Everyone's life has a story. In "Lives," we tell some of those stories about North Shore people who have died recently. "Lives" runs Mondays in The Salem News.

WENHAM — It'll never last. That's what everybody said.

Mel Cole and Betty Rohr were too young, they said, and only children at that, used to being the center of attention. This marriage won't last a year, most people said.

If they knew Cole, they should have known a couple of things about him. First, their taunts would only harden his resolve to have a good marriage. Second, he was a man of vision, and his vision of his life with Betty would turn out to have a 62-year shelf life.

Cole died Tuesday, Nov. 10, of complications of pancreatic cancer at the Kaplan Family Hospice House in Danvers. He was 84.

He and Betty met on a blind date after Cole returned from the Army Air Forces in World War II. Cole spent his time in the service as a weatherman in China, Burma and India.

The couple lived for a time in Michigan and Ohio, but Cole was born with the blood of a seaman in his veins, and in 1968 he and Betty moved to a home they built in Beverly's Prides Crossing.

The move was largely driven by the desire to own a boat and go sailing, which Cole did happily for many years. Four years ago, the couple moved to The Maples in Wenham.

Cole founded Products for Research in Danvers, where he demonstrated his extraordinary knack for developing cutting-edge products. He graduated from college with a degree in electrical engineering, but he might have done the work without it.

He had an engineer's mind and a passion for invention.

He worked for the Central Intelligence Agency during the Cold War. He invented the film that was used in miniature cameras, staples in a spy's bag of tricks — the kind that could be inconspicuously planted on the end of a ballpoint pen, or even inside a clear bottle of hair shampoo.

Not only did the film capture those tiny images, it could be developed in liquids that were easily available, including a cup of coffee.

His other business frequently took him abroad, with Betty accompanying him.

"I didn't know until we got back we were being watched the whole time," Betty said, referring to tails the CIA kept on them.

His invention sprang from a longtime interest in photography. Even as a young man, he had a darkroom in his parents' house.

He almost had another invention that would have earned some serious money. He thought cameras should have lights in their lenses, so you didn't need to have a light source at the scene.

He had moved on to other things a few years before instant cameras hit the market.

Cole also patented a device that vastly improved the efficiency of telescopes. Observatories all around the world were upgraded with it, and it was used on some of NASA's space launches.

Final witness

Cole was also a passionate ham radio operator whose call letters, WZIQ, are forever linked to a local tragedy. His radio antenna was mounted atop a hill on his property, and during the Blizzard of '78 that meant he was the only person in the world capable of communicating with Capt. Frank Quirk aboard the motor vessel Can Do.

Quirk had headed out in the storm hoping to rescue the crew of a Coast Guard cutter stranded in the storm, which turned out to be stronger than anyone had predicted.

Betty was by her husband's side in his basement "ham shack" as the drama unfolded.

"It was awful, we could hear the waves," she said.

Author Michael Tougias' book "Ten Hours Until Dawn: The True Story of Heroism and Tragedy Aboard the Can Do" chronicles that evening's events. He said Cole said all the right things and kept the crew's spirits up.

"He was just great," Tougias said.

Unfortunately, the boat went down with all hands, and Cole was the last person to talk to Quirk.

"The last thing we heard was the sound of breaking glass," Betty said, as the boat's windshield was blown out and the boat sank.

Tougias said he couldn't have written his book without Cole's help, but Cole was never able to read it. The memories were too painful.

There's a lighter story about windshields.

The family used to own a guide boat in which Cole would take the boys fishing. In winter, it was suspended in the garage. Well, one night, it fell down, smashing the windshields of both cars beneath it.

Betty couldn't stop laughing.

"How are you going to explain to the insurance company that both cars were hit by a boat while parked in the garage?" she asked between giggles.

It's a wistful remembrance, and a sword that cuts both ways. It's a story of happy days but one family members will now be telling about someone no longer with them.

Asked what she's going to miss most, Betty's answer is immediate and universal.

"The good times."

She says it with a smile that can't mask the mist in her eyes.

Staff writer Steve Landwehr can be reached at 978-338-2660 or by e-mail at slandwehr@salemnews.com.