Fred Drohsler passed away on August 21, 2024.

To read a eulogy prepared by David Korn AR'82, a beloved friend and classmate of Fred, please click here.

Shared by Registered Architect, David Korn of Seattle who could not be here today, about our beloved treasured Fred, who has known him since 1976, being close friends for 47 years as he said: 'Besides my wife, by far the best friend I ever had'. As we all know, he was so generous, strong, fun, could at oft times be blunt and at others quite funny and playful--and as though it need not be even said--immensely capable and super loyal.

Since he cannot be here, he humbly asks that you please accept that this effort cannot be just about Fred, but necessarily his relationship with Fred, that is to say, about who Fred was for him.

It is not meant to be self-centered, but at a passing glance on hearing might or could seem self-serving at times, but is simply rather to show the large sweep that was Fred's life across a broad swath: as a student of architecture, practitioner, friend, son, brother, helper, fisherman, gunman, collector, researcher, and advocate of the need for societal reform in view of climate change.

Please accept my apology, for it's one-off feel, as my wife and I have been overwhelmed with her medical condition and treatment, and other most extraordinarily difficult situations, and can ill afford yet more time to reread, rewrite, and polish much as wish I could, but shared as a once and done effort, in maybe stream of consciousness to some, rambling to others, and hopefully yet maybe to others, eye-opening to the size of Fred's concerns, activities, and efforts.

Fred was to me more family than anyone of my own, and sure he could have said the same of me. He was like a true brother to me. Despite his unfortunate death, he struggled with a long illness, leukemia as it were, for a long time and fought as long as he could, till he could not fight anymore, and now we can know that he is at peace, which he deserves.

He must be in some other world now, looking down upon some Greenland glacier, incredible Labradorian ocean fishing spot, or across vast infrared galaxies, seeing you all here today, and knowing that he was much loved and hopefully, better understood and hereby hopefully truly appreciated for who he truly was.

I cannot replace him. Nor could he, I. To name but a few touchstones, I met his mother, his brother, we had the same birth state--New Jersey, the same education, same teacher, same license, same employer back when, knew his former wife quite well, knew or worked with his coworkers, been to his house; in turn, he met my mother, my father, my sister, my brother, my guru or spiritual teacher, took me for my one surgery in my mid-twenties, took me to the airport to go live fantastically in a South Korean Zen Buddhist temple, picked me up seven months later as I came back, he came to see me in North Carolina later, then in also in Seattle, and unforgettably climbed to the edge of vast glaciers with me in the North Cascades out here.

Moreover, we spent fifteen years on the telephone, endlessly talking about troubles and angst with his deceased mother, his employer, his clients, his challenges, his dogs, and his brother. He cannot be replaced and memories came and went with him, that only he can fulfill. I will miss him, as you will, but his suffering is over now, so a certain peace reigns, as is fair.

To all who knew Fred, he was a truly great human being. A very good person. What is the saying, 'people are not perfect' and while this must certainly also be said of Fred--fondly called at times Fritz or Fritzer--of the good there was also VERY much of, and HOW very good it all was!

Besides being a fine man, and not to labor the point but well known to all who knew him, Fred was also very strong. He worked all his life, and never once faltered. He got up every day and worked. He never lapsed once. And he had complete integrity about time and money.

Some of us can tend to split or polarize others then alternately seem to be really liked and appreciated by some, then instead subject to conflicts or somehow find opposition to others.

But Fred was decidedly the other sort of person--he was someone who always got along with nearly everyone. Now and again, he could be blunt, or as he said himself even 'cruel' in his personal life as he put it, but it was extremely rare; but much to his credit, he was nevertheless markedly honest, 'bursting bubbles'. Assuredly not phony as they could say.

He was a great friend to many, and always had special friends, and many of them.

Fred was extraordinarily generous, with helping and freely when he was younger, and latter thoughtful in giving too. He always said, 'the person who is in the better position, should always pay', and cannot count all the meals he bought, and all the books and copied articles, that he mailed me to share his delight.

While at work, he would NOT use the photocopier, wisely explaining, to a slightly younger, hungrier me, and certainly less seasoned: 'You don't want to bill' X 'per hour, and have 'em feel that you owe them. It's smart not to'. He went to Kinkos for his administrative personal needs. Good architects are not cheap, and he wanted to unquestioned.

Please let us take a moment, to play another song if we may, that perfectly embodies the wonderfully memory, of our beloved friend. I defy anyone to watch and listen, to the video, and not cry. Tears. He is still here, now. It is stunning:  [https://youtu.be/YPKhOyM1gZ8?t=79&si=uXa_Cxd0aR8OJpYc]

Fred's parents left East Germany, in what I assume was, NOT quite as told to me, 'to escape the Nazis', but the aftermath. This is, we can construe, because he lived to be 71 and one half, putting him at 1953, years after the war.

Tragically, and still to this day, both rich and ample farmland was perforce left behind there, which still has an unsettled title, in a mire of perhaps millions of value, entangled in international law, awkward statutes and efforts at difficult translation, town council machinations, and all-round obstructions, all worsened, despite EVERY effort by Fred, to resolve it, all thwarted by his rift with his brother.

This now even includes, probably even signing off on a small inheritance to help some others, then notably rich generational farmland, all the brothers now, or should be or could be, it would appear.

This is sad, because anyone who knowing Fred knows, the countless trips to see him, bringing him food, money, clothing always giving. It just proved impossible, and to this day is maybe insoluble, without resolve from his brother or steering by motivated helpers, stuck in gridlock. Let it be added, as the perhaps wildcard, Fred clearly got his citizenship, while the brother clearly did not.

As Fred said, 'I speak good German, but like a ten-year-old'. The technical legal and business reading, proved to be impossible. He and his mom had at it, many a time, I have a clear memory of near emotional violence, yelling back and forth at length in guttural German, and scornful.

Ursula on the other hand, had bad English, but could get by, the archetypal image, of the immigrant mother, working low wages, long hours in home care, then come home and cook fresh, sumptuous food, for her boys, or any visitors, sleep four hours, maybe five, then do it again. A super strong woman.

I remember like yesterday seeing her carrying, four large grocery bags, from the corner food mart, two in each hand, indefatigable. One strong woman, built like a tank, she would squint, and make a face, and in a heavy German accent say, 'Let me tell you', railing against things that did not sit right with her of which, while she wasn't uncertain, 100% knew were wrong but could not change or grasp or act on.

Before telling more of his story, maybe known in bits to each or many of

you, please allow me to tell it, since he can no longer be here, to do so himself. I get ahead of myself and, moreover, the real bones of Fred's start, as first a student, apprentice, then Registered Architect, savvy manager, lead, then latter master, then resourceful grandmaster as it were.

I will never forget it, but I was still 17, so he must of been 23--to me at the time, a much older man than me--and smile to remember, exactly how Fred came down into the Cooper Union studio, with a complete chair in his hand which he had designed then fabricated in the shop upstairs, a kind of lean too, outdoor chair, fashioned aluminum tubing and a curved, molded basswood back. He was bouncing with glee.

Fred had a markedly remarkable ability to truly enjoy life as no other: good food, a painting, a German Shepherd or Chocolate Labrador Retriever, a tea kettle, a fly reel, embossed shotgun, all kinds of music, Lotto number theory, a glass of grape juice or a roadside roasted chicken, Formula One cars and drivers, a cute craftsman-style house, or photos of birds. He was a once in a lifetime phenomenon.

Before moving on to more of the rest of his story, to share a very specific and memorable tale well told and well remembered, right after he got married to Tery Ferraci, which ended six months later but whom he absolutely truly loved, and was remarkably good friends with till the day he died, loving her spark then and, as he said it, great eclectic brilliance, they were near Delphi, at Bovina Crossing, visiting off and on mentor and friend, the most unconventional Harmon Hathaway of, as he called it, The American Yoga Institute.

Fred had an easel, and all his watercolors, like a boyish young man at Christmas, totally delighted. He was gleefully enthralled. It's both worth remembering and telling, since this was the real Fred to a tee.

Forgive my otherwise strong if not detailed recollections, but slightly unsure of the exact structure, but nevertheless quite sure of the outcome, but Fred went right into second year, as it was called, dispensing with first. Uncertain but likely as it is, the reason why is absolutely not.

You see, Fred had spent years doing cabinets, for the at-the-time large retail chain Alexander's, well known to those in North Jersey and west of the South Hudson in New York State. An early version of Walmart or Target.

As he put it, 'I worked for' (was it?), 'Mike Polansky, who was the toughest person I ever worked for. He was brutal on me', demanding perfection, I assume, since 1/8" of an inch is a lot of error in the display world--try 1/16th, 32nd? 1/64th of an inch. We of course, as did he supremely, had to learn to draw to 1/96th, maybe 128th, but early on back then were limited by the effect of humidity on heavy drafting paper and drafting tape, then later on high-end mylar, taken to a super level back then in the 80's, and Fred was super razor-sharp at it. Bold lines, dashed lines, thin lines, all of it, like a drafting neurosurgeon. He showed us, and we followed.

So by the time he was getting whatever little could have been missing in his knowledge and experience, he was already quite an infantryman architect, as it were. Fred was a real craftsman. Not all, but many architects can draw well, which did not include him, but more than made up for in patent German precision, method, and disciplined straight line, razor-sharp rigor.

Our friendship grew over the years, especially early on, in a very natural way. Not to brag, but tell it as it is, not as meant to be becoming or unbecoming, while we both were architecture students, then of course, fellow Registered Architects later, I probably should have been an academic or professor instead, as Fred often said, and probably rightly so, as I read voluminous and systematically in those early years.

Please let me explain how this relates to how Fred and I cemented our friendship, on one very long ride, up the New York State freeway, explicating eight years of reading in one big sitting.

I read all kinds of philosophy, first Western, then esoteric Asian religion, ancient history, systems theory, anthropology, and so on. I tried to fortify myself, with heavy lifting, to stand up, as I saw it, to the hyper-intellectual milieu, much popular in the late seventies architectural scene, in my mind, bogus, shallow, and pretentious.

One day, I mentioned to Fred, the two-volume tome, by Austrian, Karl Popper, called 'The Open Society, and its Enemies', and Fred instantly RAN out and bought it. He thirsted, knowing something else was there, and he wanted to find it.

Truth be told, and not criticism, just fact, this was part of who he really was. He had to have things. Guns, books, fishing reels, and so on. He never got to read that book, nor do those watercolors, endlessly getting ready to get ready, and postponing living, but on the other hand, helping and doing for others endlessly. His employers, family, friends, and coworkers all gained, and in part, never Fred did, while nevertheless, getting to 'Do the best, for the best'. All too true.

I digress, but as all part of the story. We all have five or six peak experiences in a lifetime, and this was one for us. As he drove down the highway, Fred listened, as I took him through a detailed and structured narrative of the history of the world, from prehistoric, paleolithic, neolithic, classic, preindustrial, industrial. I explained to him, and he understood, in a way that was truly life-altering to him, how surplus agricultural production, resulted in the conversion of surplus food into elaborated and articulated culture, artifact, the division of labor, and technology.

Between us, for the next forty or more years, he referred to this as 'the theory of food'. Fred therein dove into economics, and later even organic soil composition and refinement, planting fruit trees, and as some of you know, other organics. It’s hard in this circumstance, to elaborate more, but it was life-altering.

He even read radical anthropologist, Marvin Harris, about the Ik [like, tic], an African society entirely built on lying and mistrust, then leading ultimately to starvation.

I was called one day by an old friend of his saying, "You got to talk to Fred. He was just at the dentist, and his blood pressure, was so high, they could not work on him, telling him you need to go to the ER right away. You are the only person he will listen to". He did not go. But he did quit smoking that very day. Oh my god. No more Marlboros forever in an instant.

Fred always did remarkable and special projects. Before he worked for CT Young and Associates, an office filled with LGBTQ staff, but of course Fred was not that, filled with endless drama and manipulations and machinations, where he for example did a media room, for the top New York telepresence firm Hubert Wilkie and Associates, before Skype or Zoom, or internet, where a camera would be in New York, and London, then have a meeting in two rooms electronically captured. Who to call? Call Fred, it was like bringing in the Navy Seals for architecture and interior design.

Some of us, were very good architects, with great skill and training. And I will not be falsely modest and not include myself there, but if you follow my point, some are average or above average, but not great to start, and willy nilly, become great. That was Fred.

He was to start, not even close to the most talented, but mark my words, after his forty years to my ten or so in practice, he did things few of us in the profession could ever dream of, let alone do.

And much as I rated myself, back then, and others agreed, and not to brag, but Fred truly went on to do far more than I ever could or did. Like a turtle crossing the great ocean, he had decades to the five, ten, or fifteen years of others, and kept learning and refining over not years, but decades. He was a master, an architect’s architect, that few of us could match.

Then when his or our teacher, famed world-class, theoretical Architect John Hejduk, pronounced Hay-duck for Dutch, needed his Devil's Chair to be ready to be built, not sure, but maybe for the Venice Biennale, Fred was brought in, to make it happen. Repeat. A special chair for THE devil. My god. Fred, what a life you all should know.

To give but a hint of how far back all this goes, I was with Fred when he was hunting for houses in Oneida County in, was it, 1981, driving with Harmon Hathaway of Delphi in his old Saab, to see a house he thought of, before sunset.

He always wanted to fly fish, but explained, that somehow, it just did not feel right any more, and somehow could not make it back to the river, in the right way. He did however, and note with humor, to those who know him, not ridicule, purchase many of the best reels, and collected flies, waders, saltwater reels, and so on.

His mother made the best Thanksgiving meal ever, and his uncle, who escaped the Nazis, recounted over dinner, how he left Germany, for France, only to be recaptured or

captured, only to come back to the exact same port he had disembarked from. Dinner remembered for forty years. How about that!

I always thought Fred's father had a complete nervous breakdown early on in the USA, but Fred in the last year corrected me, saying he did, but his father returned to Germany much later, never to be seen again maybe. English daunted him, and was ridiculed badly in the workplace, wanting out badly.

Wolfgang, that I know, even fifty years later, never had a single job in his life. Fred did however, invest with him, in all kinds of metalworking equipment, and machine tools, for an innovative engine, perhaps rotary, that Fred said, would 'put General Motors out of business'. The amount and size of it all was prodigious. Again, the theme of preparing to prepare. There was the undertone of the fantastic and the grandiose.

Later he designed or planned an innovative house, for a rooftop garden in collaboration with Karl here, with a mix of the fantastic, clever, grandiose, with plans to feed entire families, in a small rooftop garden with raised planting beds, greenhouses, and hydroponics.

In this case, Fred did act, and materially, making amazing composed soil, in a small area, at his house on Church Street, despite a small area. He must have bought three or four wood chippers, wearing them all out but using all of them. Deep, black, rich soil, his own Thomas Jefferson would be, urban farmer, as it is called.

Fred married Tery, as we called her, which lasted six months. There is never a hint of gossip or negativity. It just did not work out. There was really only one woman in his life, her, and despite an unwanted end, they went on as off-and-on good friends for years after, at times best friends, and said she was the brightest person he ever knew in his life, and wryly note bothered me to think, since he said the same of me. Ok, call it two. But he loved her.

Nick Agneta, Architect of New York, said, 'there were only two women in his life. Teri and his mother'. And 'as long as she is there, there will be no one else'. The mother was a great burden on him.

He was obsessed with a coworker Meg for many years, but surely did act on it, and maybe she either did not or does not know, but he was really stuck on this young architect or intern.

Some get to practice a profession for five years, and only by then, get to find a foothold. Fred did his craft, and with incredible skill and class, for the next forty years.

For example, he did a super luxury apartment on Fifth Avenue in 1982, that was so richly appointed, that instead of a $120 or $200 cost per square foot of raw construction, obviously including land, site work, footings and foundations, walls, roof, utilities, finishes, doors, and windows, soup to nuts as it were, this condo was $2,000 per square foot, for just finishes, no infrastructure.

It was by the way, for one of the two brothers, who were controversially in the news like Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, or what today would be Elon Musk-like level wealth, and I was with him, doing the drawings.

He measured the raw inside across a convoluted entire floor so accurately, that they found it to be within 1/8" of his measures. It all fit. Fred had just tape measures and back in the day, a pocket calculator. The contractor on the other hand, had lasers. Fred's work was found to be remarkably accurate, like the woman mathematician, who did the moon landing calculations, by hand. All panels fit like a glove.

My relationship with Fred was rich, and deep, and mostly free of conflicts, but it was by no means perfect. For example, when 9-11 happened, Fred was not only there, but standing at Cooper Union, fully in view of the second or both towers, was it, at the top of 'The Bowery", he "saw the building go down", live, in real-time. It was, as he said, "The worst thing I've ever seen".

I called and call him urgently all day, when he miraculously made it out of town, back in Mahwah before returning to Oneonta, for near good, when he said, "I am pretty upset at you", and I said, "now is not the time for this", and then we did not talk for nine years. Fred had few knockdown blowouts, but when he did, did he! He did have them and was capable of gigantic time outs.

So when I had made it through deep depression and catastrophic loss, learning many hard lessons, I called him up, and said: "if you want to yell and scream at me, for three hours, it’s OK. I will listen to it. But I am very sorry for my role, in what happened between us".

I was moreover his broker, at Morgan Stanley, and got him vast capital gains, but what mattered was not the fact of it, but his perception, and when my career sadly and ignominiously ended, he thought that I had harmed him, not so much generating losses, as losses of extraordinary gains as they are called, and as he put it, felt that I abandoned him, which I did not, hardly able to stand emotionally myself then, but as they say, all feelings were valid, and so it was.

So weeks later, we arranged to meet, at the well-known, Tic-Tock Diner on Route 3 NJ, not far from Clifton or Hackensack, was it. I walked in, and Fred was on his iPad, sitting there, calmly like the Cheshire Cat, and repeated all this, saying, "Fred, I am very sorry for what I did", and "if you want to yell at me, you can. But if there is such a thing in this life as a punishment in life, then I can assure you, I already had it."

And he said the most beautiful thing. Remember, I had not seen him in ten, nor his speaking to me once nine years, except to set up our meeting, and as plain as can be, the real Fred, said:

'That's fine. Sit down. How ya been?" That was that.

Other times, not so easy before he died. I had to fight, to keep our friendship, when He could be very unkind, or curt, and for example saying:

"Fred I love you. And always will. I listened to you for fifteen years, always listening, never cutting you short. Always there for you. And you said, 'I don't want to hear it', when I talked about xyz business startup issues for seven minutes".

Then "But I cannot be your friend if you ever do that to me again", and he would apologize sincerely. As my teacher Joy said, 'The one who stays and fights, is the one who loves'. So here. Fred needed occasional challenges, to keep a correct relationship and absent that I am mostly certain, would fail.

But before he died, I called Teri after emailing her, in Florida, telling her he was in hospice, his telling me two months before, 'I feel like I am at death's door", or "I am at death's door". He knew. The treatments ended.

To her VERY great credit, despite long married with a special needs son even, she swiftly flew up to see him, and was with him, at his side as he died. He called me, before the morphine took the near last of him, saying:

"David, thank you for what you have done for me", contacting Teri. Credit to tenacious retention of good records between us and caring, as did Pat with us here endlessly for years.

Pat and his deceased wife, took him in unselfishly, took him in, and took total care of him for years, as Fred slowly then swiftly declined, having to give his dog Lyla to the ever-able Karl.

Before all this, Fred read widely in economic theory, sustainability, and organic farming. He did not quite make it all the way, as he wished, as life gave out, around him, but got very far.

He always said, 'The problem with economics, is that everyone talks about benefits and productivity, but does not account properly for costs'.

He delved into, for example, Ludwig Von Miesse, and the Frankfort school of economics. Not bad for a guy who was doing department store cabinets, then in the service of owners of mansions and castles.

Later on, he became known, and quite visibly so, for taking it upon himself, to patrol the Oneonta village square, behind the library, picking up all the garbage for years, using tongs and was it, having a 5-gallon Home Depot barrel to get scraps of paper, plastic, I assume, cigarette butts. He never sought attention or approbation, but simply wanted to make it right, and found it to be good movement while taking care of The Commons, like a stakeholder.

He loved his dogs, and always had one. Hard for me to comment, as I was not physically there, but know it as you do.

A few asides, before closing. Randomly please: Fred loved to drive. He could drive a hundred miles, just to go out and have a deep think, "working

his" ____) "blank out", as he said. Often saying, "I wish instead I had taken the money, and invested in dividend-paying Exxon, instead, would have been better off".

He said, trips to Walmart, were like the movie Bladerunner, witness to ample decline in the average person.

By way of passing, Fred wryly always said, "I wish that we could sit on my front porch, on Adirondack chairs, and discuss the Greek Agamemnon tragedy, drinking port together".

Besides the big financer cheating Fred, as we will soon learn, he was not alone. An unnamed friend who offered to help him sell a rare, fine pipe he bought at an auction for a mere $300 dollars, sold it for $8,000, whereupon, when Fred asked, "where is my money?", was told 'you gave that to me".

A person, supposedly helping the estate and the brother. How about that one? This same person was heard saying to Fred, "You can buy me a car. You have the money". Now they prevent my contact with the brother, so they can maintain the illusion of control, for apparent self-gain.

But the story does not end. Every effort was made, to sell the land in Germany, who knows, for a million or two, forgive me, hard as I tried to intervene as an able administrator, was told by Fred to back off. Evidentially, I upset that same thief.

And now Fred is gone, and no one seems to know how to get ahold of the brother, or if he is in contact, get a truthful account of his preferences or capabilities.

The German-speaking lawyer is nowhere to be found. Millions can fall to the State of New York, and Fred would not want it to go asunder, as it will, as incompetently done now by someone in charge and with nuisance-level legal authority.

In passing, let me note, Fred was also a very early adopter of PIM systems, personal information management systems, in 1992, before there were even smartphones, Fred was using Daytimers, or small notebooks, you write, pend, record, or accomplish tasks, then little electronic devices doing the same.

He was brilliant and prescient, in catching onto all this, long before most even heard or had seen it. He was insistent to me, 'You got to do this'.

As the years went by, he did more work for this billionaire, actually, two brothers, heir to one of the largest private corporations in the USA, even spending one whole week, in a Bavarian Castle with a man we can call 'F', unnamed, with a butler and a big dining table with china and all the bells and whistles.

Telling me, 'It was THE worst week of my entire life', saying, F "threw a fit, saying that he could not accept anything less than totally boiling water, coming out of a powder room faucet, rather than 180 or 190 degrees, near boiling instead, for a house he would not even be at, for one week in a year. Worst week of my life'. Fred, what a life.

As some of you might not know, Fred was Project Architect, for a $50 million dollar house not far from the Florida Keys, the sort of island Tiger Woods, or Tom Brady, or Jeff Bezos would live at. This partner, ran a $500 billion dollar fund, this same partner, ran the European operation, for the single biggest, most powerful investment firm on earth, a copartner of former Treasury Secretary for President, George Bush, saying, "I never had a single losing day" trading, "in four years", that kind of money and power.

Of course, they screwed him, promising him $100,000, to stay on the job and see it through. As he, Fred said, "I should have gotten it in writing". Live and learn. But Fred did have enormous exposure, to worlds we but get to read about or hear of, and never participate in.

Fred even designed door hardware. The old German master craftsman, who understood things like, saying, "you know, in a BMW, they put the battery in the back, to balance out, the center of gravity".

He fashioned a moat, around the house, explaining to me, that he was ready, forgive me for not knowing the exact number, for a thirty-foot surge instead of twenty, anyone can look it up, but 100% true in principle, or twenty-foot instead of eight, whatever, and "when the major hurricane" XYZ "came, it was the only house around not damaged". Fred had watertight doors. But there is more.

Try being the wife of a major international financer, and spending $50 million on your dream house, then upon moving in, hearing a weird rattle endlessly in the HVAC system, heating, ventilation, and air conditioning? Like a luxury mattress with sand under the pad or rocks. No way.

So they HAD to hire an acoustician, to measure the sounds. But not just any Billy Bob, but the Engineer who did the acoustics for the Cincinnati Opera House, or concert hall, whatever. I saw it with my own eyes. Fred shared, diagrams of sign waves, like a blood test panel. Yes, Fred was, if not at the top, near the very top, you all should know.

I am 100% certain of his design, but uncertain of where--the Fifth Avenue condo he did for W, or for S, in Florida, but Fred designed glass, wall sconces, to cover lighting, part Art Deco, part Art Nouveau. He mailed me the blueprints, as if to say, 'How about that one!' Not one in a hundred architects attempt this, easy for him. 'I'll just have 'em made'.

Famed investor, well-known corporate raider Karl Ichan's wife, asked Fred's firm, that is to say, not CT Young, but of course Fred himself, to do "an IKEA kitchen for her". Fred explained, that she could have far better, easily. She said, "I understand. That's OK. I want it anyway. So Fred did.

Fred and I were tasked, for him to take a few hundred bucks, in 1983 to Crate and Barrel or similar near Columbus Circle, to buy a set of light folding chairs, and a table, and put them in a tall, super high-end, empty spired penthouse, so Charles his boss, the C of CT Young, could have a sit down with an early coronated famed Apple Steve Jobs, as to what he could do. Yes, Fred was on-prem, premises from A to Z. I saw it.

His tragedy, I must repeat again and again, was that he spent his whole life, GIVING it to other people, but could not give it to himself.

He gave to his mother, brother, friends, employer, coworkers, clients, teachers, his dogs, to auction houses and sellers. It came and it went, and he did not get to keep it, but witness it all.

His low-rent housing, or is it, rent-controlled apartment, in New York, Greenwich Village, Sixth Street or Second, I cannot recall, but a real gift that allowed him to do all this, leaving Oneonta, was it, at three am early Monday, drive to New York, work all day, then come back late Friday, year after year, so when they offered him, $100,000 or so, to vacate, he was able to try to invest in stocks, instead driving each night to Mahwah, or north Jersey, to save money, then dive to New York, parking on the upper west side on a large pier, instead.

That was for years, too, later on. I get tired just thinking of it, then flying to Florida each week, and eventually, just wore out. He, like his mother, was so strong, like a tank.

We love him. We miss him. We respect him. He did his time. Now Fred, rest in peace.