8 December 2008
Stephen T. BankoHarry Taub and Dick Keane
Mired as Buffalo has been in poverty and decline, one of our great resources has been the the strength and the courage and the character of our citizens. In October we took a big hit on our reserve of such citizens when two fine men died. They both left their imprint on Buffalo and Western New York and the world- at-large; each in different ways, but each in ways that leave us richer for their lives and poorer for their passing. They deserve to be remembered.
Harry Taub was the first violinist for the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra. We met by accident and a wonderful accident it was. I spoke to the Jewish War Veterans a few years back at the invitation of Maurice Sands. I’ve spoken to veterans for much of my post-combat life and I am comfortable in their company. Such events are retrospectives to recall what we were. This luncheon was different. I was seated with a painter, an architect, and a musician. All were men who faced the horror of war and came home to build lives of quality and contribution. Each struck me in a unique way but Harry struck me in the most lasting way. As we sat that Sunday morning, he spoke in a quiet voice that did not echo the horror of his war but with the opportunity presented in his life. I would later learn that Harry came ashore at Normandy and was wounded twice during nine months of combat in Europe. I also learned that the war had interrupted his studies at the Oberlin Conservatory where he studied the violin. Not many people would trade a concert violin for the M-1 rifle and fewer would forego a symphony stage for a bloody battlefield, yet that was Harry Taub’s route to the concert stage.I was fascinated by Harry’s genteel humility in relating a biography that was so filled with excellence. Shortly after our meeting, Harry sent me a CD that demonstrated his incredible virtuosity with the violin. I listened for a long time trying to hear the resonance of the battlefield, but instead, was surrounded by his calming genius. I often listen to Harry at my desk, regretting that I hadn’t taken more time to get to know him better.
My friendship with Dick Keane was the opposite. It began in 1977 when I was assigned to do editorial work for Assemblyman Keane in the State Capitol. That friendship was nourished in the weekly journey to and from Albany in Dick’s car. It flourished during a professional relationship that lasted four years and flowered in a personal friendship spanning more than 30 years. There are many adjectives that one could use to describe Dick but “genteel” would not normally be among them. Rather, Dick was a proud product of his Irish Catholic roots in South Buffalo where he resided until his death. He was self-educated in the best tradition of that phrase. He read voraciously and never tired of learning. He was one of the funniest people I’ve ever met and our four hours in the car on the way to Albany would often end with my face actually sore from laughing so hard. He remembered every joke he ever heard and told them the way only an Irishman can tell a joke.
What Dick lacked in formal educational he made up for with his genius in practical politics; the politics not just of the possible, but the politics of accomplishment. I learned some of my best lessons at his side in those days in Albany when the political competition had not yet soured into the blood sport it is now. Knowing Dick Keane was one of the great joys of my life. Having him call me his friend is one of my greatest accomplishments.
Two guys took two different paths to contribution to the communities they loved. Two guys who were as different as two men could be but who touched my life in ways I’ll never forget. Buffalo is poorer for their passing, but richer for what they gave us and what their lives taught us.
Copyright 2008 by Buffalo Report, Inc.