Ronald Walter Bayliss
December 14, 1933 – January 15, 2018
“Run, you rascal!”
— My dad, at every Penn State game
Today would have been Dad’s 92nd birthday
This is a day to honor both celebration and quiet remembrance.
Some of my fondest memories are the simple, joyful ones. I think of weekends at Penn State football games: the crisp air, the buzz of the crowd, the scent of steak on the grill, and cold beer in hand. And of course, Penn State football. Every time someone got the ball, Dad would holler with delight, “Run, you rascal!”
The Work of His Hands
When football wasn’t on, Dad poured his energy into our homes. He bought and sold houses throughout his life, each needing bigger renovations and often bringing us into larger spaces. He worked late, woke early, and rarely sat still.
In Whitehouse Station, New Jersey, he always had a new car for his commute. A neighbor once asked him, “Ron, don’t you ever keep a car for more than a year?” Thanks to his brother in the business, the answer was usually no. As an eight-year-old, I was thrilled to ride around in those new machines.
A Career of Ingenuity
At that time, Dad worked for Bowen Engineering. I remember the annual company picnics, full of other kids and fun activities. Even as a child, I noticed how much the boss respected him. I would later learn they were already profiting from his early spray-dryer designs.
From East Whitehouse to Reaville, wherever we moved, Dad’s projects followed. One of the cars I remember best was the 1960 Mercedes-Benz 190SL, a striking commuter car he drove while working for Koch Engineering in New York. I admit I may have snuck it out for the occasional spin when no one was home. Eventually, he sold it to a collector who planned to restore it.
Building More Than Homes
Reaville became our final home together as a family. It also became his most ambitious renovation. During this time, he also made a bold move by leaving his job to start his own business, Bayliss Industries.
Even then, the projects didn’t slow down. He gutted and rebuilt the old kitchen. I still remember working with cousins to raise huge hand-hewn beams that created a beautiful exposed-beam ceiling. That ceiling became a symbol of what we could accomplish together.
And in the place where the old barn once stood (my childhood fort), a new garage and swimming pool appeared. Those were golden summers. Dad even invented a drink that became a local cult favorite. Whether it was the VW (vodka and Wink) or the RW (rum and Wink, renamed in his honor), there was always one near the pool. He would raise his glass and say, “Everything was excellent!”
Legacy in Work and Family
I started my career at Bayliss Industries, working alongside Dad. I spent ten years learning from him. His work ethic and focus left a lasting mark on me. Those skills still support me today.
Later, he became Director of Engineering at W.R. Grace. In that role, he worked with the German company Trema, which opened a U.S. office. I interviewed with them, and when I was hired, I was tasked with launching their new US-based entity.
Trema North America was born. For the next two years, my father became my customer. When the company asked if he was a good engineer, there was only one answer. They hired him.
Dad’s ability to translate problems into solutions was remarkable. With a marker and whiteboard, he became a scientist, crafting ideas and making things work. His expertise in spray dryers was unmatched. Together, we helped the company thrive.
One of my most vivid memories is when we secured a customer in China. A spray dryer system to produce the cracking Catalyst needed to break down crude oil into various grades of petroleum fuel.
Eventually, he bought out the parent company and created Bayliss Technologies. We worked side by side for nearly another decade. One job, a massive government-funded spray dryer and environmental system, had the potential to sustain the business for years.
Unfortunately, the project was part of the Superfund program, and when Vice President Al Gore came under scrutiny for mismanaging Superfund money, the funding was cut. This halted the entire project. Like many others, our company was left vulnerable. A vendor took legal action that forced the company into bankruptcy.
Even then, there were silver linings. I changed careers and became a computer systems administrator. And Dad finally retired. He had earned that rest.
A Grandfather’s Joy
Among Dad’s greatest joys in later life was being a grandfather. He delighted in the presence of his grandchildren, always curious about what they were learning, building, or dreaming about. Whether sharing stories, giving advice, or simply watching them play, he offered them the same spirit of encouragement and wonder that had shaped his own path. His pride in them was quiet but unmistakable.
A Gentle Ending
In retirement, Dad met Pat. Those years with her were some of his happiest. He had already lived a whole life, with more triumphs than setbacks, but during that time, he seemed different. He looked content. And in the circle of Pat’s love and extended family, how could he not be?
What He Left Us
Dad taught us through action. He showed us what commitment, perseverance, and vision could accomplish. He never preached. He lived his lessons, and in doing so, he offered us a path forward.
I believe he would want us to remember that. To carry his example forward in our own lives. To do the work. To find joy in creation. And to believe that what we build, with love and effort, can last.
With gratitude,
Doug Bayliss
His grateful son
