A Man of Many Words: Friends Honor Schwartz With Stories of Humor, Integrity

This article by Geeta Sharma Jensen originally appeared in the June 12 edition of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.

It was just the kind of evening A. David Schwartz would have relished.

The line stretched from the front door past bookshelves marked Finance and Investment; past The Story of a Seagull and the Cat Who Taught Her to Fly balanced on a shelf of children's books; past the rack of Puppetos toys; past the room-size display of a scene from the perennial bedtime book, Goodnight Moon; past books on psychology; and looped toward the front of the bookstore where television screens flashed pictures from his life.

More than 500 people crowded the Harry W. Schwartz bookstore in Shorewood on Friday evening to remember Schwartz, who died Monday of lung cancer at age 65. During a three-and-a-half-hour visitation and memorial service among the book stacks, they wept, laughed, sipped sherry or apple juice, and told stories of a man who believed a book had an "ethical center" and who, over three decades, tenaciously built his small family business into a four-store Milwaukee institution.

Again and again, friends and colleagues described Schwartz as thoughtful, opinionated, honest about his beliefs and an advocate for community. Mostly, they remembered the zest with which he lived his life, the gourmet meals he cooked, the ideas and books he threw their way, and the friendship and love he showed them.

"We knew him for 30 happy years," said Julie Carpenter as she stood in line with her husband, John. "He was an extraordinary person -- head and shoulders above the rest in his ability to be honest about his beliefs and to advocate for them. He wasn't a namby-pamby, wishy-washy person, and at the same time he was very thoughtful."

The Carpenters were in Italy with Schwartz and his wife, Carol Grossmeyer, just a few weeks before Schwartz died. John Carpenter said he enjoyed traveling with Schwartz and his wife because they would buy fresh ingredients in local markets and cook them wonderful meals. "David was never boring -- ever," he said.

Friends joked about his liberal politics and his secular ways.

A friend from his college days wrote that had David known that "he'd be memorialized the same days as Ronald Reagan was, he might have hung on a bit longer."

Fred Kessler, a retired judge and former legislator, who was master of ceremonies, cracked, "I'm sort of pleased to say today that the federal government is closed. And the New York Stock Exchange is closed, and I know David would have liked that."

Avin Domnitz, head of the American Booksellers Association and Schwartz's former business partner, strode up to a small makeshift podium and began his eulogy with, "David considered the bookshop a holy place -- though he did not like the word 'holy' very much."

Domnitz, one of about 60 people from the publishing industry at the memorial, went on to say: "I owe everything in my professional life to David Schwartz. I wouldn't be fighting the battles I fight every day if it wasn't for David."

In line earlier, Domnitz reminded people that the book industry needs "to take note of giants like David" who have spoken for free expression and building a community, so that "what meant everything to David wouldn't vanish."

John Eklund, a sales representative for Harvard University Press, remembered the days when Schwartz hired him to manage his store downtown and then later on Downer Ave.

Trying to explain Schwartz's outspokenness, Eklund read from a piece Schwartz had written in a 1978 newsletter recommendation to readers:

"Amidst the huge collection of trivia and nonsense promoted this winter by publishers have been some noted disasters, reflecting well upon the taste and intelligence of the three percent of the population that buys America's books."

Eklund's story drew laughter and nods from Schwartz's daughter, Rebecca, and other members of his family in the front row.

As the evening drew to a close, Mary McCarthy, vice president of the Schwartz stores, told the audience about her last conversation with Schwartz, just days before he died. "We were talking about how great a glass of water tastes," she said.

Minutes later, the crowd began trickling out into the drizzling rain.

To read the Memorial Listing for Schwartz, which appeared in the Friday, June 11, edition of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, click here.