WILLIAM HARLEY ALLEN

Around sunrise on Saturday, January 30th, 2021, William Harley Allen, formerly of the Third Division, U.S. Marine Corps, completed his final mission on Earth and reported to the Great Commander that he faithfully served his entire life. Mr. Allen, known by many as “Mister Bill”, is survived by his wife MaryEllon, his four children Michal, Joe, Becky and Sarah, and 11 grandchildren that he led by example, a big heart and a light hand (most of the time).
Mr. Bill’s sense of duty was something he rarely talked about, but it guided him from when he was a little boy picking crops and delivering newspapers to his final days as a patriarch and pillar of his church and community. Ever willing to do the grunt work, he pitched in wherever he was needed, serving others and taking the blows of life, making himself useful without even thinking it was an option to do anything else.
Bill Allen was born in Arizona, in a spot his okie parents used as a home base when they weren’t following the harvest, picking crops throughout the state and up the West Coast with their children little Billy, his brothers Terrel, Jimmy, Philip and eventually sister, Lorainne.
Billy was more of an athlete than a scholar, but he was an avid reader and even managed to pick up the trombone when he wasn’t busy winning games, matches and medals for Tolleson High School football, wrestling and track.
After many adventures, the Allen family found their way to the small mountain town of Ashland, Oregon. It was there that Bill (now a high school graduate) first saw a pretty blonde girl singing with her family a few pews over at the Ashland Church of Christ. Pretty girls get lots of attention from boys, but Bill was a competitor and managed to win over the girl with the help of his hot rod ’57 Chevy and a sly alliance with the girl’s mother.
Things were looking up for the young man and he even managed to get a good job surveying for the highway department when he got drafted for the VietNam war. Bill didn’t want to risk losing his life or his girl to spend years dodging bullets and following orders, but his faith and his conscience pulled him away from the people he loved. He reported for duty and was sent first to Camp Pendleton for boot camp and later into combat in Southeast Asia. Between the hostilities and the toils of military life, he managed to write love letters to his sweetheart almost every day. Corporal Allen returned with a few scars and medals to find his family, his car and his girl waiting for him.
The young couple were married in the park of the small mountain town and went off to college in the big city of Portland. There they discovered that making grades was hard, making ends meet was harder, but that making babies was something that they were surprisingly good at. Despite the challenges, they managed to do all three until Bill decided that his bride’s tuition and diapers were more important to him than a diploma. So Bill made another of what would become a long series of hard choices, informed by his heart, his faith, and a willingness to do whatever it takes to get the job done. He quit school and got a full time job mixing paint.
Even without a four year degree, the young dad managed to support his growing family and his wife’s career, taking on far more responsibilities than he asked for everywhere he went. He served as a deacon at church, coached many softball teams, and worked his way up from green chain to general manager in the plywood industry.
Many years later, still preferring a supporting role, Bill managed to earn his degree, a Masters of International Business, and then serve as office manager in his wife’s medical practice. He was ever as willing to take out the trash as he was to take the names and call the shots.
In 2016, Bill was diagnosed with cancer. His wife, Dr. MaryEllon Allen, did absolutely everything she could to make him well and together they fought the cancer into remission for three years before it came back and spread to his lungs and brain. In December of 2020, Dad’s growing medical problems landed him in the hospital on life support. He fought to the end, going through an ocean of pain day after day for an entire month, not out of fear but out of love for a wife and family whom he knew would miss him terribly.
The hole in the lives of Mom, my sisters and I seems unfillable, but we find comfort in the music Dad would listen to, hum, and sometimes sing to us: oldies, gospel, folk songs, show tunes — anything to remind us of the loving husband and father who did what he believed needed to be done.
“And the world will be better for this
That one man, torn and covered with scars
Would strive with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star”
—Man of La Mancha
“If the army or the navy
Ever look on Heaven’s scene
They will find the streets are guarded
By United States Marines.”
There will be a Celebration of Life at the Petroleum Club. Come and go from 5 to 7 p.m., Wednesday, Feb. 3.
To send condolences please visit www.chauvinfuneralhome.com.
Chauvin Funeral Home, Inc. is in charge of arrangements, 5899 Highway 311 Houma, Louisiana 70360; phone 985-868-2536; fax 985-876-5032.