The death of a friend is always difficult but Jay Goldin’s passing on September 16 is unthinkable to me. We had been close friends since high school and were in touch through the years from those until he died. We didn’t see each other very much during the college years but we renewed our frequent contacts when he entered Yale Law School.
Much will be written and much will be remembered of Jay’s powerful intellect; of his service to the nation in the Department of Justice; of his service to the State of New York as a state senator; of his four terms as Comptroller of the City of New York; of the successful work- out business he created after leaving public office; of his close relationship with Diana, his three accomplished sons and his beloved grandchildren.
Less known is Jay’s wit, sense of humor, and unique ability to privately skewer our times and those–well known and unknown–whom he considered phonies, jerks, dummies or just people he didn’t like. He was one of the funniest people I ever met. If those qualities don’t interest you, stop reading now!
Ed Koch with whom he served in city government told me, “People think I’m funny. Jay Goldin is much funnier than I am.”
He brought to his comic talents the same brilliance he brought to weighty matters of great consequence. It’s just that very few saw this side of Jay and that’s the way he wanted it. As a result of my own stabs at humor (and especially mimicry) most of our time together was spent in raucous laughter. Jay’s wife Diana told me that she always knew when I was on the phone with Jay because of the consistent laughter.
Here are a few examples, in no particular order of subject or time.
Jay reported an interaction with Mayor Abraham David Beame, he of minimal intellect, during the financial crisis. Jay, who had an incredible power of exposition enabling him to break down complex matters so that they could be more easily understood, addressed the city’s commissioners in the Blue Room at City Hall. Using four fingers he told the group the “four reasons” why the city is going bankrupt. Following the meeting, Abe invited Jay into his private office and closed the door. Using four fingers, Abe said, “In there you mentioned the four reasons why the city is going bankrupt. Could you go over those again?”
As a young associate at Davis Polk, a partner asked Jay to work on a Federal Trade Commission investigation of a client’s business of making and marketing “frozen prepared pies,” the senior lawyer hitting the plosives with spitting force, a statement that Jay loved to imitate, complete with the spritz. Jay was then in the state senate. At a meeting with the FTC on this matter in Washington, the partner concluded the meeting by loudly calling out, “Senator, get a cab!!”
Jay was pretty good at plosives himself. One of his favorite words was “preposterous.”
As a devout orthodox Jew, Jay had little use for the Reform rabbinate. He described these clergy as graduates of the homiletics class at the Hebrew Union in Cincinnati where they all learned the same speech habits for use at services. “The rounded ‘o’ as in Ohio. The muted ‘s’ as in society.” The imitation was funny and so true.
Any supposedly troubled person he didn’t like he described as being “on pills” whether they were or were not.
In the Yale Law School dorm, Jay lived next door to a real jerk. Very early one Sunday morning, the neighbor loudly rapped on Jay’s door. When Jay groggily answered he was met with a stupid question. The following week Jay banged on the offender’s door at an odd hour. When the door opened, Jay asked “What day is Arbor Day?”
Known for articulate brilliance, Jay will excel at the place his soul enters in the hereafter.
It is hard to imagine life without Jay. He may be gone, but I don’t have to believe it.
So long old friend!