TYLER DALE GOODMAN

Born July16, 1931, Elyria, Ohio

Died May 1, 2025, Tucson, Arizona

Preceded in death in 2020 by his loving wife of 65 years, Joyce Goodman; siblings Albert Goodman, Theodore Goodman, Emma Goodman Nelson, Virginia Goodman Stevenson, Marion Goodman Dobney, parents Conrad August Goodman and Emma Bohash Goodman, all of Ohio.

Survived by his daughter, Grace Goodman, of Napa, CA and son, Grant Goodman, of Tucson, AZ, and numerous nieces and nephews.

Tyler would say that "Salesmen are born, not made." He was truly a born salesman.  His long-time associate Conley Wolfswinkel said that Tyler was always looking under rocks and often found valuable nuggets, including a gold mine or two, that led to his success. Abe Valenzuela, a former US Bankruptcy Trustee in Tucson, nick-named Tyler "Trucho" which loosely translates into "ever watchful and vigilant" regarding his ability to sniff out a good deal.

He began his sales career early at the age of about 8, during WWII when golf balls were scarce. He lived down-river form Elyria (Ohio) County Club, and would dive for lost golf balls, soaked them in vinegar or painted them, and sell them to the golfers.  He attributed his success to the fact that he could hold his breath for a very, very long time.  He was a lifetime avid swimmer, loving to swim in any available swimming pool and the ocean in Mexico and Southern California.  He once almost lost his life in a riptide in Three Arch Bay, Laguna, CA, but with strength build up over years of swimming, he beat the odds and swam to shore triumphantly.

From a young age, Tyler liked to hunt for rabbits (which the family ate) and muskrats (which he skinned and sold the pelts.)  Imagine seeing a 7-year-old walking along the banks of the Black River with a rifle in hand and a hunting dog by his side.  It was also his job to kill and clean the chickens the family raised, and to help plant a huge garden. One year it was his job to plant the corn, and when that was done, he could go for a swim in the river.  He lost his patience and dumped a large handful of kernels in a single whole, forgetting that they would eventually sprout.  When they did sprout in a large cluster, his father was NOT happy.

Tyler was a baseball/softball pitcher of numerous semi-pro teams. His Commanding Officer in San Marcos, Texas, pleaded with him to pitch for the Army team.  He declined, wanting to be transferred to a base closer to his home in Elyria, Ohio, whereupon he was transferred to Fort Aberdeen, Maryland. One of his best stories from training camp was that one was supposed to dig a trench deep enough so that if a tank rolled over you, you wouldn't be torn up by the tank. He looked at a "trench" dug by one of his fellow boot-campers and told him that his ditch was not deep enough. Tyler laughed his a** off when his buddy "felt" the tank running over him.

His ultimate  punishment for refusing to play ball for Army he was deployed to Korea, on the 38th parallel, near Inchon, the front line.  He was an army airplane mechanic. He told that he would put kerosene or other fuel in empty coffee cans to light the runway at night or in the early morning to show the army pilots where to land. He also warmed up the oil that was needed to start the planes when it was so cold in Korea.  His daughter, Grace, is an avid outdoors woman and loves to camp.  She repeated asked him to come camping with her and his response was always "I did enough camping in Korea."

He started his real estate career after a conversation with a friend at a coffee shop near Church and Franklin, when the guy he was having coffee with showed him a copy of a real estate commission he had just received.  At the time, Tyler was selling radio time with legendary lawyer Richard "Dick" Grand.  Once he saw that real estate commission check, off he went to start his career at Lievers Realty in Tucson. He was one of the first to have a "mobile" phone – the "Brick" as it was then known.

He eventually went out on his own, brokering raw land almost exclusively, in Arizona, Texas, Montana, Colorado, and Minnesota and perhaps other places unknown to this writer. He never had a fancy office and often boasted about closing multi-million dollar deals with the principals signing documents on the tail gate of his truck.

Tyler was also a travel agent, working with Ruben Serna (Principal and his daughter's Godfather) at Don Quixote Travel, Century Travel International, and Global Travel International, in Tucson. Tyler was a member of the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks in Tucson. He was also instrumental in the establishment of Oro Valley Country Club (Member No.7) and St. Odilia's church  in Tucson.

He enjoyed playing golf with his wife, Joyce Goodman, who was an award-winning golfer.  They were members at Oro Valley Country Club and Omni Tucson National.

Tyler was a great story teller, and even though many of us heard the same stories over and over again, we still enjoyed the telling.

Tyler will be laid to rest with his beloved wife, Joyce, at Holy Hope Mausoleum in Tucson, on Friday, May 16, 2025, at 11:30 a.m. for those who wish to attend. Arrangements are with Carrillo's Mortuary, Tucson, AZ (Carrillostucsonmorturay.com).

Estate sale in progress until May 18, 2025, at Berthaandthebabes.com

A Celebration of Life is planned for this coming fall, hopefully at Vivace, Tucson, AZ, when we don't have to compete with the U of A graduation for a good venue for a party.  So start planning your Tyler Tales and we'll hear from you in the fall.

When Great Trees Fall

Maya Angelou

When great trees fall,

rocks on distant hills shudder,

lions hunker down

in tall grasses,

and even elephants

lumber after safety.

When great trees fall

in forests,

small things recoil into silence,

their senses

eroded beyond fear.

When great souls die,

the air around us becomes

light, rare, sterile.

We breathe, briefly.

Our eyes, briefly,

see with

a hurtful clarity.

Our memory, suddenly sharpened,

examines,

gnaws on kind words

unsaid,

promised walks

never taken.

Great souls die and

our reality, bound to

them, takes leave of us.

Our souls,

dependent upon their

nurture,

now shrink, wizened.

Our minds, formed

and informed by their

radiance, fall away.

We are not so much maddened

as reduced to the unutterable ignorance of

dark, cold

caves.

And when great souls die,

after a period peace blooms,

slowly and always

irregularly. Spaces fill

with a kind of

soothing electric vibration.

Our senses, restored, never

to be the same, whisper to us.

They existed. They existed.

We can be. Be and be

better. For they existed.