Mandell “Bill” Berman » 1 9 17-2016

Mandell “Bill” Berman:

An Unforgettable Presence

Mandell “Bill” Berman
died Dec. 21 in Florida
at age 99. His funeral
service was Dec.
27 at Congregation
Shaarey Zedek in
Southfield, in the
majestic building he
helped orchestrate as
building committee
chairman.

A beloved
philanthropist,
businessman and
Jewish communal
architect, Bill was
eulogized by Rabbi
Yonatan Dahlen,
Anne Parsons of the
Detroit Symphony
Orchestra and by his
children, Dr. Jonathan
Berman and Ann
Berman Feld. Cantor
Neil Michaels of
Temple Israel and
Assistant Cantor
Leonard Gutman of
Shaarey Zedek helped
officiate.

Here are more
recollections about
Bill Berman from
various community
sources.

TOP: An earlier portrait of Bill Berman in his backyard.
BOTTOM: Adam Kessler, Madge and Bill Berman, and
Hannah Kessler.

From The Driver’s Seat:
Bill Berman always
enjoyed the ride.

Adam Kessler | Special to the Jewish News

T

o a man like Bill Berman, who
had a sea of friends, I may
seem like the most unlikely
person to shed light on who he was as
a person. However, I was fortunate to
have a somewhat unique relationship
with Bill during his later years.
At 69 years my senior, Bill was a
close friend. Not shockingly, he was,
in fact, my oldest friend. I know he
considered me a friend, too. Perhaps
among his youngest.
In 2012, I was attending law school
at Wayne State University and was
approached by the director of Hillel
to see if I would be interested in
helping an older, prominent man in
the community who may be in need
of a driver from time to time. What
started out as a small side job turned
into a gift of life lessons for me.
It started with countless trips
together, covering hundreds of miles
and hours upon hours of conversation.
Bill became my friend, my mentor
and, later, together with Mrs. Berman,
my wife’s and my favorite double-date
couple.
I drove Bill often while I was in law
school — sometimes three or four
times a week — to award dinners,
shows Downtown, trips to Ann Arbor
and, my favorite, his date nights with
Mrs. Berman.
Nearly every time I walked into their
house, Bill would say, “Madge is run-
ning a few minutes behind; let’s have a
drink. Do you like vodka?”
I’d say, “Bill, I don’t think that’s a
good idea; I’m here to drive you.”
He’d reply, “Right. That’s right … Do
you take ice?”

TALKING AND QUESTIONS
I began to suspect Mrs. Berman was,
in fact, never running late, but rather
he just told his assistant, Pam, to have
me come early so we could have a
drink and talk.

Talking. That may have been one
of Bill’s best qualities. I don’t think he
ever met a stranger. But what set Bill
apart from others who liked to talk
were his keen and genuine interest in
others and a desire to also listen. At
99, he continued to be both curious
about people of all ages and about the
world. He wanted to know about you;
he asked questions.
“How’s that big dog of yours?”
“How’s that Jaffe law firm doing?”
A few times, his questions made me
a bit nervous, like when he persisted in
knowing when and even if I planned
to propose to my wife, Hannah —
while she sat in the backseat with Mrs.
Berman. “What are you waiting for?
Don’t waste the opportunity,” he’d say.
He asked questions just as much as
he told stories.
For two people from as different of
generations as we were, our conversa-
tion topics were as endless as they
were unorthodox. We talked about his
advice on marriage, how he made his
fortune, the many trips to Israel he
made with Max Fisher, and his regrets
and failures in business.
He told me the story in detail about
his meeting at the White House with
President Bush and Max Fisher in 1989
to help free Russian Jews.
And one of my favorite stories was
about his time at “that small school
in Cambridge” where he lived down
the hall from a man he described as
a “privileged ass” who “liked the girls
as much as his mirror …” After a brief
and calculated pause, he would go on
to lament, “but I suppose he did OK
for himself.” That man, of course, was
President John F. Kennedy.
He gave me stories, too. Once I
picked up the Bermans at The Max
following an event. As I saw them both
come out the front entrance, I got out
of the car to help Mrs. Berman. When
I turned around, Bill had vanished

continued on page 30

28 January 5 • 2017