A Eulogy for Syd Levy

This was delivered by one of my dad's best friends, Marty Groveman, three and a half years ago.  For those of you who knew my dad, you'll appreciate it. 

Eulogy of Marty Groveman 

For me, 3 aspects of Syd’s persona are vividly illuminated:

1.      He was a mensch—an all around terrific person;

2.      He was exasperating, which I’ll describe; and

3.      And he was oh so funny—a wild and wacky sense of humor—that at times was subtle, at times self-deprecating, and occasionally slapstick.

 

A large part of his “menschness” was his caring and loyalty to his friends.  He was so there for me, a few years ago, when I had some sudden difficulties.  His caring, support and love helped me greatly to get back to myself.  And he did this for so many other friends.

 

Regarding the “exasperating” aspect of Syd’s behavior, I refer mainly to his tendency to fixate and review past negative experiences.  Almost all of these “stuck in the mud” rehashings pertained to work related situations and his disappointments with less than frank employers.  It took me a while to get the essence of Syd’s persavarativeness but it became so clear to me.  As honest and forthright as he was, it was so hard for him to accept that others would not be that way.  He simply agonized over people with less than honorable agendas.  He was haunted by deceptive and unethical behavior by otherwise intelligent people. 

 

And now for a wonderful illustration of Syd’s unique sense of humor:  I’ll always remember the good times and the laughter whenever thinking of Syd.  Syd and I would get together almost every weekend to play ball.  I’m referring to after we were out of college.  One of our favorite summer places to play was

Manhattan Beach

.  In the 60s and 70s it was a mecca.  On a weekend the courts would draw hundreds of players and an even g greater number of spectators.  We would get there early, plant Elaine and my wife Helene on the beach—along with our cooler of beer, and head to the basketball action.

 

ON one Saturday when we were finished playing and went to join the girls on the beach, we noticed a friend of ours talking to a group of ten or so girls.  This guy was Merv Stofsky—better known by his nickname “Shopper”.  It was given to him because he frequently shopped and knew the prices of all the specials in the supermarkets.  Shopper at that time was a teacher at

Walt

Whitman

Junior High School

.  He was a good looking fellow with a well toned body.  There he was on the beach, encircled by his former students, young women on the rise, students at Erasmus H.S.  All four of us noticed Shopper and his youthful admirers, but only Syd sprang into action.

 

What I didn’t say is that only Howard was born at the time of the incidents, and he was a month away from his first birthday.  Syd scooped Howard up, marched over to Shopper and said, “Merv, I’m sick and tired of watching your kid.  Here, take him.”  With that said he handed Howard to the astonished and embarrassed Shopper and walked away.  An interesting aside is that Howard wasn’t the least bit upset.

 

In everything he did he was an achiever.  Much of it is a result of his being such a hard worker.  He never gave up.  This is the way it was with basketball.  We all know his eventual accomplishments—an inductee into the CCNY Athletic Hall of Fame and a Maccabiah Games gold medal winner.  This is not, however, the way it was in the beginning.  As a basketball neophyte, he wasn’t particularly graceful or coordinated.  He had the extra burden of dragging around a bad leg.  He didn’t play for Boy’s High, a

Brooklyn

school with a legendary basketball tradition; although it’s great coach Mickey Fisher offered to put him on the team.  From that point he willed himself to become a player.  He went from a “stiff”, a term used to describe many tall guys, to an outstanding player.  His sweat and toil paid off.  He became a terrific team player; so fundamentally sound, excellent on defense, a shot blocker, an intimidator, strong rebounder and a quality shooter.

 

He was proud to play for CCNY.  Those were great years, and he maintained his connections to the college to the very end.  His teammates and those who both preceded and followed him at the school remained his friends.  We see this link so clearly this morning, a day after a mammoth snow storm.  Present today are former CCNY players—the great Jerry Domershick, Joe Bernardo, Marv Rose and Stan Friedman.  I add myself to this group along with present coach Andy Stampfel.  CCNY Hall of Famers Floyd Lane, Ted Hurwitz and Leroy Watkins were kept away due to the weather and send their regrets.

 

Syd was loved by contemporaries within the great

New York

basketball community.  So many of those he played with and against in leagues, playgrounds and gyms became his friend.  In particular, he was tremendously popular among Afro American hoopsters.  He developed close relationships with fellow employees and teammates at Tuck Tape and with the guys at the HES (Hebrew Educational Society), Union Temple, and the interestingly named Brownsville parks—Lincoln Terrace, Betsey Head and Nanny Goat.  Prior to his departure to

Florida

, each October, the two of us would attend the annual Brooklyn

USA

“Old-timers” dinner and awards program.  The attendees consisted of about 300 black basketball players and their escorts and no more than 10 Caucasians.  Syd felt as welcomed and at home as he did at CCNY.

 

Most of his coaches also become lifelong friends.  This group included George “Red” Wolfe, Syd’s freshman coach at CCNY; Julie Bender, former LIU All American and the coach at the HES; and of course Dave Polansky of CCNY, with whom Syd enjoyed the closest father/son relationship; and last, but not least Nat Holman, legendary CCNY mentor.  Nat actually heaped much verbal abuse upon Syd in the early days, but grew to admire and respect Syd as a player and a person:  Holman just couldn’t remember Syd’s name.  He was close when he called him “Cindy”, but eventually played it safe and used the term “Big Fella.”

 

Of all the funny Syd stories, it’s hard to beat this one.  Syd, Elaine, Helene and I were at the Nevele hotel for a weekend visit.  We were at the indoor pool and Syd was standing in the water.  In fact he was at the 6 foot mark in the deep end of the pool.  Along came a short enthusiastic gentleman of about 60 years old.  He cheerfully asked, in a thick Yiddish accent, shouted to Syd, “How’s the Vater?”  Syd replied, “It’s fine.”  His follow up question was, “Is it deep?”  Without any hesitation Syd responded, “I’m standing.”  With that the man sped to the edge of the pool and jumped in.  The expression on his face, as he sunk beneath the surface is indescribable.  We stood in awe as Syd, with deadpanned gaze, gently lifted the man to safety.

 

Along with his genuine “goodness” it’s stories like this that will keep Syd so vivid in our minds.  I know, for myself, he’ll never die.  For his friends and finally, I’m certain that whenever we think of him a warm feeling and a smile will be brought to our lips.

 

Thinking about how I wanted to conclude my tribute to Syd, my thoughts drifted to a singer who died about two years ago.  This person was Warren Zevon, a  folk-rock writer/singer who had a strong following among the intellectual and socially conscious set.  Zevon, too, succumbed to lung cancer.  After his diagnosis he wrote a wonderful song entitled “Keep Me in Your Heart for a While.”  A short time before his death he appeared as a guest on Letterman.  He was amazingly upbeat about the accomplishments of his life and was prepared to accept his cruel fate.  He ended his appearance by singing his new song.  It touched me deeply as it also did to the teary eyed audience.  It’s applicability to Syd, both in concept and strength of lyrics, is dramatic and so meaningful.  I have changed the order of some of the words and taken out the “sha-la-las”.  Here it is:

 

Shadows and falling and I’m running out of breath.

Keep me in your heart for a while.

If I leave you it doesn’t mean I love you any less.

Keep me in your heart for a while.

Sometimes when you’re doing simple things around the house,

Maybe you’ll think of me and smile.

Hold me in your thoughts.  Take me to your dreams.  Touch me as I fall out of view.

When the winter comes keep the fire lit

And I will be right next to you.

And when you get up in the morning and you see that crazy sun,

Keep me in your heart for a while.

Keep me in your heart for a while.

 

Rest well big guy.

 

Comments

[Richard]

Happy Birthday, Syd. We miss you.

[honey Meir-Levi]

David-

I had never heard or read this (when your dad passed away it was pre-webcam days, so I could not attend remotely)/

many thanks for posting all this/
G'mar tov, Honey

[Adrienne Wallace Hayward]

Beautiful. How blessed you are to have been vesseled here by Syd Levy. Remember the blessings. :)