After being drafted into the military at a young age, Gene worked his way up the ranks ultimately becoming a Lieutenant Colonel. While serving in Vietnam in the Inspector General’s office, Gene became weak one day and collapsed. The Army doctors could not diagnose his problem, so he was released from the hospital and sent home. He returned to Lawton and his career in the military, until he retired in 1976.
“Gene was a 6’2” man with a heart of gold,” Barbara Moeller, Gene’s wife says. “He had a soft spot for children and those who could not help themselves.”
In 1989, Gene’s daughter called Barbara and asked if she thought Gene would dress up as Santa and visit the nursing home she worked in. His daughter wondered where she could find a Santa costume. “I told her that if he says yes, I will make a costume for him,” Barbara remembers. Of course Gene said yes, and Barbara went to work on the costume.
“It was more of a uniform than it was a costume, and when he put on his uniform, he grew another six inches,” Barbara says with a laugh. “With his loud military voice he would belt out HO, HO, HO.”
On the way to an event, Barbara and Gene stopped at the store to pick up film. While in the store, Santa, aka Gene, caught the eye of a little four-year-old girl. “She was jumping up and down, but Gene couldn’t see her,” Barbara remembers. “I told Gene to turn around and when he did that little girl ran and grabbed him around the leg. Gene picked her up and she was in heaven.”
Gene didn’t transform into Santa just to entertain children, he also had a special place in his heart for the elderly. When Gene visited nursing homes he made it a point to stop in each room. On one particular visit, a 99-year-old American Indian man, not even 5 feet tall, asked to sit on Santa’s lap and was grinning from ear to ear after spending time with him.
Word spread about the magic of Santa and Gene was invited to hospitals and schools. Barbara bought some bells for Santa and he used them for the first time at a school, where he sparked the curiosity of a young boy. “Gene was outside and he said, ‘whoa Donner, whoa Blitzen, easy Rudolph,’ and the little boy came running outside asking where Rudolph was,” Barbara recalls. “Gene always had an answer. He told the little boy that he had a farmer friend down the road that was taking care of the reindeer and letting them rest while he was there at the school.”
The military caught wind of Gene’s alter ego and enlisted him to spread the holiday cheer with soldiers and their families. Gene was visiting a Marine unit, where even the soldiers would sit on Santa’s lap, when he got an idea to spook them. “It got quiet and Gene, with his overpowering military voice, said ‘ten hut’,” Barbara laughingly recalls. “I was watching their faces and they were all confused by what was going on, they didn’t know if they were supposed to come to attention or not. It was Santa Claus; they didn’t know what rank he was.”
Over the 12 years that Gene shared his joy through Santa, he touched many lives, young and old. He left behind so many memories and heartwarming stories they are too abundant to share them all.
In 2000, Gene started to feel fatigued, so much so that he didn’t have the stamina to do his Santa performances. May of 2001 found Gene sick and not feeling up to par. “He couldn’t really explain to the doctors what was wrong, he just didn’t feel good,” Barbara shares.
Every Sunday after church, Gene and Barbara would go to lunch. While walking into the restaurant, Gene pulled his belt away from his body and said, “Look at this.” There was four inches of room and they both knew something was wrong; he lost too much weight too fast.
The following Friday Barbara took Gene to the doctor where his blood sugar was tested. The results showed that his sugar count was 572, a level that should have had him comatose, but he was still talking, he just didn’t have any energy. He was admitted to the hospital and put on insulin. It was determined that Gene’s diabetes was a result of exposure to the herbicide Agent Orange during his service in Vietnam. He stayed the weekend in the hospital and then returned home, where he continued to monitor his blood sugar and heart rate.
In February 2002, Gene told Barbara he didn’t think he was going to make it through the year. Gene was a private person who didn’t share a lot, so Barbara never knew how bad Gene really was. “I didn’t know his service history and didn’t know what his final wishes were, so I asked,” Barbara recalls. “Gene said he wanted his military issue casket and his flag and then one day out of the blue he said he wanted a reef of peppers. He was Mexican and German and grew up outside of San Antonio, so peppers were a part of his daily life. He also said he wanted Texas soil under his casket. I didn’t know if this could be done, but I thought all right, I’ll try.”
Over the next six months Gene’s diabetes wore down his heart. Strangely, sometimes his heart rate would slow down, and then would kick back up. “He told me his heart rate was really slow and he was very tired, but he wouldn’t go to the hospital. The next morning he was chipper and happy. I left for a doctor’s appointment, while Gene stayed home and took his usual mid-morning nap.”
When Barbara returned home, she found Gene in his usual napping spot, the sofa he had transformed into a chair by placing pillows under each arm. Their two cats were curled up on either side of him. Barbara remembers walking into the den and telling Gene he looked awful. As she got closer she noticed he was yellow and he was not breathing and his heart had stopped. After unlocking the front door, Barbara called 911 and started CPR. Once the EMT’s arrived they took over administering CPR and applied shock treatment. Gene was taken to the hospital, but they weren’t able to save him.
Barbara remembers Gene telling her that when he died if there is anything left that can be used to help someone else, then he wanted it to be used. “Because Gene and I talked about his wish to be a donor, it made it easy for me to give permission. It would have been twice as hard to make that decision if Gene didn’t express how important it was to him be a donor.” On that day, Gene’s wish was granted, he became a donor.
Gene’s other wishes were granted as well. He was laid to rest in his military issue casket, with a reef of peppers and Texas soil at his feet. “As I was going through his things, I found his Texas driver’s license, Texas was always his home, and I took that license and slipped it into his pocket.”
“Gene was a big man with a big heart, he wanted to rescue people, and I think he did just that when he became a donor.”
