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Sid Bernstein
Sid Bernstein(photo by Astrid Stawiarz/Getty Images)

Sid Bernstein

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September 17, 2014
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September 17, 2014
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Please don't submit copyrighted work; original poems, songs or prayers welcomed.

Legacy.com reviews all Guest Book entries to ensure appropriate content. Our staff does not correct grammar or spelling. Privacy Policy | Terms of Use
August 22, 2013
The last place I saw Sid Bernstein, he was standing alone, unrecognized by the gathering hundreds of people who were drawn to the Central Park Bandshell, the late afternoon of December 9, 1980. A group of inventive fans had removed the panel from a lamp post and plugged in their instruments and amps to sing their homage of sorrow. The music continued as the winter sun was setting, and the Mall filled with hundreds more. Suddenly, the sky opened as if a giant with a down-filled pillow had decided to cover an acre of land with a swirling blizzard of fluffy white, angels' wings feathers on the mourning children below.
The Fagin-gloved players played on and the voices which fill Strawberry Fields in today's generation continued.
The blizzard lasted two or three minutes and was gone.
I turned and headed north to the 72nd Street roadway.

There, standing unrecognized by the gathered mourners, was a solo figure: Sid Bernstein.
I was a "youngster" in the music business, but we recognized each other. I stood with him for a while, both maintaining silence. We nodded, shook hands and I left, glad to know that I had shared a miraculous "witnessing" with someone who understood the miraculous miracle that John had shared with us.

Sid was a mensch of mensches in a business filled with mamzas.

Send our love, you will be missed.

Paula Ballan
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