A tribute to Jerry Weigler
Introduction
My dad was my first experience of politics. He passionately advocated for his beliefs and was always willing to take on bullies (both mine and in the public sphere) on behalf of things he cared about. Many people in Oregon will remember him, often fondly, or perhaps still slightly salty about his many public battles and the friendly coalitions that somehow survived them. My dad didn't do politics for personal gain. I come by my earnestness honestly, even though not many people got to see that side of him.
He was lucky enough to meet my mum through politics, and I will forever be grateful for all that came from that lucky happenstance.
He is still with us. For his last birthday I wrote him this living eulogy, so he could know just a little of the enormous legacy he leaves, and how proud I am to be his daughter.
If you have been meaning to reach out, now is the time. Jerry loves postcards and old-fashioned letters. If you need his mailing address please let me know.
“Michael O'Sullivan was my great friend. But I don't ever remember telling him that. The words that are spoken at a funeral are spoken too late for the man who is dead. What a wonderful thing it would be to visit your own funeral. To sit at the front and hear what was said, maybe say a few things yourself. Michael and I grew old together. But at times, when we laughed, we grew young. If he was here now, if he could hear what I say, I'd congratulate him on being a great man, and thank him for being a friend. “
Waking Ned, 1998
Dear dad,
I once asked if I could give your eulogy, because I wanted the rest of the world to see the man I saw. Not the bulldog, or the arrogant esquire, but the kind, honest, vulnerable man I got to have as a dad. You taught me so many things, and loved me so carefully, and so fully. You showed me the world and told me to follow my dreams.
You lived an incredible life, had many adventures and brought great joy and peace to your loved ones. You created a strong community, and shared generosity, and charmed many ladies. You made a mark and left a legacy. You will be missed, and your memory is a blessing.
A Boy from the Bronx
Jerry Weigler was born October 14, 1933 to Ike and Eva Weigler. A child of Jewish parents, growing up in NYC, during the Depression, these were the backdrop to a mostly American experience of public school, early childhood lunches with Grandma Rose, fueled by many trips to the public library to imagine a life out west. By early adolescence Jerry was in the academic achiever’s track (although he would point out Grandma Eva never really would have accepted anything else.) In high school (Bronx Science obvi) his good friend Stan Lubman (who was also a role model) had some college catalogues in his room that included a small liberal arts school upstate with a picturesque campus and some very interesting professors. When the news came that Colgate would be accepting midyear starts with ROTC scholarships, Dad jumped on a bus to go investigate forgetting that many folks went home for Christmas, and that traversing NY in winter was not for the fainthearted.
Hamilton, NY is a whole world of its own, and after making his way across the state on the bus in the snow and having an impromptu dinner with the dean of admissions, Jerry started as a freshman, in January of 1950. He had a blast, was warned away from psychology, wrote for and eventually edited the Maroon, helped build the Phi Tau house, raided the Deke chapel (almost got expelled), dated a bunch of women clearly out of his league, and almost got expelled again when advocating for immigrant farm labor in the neighboring towns. (Go Gate!) He was also named Kinosioni, made lifelong friends, and began a consistent habit of organizing, finding community, and making an impact everywhere he went.
Yale, the Air Force, and the Start of Something
Next stop was Yale, and the Airforce, during which time he also was lucky enough to meet a partner and start the family that would be his dearest joy. Weiglers run at life hard, and Jerry was no exception, throwing himself into learning to fly, parenting, and law in equal measure. He was also assimilating, balancing how to fight and when to make peace. He really should have taken that golf class, and might have really enjoyed the sport ;)
The Random Factor was Jerry’s first wife and a lifelong foil who provided him his greatest dream of life: a family all his own. TR and Kevin Weigler, in one evening, fundamentally changed Jerry’s life. He fell in love, an action that would eventually bring him six children, move him to the West coast permanently and give him a large family, a dream of his lonely only childhood. Life in the quonset huts was both difficult and idyllic as TR and Jerry navigated work and family (especially in the absence of family planning). They were blessed first with a daughter, and then two sons as Jerry finished law school, took whatever work he could to support his growing family, and the diapers that just kept multiplying. After finishing law school early, he moved to Oregon with TR and the children, as he would tell the story, not given much choice by his wife!
Oregon, and the Life He Built
They first settled near Sellwood and TR’s mother, but soon moved all the way out to Cedar Mill with a larger space to accommodate a growing menagerie of animals. Every day Jerry took the car to Portland while TR took care of the children, and he would often remark in later years how he was sorry he was blind to how hard it must have been for her with four small children, no car, and his obliviousness. Different ideas about what life should look like, and a love of fighting that initially brought them together and eventually drove them apart ended TR and Jerry’s marriage, although he went down with quite the fight!
For much of the 1960’s Jerry built his practice, tried his cases, enjoyed spending time with his children and continuing to fight his ex-wife, and dated quite a bit.
A Hopeless Romantic
He was, at one time, one of Portland’s Most Eligible Bachelors, a fact that impressed his future wife Carol not at all when she refused his offers of dinner after they first met.
Both politically active throughout their lives, Jerry and Carol met when she came to his office to phone bank and Annie his secretary decided she was ‘the one’. He returned her book, invited her to Thanksgiving, and they got married early the following year, eager to start their life together.
Jerry and Carol were a true love story, not just of easy infatuation and romantic gestures, but of the hard work of relationship over decades and challenges and tragedy. Their early marriage was spent navigating significant cultural differences, just because American’s speak the same language, does NOT mean they always understand each other! They spent time with Jerry’s young children, took adventurous trips to Mexico and Canada, pursued their own professional goals and engaged in civic discourse, community building, and place making.
Soon though they were ready to have children of their own, and they were overjoyed to find out that their son Jacob was on the way. In one of those classic cultural misunderstandings, Carol offered that Jerry’s parents should move out to Portland so they could see the baby more, and thus the lifelong process of managing messy boundaries began for Jerry in earnest.
Early family life for Jerry and Carol was both difficult and blissful. They were enamored of their son Jake and balancing the complex dance that is a large extended family. Jerry was building his practice, navigating his parents move to Portland, and trying to be a good husband and father in all the ways he knew how. Three years later, when they were looking at houses with slightly less dangerous hills for Jake to big wheel, Carol surprised him with news that they were expecting again. They bought the house, moved into a real ‘fixer-upper’ in Willamette Heights, and had baby Miranda.
Family Life
The early years of the 1980s were both difficult and blissful. Jerry, Carol, and fam continued their lifelong passion with travel, Jerry lost his father, and, as always, Jerry was building his practice and fortunes.
The family navigated the complexity that was Portland in the 80’s, sometimes with the help of therapists, sometimes with surprise tickets to Paris and a fully paid baby sitter. As a family they were regular fixtures at Chapman School, Hillside Soccer, and, of course, Friendly House. Jerry was home for dinner every night on time, ready to help with homework, and try to clean the kitchen while Carol sighed in the background (I mean, tbf, microwaving the sponge instead of waiting for the water to heat from the tap IS quite gross).
They went on trips to Europe, Canada, and Mexico; spent time at the family beach house in Cape Meares and remodeled the house on 32nd avenue while planting as many plants as they could fit in the parking strip. Jerry took care of the compost and the recycling, ate clean-up for leftovers, and supported his family to pursue their dreams as they defined them.
Entrance is Crucial, But not without Pain
In 1989, after 6 months of increasing pain and several specialists, Jerry underwent back surgery for a large tumor pressing on his spinal cord, commemorated with a large photo of his opened back on his office wall for the rest of his career. In the early 1990s his law firm underwent ‘The Great Divorce’, and determined as always, Jerry set about rebuilding his practice, trying cases when required, and navigating the changing practice of law.
The Lawyer
Jerry was an excellent lawyer. He said it was partially fluke, because he did better on the LSAT than the MCAT, but as anyone who spent time with him knew, he loved comparing ideas and scenarios, and usually enjoyed a good fight.
Despite a narrative that he moved to Oregon only at TR’s insistence, Atticus Finch had always been a hero, and he loved the idea of being the small town lawyer who stood up for justice. Opponents would probably dispute that frame, but he did have a strong personal moral compass that informed his choices, and one of his proudest legal successes was when he chose not to take a divorce case and the advice he provided meant the marriage lasted.
Both/And
His ability and engagement with conflict lead to both the most miserable moments of life, and opportunities to grow that he remained grateful for. Those cultural differences I talked about before with Carol, extended to how they managed conflict, and would inform another personal transformation for him in later life.
Jerry, raised in NY with recent immigrant parents was excellent at fights, and Carol, the youngest of a large Mormon family, had a mostly passive approach to difference that made it difficult for them to communicate for decades. As their children aged, and they rebuilt their relationship around their empty nest, they spent more time in psychological and therapeutic pursuits, understanding their differences and how to navigate their full life together.
Jerry and Carol loved to travel, loved gardens, loved British murder mysteries, and most things Britain. They built and furnished homes, volunteered in their community, and never stopped thinking and learning. They co-wrote an article for the Oregon Bar urging lawyers to consider the benefits of mediation for some conflicts, and together spent a lot of time supporting the Jung Society and engaging with its members, board, and guests.
Grandpa Jerry
Jerry was devastated at Carol’s unexpected loss in 2011 but took comfort in continuing to care for her garden, carry on her work with the Jung society and delight in the two granddaughters that came along soon after.
Jerry truly loved children, and especially those of his own family. Windy, Nick, Jared, Josh, Ruby (Max), Clara, Charlie, and Leeny represent the best of both past and future, and his delight at watching them grow was unparalleled.
Jerry rarely got to be silly. A lonely child of quick intellect, and then “successful” in all things patriarch, Jerry was mostly taken too seriously to be able to joke. Joy was not a natural part of his vocabulary, and teasing was a skill he learned in later adulthood. He had a small repertoire of jokes and silly songs, and despite being separated by decades, each of his grandkids know if you go around the corner and under a tree, a sergeant major will insult your face and that a general keeps his armies in his sleevies.
A few true things
Jerry never found faith, he was too quick witted, distrusted institutions of power, and fear was a helpful organizing principle for his psyche, but the thing I know about him is how deeply connected he was to love. (No, not like his hound dog persona), but to a deeper more universal love that many would recognize as a specific kind of constructive spirituality that made him care about the world we share, and care for the people around him. Jerry was always willing to take a hit to support a person or cause he was passionate about. He was deeply selfless, driven by a need to heal rifts and engender empathy, all while fighting spiritedly as the whitest of knights.
I do hope that as he joins my mother and his friends already at the tea party in the sky (‘cause let’s be real, Dennis and Thorny are clearly already at the bar), he is able to relax in the faith that he is loved in return, his children and grandchildren are safe, and his legacy is one of service and connection.
I will always be grateful for his influence on my life, not just for his help and support, the unending cheerleading, and the safety he provided me, but also for his humility, honesty, and honor. As fathers and patriarchs go, he was pretty ace. Few fathers could set and maintain his kind of high standards, while also able to have a difficult conversation whenever I had ‘the failing/ pink slip’ feeling.
But that was just Jerry Weigler. A good man. A mensch. A do-er. A lover. A kindly grandfather who cared about children. A lonely child and a man who built and strengthened communities.
He will be utterly missed. His life, and his memory are blessings to all of us who knew him, and the myriad more who were positively impacted by him, without ever getting to know him.
Sortie on dude. (yes, still kind of a joke.) Kiss mum for me when you see her.
