Sarwi has a funny incident at Algiers airport so that it has been important here for 15 days to book a plane from America to Madrid and then to Algeria so that he lost his clothes in Madrid and the vest. He will have 15 days in one shirt and one of the driver here in Algeria and was a man Wonderful so that request

Gary And I — with Gary Hill and Joe Marchse

I apologize for the delay in posting this and for the roundabout way I get to Gary:

I have no memories of discussing my name with my parents. That wasn’t something we talked about but I do have some guesses.

My last name is a shortened version of the German “Schönwald” which means beautiful forest. My father unilaterally dropped the “Schön (sometimes spelled “Schœn” or “Schoen” in German) just four months after arriving in the United States. The surname was changed legally to Wald after he completed Army Basic Training and acquired American citizenship at Fort Sill, Oklahoma in March, 1943.

I think that my first name, Kenneth, was meant to honor my paternal grandfather, Curt. I was born about six years after he is presumed to have been murdered in a German concentration camp. Given their experience as young Jews in Germany, my parents certainly did not want to give me a German-sounding name which would have incited prejudice so soon after World War II. I think they considered Ken because it sounded close enough to Curt. That is pure conjecture on my part but it makes sense because my brother’s middle name, Louis, honored our maternal grandfather.

The real mystery was why they gave me Dan as a middle name. Not Daniel but just plain Dan. Granted, a single syllable middle name does sound better after a two-syllable first name but I don’t think that was a factor. There were no Dans or Daniels in our family tree and I was never called by that name at home.

Many years later, I think I solved the mystery as I was writing about the impact of the Holocaust on my family. I think I was named in honor of a man from Lincoln, Dan Hill. Mr. Hill was a Russian Jew who immigrated to the United States in 1906. Starting out as a peddler, he collected scrap metal which was then sold to others, a classic middleman strategy used by immigrants throughout the ages. Mr. Hill was no ordinary immigrant. He soon amassed enough money to start a metal company which eventually morphed into Northwestern Metals, a major recycling enterprise.

Mr. Hill was president of Congregation Tifereth Israel and wanted to increase the Jewish population of Lincoln. He put out the word, probably through HIAS, the famed Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, that he would sponsor any Jewish families willing to settle in Lincoln. That invitation accounted for the move to Lincoln of several European Jewish families fleeing persecution from the Nazis, mine included. My father worked in the office at Northwestern in Lincoln until he was then assigned to manage a subsidiary in Casper, Wyoming. He and my mother lived there until my father was drafted into the US Army late in 1942.

But Mr. Hill did more than just sponsor and subsidize my family. When my father arrived in Lincoln, he was busy trying to obtain funds to get his own parents out of Germany. He actually worked three different jobs to raise the money but it was slow-going. Acquiring the money soon became urgent because news leaked out that German Jews were being deported to death camps. Although the Nazis of course spoke benignly of “evacuation,” insisting the moves were meant to protect the Jews, Jews knew better.

Based on my grandmother’s letters to my father, Mr. Hill either loaned or gave my father the money to transport his parents to the US. They had been preparing to move to the United States and had figured out a way to get there through Cuba. With Mr. Hill’s money and the funds he saved from his jobs, my grandparents were able to book passage. The only obstacle was new passports which they awaited from the Reich. It turned out that they were too late. The Nazis had decided that extinction would replace the initial plan to force Jews out of Germany by making their lives miserable. No new passports would be issued because no Jew was meant to leave Germany alive.

Mr. Hill’s generosity did not pay off because my grandparents were fact stripped of their assets and property and then sent to Trawniki in Poland in March, 1942. All we know for certain is that they died in the Holocaust. There are hints and speculation but no certainty beyond the fact of their deaths while in Nazi captivity. The post-war German state acknowledged its responsibility for their murders.

I’m sure my parents wanted to honor of Mr. Hill so, like him, I was given Dan as a name. This is also conjecture but I know that my parents considered Mr. Hill their savior and a godsend. I remember years later when they invited him for dinner to our house in Lincoln. My mother, a brilliant cook and hostess, was visibly and uncharacteristically nervous and my brother and I were ordered to keep our mouths shut and speak to Mr. Hill only when he asked us questions.

Mr. Hill was diminutive, even compared to my parents who barely breached 5 feet. He spoke with a strong Eastern European accent. He was also extremely well read, intellectually sophisticated, and perceptive. The correspondence collected by his granddaughter shows a lively mind and a passionate commitment to social justice. I particularly liked the fact that this unassuming man of means, a self-made millionaire if there ever was one, never failed to identify himself proudly as a junk man.

I found out later that Mr. Hill had run unsuccessfully for Congress as a socialist in 1932, a fact that surprised me. I later learned that he virtually forced his employees to form a union, telling them they shouldn’t trust the bosses (including himself), and he became an influential figure in the New Deal, pushing for a host of labor reforms including the 8-hour day, overtime pay, workmens’ compensation insurance and the like. Little wonder that the Omaha newspaper profiled him as “Lincoln’s Socialist-Capitalist.” My parents knew Mr. Hill to be a generous and caring man, a benefactor of many.

Mr. Hill suffered tragedy in his life. One of his grandsons, who had gone to Hollywood in hopes of an acting career, took his own life. A daughter, a gifted violinist, played for the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. She died young, apparently of natural causes, and Mr. and Mrs. Hill memorialized her by purchasing a very special violin for the orchestra. His generosity to the Jewish community was well known and much appreciated. My parents certainly knew Mr. Hill as a generous and caring man, a benefactor of many.

I got to know Mr. Hill’s grandson, Gary, who later took over Northwestern Metals. I knew him only in passing because he was ten years older than me. Ironically, I reconnected with him by accident in the early 1990s. I was walking down King David Street in Jerusalem on my way to a class when I passed a couple who seemed familiar. It took a moment before I processed the memory, turned to the man, and asked, very tentatively, “Gary?” We had a drink after my class and kept in touch. Gary was a replica of his grandfather, a man as deeply dedicated to social justice as to his business. A few years later, I had the pleasure of inviting Gary to Gainesville to speak to the kickoff event of our Jewish council where he talked movingly about his experience in helping set up “Operation Solomon,” the mass immigration of Ethiopian Jews to Israel in 1991

Whether or not I have the facts right doesn’t seem to matter all that much. I hope I’ve lived a life that honors the memory of Dan Hill, his grandson, and my grandfather.

With apologies to those who have seen this on my Facebook post:

In 1991, when I was teaching at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, I was walking to a lecture via King David Street. It was a beautiful evening and I was enjoying the sunshine, gentle breeze and temperate atmosphere. I passed a couple walking the other direction. Something about them rang a bell. I turned back to look at them at the same moment the man pivoted in my direction. “Gary?” I said very tentatively. “Ken?” he answered, equally hesitant. We both nodded. It was Gary and CeCe Hill, who I hadn’t seen in years.

What are the odds that two Jewish boys from Lincoln, Nebraska would run into each other in the middle of Jerusalem? We exchanged phone numbers and made plans to get together for coffee. I hadn’t known Gary all that well since he was around ten years older than me, a time span that matters when you’re young. But we did connect on the streets of Jerusalem.

Gary was a carbon copy of his grandfather, Dan Hill. That matters to me because I believe my middle name, Dan, was bestowed to honor the senior Mr. Hill. The founder of Northwestern Iron and Metal Company in Lincoln, Dan Hill brought my family to Lincoln. His willingness to attract Holocaust survivors to Lincoln accounted for almost our entire social network. Mr. Hill not only employed my father but gave him the money to buy ship tickets that would enable my grandparents to escape Germany. Even though it was too late to get them out, Dan Hill’s kindness and generosity was never forgotten by my parents.

I later learned about Gary’s fascinating work on the airlift of thousands of Ethiopian Jews to Israel. He told me later about his work trying to teach democratic values to prison guards in Eastern Europe after the fall of communism. I imagine that his commitment to social justice came from his grandfather who was, despite his wealth, a strong advocate for better working conditions. Dan Hill argued tirelessly for such progressive reforms as the eight-hour day, overtime pay, employee health insurance, workplace safety, government-funded pensions and other programs that became the basis for Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal.

Gary was justifiably proud of his grandfather’s legacy and honored it by his many charitable activities. When I look up mensch in a Yiddish-English dictionary, I wouldn’t be surprised to see Gary’s picture.

I knew something was wrong when I didn't receive Gary's Jewish New Year wishes for the first time in 38 years.  Gary's wishes always arrived early.  They were always original, always beautiful, full of humor and wisdom, and always contained messages of hope and peace to all peoples around the world.  That was his Judaism.  Wherever he was around the world on a Friday, he managed to find even the tiniest Jewish community to share Shabat with.  At the same time, he cared deeply for any of the people he met, and conveyed it with utter humility, simply.   His professionalism, dedication and knowledge were generous and profound.  Throughout all these years, whenever I reached out for advice, information, help in disseminating information, the answer was a simple yes, often with extra helpful suggestions.  In all these years, there might have been two occasions when he was unreachable or too busy to provide help on the spot.  In some ways, it is inconceivable that he is gone.  Perhaps because it is unimaginable to conceive of another like him - as a colleague, as a friend, and as a human being.  UNODC, all of us, are lucky to have had him in our lives.

Rest in peace, dear Gary - Thank you very much for everything you have done !

Wonderful generous man. He taught us all so much. 

I have known Gary from 1985 ( UN Milan Congress) and have witnessed his great efforts to enhance the role and presence of the civil society in UN crime prevention and criminal Justice fora. He taught us all about enthusiastic belief in UN values and a need to bring on board civil people and in particular the young ones. He was great person and great friend. I enjoyed all the time we spent together including on social occasions and friendly talks. I deeply cherish our friеndship and will cherish a memory of a great person/ Gary Hill.

When a person spends a lifetime contributing to the professional sector in ways that supersede what others have done, it is possible to not realize that the same individual also accomplished quiet things behind the scenes that also irreversibly made the world a better place.

So today in memory of my dear friend, Gary, I would like to point out some of his quieter contributions. Years ago, it was Gary who advised me to always keep change in my pocket. That way, if there was someone asking for tzedakah (monetary assistance) on the street, help could be given to some degree. He told me that whenever he traveled, he took rolls of quarters with him so he could do exactly that. He never walked by an individual in need with a closed hand and a closed pocket. He always walked by and stopped with an open heart an open pocket and an open hand.

As a result of his work in prisons, Gary understood the need for security especially at the synagogue. His work in that capacity went beyond the meetings, discussions, and his creation of a security handbook for the synagogue. He also quietly provided the first security system that the shul had. On Shabbatot and holidays Gary often stood at the back door to greet individuals. It was also his way of quietly screening individuals we didn’t know as they walked through the door. Years ago, there was one individual from the larger Lincoln community who for months seemed to be stalking me. Gary was quite aware of the content of that individual’s emails and pattern of trying to be alone with me, etc. On a Shabbat when there was to be a joyous aufruf at the synagogue, Gary quietly stood at the synagogue’s back door and met that individual who did happen to show up. Without embarrassing the individual, he asked the visitor questions to find out what he wanted. Recognizing that the individual had social and emotional needs, Gary provided him with his calling card and told him he would put him in touch with social service agencies that could help him. Although the individual never followed up on the offer, Gary did manage to show wisdom about security while still acting on his belief in doing tzedakah and acts of loving kindness.

Gary was a guardian angel to many who came to the U.S. as refugees and as new immigrants wanting to establish a life here. You might be aware that in order for an individual to immigrate to the U.S. there has to be proof that two individuals will act as sponsors for that person. When I told Gary that I was going to be a sponsor for my future son-in-law who wanted to join my daughter via a fiancee’s visa, Gary immediately said he wanted to be the second sponsor that was needed. He proceeded to fill out 12 pages of a form for the U.S. government that stated directly, that if a person is likely to become a public charge, the U.S. Government can consider the sponsor’s “ income and assets as available for the support of the intending immigrant.” In essence his quiet signature, made it possible for yet one more couple to reunite and for my son-in-law to eventually gain his U.S. citizenship. What was most amazing, was that Gary was not asked to do this, he came forward on his own accord knowing how important it was to my daughter. He said he never had any children and would like to do this for my daughter. It was a magnanimous but quiet action. He saw no reason to not do this since he had also sponsored many more immigrants quietly over the years.

Gary was also one to write notes to loved ones and friends to show that he was thinking of them. One such note was received by his friends and relatives in Israel in May 2021 when Hamas was sending rockets into Israel. It said,

“During these very difficult times in Israel, I am thinking of you and hope you, your family, friends and colleagues are safe. This is a week in Israel where Shavuot begins and Ramadan ends. It is my hope and prayer that the true spirit of both holidays replaces the hatred and fanaticism that currently infects some people and that peace prevails.” What was important about his gesture is that it was heartfelt and caring. It gave those of us who received it an opportunity to know that we were not forgotten.

Just as Gary often performed acts of loving-kindness without any public recognition for doing so, he also recognized that his life-long love, Cece, also did the same. Although she was involved in and accomplished in all forms of civic and Jewish organizational life, he recognized that she also supported him in all his public endeavors. As he said at her funeral, “She was the wind beneath my wings.” Their love was one for the books. They met as teenagers and adored one another throughout their lifetimes together. When Cece died, their family tradition of sponsoring large seders at their home also ceased…but anyone who ever had the honor of sitting at their table on Pesach knew what energy went into that evening with the creation of their own personally written and printed Haggadah.

Gary’s work in this very cemetery over the years was also done with no fanfare. Whether going out in all kinds of weather to stake a grave or helping with the mechanics of lowering a casket his services were always available if he was in town. He always reassured families that he would stay until the grave was closed completely before he would leave their loved one’s gravesite. He did this quietly, unassumingly, and with the knowledge that his presence would bring comfort to the mourner and show honor for the deceased.

These past several months have been very difficult for many of us because Gary chose to face the end of his life without the presence of or calls from friends and family. His actions were intentional and because he was an individual who respected others, his wishes were respected. I would like to acknowledge my thanks to Jane Peek, his neighbor, who did manage to visit him and share with him words of comfort during his time in Hospice.

Gary will indeed be missed, not only for his amazing contributions to the world through his work with the United Nations on Criminal Justice, but also for the quiet times that showed care and concern for those around him. He taught so many of us about tzedakah and living a life that reflected the values of social justice. He showed us that goodness does not need bright lights and a fanfare to make a difference.

Gary, lech b’shalom. Go in peace. May your soul be bound up in the bond of life and may we always know how blessed we were to have considered you as our friend. May your body know rest and your soul continue to soar.

Amen.

Talks on Mr. Shikita

Talks on Mr. SHIKITA

As Mr. SHIKITA's friends

Memorial Event for Mr. Minoru SHIKITA

I met Gary when I was Director of Treaty Affairs at UNODC and, like many others, I can say we became friends almost instantly.  He was a wonderful man, and a passionate advocate for criminal justice reform.  I have missed seeing him since I moved on from Vienna, but looked forward each year to corresponding at year's end, which always reminded me fondly of our annual gathering in Courmayeur, where Gary was, along with me, a charter member of the Betty Ford Roundtable at dinnertime.  His passing brings a tear to my eye, and his memory is, indeed, a blessing.  Godspeed, Gary

Opening Ceremony of the “Provincial Initiative for Training in Implementing the Penitentiary Regulations in Light of the Penitentiary Law”

I'm sure this makes us all quite sad! If we could contribute ¼ of what Gary contributed to the world of corrections, we would have contributed more than enough. Gary was unique. He knew the meaning of duty and he lived to make a difference. He was our exemplar of the caring, compassionate and incredibly dedicated and determined corrections professional. I am left with deep respect for the breadth and depth of his efforts … right till the very end. If anyone deserves to rest in peace after living a very consequential life, it is Gary. I will miss him. My condolences to his family, friends and all the thousands of other corrections professionals he touched all over the world.

ACPF trip in Nagoya

On the occasion of the UN Commission (CCPCJ) in Vienna in May 2015 just after Doha Crime Congress.Dr. Matti Joutsen asked him half-jokingly "Are you available for the next Crime Congress?" because he was 74 years old at that time. 　Nobody doubted that.Then Gary reacted "Japan is the host country and if you need me, I will!"Gary did excellent job as usual for the Kyoto Crime Congress in 2021.       Thanks millions! 

Expert meeting to start drafting the Bangkok Rules — with Gary Hill

ICPA Conference — with Gary Hill and Vongthep Arthakaivalvatee