Jennifer’s obit is really an excellent portrait of Dave, her dad, my brother. She might have added some capers in our early youth: David J., David B. and I, ages ranging from 6-8 (I think) visiting gramma in Fresno, did lots of rummaging in her garage. We took some jars of preserves and sunk them in the fish pond. Don’t ask me why. Gramma reacted in her kind and gentle way. The job of bawling out was passed to the parents.

I remember very clearly the day, 1964?, when Dave and his new girlfriend visited us in Berkeley, where they would soon be living. He came in and introduced me to this dazzling, beautiful, charming blonde—Cynthia. They married and only separated at Dave’s death in October.

Dave had a strong will and great personal authority. He was VP and Treasurer of Boeing for years, in charge of financing fleet purchases and investing their profits. At one point his signature was on all company paychecks. One Thanksgiving dinner in Millbrae, Dave excused himself and disappeared into a bedroom with a telephone. Two hours later he came out and said, “We just rescued Braniff Airlines.” He worked for Boeing at a time when the company was committed to ethical management and excellence of the product.

During our years in Seattle, he took an interest in a local theater, the Bathhouse. It had a very talented director but no one who could manage the business. He was invited onto the board of directors, eventually headed it, and held the company above water for several years.

We were never close as brothers. Different personalities, and eventually politics got in the way. He was good to me and my family. It is one of my regrets in life that I was not closer to him.