Bob O. Berger

The Lawrenceville Alumni Association announced that Bob Berger, '70 passed away on March 4th. He was a friend of mine, quite a character, honest, direct, an athlete and a scholar and an iconoclast. He shared a room at Upper with others where I used to hang out with his acquiescence (leave my books, etc.) because I was off-campus in the Belknap House my senior year and Upper Home was right on the Circle.

I first noticed Bob in Spanish class where he was new to the school as a sophomore, hailing from Cleveland. We didn't have a whole lot of rough and tumble Ohio guys at this New Jersey prep school. The Spanish 2 class was was droning on about the round table when Bob suddenly broke out his comb, like a modern day Kookie from 77 Sunset Strip, and just stated combing his longish jet black hair using both hands to get the forehead back sweep right.  Mr. Walker let him have it in Spanish while the rest of us boys snickered at this uncouth display of manners, not really comprehending everything the teacher was saying but getting it's import, but it didn't bother Bob a bit and he just stared at the Master as he was berated loudly (I liked Mr. Walker, as I think Bob came to, that was just Mr. Walker's acerbic, loud style). Mr. Walker made us all aware that Bob's middle name began with O, which spelled out Bob O. Berger, or Bob, which Mr. Walker often emphasized about Bob in his inimitable way, but it never seemed to bother Bob in the least. Bob's first name was actually Robert, but he was no Rob or Robert, he was Bob, or rather Bob Berger, always.

I remember watching Bob from the stands on the football field, a tough competitor who delivered hard hits that belied his smaller size compared to the older PG athletes surrounding him.

I have a mental image to this day of the chaos that typically surrounded him which didn't bother him a bit, it kind of signified him. I was sitting in his room during a break (he was at class I guess) surveying the hurricane aftermath disorder of articles strewn about his floor, clothes, books, papers, wrappers, when I noticed a bare spot on the floor, free of clutter. In the middle of it was one shoe, upright, Bob's shoe. It was easy to spot as his shoe because Bob always wore pointy black shoes with white socks, quite contrary to the prevailing style on campus of Bass Weejun loafers with dark, or no, socks. Bob was not a penny loafer guy.  Nowhere in sight was the refugee shoe's mate. To me that was Bob, maybe he was in class with only one shoe on for all I knew, that wouldn't have surprised me one bit. Bob always made do.

 He came home with me to Staten Island one weekend in the last spring term because he wanted to go to law school and he knew my dad was a lawyer. He meant to chat him up about it and get his advice. I still remember him catching my dad in our kitchen after dinner and saying, "Sir, I want to go to law school and I wanted your opinion." As any good lawyer would, my dad tried to dissuade him but Bob went to law school anyway after he finished his undergraduate studies at Harvard. At least we had a good time that weekend crawling around Stapleton (Bob had a license, which I didn't have yet, so my dad let him borrow his car) before we headed back to Port Authority on Sunday afternoon to return to school on the bus in time for Sunday night check-in. I don't remember if we were even had permission to officially leave campus that weekend.

When I was considering going to law school myself in the late 80s after spending almost a decade as a peace officer, I sought Bob's advice as I knew he was already established in a practice in Boston. His advice to me was about as short and sweet and to the point as my dad's was to him a decade and a half earlier. He wasn't encouraging of it, telling me that I would have to read a hundred pages a night every night just to keep up. Bob believed that life was a battle, always. He didn't dissuade me, just as my dad didn't dissuade him, and that's why I always thought we were a little bit alike. 

We kept in touch for several years after we graduated, but Lawrentians were from all over and most connections went silent after many years. I should be getting ready to go to England and France tomorrow but instead I sit here at the keyboard saddened, thinking about my friend Bob. This brash character had the ability to become  friends with extremely different types of people, he was incongruous in that regard. Bob was a great guy, an original. I already miss him even though I hadn't spoken to him in decades. That doesn't mean I didn't occasionally think of him during those decades, unbidden.