Author: People We Knew

Poul Dal, Denmark

Posted on by People We Knew

 

I first met Poul Dal around 1991. He was, at that time, and for many years, a well-liked elder in his congregation of Jehovah’s Witnesses in the royal city of Viborg, located in Central Jutland, Denmark. 

But, suddenly, everything changed. He had posed critical questions about several Witnesses doctrines, after which he was subjected to various forms of harassment. Under a fellow believer’s promise of confidentiality, and that nothing would escape their conversations, Poul Dal was spied on by the leadership of his local congregation. His fellow believer, of course, reported him. But Poul held on to his newly awakened skepticism. 

One of Poul Dal’s relatives had joined Russell’s Bible Students while living in the United States, and on his return to Denmark he became a missionary for the Bible Students in Denmark. Here he converted Poul’s father, Knud Dal. Therefore, Poul had a proud heritage to live up to. However, doubt gnawed at him after the fateful year “1975,” when the Millennium was to come. Subsequently, he was summoned for an “interview” with the elders committee, which soon after expelled him. The consequences were a divorce, loss of all contact with his children and his grandchildren. No wonder Poul, as the most significant critic of the leadership of Jehovah’s Witnesses in Denmark, participated in the revolt against this awful society, and quickly took over as the undisputed leader of the ex-Witnesses in Denmark.

The price of leaving this religious sect is total exclusion, not only from the organization, but from all neutral connection with his family as well. It’s shocking. Without Poul Dal, the Support Group of Earlier Witnesses would not have become what it is today: a shelter for many people who would otherwise be homeless in relation to the Danish society.

I am so pleased to have known Poul Dal and his wife Jette since 1991. We meet regularly and share wonderful food and good red wine while refreshing our common past with our wives, a past that for both of us includes relatives who emigrated to the United States as well.

Poul Bregninge, Denmark

Read Poul Dal’s entire story in Judgment Day Must Wait, YBK Publishers, N.Y. 2013-2021, pp. 342 through 347.

J. Brian Steeves

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It would seem silly to limit the life and career of J. Brian Steeves (d. 2007) to “music teacher,” although that is certainly his legacy. “Mr. Steeves,” as he was known throughout his professional career as a choral director at Kingston High School in New York, opened many of us to the world of great musical traditions.

Always demanding, always professional, Mr. Steeves modeled for me a pathway into the world of music education. While I eventually chose to focus on university teaching in my own career, I nevertheless carried with me the influence of Steeves’ intense preparation he brought to every aspect of his job. In my 30s I remembered that one of my life’s ambitions was to drive a Volkswagen Beetle, and I chuckled as I recalled that it was for the very reason that Steeves drove a Beetle. In fact, “Becoming Mr. Steeves” could easily be a chapter in my never-to-be-written autobiography. “Even beauty must die,” we sang (Brahms, Nänie), and 45 years later I still hum and occasionally sing through my memories of this influential man.

Gregory Melchor-Barz, December 2020

Paul Sheftel

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It’s so wonderful to be made spellbound by beautiful music!

Paul Sheftel is a long-time friend, who has also authored a number of piano theory and practice books for YBK Publishers. Trained (and who later taught) at Julliard, he has performed as a soloist with such orchestras as the Berlin Philharmonic, the Amsterdam Concertgebouw, the Royal Philharmonic, and the Chicago Symphony.

During the preparation of his books for publication, I sometimes work with Paul at his studio in New York City. When we are done working on manuscripts, he often plays. To be privileged to hear such perfection and virtuosity in close proximity, at the knee of the performer (not “so-to-speak,” but actually), is both an honor and electrifying.

I am hoping to hear more music again, soon. He is, hopefully, working on another manuscript right now!

Otto Barz, September, 2020

Ethel Stein

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   (1917–2018)

Artist and Master textile weaver

Ethel and her architect husband, Dick, lived across the street from us in Croton-on-Hudson, New York. We (my wife, Ellen and I) got there in 1980. Dick and Ethel had been in their house from the 1940s. Ellen, who had known Ethel for a few years before, became the fast friends that they were until Ethel’s death in 2018. Ethel was so much considered a part of our family that our two children, Allison and Tim, pronounced her to be their adopted grandmother.

Long before we got to Croton, Ethel had begun studying textile weaving methods. She devised a unique way to interact with a draw loom. The draw loom is/was a very large and complicated weaving machine that was developed in the late 1300s and required at least two people to operate. Ethel worked at its re-design and built one in her studio that could be operated single-handed. She created incredibly complex designs, producing art pieces that are amazingly beautiful and are collected by some of the most prestigious museums in the world.

In 2014, at the age of 96, Ethel’s work was presented in a life-retrospective exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago. She and her relatives and friends attended the opening. Ethel, in what was always her demure manner, sat and enjoyed the honor of that moment which we were very pleased to have shared with her.

Her work has been shown at the Cooper Hewitt, the American Craft Museum, the Cleveland Museum of Art, The Met, MOMA, and the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

Much of her work has become a part of the permanent collection of the Art Institute of Chicago. Her now-famous draw loom has been moved to Chicago along with the complete contents of her studio where the museum plans to reconstruct an exact replica of her studio. The studio and the loom, including sketches of designs that were pinned to the walls, is to stand as a permanent exhibit in the museum.

Otto Barz, August, 2020

Joe Papp

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   Joe Papp

 

Joe created the Public Theatre & Shakespeare in the Park, which provided a suburb boy like me with great free big-city entertainment – he also gave great parties on opening nights downtown on Lafayette Street.

While working as a freelance script reader, I went to one of these parties (perhaps A Chorus Line?) after a motorcycle accident, which left my suit torn at the knees, & my right hand pretty torn up, so I put my cutlery in my jacket pocket as I was serving myself at the buffet. With a twinkle in his eye, & a glance at my pants, Joe quipped that though we were welcome to eat all we wanted (which came in handy on freelance pay), the knives, forks, & plates were rented, so he’d appreciate my leaving them for the caterers: A Chorus Line went on to receive very good reviews from the early edition of the New York Times.

John Wander, April, 2019

Bob Silvers

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   Bob Silvers

 

Bob was the editor in chief of the New York Review of Books, & one of the most erudite men I ever met.

After years of running the Review, he & his co-editor Barbara Epstein & the publisher, Whitney Ellsworth, decided to acquire the Literary Book Club, believing their acumen & the Review’s reputation might improve the Club’s results. I was the freelance copywriter of the Club’s monthly ‘newsletter’, The Griffin & submitted copy, touting the books to the public under Barbara’s direct supervision: in one such text I mentioned ‘chinks in their shining armor’, or words to that effect, to suggest gaps that weakened someone’s argumental boilerplate, & as the context made clear, with no suggestion of what is now an offensive slang word for the Chinese, the phrase was duly published–the book went on to sell very successfully, which pleased everyone concerned, & delighted me as I was studying for a doctorate at the time & copywriting was alien to my academic style.

One day when Bob came back from a late lunch, full of mirth & guile, I was briefly in the office delivering new copy. At first he didn’t recognize me, & when did, playfully asked me whether I was sure that Chinese armor shone–he had been under the impression it consisted of layers of superimposed leather.

John Wander, April, 2019

Stacey Keach

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   Born 1941

His performance in a Shakespeare-in-the-Park production of Hamlet had drawn praise from NY Times drama critic Clive Barnes as the arrival of classical Shakespeare acting in America: the production featured battleship-grey steel planks, angling up in a half-spiral to represent the battlements of Elsinore castle & the fragility of Claudius’s rule.

The play, presented at the open-air Delacorte Theatre overlooking a shower-dimpled lake, had been interrupted several times to dry off the slippery, quickly perilous set. Later that drizzly evening, at a backstage party, celebrating its last presentation, wiping the rain from his brow, Mr Keach, casting his eyes up at the sky softly mocked “This brave overhanging firmament, this majestical roof.”

John Wander, April 2019

Ben(jamin) Greenwald

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   1911–1986

Educator, journalist

It was 1955. I was a sophomore in high school, then called the New York School of Printing (later renamed the High School of Graphic Communication Arts) in New York City. If I took the journalism class I could avoid gym (nerdy even then).

I almost never had to go to gym and became the first-ever managing editor of the Student Printer, NYSP’s now-and-then newspaper (written by the students and heavily copy-edited by Ben).

Ben was a dedicated teacher who regularly turned down posts at the Board of Education because he found working directly with students to be his calling. Unusual then, and still, Ben’s wife Mildred was involved with his efforts and in the teaching of his students. Not at school, and not on the payroll, but she was very much involved with us, mostly after graduation. Otherwise childless, we became Ben and Mildred’s family.

The NYSP Press Club was a membership group of journalism students who chose to affiliate with the newspaper and school magazine. Its once-a-year function was the Press Club dinner at the end of the school year. In its early years the dinner was held at the Advertising Club on Park Ave and was a plush event in a venue of a kind that few students at that school were familiar with. In later years it was held at the Overseas Press Club of which Ben was a member. There was always a celebrity journalist guest speaker, the caliber of whom was invariably high. Some that I recall were Victor Reisel, Fred Friendly, Geraldo Rivera, and, of great-author fame, Kurt Vonnegut.

Otto Barz, April, 2019

Bennet Cerf

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   (1898–1971)

Book publisher, raconteur, TV panelist, humorist

I worked at Random House during the 1960s. The founding publisher, along with Donald Klopfer, was Bennett Cerf. He was a pretty famous guy, having been a panelist on the well-known national TV show, What’s My Line?

At that time I was involved in the production of the unabridged edition of the Random House Dictionary of the English Language, and because of the large investment cost of that book I would occasionally have to meet with Cerf and others of the RH management team.

I was looking for printers who could handle the large size and quantity of books and not have a problem printing on the light weight papers that are found in dictionaries. A possible printer was located in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. The management of that printing company had a great idea. Why didn’t I come to Harrisburg during April? On whatever the date was, that evening, Bennett Cerf was to address the Harrisburg Chamber of Commerce.

We could tour the plant during the day, have dinner, and then all go to see Bennett. (Wonderful for me, yes? Wow! A busman’s holiday!) As it turns out, Cerf gave an excellent performance and had me laughing during much of the time.

With a co-worker, I had booked the last plane out of Harrisburg that was headed back to New York (9:30!). The person I was with had never met Bennett and was eager to do so. Since it was the only plane on which Bennett, too, could get back to New York, we found his seat and I performed the introduction.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asked. I explained our presence in Harrisburg.

Without the slightest pause he got to the important stuff: “So how was I? Do you think they liked me? The applause was pretty good, don’t you think? I wasn’t sure about the line about [some political stance], but that went over okay, yes?”

Off he went for a full five minutes. This is the same man who discovered and published William Faulkner, John O’Hara, Eugene O’Neill, James Michener, Truman Capote, Ted Geisel (Dr. Suess) and a lot of et ceteras. Still, he felt the strong need for confirmation of whether or not he had that day hit the heights in Harrisburg!

Otto Barz March, 2019

Kurt Vonnegut

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    1922–2007

Writer, most famous for Slaughterhouse-Five

Having nothing to do with Vonnegut or writing, I like listening to music, especially when it’s performed live. But please do read on, because this eventually connects.

The organizers of our annual Press Club dinner were challenged to find a guest speaker to match the fame of previous years’ speakers. The Club, high school students and alumni of the New York School of Printing, was always successful at finding well-known journalists to agree to be our keynote speaker.

I happened to be a friend of Kurt Vonnegut’s early editor, Sam Stewart. While Vonnegut was not a journalist, he certainly qualified as a chronicler in other ways. Sam made the connection for me and Kurt agreed to speak. The night went wonderfully and his presentation was excellent. As dessert and the unending award-giving finally did end, I asked Sam and Kurt whether they could join me downstairs for an evening-ending drink.

Downstairs was at the Biltmore Hotel in New York City in a cocktail area that was beneath the famous “Biltmore clock” (both now gone). A pianist played nearby. We were seated, ordered drinks, and expectable conversation about the evening followed. This ultimately led to what Sam had been doing in the years during which he and Kurt had not seen each other.

Always having one corner of my ear on music, I awaited more engaging conversation that I was certain would follow. The pianist was, frankly, not good, hitting random clinkers, each a little worse than the next. Finally, all I could focus on was the piano. The musician’s poor performance had an even worse effect on me because Sam and Kurt had gone on to discussing the difficulties of finding good domestic help in New York City!

To borrow from a different author, there went my great expectations for  critical, unmatched conversation. Sigh!

Otto Barz

April, 2019