THE WALL OF FACES

Dear LCPL Paul James Coates, sir

As an American, I would like to thank you for your service and for your sacrifice made on behalf of our wonderful country. The youth of today could gain much by learning of heroes such as yourself, men and women whose courage and heart can never be questioned.

May God allow you to read this, and may He allow me to someday shake your hand when I get to Heaven to personally thank you. May he also allow my father to find you and shake your hand now to say thank you; for America, and for those who love you.

With respect, and the best salute a civilian can muster for you, Sir

Curt Carter

The life of Paul James Coates was typical for a young man of his era. He was born on January 13, 1949, in Brooklyn, New York, the second of five children to Harry S. and Gladys Coates. Harry S. Coates, a veteran of World War II, and Gladys Schmidt were married in 1943.  After the war, like many returning soldiers, Harry and Gladys yearned to move their growing family from Brooklyn to the suburbs in search of the American dream: home ownership and a better life for their children. In 1949, the Coates family moved into a “Levittown” era, mass-produced Cape Cod house in Merrick, Long Island. The house consisted of two bedrooms and an unfinished attic, which Harry converted into a third bedroom. Grandma Schmidt (Gladys’ mother) lived in one bedroom, Harry and Gladys in the other. Paul and his older brother Harry, and younger brother Robert, shared a bed in the third bedroom. Paul’s younger sisters, Toni and Patti, would not be born until 1954 and 1958 respectively. Like many families of the era, Harry went to work and Gladys stayed home to tend to the house and children.

Paul’s childhood years were a mixture of fishing, sports, toy soldiers and, most especially, the unique zeal to earn a dollar.  His entire family remembers the scene in the boys’ bedroom- the floor completely covered with a Fort Apache set. The Coates home was not far from Camaans Pond and the Great South Bay, ripe spots for a fisherman like Paul. His favorite spot was the pier at the foot of Merrick Avenue, on the bay. Each day Paul would bring home his catch, usually carp. Baseball was another passion. It was not unusual to see Paul listening to a game on the radio while at the same time watching it on the Sylvania television (assuming the rabbit ears were getting reception). Paul was a Brooklyn Dodgers fan. When the Dodgers fled to Los Angeles in 1957, Paul switched his allegiance to the fledging New York Mets. As young teenagers, Paul, Harry and Robert made the trip to a Mets game that if taken today would cause any mother to cringe in terror. They boarded the Merrick Road bus to Jamaica, Queens. From there, they took the subway to the Polo Grounds in Manhattan and watched a double header (same admission for doubleheaders in those days), the second game of which went into extra innings. The three then repeated the long trek back home. The entire trip stretched to 16 hours.
 
If one word could be used to describe Paul in his childhood years, it would be “hustler”. At no time was this more evident than on Halloween. Bright and early, Paul would take his Food Fair shopping bag or a pillowcase and go out trick or treating. He would return home with a full bag, empty it, and go back out. He would repeat this process until the late hours, amassing a year’s worth of candy in one day. Paul also liked to earn a buck. He would canvas the neighborhood, door to door, to collect newspapers. He also traveled to the many nearby home building sites to collect empty bottles from the construction workers. The newspapers were stacked in the Coates’ garage. When the time came that the garage was overflowing with newspapers, Paul and his father would load the family car and drive to the local scavenger to whom Paul would sell the newspapers. The bottles were returned to the local deli for a profit of two cents per small bottle. Paul especially coveted the quart bottles, for which he received a nickel.

All of this is not to say that Paul did not have a softer side. This part of his personality was never more in evidence than in the special love that he had for his beloved dog, Penny.

Paul’s older years were characterized by fast cars and fancy shirts. He was especially proud of his first, bright red Mach I Mustang. Needless to say, this car was a flashing beacon to local police officers. He subsequently traded in the red Mach I for a blue Mach I. He bought his shirts at Barney’s- a big deal in those days. All of his shirts had crazy patterns and colors, typical of the psychedelic times. That said, nothing bought Paul more happiness and contentment than his niece Casey, Toni’s daughter. I can still hear him saying (and he said it often), “What a precious baby”, (and she truly was).
After graduation from Sanford H. Calhoun High School, Paul enlisted in the U.S. Marines. Harry S., Gladys, Toni, Robert and Patti attended his Marine graduation at Parris Island. Paul and his family were very proud. Shortly thereafter, Paul was sent to Vietnam where he was mortally wounded by a mortar shell. Harry S. and Gladys Coates received a letter from the President expressing the nation’s recognition of and gratitude for Paul’s ultimate sacrifice.

Lance Corporal Paul Coates is interned at Long Island National Cemetery in Farmingdale, New York. His grave is in close proximity to that of his paternal grandfather, Harry S. Coates Sr.

A typical, but special and much too short life. 

Paul, Although we never met, I just want you to know you are not forgotten. You gave the ultimate sacrifice, your life for what you believed in. Sleep well my friend, and thank you for protecting our freedoms.

Paul is buried at Long Island Nat Cem.