From Cambridge to the Tetons

By Bob Deutsch  

           I met Steve at law school around 1970.  He was a resident of the famous lodging known as Campbell Park in gritty Somerville, Massachusetts.  Handsome and very articulate, to me, he was the consummate ladies man, 60’s-in-Cambridge style with a Citroen.  My wife Carol and I joined the Campbell Park gang: Sam, Jeannie, Julie, and a revolving door of other roommates.  We were the only married couple, and drove an Oldsmobile.  We cooked exotic meals like calamari in the 1950’s kitchen of Campbell Park, and always found a reason not to go to Passim’s Coffee House.  They were our cool friends, and together we enjoyed numerous adventures and outings. 

           One night Steve organized a trip to the Orson Wells Theater for a midnight showing of “Night of the Living Dead”.  After the film, which was not totally a satire at that point, we walked home around 2AM to a friend’s apartment.  Carol sat near an open window, decompressing from the horror film.  Steve sneaked outside and grabbed her through the window, like one of the Zombies.  (Steve, is “Zombies” capitalized?)  Carol screamed her blood-curdling scream, usually reserved for close driving calls on Mass Ave.  Fortunately, the police were not called, but Carol has refused to see any other zombie movies.

           In 1972, Steve, Sam, Eric, Treb, and I travelled to Miami for the Democratic Party Convention, to express our opposition to President Nixon and the Vietnam War.   We invented our own form of Gonzo journalism a la Hunter Thompson.  Steve brought all the TV’s into the living room so we wouldn’t miss anything.  We accidentally left raw fish in the refrigerator of my parents’ house, which they discovered several weeks later, to my chagrin.

          Over the years, we kept in sporadic touch until Steve married the lovely Jackie.  Carol and I flew to California for the wedding, and were very happy that Steve had found such a charming companion.  In our house, there is only room for one lawyer, but Steve and Jackie found a way to make it work, through adversity and success.   I visited Oakland shortly after the fire which stopped at their doorstep.  We re-united at “Big Chill” weekends, including a “memorable” one we hosted in Asheville, NC, our home.

          To me, the fondest memory is the backpacking trip Steve organized for Sam, Mark, and me, in Jackson, Wyoming.  I was so impressed (and touched) with the way he sent emails to us for months before the trip about what gear to bring, how to get in shape for the strenuous trek through the Gros Ventre Wilderness, and informing us of the logistical details.  He really wanted us to have a great time, and to be safe and comfortable.  In the photograph, Steve looks so happy and relaxed.  I always want to remember him like that. 

          On the backpack trip, we all did have a great time.  Those of us who heeded Steve’s advice were indeed comfortable, but others, who shall go unnamed, lacked some of the comforts of the trail such as shoes and a tent.  The backpacking trip was a high point in my outdoor adventure experience: spectacular scenery, snow-covered mountains decorated with colorful wildflowers, non-stop banter and laughter interspersed with a little intellectual discussion.  The hike up to the snowy peak by Turqoise Lake was surreal in its beauty.  I will always remember Steve, a long-time, old-time friend, the best kind, leading the hike in the mountains of Wyoming. 

          As noted by many of the blog entries, Steve was larger than life in so many ways.  Carol and I pray that his close-knit family and numerous friends will be comforted by the warm and vivid memories of Steve’s life.