John "Taylor" Diehlmann, Jr.

A Life of Purpose: The Story of John Taylor Diehlmann, Jr.

John Taylor Diehlmann, Jr. was born on August 9, 1923, in Brooklyn, New York—named after his father but destined to carve out a story uniquely his own. He and his younger brother, Elten, grew up in Bushwick, a neighborhood brimming with the rhythm of city life, and even as a young man, he stood out for his determination and work ethic.

John began working at Sperry Gyroscope while attending Cooper Union college at night, pursuing a degree in electrical engineering. But when World War II erupted in December 1941, he made a choice that defined his character. Though his work in the defense industry offered him a deferment, John, just 19 at the time, voluntarily enlisted in the Army Air Corps.

He trained in the southern United States and eventually piloted C-47 transport planes. By August 1944, he found himself flying one of the most dangerous air routes of the war—the China-Burma-India route, better known as "The Hump," soaring over the formidable Himalayan Mountains.

When the war ended, John returned home to offers of an exciting career as a corporate pilot, but he turned them down. When a 747 airline pilot later asked why he walked away from such an opportunity, John’s answer was simple: “First of all, I wanted to complete my education and become an electrical engineer. And secondly, I didn’t want to be a ‘bus driver.’” That conversation ended right there.

Shortly after returning, John married his childhood sweetheart, Jean Clare Ritter—the same girl he had first seen riding a tricycle across Wilson Avenue. He would later admit that, at first, he was more interested in the tricycle than the girl, but that changed with time. They married on August 25, 1946.

The young couple began their life together in Brooklyn, moving from Halsey Street to Weirfield Street—where their son, John T. Diehlmann III, was born—and later to Moffet Street, where their daughter, Elaine, came into the world.

In 1954, John and Jean bought a brand-new, split-level home in what was then the rural community of Seaford, Long Island. It was a different world—across the street was a 3-acre shrub nursery, down the block a chicken farm, and nearby, a flower nursery with massive greenhouses. Where Seaford High School now stands was once a dairy farm. And there was no Seaford-Oyster Bay Expressway cutting through the quiet. That same year, in December, their daughter Debbie was born.

In that home, they raised three children, a menagerie of pets—including a toy fox terrier, two Newfoundlands, a Scottish terrier, a Cairn terrier, a few mutts, a couple of cats, and even a mynah bird that was supposed to talk but only knew how to whistle.

John remained with Sperry Gyroscope for over 40 years, retiring in 1982. He and Jean spent their golden years fishing and traveling across the country in rented RVs (Jean didn’t care much for flying). Each year, they would trailer their boat out to Montauk or Three Mile Harbor and spend a couple of weeks enjoying nature, fishing, exploring, savoring good meals, and sharing laughs with friends. It was all they needed.

In 2002, life took a difficult turn when Jean was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. For nine long years, John was her sole caregiver—day and night. He never once considered placing her in a facility. To him, wedding vows were sacred; he lived them every single day.

John was a principled man. He was moral, logical, fiercely independent, fair, hardworking, and—yes—stubborn, or as he’d say, a “thick-headed German.” But beneath the no-nonsense exterior was a sharp wit and a love for practical jokes.

One of his most memorable pranks happened during the war. While flying back from a supply run in China, he needed to relieve himself. The relief tube was located in the tail of the plane, so he handed the controls over to his co-pilot. While back there, he noticed the trim cables—the controls that help maintain a plane’s level altitude—and thought it would be funny to mess with them. He tugged the cable just enough to make the plane slowly rise. His co-pilot, puzzled by the altitude change, sharply pushed the yoke forward, leveling the plane. The sudden correction launched John into the air—right toward the open cargo door. For a few terrifying seconds, he was airborne, hovering next to the gaping sky, with nothing to hold on to. He eventually hit the floor, pale as a ghost, and realized that even the best jokes come with consequences.

John Taylor Diehlmann, Jr. lived a life rich with purpose, character, and heart. He was a decorated war hero, a fiercely devoted husband, and a loving father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. He was a provider, a protector, and a man who never wavered from his word. With a twinkle in his eye and a prank up his sleeve, he brought laughter to those around him—even in the toughest of times. His legacy is one of strength, humor, unwavering love, and a lifetime of memories that will be treasured by all who knew him.

John is survived by his children: John and Mary Diehlmann (née Ludwig), Elaine Diehlmann, and Debbie Mariner. His legacy lives on through his seven grandchildren: Kim Ezen (Paul), Matt Wood (Sophy), Trey Mariner (Sara), John Taylor Diehlmann IV (Lillia), Lauren Diehlmann (Mark), Chase Diehlmann (Natalie), and Brian Diehlmann. He is also lovingly remembered by his four great-grandchildren: Adrian, Luca, Emiko, and Lily. Through them—and the countless memories he created—John leaves behind a legacy of strength, joy, and enduring love.

Visitation: Friday, April 11th 1-4 PM & 7-9 PM

Religious Service at the funeral home 3 PM

American Legion Service will be held at funeral home at 8 PM

Private Disposition to follow.