DECEMBER 23, 2020 – Yesterday I was hard at work, fielding incoming email, firing off out-going messages; reviewing this document, revising that one; hitting a new snag here, devising a solution over there.
Suddenly . . . ping . . . an email from my friend and piano collaborator, Sally Scoggin. We’d last rehearsed in April—20 feet apart—with little contact since. I scrolled quickly through a chain of email among friends and former colleagues at my old law firm.
All of the tasks before me, all the business and busyness of the day, came to a screeching halt. Jerry Rotman, the gentleman lawyer in our lives, the man who loved people, his community, the law, music . . . had passed into eternity.
Although our time at Briggs & Morgan overlapped by a couple of years, Jerry’s corporate practice never intersected with my banking/real estate practice. We became well-acquainted, however, and shared common interests and outlooks. I also knew him by reputation among colleagues inside and outside the firm, and his standing, both professional and personal, was sterling among people who themselves I held in the highest regard.
When Sally, a long-time law partner of Jerry’s, and I started what turned into a decade of annual house concerts, Jerry and his beloved wife, Lou, who died a year or so ago, were on our invitation list. They became loyal fans through all those years.
Sally’s (forwarded) email told a person much about Jerry. She wrote:
[Jerry] inspired me and encouraged me in both [music and providing pro bono legal services] — first to follow him on the [Legal Services Advisory Committee] board which I did and loved for many years. He also came to every one of the recitals Eric and I did, and we had many discussions about music over the years. I will never forget the moment at our house, after we finished playing John Williams’ theme from Schindler’s List, when Jerry stood, tears in his eyes and hand on his heart. Music and kindness moved him. He was a deeply committed renaissance man, and I will so miss his presence in the world.
Shortly after Sally’s email stopped time, I received a call from Bill Lapp, another lawyer with whom I’d been out of touch for all too long.
In our first encounter decades ago, Bill and I had tangled. He was a zealous advocate—as was I. But in the process of our opposing advocacy, we became friends and have remained so. Bill and his wife also became loyal fans of the annual house concerts.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard,” said Bill, “but Jerry Rotman died.”
“Yes, Sally Scoggin just informed me,” I said. “That’s so sad. Jerry was such a gentleman.”
“He was a mensch . . .” said Bill. “You know what a mensch is, Eric?”
“I know, Bill,” I said. “And you’re absolutely right. He was.”
Because he was, Jerry Rotman will be sorely missed. May his example inspire all of us who were touched by his kindness, generosity, curiosity, intelligence, and excellence.
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© 2020 by Eric Nilsson
