In 1975 just as I started my professional career I met a man named Jerry. Jerry was the most decent, gentle, affable, hard working, well rounded man I had ever met. He was also the most humble. He was a clerk for the company I worked for but there was something about him that made me always feel there was much more. I’d like to tell you what I learned over the next twenty years about a hero.
Jerry was very athletic. As a young man in the 1930’s Jerry was a gymnast. He had a powerful athletic frame and was very strong. Jerry had seen an article about Golden Gloves tryouts and had always been fascinated by the sport. He loved to listen to the fights on radio and occasionally would get to see one. Jerry was nineteen years old at the time and decided he would fill in an application and try out.
Jerry had never boxed. He practiced at the local gym, but his gym specialized in gymnastics. Jerry was an expert at the parallel bar and the pummel horse having good wind and was very strong. To learn how to take a punch he threw a medicine ball up at the ceiling and allowed it to come full force down on his chest. His reasoning was if he could take a punch, he was strong enough that if he got in one good punch, he would have a good chance against an opponent. With nothing more than his own training and his own ambition, Jerry went off to the Golden Gloves. He got past his first opponent, and then his next. Who was this kid and where did he come from? Jerry made the finals of the heavy weight division, an unheard of accomplishment for an untrained novice. The New York Times ran its typical story about the Golden Gloves and gave a rundown of the fights. The big story was the Heavyweight bout. The winner was announced, but the story was about the loser, the man with the heart of a lion who could not be put down. It was about the man, who obviously had no boxing skill, but had all the drive of any of the very best fighters. The man named Jerry! This man would never boast, but he did tell me that he refused to be knocked out. Losing was okay if he had to, but not being knocked out was all he thought about through his three rounds in the final bout. The entire Garden cheered the valor of the loser. Jerry didn’t tell me that; I had to read it in the New York Times. Jerry was too modest.
Jerry was also very unassuming. He was fond of hunting turtles and making turtle soup. Someone from a newspaper called and asked if Jerry would give him the recipe. Jerry invited him over. The next thing the poor chap from the paper knew, Jerry had him wading through the swamp where they found their quarry, brought it home, cleaned it and prepared it and made turtle soup. The paper ran the story and the recipe. Pictures of Jerry and the reporter were in the paper. The paper was the New York Times and the reporter was Craig Claiborne the New York Times food editor. They became lifelong friends and went out to eat together every year after that.
Jerry also enlisted in World War II. He was in Africa when Patton arrived. Patton would be his lifelong hero. Jerry was a private then and was part of the advanced reconnaissance team. He ended his career as a Sergeant in advanced reconnaissance marching into Berlin. The only stories he would ever tell about his war experiences were positive uplifting stories. One year, in France, he and two buddies stayed at the home of a very elderly and poor couple for Christmas Eve. The wife was blind.The couple had nothing! The GI’s shared their C rations with them . The husband said it was Christmas and they had a gift for them. Of course the young men said it wasn’t necessary. The old man said that while his wife was blind she could “see the future†and she would like to tell their fortunes. One friend's fortune was unremarkable, he would survive, go home, get married and be happy. The other, however was more interesting. She told him he too would survive, he was married, and would make it but they would have tough times. She also told him he had three children. At this he said, "Ha I only have two.". She said no, you have three, two are in the East at home, and one is in the South. They had been heading north for some years now. She then turned to Jerry. She said he would survive, he left a girl at home and don’t worry she will marry you. You will never be rich but you will have a daughter and you will be very happy. Jerry married that girl; they shared over 50 years together and had a wonderful daughter. Jerry said he never found out about his friend and the third child; he said his friend never tried to find out either.
The most remarkable story I have for you though is one that occurred some forty eight years after the war was over. Jerry went out for lunch. He came back late and apologized. That is the way he was. Almost fifty years an employee and apologizing for being ten minutes late. Than he started to tell me what happened which was very uncharacteristic of this modest man. He had stopped a local Shop Rite and was waiting to be checked out. A lady was in front of him and she spoke to the cashier with a very distinct German accent. Jerry asked where she was from and she told him, but said she hadn’t been there since shortly after the war was over. She had left Germany with her family and came to the United States. He asked where she was from. Jerry told her he had been in her town too but only during the war. She said she was Jewish and that during the war she and her family were secreted in a basement of a hotel by friends who helped them through the war. They owed their lives to them. She continued to talk without prodding. She talked about being in the basement day after day waiting for food or information and fearing being found. But every day their benefactors were there. Than one day there was a great commotion upstairs. There had been many days of shelling and gunfire. They heard the furniture being moved away from the wall and the door to the passage was opened. She said she was at the bottom of the stairs and everyone else happened to be behind her waiting. Then, to their great fear, a gun and then a soldier appeared through the door and faced them, gun pointed. She said it was an American soldier and we all wept as we realized we were saved. As she looked up at Jerry at the counter, he said, “that was meâ€.48 years after freeing a town in Germany he met a woman who had been a girl at the bottom of the steps of a hotel they liberated and was so happy to have had the chance. Jerry was very embarrassed as he told the story.
Jerry was a good friend. One of many people I think about when I think about this great country and the people who made it so. There are so many stories of great heroes. This is just part of the story of a truly great and genuinely humble man. One of the heroes we should remember every time we march in a parade or see a flag fly or wonder what is important about our country.
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