[Silverstone Main Page] [Jonathan Silverstone Memorial Photos]
Memorial Service for
Jonathan Silverstone
January 15, 2000
Cedar Lane Unitarian Church
Bethesda, Maryland
Elizabeth Patterson conducted the program and introduced the speakers, beginning with Jeffrey and Eve Silverstone, who remembered their father, followed by her husband, Jerry Patterson, who was Jon's friend and co-worker.
Bob Meagher, retired professor from Fletcher School, with whom Jon co-taught, talked about remembrances over the years. He was followed by Steven Klein and Edwin Cohn who worked at AID with Jon.
Jon's Harvard dorm-mate, Bill Richard, reminisced.
Jon's cousin, Donn Trenner, a well-known musician and composer, came from Connecticut to perform an original composition for the service.
Others were then invited to speak.
George C. Hastings (read by Dick Feinburg)
A reception followed the service.
Jonathan Silverstone retired as Assistant General Counsel of the US Agency for International Development (AID) in 1994.
He was born in Bridgeport, Connecticut in 1928, graduated from The Loomis School in 1945, received his A.B. magna cum laude from Harvard College in 1949 and his J.D. from Yale University Law School in 1952. He was admitted to practice in Connecticut and in the District of Columbia.
Following graduation from Yale, he worked briefly in a law firm in Hartford, Connecticut before joining the Air Force Judge Advocate General department in 1953 in New York. In 1953, he moved to Washington, D.C. to work on contracts at the Pentagon for the Air Force General Counsel office. He joined AID in the General Counsel's office in 1959, where he worked until his retirement in 1994.
In 1970, Jonathan took a sabbatical to teach International Law and Political Development at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University in Boston. In 1980, as Chief of the Civic Participation Division, he earned AID's Superior Honor Award for his many unique and invaluable contributions to the cause of popular participation, human rights and social practice in developing countries.
After retiring, he was active volunteering at WAMU-FM, delivering Food for Friends meals, and hiking Washington area trails.
When
I look back to remember my father, I do not just see my father. I also see his
father, Harry Silverstone, and, mostly, I see myself. As a child, I so admired
Dad that I emulated him. For better, or for worse, I felt that Dad had a
detachment about him that allowed him to take any problem, step back from it,
and examine it from all sides. Through this examination, he could present an
issue from any point of view. Because of this detachment, it could be
infuriatingly difficult to determine what point of view he really held, if any.
In our conversations about computers, Bill Gates was always the anti-Christ. I
have no doubt, however, that he could turn around to the next person and be the
most passionate defender of the right to innovate.
I also gained from my father an ironic sense of humor. All things are full of contradictions, and those contradictions are funny. For both of us, I believe, Washington DC, this seat of power, is an especially funny place.
My hope is that when I have a child, he or she will find as much to admire in me, as I did in Dad.
Some
of my fondest memories of my father while growing up were the times Dad and I
would spend together on our long walks along the C&O canal and in Rock Creek
Park.
Those were times we would be outdoors enjoying what we both loved -- enjoying nature and walking for miles at a spirited pace. Those were the time he and I would talk. He would listen to my thoughts and concerns and would provide his rather subtle suggestions about how to deal with certain problems and proceed in life.
There were times when I didn't appreciate his advice (at the time), but inevitably, as I obtained a broader perspective, his words of advice would grow to mean more to me.
During our walks, Dad wouldn't talk much. So I'd pointing things out along the trail such a Piliated Woodpecker, deer tracks and beaver signs. Once, we took a class at Montgomery College together to learn more about the history of the C&O canal - covering the political, sociological and engineering aspects. I took the class not only to learn more about the canal, but to teach me more about my father, since he rarely spoke about himself.
It seemed that Dad was so focused on understanding current affairs and on ways to make the future brighter for others that he rarely dwelt on himself.
It wasn't until after he died that I realized how little I knew about my father. In writing the obituary, I needed to look through his high school and college yearbooks, through a box of pictures and through his AID files to find out more about his life.
I now wish I had spent more time during our walks learning more about him. I would have liked to hear him tell me about growing up and his experiences in high school. I did not realize he had played any sports until I saw a picture of his soccer team in the Loomis yearbook. The photo was unique in that it was the only one in which he was not wearing a jacket; his hair was standing straight up rather than being slicked back; and he had a grin on his face - the likes of which I had never seen.
Since Dad's death, I have spoken to may of his friends to find out more about the relationship Dad had with others, and to shed light on what I received from my relationship with him.
I learned that his friends considered Jon to be a Gentleman. I cannot say what that meant to his friends, but I can tell you what it has meant to me growing up with him.
My father:
Only after talking to Dad's friends recently, did I understand that his concern for others far exceeded anything that I had imagined.
He cared about all of his friends and he was a good listener. I found his approach for dealing with others evident in many of the photos. They often showed him peering down at his friends from the height of his 6'2" frame, showing him focusing on them while they looked forward towards the camera.
It was Jon's subtle actions that made you realize how attentive he was as a listener. It was the way he would nod as you spoke, and the way he would offer his advice. But mostly, it was the way he would follow up a conversation with research he would pursue afterwards. I'm sure most of you who decided to come to this Memorial service have been touched by Jon's caring nature and his helpfulness. And I'm sure most of you have benefited from an article he found which related to a conversation you had. From my own experience, my father sent me three excellent articles within the past month to help me deal with problems I was having. One was sent via the Internet the day before he went to the hospital!
Dad excelled at research. He used it to help foreign governments when he worked at the State Department, to help his friends and his local interest groups (including AIDs patients, the Washington Area Bicycle Association, providing legal help to the homeless and the arts). Needless to say, he was quick to learn how to use the internet to make his research easier. From the files he kept and the forums he had subscribed to, I could tell he had learned to use all that technology had to offer.
My father was a gentleman who spent almost all of his time and energy helping others. I firmly believe that he tried to be a Good Person by helping others in need, and that gave him energy in his life.
I consider myself fortunate that some of what Dad taught me through our relationship together eventually rubbed off. Despite the obvious differences between us, there are a great deal of subtle similarities. Some of his lessons have taken a while for me to learn, while some things will take me part way into this century to learn.
My father's memory will serve as a mentor for me, continuing to provide me guidance for how to improve myself and how to live my life to its fullest. The memory I hold of my father will live on within me much as the memory of his father, Harry Silverstone, has done. Both were excellent advisors and role models. Both will continue to guide me and make my life better. I hope your own memories of my father will continue to benefit you as well.
In conclusion, I would like to end by saying to you what my father often said to me, as I was making preparations to leave. It was something short and sweet , which captured the essence of his being. He used to say: "Be Good!"
I
was honored and blessed that Jonathan and I were friends; and that out of
Jonathan's and my personal friendship grew a deep, joyful friendship between the
Silverstone & Patterson families. For the Patterson family that friendship
spanned 3 generations - from my mother to Ginger and my adult-children, Sala and
Malcolm. Between the two families there were shared dinners at our homes and
restaurants, evenings at the local theaters and movies, and, of course, visits
to museums to explore exhibits of art and photography.
Jonathan & I worked at AID. He worked from 1959 and I from 1976. Although we worked at the same agency, I did not meet him until I had been at the Agency for about three years. That was because for most of my early service in the Office of General Counsel, Jonathan was on detail to another bureau, and, also, because the employees of AID were spread over both wings of the State Department, and dispersed over several buildings in Washington, and over several buildings in Rosslyn Virginia. Therefore, it was common to go months between encounters with fellow employees. However, Jonathan had a larger-than-life reputation in the Agency. So, in the interim before our meeting, I had heard much about him: that he was smart but he did not suffer fools kindly; that he could be demanding and exacting; and that he could be extremely critical.
We finally met during one of those interminable AID meetings. He introduced himself in such a warm, cordial manner that I was not sure that he if he was "THE JONATHAN" that I had heard so much about.
Over the next several years, our acquaintance grew into friendship. Both he and I loved Jazz; so, on Wednesdays, at noon, we would walk over to the Corcoran auditorium to hear lunchtime Jazz performances; he also loved local D.C. politics, so, we spent many hours sharing our personal assessments on how things were progressing in the various D.C. administrations. As is often the case, I cannot identify the moment of the beginning of our friendship. Nevertheless, I can recall that when I was seriously ill, I had not expected Jonathan to visit because I knew that he was not fond of hospitals. One afternoon I woke from a nap to find Jonathan sitting in the visitor's chair in my room; he explained his presence in the most implausible way: saying that he was in the neighborhood and thought that he would drop in. He followed that first visit with many others.
My colleagues who described Jonathan as SMART vastly understated the quality of his mind. He was in fact, brilliant; and, on a daily basis, he supplemented his brilliance with additional facts and knowledge. He was one of the few people I know who on a daily basis scanned the Federal Register; and if he knew what issues you had an interest in, he would leave copies of the relevant pages day on your desk. He read almost all Supreme Court opinions, not just those involving Foreign Policy Matters. Thus, he had current knowledge of the views of each Justice on most matters. Every day he read several newspapers from front to back; and, in case you did not know, if the names of any one of you here at this memorial ever appeared in one, he would make mental note - even if he did not mention it to you. He merely, placed it in his mental archive for later reference. I once asked him whether he knew if an associate lived in D.C. He answered saying that he was not sure, but that eight months earlier had read in the Post District weekly notices of home sales, that the associate had sold a house in D.C.
When the Lewinsky scandal first broke, he smilingly told me of an indirect AID connection.
Jonathan had the deepest respect for all peoples, cultures and their histories. He could discuss at length ancient dynasties of West African as well as Asia. Moreover, he used his vast knowledge not in a boastful manner, but to inform his opinions and to guide his judgment - something he believed that all government officials should do. He was literally pained when the government, because of policies that were un-informed, took the wrong action. He not only believed it important to speak the truth to those in power, but to also make fun of those in power when their policies were ridiculous. That is why he kept in his desk the statement, " The beating will continue until morale improves."
There were two incidents that I believe best evidence Jonathan the man. Through a mutual friend in the arts, he and I sat in on an Art History class at the Corcoran under an experimental program that allowed non-degree students to attend classes, based on paying a set nominal fee per class. However, true to the image of the artists, the fees were seldom, if ever collected. Jonathan decided that the way that he would address this financial lapse of the Corcoran School was to contribute to the school's scholarship fund. Similarly, when he had decided he to retire, he thought that he would use some of his free time to provide legal representation to the homeless. But after meeting with the Director of the Legal Clinic for the Homeless, and interviewing the homeless themselves, he realized that a "home" was only one of the unmet needs of the homeless; he concluded that what the homeless needed was needed was someone who was a veteran of the trench warfare of trial litigation, and who was also firmly very knowledgeable about the local network of social services. He felt that the homeless did not need a retiree of 40 years of the relatively polite practice of government bureaucracy. He did abandon the homeless; he chose rather to support them financially instead.
Finally, my friend Jonathan was brilliant. His was a brilliance rooted in deepest respect for the dignity of every man, woman and child. When I recall his brilliance, I also recall Gerald Gunther's biography of the great American Judge, Learned Hand. In that biography, Gunther tells of how Hand imagined after his death, attending a banquet in Heaven where mankind's greatest minds were in attendance -- Socrates, Descartes, Benjamin Franklin, Voltaire, and others. At the banquet Voltaire is speaking when someone shouts, "shut up Voltaire, we want to hear Hand." Should I by gracious Providence be an observer at that banquet, and should the topic of discussion become either international Human Rights, or "what a government should to protect all of its citizens", or the need for pacifism, even as the world is at war, I will be compelled to chime in and say "Hey guy's, you really ought to hear what Jonathan has to say about this."
Jonathan was my friend, and I am going to miss him greatly.
Jonathan
Silverstone was a liberal man of great intellect who always said what he
believed, not what others wanted to hear. He was fearful of those who were
pretentious or whose primary goal was to seek power.
He was tall in stature, with sparkling, mirthful eyes and a warm and inviting face that told people that if they had questions he would listen. He always had time to help people think through their questions. His procedure was simple. By asking questions, he helped them to work through their own problems.
Jonathan was a family man, and extremely proud of his family. He was proud of Gail's progress towards becoming a top-ranked photographer. He also admired the professionalism of Jeffrey, his son and Eve, his daughter.
Jonathan was a world-level thinker who always kept the big picture in mind. He was not an admirer of the petty and the mundane. He came from an activist family.
One semester we jointly taught a graduate course on law and social change. He overwhelmed our students with his sophisticated insights.
As long as those who have encountered Jonathan live, Jonathan will continue to live.
I will miss Jonathan and this understanding. He was sui generis, one of a kind, and he is irreplaceable.
There
I was in 1963 eating my first lunch ever in the State Department cafeteria when
I came to Washington DC to interview for a job here. I was eating with two
people I had met for the first time, Frank Fisher and Jon. These were two
high-powered AID lawyers with imposing credentials, and a rare gift for using
words to entertain, to intimidate, and to shape issues. I was impressed, if not
overwhelmed, to be in their company and thankful that they had taken the time to
share their experience and wisdom with me as I considered this big move from
Chicago to the nation's capital. Jon's contribution was, "So you want to
work for AID. Are you crazy?" followed by a hearty round of laughter.
So typical of Jon. A healthy cynicism disguising a living idealism. With Jon, one always had to cut through the self-deprecation and modesty that so characterized his demeanor to get to the basic values that were always at the core of his thinking. His actions -- not his talk -- always said that by devoting your energies to something, you could really make a difference.
I always thought Jon's happiest and most satisfying time at AID (he contributed to AID's work for more than 30 years despite his advice to me) was during the fabled Alex Shakow/Charlie Paolillo tenure when AID was explicitly trying to help poor people in poor countries. Jon was the classic and irreplaceable AID resource, offering in his newsletter pearls of wisdom dredged up from who knows where -- though Jon always cited his sources -- to underscore the importance of worrying about exactly what AID was doing, and what would be the likely impact. He was a persistent voice within AID calling for considering not only the economic growth dimensions, but the social impact of the programs. And people throughout the agency read what he wrote, and incorporated his ideas into the shaping of programs, though rarely with express acknowledgement of Jon's invaluable contributions.
I suspect Jon always wanted to stay in the background and take his satisfaction from the recognition that his ideas were being used.
Over the past few years, I have had countless pleasures in seeing Jon, usually for lunch, on a regular basis. Jon helped me work out details for operation of my computer, though he always insisted he was out of touch and didn't understand the new technology developments. (I have right now in my in-box a 14-step instruction from Jon dated December 14 telling me exactly how I should reformat my hard drive). Or he would talk about what was happening in the District, and his impressions of the actions Mayor Williams was taking. Or what his children were doing. Or places he and Gail had recently visited (Nova Scotia, Australia, New Zealand) or what he had seen on their travels. Jon just absorbed what was going on, and knew so much about everything.
Jon never realized or accepted the respect that he had among his friends and colleagues. I told him so more than once, and he would just chuckle like he always did, and make another light-hearted comment about how he just couldn't do anything. It was so much Jon to be unwilling to accept the value of his warm friendship, his knowledge, and his ability to cut to the core issues.
Whatever he thinks, he will be greatly missed.
From
1941 to 1945, Jon and I and Bill McCarthy were classmates at Loomis School, now
Loomis Chaffee, then a boys prep school in Windsor, Connecticut. We were part of
a small group of day students at what was predominantly a boarding school, so we
became a fairly tight-knit group over our four years together. After Loomis, Jon
when to Harvard and Bill and I went to Yale, simple as that, in 1945 when the
European war had just ended and the Japanese war was still going on. But Jon and
I remained friends as Loomis boys from West Hartford. Later, I followed Jon to
Yale Law School, starting there after he had already graduated.
I remember Jon as a person who approached life with a sort of bemused intelligence, a tolerant acceptance, and indeed appreciation of both the strengths and shortcomings of his fellow man and also of the twists and turns of events - political, historical, personal - the paths of education, career, family. Jon liked the scene, even with its incongruities, blemishes and even cruelties were apparent to him. In his own way, Jon tried to remedy some of the wrongs we find around us. I believe he could be called an incrementalist. He didn't believe perfection was around the corner and would arrive, for instance, once we adopt the flat tax or reestablish family values or become color-blind and award all jobs, contracts and educational slots on "merit." Jon was a good-humored realist.
As a Loomis boy, I remember being invited to Jon's house for dinner and being treated by his mother Marian - a charming and beautiful lady - as a person whose opinions and ideas were interesting and important to her. In later years, as I practiced law in Hartford, I had contact, as a fellow lawyer, with Jon's father, Harry. It was always a pleasure. I remember Harry's explaining to me his philosophy of the special responsibility of a lawyer for the government - in his case the state of Connecticut. In his view, a public servant attorney shouldn't take the slashing, overly tactical, all-out-for-victory-for-one's-client approach, because in a sense the private party, usually an employer, he was opposing, was also his client. Although Jon was not a courtroom lawyer, I believe he shared Harry's view and approach. Jon didn't go around with his halo screwed on tight even though right and wrong were very important to him.
I remember visiting Jon once or twice - not more I'm afraid - when he was a Harvard undergrad and I was at Yale, probably a football weekend, but I remember these visits as my only real taste of Harvard in my life. I think we went to the then popular beer joint, Cronin's, and I stayed overnight in Jon's suite. At a later time, I remember Jon's pointing out to me gently, but irrefutably, -- it was around the time we were graduating from college - that if I was interested in making a difference politically, I should give up my connection with the Norman Thomas socialist party. Good advice, which I followed.
I always enjoyed talking politics with Jon, which we always did on the too infrequent occasions on which we saw each other over the years. Now it can be told that for years, decades, Jon remained on the voter registration in West Hartford in the 8th voting district (my district). I don't know whether how often he voted in Connecticut, but this to me is a true expression of his interest and belief in the democratic process, his desire and determination to be part of it and his mildly anarchic attitude towards the foolish disenfranchisement of D.C. residents.
I will miss Jon even though I saw him seldom. I think, many of us think, that old friends will always be there.
I
first met Jonathan Silverstone when I was just a baby. My parents, he and Gail
moved to Park Fairfax, Virginia in the late 1950s, with the idealistic (and now
very out-of-fashion) view that they might help people through agencies of the
federal government. Both families had their first two children, and both
families moved away at about the same time as their families grew. I remember
Mr. Silverstone (yes, he was Mr. Silverstone to me) as a kind, decent, and
highly intelligent gentleman and human being. As it is with many families, we
children grew up, went off to college, then professional schools and went our
own ways.
About a dozen years ago, my father became ill. After a series of strokes, he passed away two years ago. As he was for several others here today who remember him, Mr. Silverstone was there for my father, and for our family. He regularly visited my father, spoke to him, offering sensible, witty and kind advice and generally acted as a true friend. I renewed my intergenerational friendship with him, and he helped me through some difficult personal and professional times. For these things, I will always have nothing but respect and good memories of him.
How seemingly cruel that a power greater than us decided to take away this man, so full of vim and vigor and energy and good will and intellect, before his time (at least as we saw it). How sad and surprised I was to hear the news during the holidays! And yet, it can surely be said that this was a good man, an idealist, an intelligent and thoughtful man, who lived a good life, loved and respected his family, was a good provider, and a good friend to many. He will be sorely missed.
Jon
Silverstone began working in the Air Force General Counsel's Office just a few
months after I did in late 1953. Particularly since we both worked on contract
law matters, we had a lot of common interests and soon became close friends, a
friendship which continued all these years. I owe a lot to that friendship,
particularly because Jon had more empathy for other people than any other person
I have ever known. Jon insisted on knowing, and understanding, the point of view
of everyone who had an interest in each matter that came before him.
Then, if Jon felt that anyone with a legitimate interest in the matter had not had an opportunity to express his or her interest, of if he felt that nay such point of view had not been adequately or clearly put forth, Jon would explain that point of view himself even if he did not agree with it. But when the time came to make a decision, Jon did not hesitate to make, of recommend, what he thought was the right decision notwithstanding that some of the views which he had assured were in the record sought a different decision
I
was not a colleague of John's as I was in the field and left the agency about
the time I met him. However, his and Gail's friendship is one I always treasured
and from which I received great benefits. Of the many wonderful times with the
Silverstones three examples things stand out in my mind.
Jon
and I were minority students commuting to Loomis amongst the WASP residents.
As
strange as it may seem to you, I consider myself to be a very lucky person,
lucky to have been so close to such a wonderful, sweet man as Jon. I'm lucky to
have been married to him for 41 wonderful years. Lucky to double take his
double-entendres, for he was famous for tweaking you when you least expected it.
Jon had a wonderful sense of humor, as all of you must know. At times, his ribbing caught people off-guard and you'd see the puzzled look until they finally caught on.
In the last years, he embraced the computer age and kept up with new technology. He never stopped learning and could be counted on to go to a concert or the latest avant-garde production -- perhaps "The Idiot" done in mime or trudging through an Australian rain forest patiently waiting for his photographer wife to try to capture a Koala on film.
He did not mush through Antarctica perhaps, but was always adventurous, always looking for something new around the next curve. I shall miss my Jon so much.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.--- W. H. Auden, April 1936
Please mail advice and suggestions to jno@his.com.
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