The Byron Blog consists of writings, photographs and anecdotes related to my father, Byron Dobell (1927-2017)
My father was good at eulogies. He wrote and delivered them for family (his parents and his in-laws) and for friends and colleagues (including editors Sey Chassler, Clay Felker and Rust Hills, and artist David Levine). His remarks combined gravity, wit, admiration and love.
Among the eulogies he kept in his files were two for younger friends and colleagues who died in their fifties, editor Don Erickson and writer Walter Karp.
1988
Don Erickson
Esquire colleague
Age 56
https://www.nytimes.com/1988/08/03/obituaries/donald-erickson-a-magazine-editor-at-the-times-56.html
We gave a party for Don when he resigned from Esquire in 1979 to become editor of The Dial magazine and, among other speakers, I said a few words. I’m going to read them now because I’m glad I read them while he was alive:
“In 1964, I was lucky enough to be the man who first interviewed Don Erickson for a job that was open at Esquire. We met at a convention of editors in Asheville, North Carolina. I had a drink with him and listened to his ideas for the magazine; when I returned to New York I recommended we hire him immediately.
Don is the kind of editor all magazines dream of and search for. We knew it from the moment he first sat down at his desk. To begin with, he was much smarter than the rest of us. When someone submitted for publication the world’s hardest spelling test, we tried it out on the Esquire staff. Out of a possible 25 correct answers, no one on the staff was able to spell more than nine words – except Don. He got more than 20 right.
He was also wittier than the rest of us. I will always remember a title Don wrote for a story on Elizabeth Taylor. At that time she was overweight, over forty, and in the midst of her husband’s Senatorial campaign. Don’s title for the story was ‘National Velveeta.’
Don was also more patient as an editor than the rest of us . . .
Which leads me to his ultimate virtue: the courage to say exactly what he thought and to say it very well . . .
Here is a man of intelligence, wit, patience and courage – and he’s a better dresser than the rest of us too . . .”
So much for my 1979 speech . . . Finally, and this is my last goodbye to Don, I can say now what I couldn’t have said without embarrassment to his face. Don, you were the measure to me of honor and integrity; life is worth living so long as there are a few people like you in the world.
1989
Walter Karp
Pageant colleague
Age 55
Walter was a fiery Puritan who at the same time was the most convivial and worldly of men. Quick to see, reveal and condemn the abuses, lies and hypocrisy of power, especially when (to use his favorite word) power usurps the legitimate will of the citizenry. He made us see the mess of our times through the eyes of an 18th century Enlightenment man – he was as close to a reincarnation of a Founding Father as would be possible 200 years after what was for him the greatest political event of all time – the establishment of the Republic . . .
Walter was my friend of 32 years standing. I hired him for his first magazine job, I sent him on his first trip to Europe, I published his first book. And starting in 1958, Walter, his dear friend Marvin Gelfand, Charlie Monaghan and I met each Christmas Eve in The Algonquin where we drank each other’s health and reviewed the joys and sorrows of the past year. These reunions seemed to spur each of us to heights of wit and loquaciousness . . . But several times, when life had been grim enough to keep me, at least, all too sober, I observed that whatever the delusions of the rest of us, the genius of the occasion was always Walter. Walter the proud, Walter the brave, Walter the very best of us and all we knew. Walter died too soon. He was meant to be a wise old man, around whom the world and his friends and wife and children could gather and find comfort and joy for many, many more years. We can only be grateful for the years Walter did give us.
