them to prepare for the next Olympiad.
'It's all so distorted,' McClimon said then, raising his voice ever so slightly. 'The salaries they are making in baseball are ridiculous. I mean here is some guy playing second base who only has to throw the ball 70 feet and his .225 and he's making $300,000 a year.'
McCLIMON SAT back in his chair and laughed; poking fun at himself for getting so emotional about the subject. And then smiling, he concluded, 'But it is crazy. And like I said - so distorted.'
So were the circumstances surrounding his death. Dan McClimon won't be measured by how far he ran. But how he ran. His athletes, his friends, and his associates don't have to apologize for looking back and remembering."
Former coach of Track & Field and Cross Country at the University of Wisconsin - Madison. During his career, he coached 19 All-Americans and 3 NCAA champions, and led Wisconsin to its first ever NCAA cross-country national championship. He was selected as NCAA cross-country coach of the year three times. He also served as president of the National Cross Country Coaches Association.
Wisconsin State Journal, Friday, April 15, 1983
"Crash injuries kill UW's track coach
----
Dan McClimon, University of Wisconsin-Madison head track and cross country coach, died Thursday afternoon of burns he received in the crash of a small airplane on a Cross Plains farm.
McClimon, 41, of 428 Virginia Terrace, received burns over 73 percent of his body and was pronounced dead about 5:30 p.m. at the University hospital Burn Unit, according to Dane County Deputy Coroner Don Scullion.
The pilot, George Walker, 49, of Platteville, who owns three pharmacies in the Madison area, remained in critical but stable condition late Thursday at the Burn Unit. He received second-degree and third-degree burns and a fractured rib in the crash.
Two investigators from the National Transportation Safety Board were at the scene Thursday trying to determine the cause of the crash, which occurred sometime after 11 p.m. Wednesday.
McClimon was returning from a recruiting trip to Illinois late Wednesday when Walker radioed the Truax field tower about 11 p.m. and asked permission to make a visual rather than instrument landing at Morey Airport, Middleton.
The eastboard single-engine Piper Cub apparently crashed shortly afterward on the Michael Ripp farm along Airport Road in rural Cross Plains.
Despite his injuries, Walker left the plane and struggled through mud and rain until he reached the Ripp farmhouse.
About 1 a.m., Lora Ripp said, she answered a knock at the door and saw Walker standing in the doorway. He told her there had been an airplane crash and that another man still was with the plane.
'I got him in and sat him on the chair,' Ms. Ripp said. Then, her brother and a famile friend helped him to bed in another room.
Walker told them he had gone down a hill to reach the farmhouse and Lora's brother, Neil, and the friend went outside in search of McClimon.
'There's hills all around our house so they scouted the whole area,' she said. 'The man (Walker) said he followed a ditch down so they kind of followed the ditch.'
Ripp smelled the burning wreckage and located McClimon and the plane wreckage about a quarter mile south of the house.
Rescue workers brought McClimon on a stretcher down to the farmhouse. He and Walker were taken to the hospital in Madison Fire Department ambulances.
Deputy James Meicher, an evidence technician with the Dane County Sheriff's Department, said the plane, flying about 15 to 20 feet off the ground, apparently hit the top of a tree and traveled about 400 feet across a cornfield and into a wooded area.
'If these people would have been 30 feet higher, the whole thing wouldn't have happened,' Meicher said.
The wreckage was strewn over an area 60 to 70 feet wide and more than 400 feet long.
Lack of fuel or engine failure apparently did not cause the crash. Meicher said the plane's engine was operating and the propeller cut huge gouges in several trees.
McClimon has been UW-Madison head track coach for six years and head cross-country coach since 1971. He formerly coached at Loras College in Dubuque, Iowa, and Blackhawk Junior College in Moline, Ill.
Surviving are his wife, Pat, and three children, Chris, 16; Molly, 11; and Colleen, 8."
Madison Capital Times, Friday, April 15, 1983
"McClimon's humor, compassion remembered
---
A SWITCH WAS flipped and the purr of the projector was silenced. 'Sad, isn't it?' pondered the assistant football coach. 'I'm finding it very difficult to concentrate this afternoon.' His eyes were still fixed on his office wall. Seconds earlier, he had been breaking down the film of a recent scrimmage. Now, upon reflection on the morning's tragic news, he may have felt like breaking down and weeping.
Dan McClimon's presence in Camp Randall Stadium was not isolated to the third floor cross country and track office which he occupied with his own assistants. Before his team had ever captured a national championship, McClimon carried an infectious enthusiasm through the dimly lit corridors of the University of Wisconsin athletic department. In sum, he covered far greater distances than any of his 19 All-Americans. It was difficult for many to concentrate Thursday.
The projector began purring again. But the eyes of the assistant coach were still fixed on a blank wall. McClimon was a frequent visitor to football practice. He used to stand in the tunnel on even the most blustery afternoons - a towel draped around his neck; a thin windbreaker sheltering him from the elements. He enjoyed kibitzing about the game and the players, many of whom he shared with Dave McClain.
Later on this day, the assistant coach would learn of Dan McClimon's death. And then, he may have broken down and wept. Many of McClimon's athletes, past and present, did. Others just ran on the streets. Many were too numb to even answer the phone.
IN DOCUMENTING his accomplishments, there's a certain amount of guilt. McClimon realized that his 'non-income' program would never get its full due. But he only asked for a fair share. The recognition of his success, however, never caught up - until his own departure. Perhaps it's a cruel commentary on priorities, misplaced as they may be. Publicly, he rarely complained of being slighted. Instead, he just campaigned all the harder for his athletes. His wry sense of humor, his sincerity and his compassion were the tools that he handled so well. And with them, he melted friend and foe alike - and there were very few of the latter. Like any good runner, he never deviated from his pace. He never looked back.
On a splendid July afternoon in 1980, Dan McClimon was talking about the imbalance in sports. He was discussing the summer Olympics - the games that never were held - and he was depressed because 'Steve Lacy made the United States Olympics team and no one in Madison knows about it.'
He was bewildered over the fact that the community was still taking bows for the Winter Olympics while ignoring the achievements of Lacy. As the conversation progressed, McClimon outlined the limitations placed on runners such as Lacy and he underlined the unfairness of the training situation.
The word 'amateur' bothered McClimon. He was confused by its definition and its hypocrisy. And he suggested that stipends - equivalent to scholarships - be awarded to competitors so as to make it much easier for them to prepare for the next Olympiad.
'It's all so distorted,' McClimon said then, raising his voice ever so slightly. 'The salaries they are making in baseball are ridiculous. I mean here is some guy playing second base who only has to throw the ball 70 feet and his .225 and he's making $300,000 a year.'
McCLIMON SAT back in his chair and laughed; poking fun at himself for getting so emotional about the subject. And then smiling, he concluded, 'But it is crazy. And like I said - so distorted.'
So were the circumstances surrounding his death. Dan McClimon won't be measured by how far he ran. But how he ran. His athletes, his friends, and his associates don't have to apologize for looking back and remembering."
Wisconsin State Journal, Friday, April 15, 1983
"Crash injuries kill UW's track coach
----
Dan McClimon, University of Wisconsin-Madison head track and cross country coach, died Thursday afternoon of burns he received in the crash of a small airplane on a Cross Plains farm.
McClimon, 41, of 428 Virginia Terrace, received burns over 73 percent of his body and was pronounced dead about 5:30 p.m. at the University hospital Burn Unit, according to Dane County Deputy Coroner Don Scullion.
The pilot, George Walker, 49, of Platteville, who owns three pharmacies in the Madison area, remained in critical but stable condition late Thursday at the Burn Unit. He received second-degree and third-degree burns and a fractured rib in the crash.
Two investigators from the National Transportation Safety Board were at the scene Thursday trying to determine the cause of the crash, which occurred sometime after 11 p.m. Wednesday.
McClimon was returning from a recruiting trip to Illinois late Wednesday when Walker radioed the Truax field tower about 11 p.m. and asked permission to make a visual rather than instrument landing at Morey Airport, Middleton.
The eastboard single-engine Piper Cub apparently crashed shortly afterward on the Michael Ripp farm along Airport Road in rural Cross Plains.
Despite his injuries, Walker left the plane and struggled through mud and rain until he reached the Ripp farmhouse.
About 1 a.m., Lora Ripp said, she answered a knock at the door and saw Walker standing in the doorway. He told her there had been an airplane crash and that another man still was with the plane.
'I got him in and sat him on the chair,' Ms. Ripp said. Then, her brother and a famile friend helped him to bed in another room.
Walker told them he had gone down a hill to reach the farmhouse and Lora's brother, Neil, and the friend went outside in search of McClimon.
'There's hills all around our house so they scouted the whole area,' she said. 'The man (Walker) said he followed a ditch down so they kind of followed the ditch.'
Ripp smelled the burning wreckage and located McClimon and the plane wreckage about a quarter mile south of the house.
Rescue workers brought McClimon on a stretcher down to the farmhouse. He and Walker were taken to the hospital in Madison Fire Department ambulances.
Deputy James Meicher, an evidence technician with the Dane County Sheriff's Department, said the plane, flying about 15 to 20 feet off the ground, apparently hit the top of a tree and traveled about 400 feet across a cornfield and into a wooded area.
'If these people would have been 30 feet higher, the whole thing wouldn't have happened,' Meicher said.
The wreckage was strewn over an area 60 to 70 feet wide and more than 400 feet long.
Lack of fuel or engine failure apparently did not cause the crash. Meicher said the plane's engine was operating and the propeller cut huge gouges in several trees.
McClimon has been UW-Madison head track coach for six years and head cross-country coach since 1971. He formerly coached at Loras College in Dubuque, Iowa, and Blackhawk Junior College in Moline, Ill.
Surviving are his wife, Pat, and three children, Chris, 16; Molly, 11; and Colleen, 8."
Madison Capital Times, Friday, April 15, 1983
"McClimon's humor, compassion remembered
---
A SWITCH WAS flipped and the purr of the projector was silenced. 'Sad, isn't it?' pondered the assistant football coach. 'I'm finding it very difficult to concentrate this afternoon.' His eyes were still fixed on his office wall. Seconds earlier, he had been breaking down the film of a recent scrimmage. Now, upon reflection on the morning's tragic news, he may have felt like breaking down and weeping.
Dan McClimon's presence in Camp Randall Stadium was not isolated to the third floor cross country and track office which he occupied with his own assistants. Before his team had ever captured a national championship, McClimon carried an infectious enthusiasm through the dimly lit corridors of the University of Wisconsin athletic department. In sum, he covered far greater distances than any of his 19 All-Americans. It was difficult for many to concentrate Thursday.
The projector began purring again. But the eyes of the assistant coach were still fixed on a blank wall. McClimon was a frequent visitor to football practice. He used to stand in the tunnel on even the most blustery afternoons - a towel draped around his neck; a thin windbreaker sheltering him from the elements. He enjoyed kibitzing about the game and the players, many of whom he shared with Dave McClain.
Later on this day, the assistant coach would learn of Dan McClimon's death. And then, he may have broken down and wept. Many of McClimon's athletes, past and present, did. Others just ran on the streets. Many were too numb to even answer the phone.
IN DOCUMENTING his accomplishments, there's a certain amount of guilt. McClimon realized that his 'non-income' program would never get its full due. But he only asked for a fair share. The recognition of his success, however, never caught up - until his own departure. Perhaps it's a cruel commentary on priorities, misplaced as they may be. Publicly, he rarely complained of being slighted. Instead, he just campaigned all the harder for his athletes. His wry sense of humor, his sincerity and his compassion were the tools that he handled so well. And with them, he melted friend and foe alike - and there were very few of the latter. Like any good runner, he never deviated from his pace. He never looked back.
On a splendid July afternoon in 1980, Dan McClimon was talking about the imbalance in sports. He was discussing the summer Olympics - the games that never were held - and he was depressed because 'Steve Lacy made the United States Olympics team and no one in Madison knows about it.'
He was bewildered over the fact that the community was still taking bows for the Winter Olympics while ignoring the achievements of Lacy. As the conversation progressed, McClimon outlined the limitations placed on runners such as Lacy and he underlined the unfairness of the training situation.
The word 'amateur' bothered McClimon. He was confused by its definition and its hypocrisy. And he suggested that stipends - equivalent to scholarships - be awarded to competitors so as to make it much easier for them to prepare for the next Olympiad.
'It's all so distorted,' McClimon said then, raising his voice ever so slightly. 'The salaries they are making in baseball are ridiculous. I mean here is some guy playing second base who only has to throw the ball 70 feet and his .225 and he's making $300,000 a year.'
McCLIMON SAT back in his chair and laughed; poking fun at himself for getting so emotional about the subject. And then smiling, he concluded, 'But it is crazy. And like I said - so distorted.'
So were the circumstances surrounding his death. Dan McClimon won't be measured by how far he ran. But how he ran. His athletes, his friends, and his associates don't have to apologize for looking back and remembering."
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