Michael Bull

Michael Bull 85, of Lancaster died peacefully with family by his side on Saturday, August 1, 2026. Michael grew up in Haverford, PA, he was the son of the late Richard and Josephine Bull and brother to Alden and Pamela. They remained close throughout their lives. Alden Bull preceded him in death, and Pamela Abrams lives in New Jersey. That strong family bond was something Michael carried into the family he later built. Michael attended Haverford Prep School, where he wrestled and began developing the discipline, determination, and competitive spirit that would remain with him throughout his life. After high school he attended Kenyon College and spent summers guiding canoe trips in the Boundary Waters. After his undergraduate work, Michael attended the University of Pittsburgh Law School where he met and married Nancy, his wife of 55 years. Together, they built a family and a life filled with devotion, laughter, spirited conversation, and countless cherished memories. Nancy preceded him in death in 2020. Following graduation, Michael, Nancy, and first child, Jennifer moved to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, to raise his family by adding son, Jon, and daughter, Liz and begin what became a distinguished legal career. He spent 35 years as a partner with Blakinger, Byler & Thomas, litigating high-profile cases for some notorious clients while also providing patient, tender, and considerate representation to those who otherwise might not have had a voice. Michael believed deeply that justice should not depend on a person’s position or ability to pay. Over the years, his legal fees occasionally arrived in the form of fruits, vegetables, and other offerings from grateful clients. He accepted them with the same dignity and appreciation he would have given any formal payment, especially for a particularly good tomato. Michael believed deeply in justice, truth, fairness, and treating people with dignity. A lifelong Democrat, he held strong opinions but rarely judged others for seeing things differently, though he did expect those opinions to be grounded in facts and basic decency, qualities he sometimes felt were becoming harder to find across the aisle. He lived by a clear moral compass and never compromised his integrity for convenience, popularity, or personal gain. That passion was equaled only by his love of fly fishing which he passed on to his son, Jon and grandsons, Sam Bull and Jack Fischer. Michael was a genuine master of the sport. His den was frequently filled with feathers, hair, hooks, thread, and the many other mysterious materials he used to tie flies for hatches throughout Lancaster County and well beyond. To the untrained eye, it may have appeared that several birds and small mammals had exploded near his desk. To Michael, it was an orderly workshop devoted to precision, patience, and the pursuit of the perfect trout. He traveled to places few others would consider in search of an elusive brook trout or smallmouth bass. His secret fishing spots were often empty for good reason: they could be remote, dangerous, unforgiving, and occasionally surrounded by rapidly rising water. One memorable morning, a newspaper headline announced that a “prominent Lancaster attorney” had been rescued by helicopter from a Susquehanna river island after rising water left him stranded. Michael likely viewed the situation less as a rescue and more as an unnecessary interruption of an otherwise promising day of fishing. A typical day in Michael’s life might include opera or bluegrass playing at an entirely unnecessary volume while he watched his beloved Phillies, Sixers, Eagles, or Flyers. He could tie flies, tend the grill, follow the game, drink a Yuengling, and provide a detailed history of an obscure bluegrass musician from the 1930s, all at the same time and without appearing the least bit overwhelmed. Michael’s grilled chicken was legendary, made all the more impressive by how little effort he seemed to give it. Even when the flames flared and the chicken looked scorched beyond saving, a splash of white vinegar turned what appeared headed for disaster into world-class grilled chicken. He also loved dogs. For years, neighbors might find Michael searching the streets for Daisy, his Brittany spaniel and accomplished escape artist. Later in life, he was rarely far from Buster, his loyal King Charles spaniel and trusted companion. Buster proved considerably easier to locate and seemed perfectly content to remain wherever Michael happened to be. Michael was a generous man who led by example. He rarely judged others (even Dallas Cowboys fans) and provided his family and community with enrichment, support, encouragement, and an enduring sense of security. Michael taught us the important things: get to the airport early, wear sunscreen, obey the rules, and do not play with fire (without white vinegar nearby). Consistent and steadfast, he lived by the principles he taught. He was dependable when others needed him, thoughtful when circumstances were difficult, and uncompromising when integrity was at stake. He provided for his family not only materially, but through his time, wisdom, attention, and example. Michael will be deeply missed by those who loved him most, including his children: Jennifer Fischer and her husband, Mark, of Lancaster, Pennsylvania; Jonathan Bull and his wife, Ashley, of Dallas, Texas; and Elizabeth Sims and her husband, Philip, of Birmingham, Alabama. His grandchildren: Sam, Rose, Quinn, Jack, Charlotte, Sophie, Kate, and Caroline will miss their “Grandad,” “Grandaddy Bull,” and “Papa Bully.” He was always there for them: cheering them on, listening to their stories, asking questions, offering advice, and sharing tales from the good old days, including his college job at a brewery, where, as he never tired of explaining, they let employees drink beer at lunch. His grandchildren will carry forward his curiosity, humor, convictions, and practical wisdom along with a healthy respect for sunscreen, early departures, Philadelphia sports, and the dangers of playing with fire. Michael would not want his life defined by sadness. He would want to be missed but never forgotten, celebrated rather than mourned. So, in his honor, turn the music up, grill the chicken with confidence, keep an eye on the river, love your dogs, help those who need it, stand firmly for what is right, and never let a good fishing story get shorter with time. The family will honor him with a private gathering where all can be together.