1960`s......i`m
being driven in my father`s car, in montreal,
listening to
the news.....which in those days ended with a jokey story to lighten the
mood.......it seems on graduation day at univ. penn. ( wharton`s business
school) cops burst into grad`s room to find walls papered in unpaid parking and
driving tickets...jim`s first 15 mins. of fame......there we`re apparently no
big deal consequences.....and jim was after all driving an avanti..........the
next car that he showed up in (in montreal) was a morgan plus 4 (wood chassis
with the leather belt holding the hood-----cool) .....with a
story......arriving in N.Y. city jim stopped his brand new (a latest model) 427
corvette to tidy up interior (beer cans) : pulling out stuff (suitcase
etc.) onto the sidewalk.......when he turns back....sees his suitcase taking
off ...he gives chase....and yes.....when he gets back,car`s gone.....and
insurance gets him the morgan.....in those days all jim`s stuff fit into a
car........wasn`t life a blast in the good old days!
Stephen
Lebovitz
We met when he was 18 and I was 16. He had just
graduated from boarding school in Florida. He came home to St.
Louis to spend the summer with Aunt Pearl and Uncle Arnold before going off to
Penn in the fall. Steve took me to his house and we became best friends.
The three of us used to sneak out of our houses in the middle of the night and roam around St.Louis. We also liked to climb in each others’ windows and laugh. One night in your Dad’s room there was a knock on the door - Steve and I ran to the closet - Aunt Pearl opened the door and said, “Oh, it’s just you, Patti.”
Since we were climbing in each others’ windows, your Dad thought it would be a good idea to climb in my window. Easy to sneak into your Dad’s on the first floor, but my room was on the third floor. Somehow your Dad got a ladder and began the climb. When he was by the second story, my grandmother woke up, saw his silhouette in the window, and started screaming. God, it was funny.
Though there were times over the years when we weren’t close, I always knew where he was. And when we would talk on the phone it was like we had never been apart.
When he was at military school he wrote in the yearbook by his picture, “to Jim, the best cadet I have ever seen or ever hope to see” and signed the name of the commandant (or whoever the head guy was). Of course he lost the yearbook and it made its way to the commandant’s office. I know he got into a lot of trouble for that.
He claimed he started ‘BFD’, flicking hi wrist and fingers to brush off the flies from the potato salad, and invented ‘DKDC’ but nobody knew what that was.
When he told me he was teaching at Goizueta, I said, “As in I’ll wear the Goy Sweatah and you’ll wear the Jew Sweatah?” And he said, “I shoulda thought of that.”
In the early 2000s he was invited to a symposium in Helsinki. He told me if I paid my way over there he would let me stay in his room. Since I had never been to Finland I jumped at the chance. It was an unforgettable trip. Also it was the only time I ever heard him lecturing to students, I thought he was a wonderful teacher.
About 20 years ago we were at a party. I was working for Edward Jones at the time in the research department. Since I didn’t know a lot about the stock market, I asked your Dad about the reverse split that AT&T had and if he thought they would ever come back to blue chip status. I asked if he knew of any research into reverse splits. He ended up writing the paper on them, and even thanked me in the credits!
These are just a few things about him that make me smile. I know he was very proud of you and loved you more than anything. I miss him, I miss him.
The three of us used to sneak out of our houses in the middle of the night and roam around St.Louis. We also liked to climb in each others’ windows and laugh. One night in your Dad’s room there was a knock on the door - Steve and I ran to the closet - Aunt Pearl opened the door and said, “Oh, it’s just you, Patti.”
Since we were climbing in each others’ windows, your Dad thought it would be a good idea to climb in my window. Easy to sneak into your Dad’s on the first floor, but my room was on the third floor. Somehow your Dad got a ladder and began the climb. When he was by the second story, my grandmother woke up, saw his silhouette in the window, and started screaming. God, it was funny.
Though there were times over the years when we weren’t close, I always knew where he was. And when we would talk on the phone it was like we had never been apart.
When he was at military school he wrote in the yearbook by his picture, “to Jim, the best cadet I have ever seen or ever hope to see” and signed the name of the commandant (or whoever the head guy was). Of course he lost the yearbook and it made its way to the commandant’s office. I know he got into a lot of trouble for that.
He claimed he started ‘BFD’, flicking hi wrist and fingers to brush off the flies from the potato salad, and invented ‘DKDC’ but nobody knew what that was.
When he told me he was teaching at Goizueta, I said, “As in I’ll wear the Goy Sweatah and you’ll wear the Jew Sweatah?” And he said, “I shoulda thought of that.”
In the early 2000s he was invited to a symposium in Helsinki. He told me if I paid my way over there he would let me stay in his room. Since I had never been to Finland I jumped at the chance. It was an unforgettable trip. Also it was the only time I ever heard him lecturing to students, I thought he was a wonderful teacher.
About 20 years ago we were at a party. I was working for Edward Jones at the time in the research department. Since I didn’t know a lot about the stock market, I asked your Dad about the reverse split that AT&T had and if he thought they would ever come back to blue chip status. I asked if he knew of any research into reverse splits. He ended up writing the paper on them, and even thanked me in the credits!
These are just a few things about him that make me smile. I know he was very proud of you and loved you more than anything. I miss him, I miss him.
Patti Elliot
I can honestly say that there was no one like Jim
Rosenfeld. He was a one of a kind guy who was like a brother to me. He always
called me "Sister Sue”. Our relationship began years ago when he was a
childhood friend of my brother, Steve. In fact, Jim lived in my family's
basement off and on during his young years. During that time, he tried to help
me in the dating game by secretly reading letters I received from
boys
I was dating. After he read them, he would mark them up and say, " get rid
of ‘so and so’
because he is a terrible
writer and doesn't measure up.... or he would say this guy is a keeper.”
As it
turns out, he was grading papers even back then, and, maybe in doing so, he
kept me from going out with the wrong person.
Jim and I were in touch quite a
bit over the past 10 years, and especially after he bought a condo in Florida,
not far from where I live. It was always good to see him, and we would get
together for a lunch or dinner whenever he was in town. I really enjoyed his
company and the company of his son Scott, who was often with him. We spoke on
the phone when he was at his home in Atlanta, and he generously offered me good
advice regarding money matters with his depth of knowledge in corporate finance and related fields.
Jim was a
truly unique individual who operated in his own orbit. Handsome, athletic,
smart, and fun loving. The ultimate absent-minded professor, and what he may
have lacked in tact and common sense from time to time, he more than made up
for with his boyish good looks, intellect, sharp wit, and great sense of humor.
A scholar and a screwball all wrapped up in one complex and joyous personality.
Because of the way he navigated through life, he had many observations and
stories to tell, and as great raconteur, his stories were enormously well told
given his enthusiastic and alive facial expressions, bellowing voice and unique
choices of descriptive words and expressions.
He simply
was fun to know and behold, and I will miss him along with all the others who
knew, enjoyed, and loved him.
Rest in peace, Jimbo. We all love you so.
Sue Smith
My heart is
heavy with this news. I loved your Dad, and our hallways will be lonely
without him. Of course, we'll let our Goizueta family know. Please
know that we all share in your loss. I had a conversation with him not
long ago, in which he told me what a wonderful support you have been to him.
Kristy L. Towry
Vice Dean for Faculty and Research
John and Lucy Cook Chair and Professor of Accounting
Vice Dean for Faculty and Research
John and Lucy Cook Chair and Professor of Accounting
My dad loved Jim in a special, distinctive way,
something I saw up close whenever visiting in Atlanta and seeing them trot off
arm-in-arm to tennis, for discussion of their work, or on behalf of the school
about which they cared so much. When my dad died, Jim was a great comfort
to our family, most especially to my mother, Alice.
Last evening I conveyed the sad news of Jim's passing
to my mom, who gasped in dismay and then fell into a deep revery about the
special place occupied by Jim in her and dad's heart. I think she saw in
Jim the same youthful, optimistic generosity that we all prized in dad,
and was especially grateful to Jim for helping dad sustain that disposition
over time.
Likewise, I'm very thankful to you, Benn, for
continuing the lunches that meant so much to my dad; much as he prized
outstanding scholarship, it was the intellectual life of the
academy, the energetic, honest, supportive exchange of ideas, that he lived
for. You clearly dwell within and are lifting up that spirit, which
likewise was such an elemental feature of Jim's identity.
Yours,
Kim Benston
I am
floored - devastated - by this news horrible news. I truly can imagine how you
are feeling yourself.
I have been asking Benn Konsynski and other Emory pals about your dad a lot these past few weeks because he'd not responded to a flood of invitations we'd be sending him the past few years. Had he been suffering long.
You dad, as you know so well, was a wonderful loyal, generous friend always there 24/7 - in addition to being a brilliant scholar and devoted teacher. It is shocking when you tell me he, Joe Biden, and Bernie Sanders are the same age. He had such boyish charm with his sense of adventure, mirth, and independence that I think of him as forever being a 17 year-old boy in the body of 30 year-old. I've never been an enthusiast of "growing up" myself but he had a way of almost making me feel middle-aged in my own youth. I cannot think of my nine years in Atlanta without thinking of him in faculty issues at school and his creative research projects but really in hijinks around greater Atlanta after-hours from hundreds of meals to the Steeplechase, Blind Willy's bar bands, parties, workouts (he was so wonderfully health conscious), our conferences, my recovery from Emory injustice etc.
Yes, he suffered profound injustices in life yet was so resilient, practical, and appreciative - instead of harboring the anger and suffering from the depression which may have hit others. He has such a playful, upbeat personality. Of course his greatest source of pride and joy was YOU! He was in awe of you and loved you so much. I cannot think of a single outing where he did not talk about ("my kid") is adoring terms. All of my friends and even my mom and my wife Clarky who came to know him before we moved - saw that love he had for you instantly, You were always so good to him in return despite all the complexities of modern life. You were a great son to him.
There is never a good time for such a loss - but the holiday season elevates emotions dramatically as this period seems to define the beginning and ends of life's calendar. Despite, his unconventional style, he was surely a key anchor in your life that you've defined so much around him. His character was pure, honest, sweet, and generous. Please don't feel emptiness by the absence of his physical presence as his spirit will always be with you - in that he lives with all of us. There has been no one like him in any of our lives - and we are so grateful for that precious time.
I look forward to seeing you and saying this person at the service in January.
With sympathy, sadness, and appreciation,
Jeff Sonnenfeld
I have been asking Benn Konsynski and other Emory pals about your dad a lot these past few weeks because he'd not responded to a flood of invitations we'd be sending him the past few years. Had he been suffering long.
You dad, as you know so well, was a wonderful loyal, generous friend always there 24/7 - in addition to being a brilliant scholar and devoted teacher. It is shocking when you tell me he, Joe Biden, and Bernie Sanders are the same age. He had such boyish charm with his sense of adventure, mirth, and independence that I think of him as forever being a 17 year-old boy in the body of 30 year-old. I've never been an enthusiast of "growing up" myself but he had a way of almost making me feel middle-aged in my own youth. I cannot think of my nine years in Atlanta without thinking of him in faculty issues at school and his creative research projects but really in hijinks around greater Atlanta after-hours from hundreds of meals to the Steeplechase, Blind Willy's bar bands, parties, workouts (he was so wonderfully health conscious), our conferences, my recovery from Emory injustice etc.
Yes, he suffered profound injustices in life yet was so resilient, practical, and appreciative - instead of harboring the anger and suffering from the depression which may have hit others. He has such a playful, upbeat personality. Of course his greatest source of pride and joy was YOU! He was in awe of you and loved you so much. I cannot think of a single outing where he did not talk about ("my kid") is adoring terms. All of my friends and even my mom and my wife Clarky who came to know him before we moved - saw that love he had for you instantly, You were always so good to him in return despite all the complexities of modern life. You were a great son to him.
There is never a good time for such a loss - but the holiday season elevates emotions dramatically as this period seems to define the beginning and ends of life's calendar. Despite, his unconventional style, he was surely a key anchor in your life that you've defined so much around him. His character was pure, honest, sweet, and generous. Please don't feel emptiness by the absence of his physical presence as his spirit will always be with you - in that he lives with all of us. There has been no one like him in any of our lives - and we are so grateful for that precious time.
I look forward to seeing you and saying this person at the service in January.
With sympathy, sadness, and appreciation,
Jeff Sonnenfeld
The comments of
Jeff and Jag echo the shock in his passing and the honor with which we held
your father. He demonstrated courage when he was more vulnerable than
most. He was a true friend to George Benston, who did not suffer
fools. He maintained his health and sports that served him well. He
served the school and his Finance colleagues in his area leadership. He
was a Friend for many of us for three decades.
One thing I
admired most was his honoring the production of the anthology of work by his
honored friend - George Benston. Two whole volumes were the product of
that effort and a wonderful tribute by a friend and colleague. My continued
support of the Benston Lunches is maintained and cemented by the honor
reflected Jim's production of that anthology. George would have been
proud of him as well. My commitment was ossified when Jim displayed the
fruits of that labor.
I always found
Jim to be a great colleague and friend who was always willing to listen and
offer fair counsel. A true gentleman.
One could also
admire his taste in cars as well.
Best to you and
your family.
We hold and
honor the many memories we have of him.
Benn Konsynski
We have lost a
great colleague and a good friend. Jim was one of the first one to greet
me when I joined Goizueta Business School in 1991.All of us were also good
friends of George Benston whom your father adored and edited two volumes of His
writings as a tribute to him.
Jeff has beautifully expressed the high regard and affection we all have about Jim.
Please accept our condolences and and prayers for his soul.
Jeff has beautifully expressed the high regard and affection we all have about Jim.
Please accept our condolences and and prayers for his soul.
Professor
Jagdish Sheth
Emory University
Emory University
I was a student of your father and as an "older" full time MBA
(fleeing a prior career in law) was able to have a friendship after graduation.
I stayed at the house a couple of times. He was indeed young in that I saw him
as an older mentor (I am 60) but not 18 years older.
I had been out of touch in later years, after I had moved to the west
coast and married, etc. I have the fondest memories of him. We've smoked
a joint together.
Warmly, Michael Feder
My dad is also
78 years old, but Jim always seemed so much younger than my parents, both
physically and mentally. I've spent hundreds of hours with your dad over the
last 20 years and I feel like he is part of the fabric of this place. He'll be
greatly missed.
I also want to highlight how much he loved you. One of the last conversations I can remember having with him was when he showed me a photo of the painting he had made from your Zelda Fitzgerald shoot. Jim would often talk of your exploits, and there was always a strong undercurrent of pride.
I also want to highlight how much he loved you. One of the last conversations I can remember having with him was when he showed me a photo of the painting he had made from your Zelda Fitzgerald shoot. Jim would often talk of your exploits, and there was always a strong undercurrent of pride.
Sincerely,
Clifton Green
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