Sidney Jacobson

Our father, Sid Jacobson, passed Saturday night (July 23rd) at Mission Hospice House in the San Francisco Bay Area. He went peacefully after suffering a major stroke during a seemingly mild bout of Covid. He was 92. Dad was remarkable for his good cheer and optimistic way. He had a fearless creative energy. And was a tremendous raconteur, though he often cracked up as he approached the punch line of a story!

He was born to Beatrice [Edelman] and Reuben Jacobson. Both had come to America in their early teens. Dad was born and raised in Brooklyn where he had fond memories of the Bensonhurst neighborhood with close relatives nearby, enjoyed many friendships, games of stoopball, and school (Seth Low junior high and Lafayette High School) where he excelled in math, and always displayed a picture from his high school basketball team (the picture shows a group of young men in mismatched jerseys, but none-the-less proud).

Dad adored his father, a foreman for a pattern-making house as well as a union head in the garment district. He often helped his father out with his union speeches and kvelled until his last days of his father's leadership and passion. Reuben died too young in his early fifties, while dad was still in college- he would never give up his cigarettes despite his doctor's warnings. Dad always regretted that his children didn't get to know or meet him.

Dad loved sports and grew up in Brooklyn in the 30's. He had a lifetime love for the Brooklyn Dodgers, whom he never forgave for leaving Brooklyn. Upon his relocation to Los Angeles later in life he reconciled his disappointment with them and became a Dodger fan again. Dad had a more fraught relationship with his mom who suffered greatly from diabetes. His sister, Shirley, was quite a bit older and with her marriage to Bill Grossman, he became a strong older brother figure. He loved and admired his sister very much and they become close in their adulthood.

In his teens, he was a fast-pitch softball pitcher, who once threw a no-hitter (He earned the nickname "No Hit jake". Had a wicked curve and great control. He didn't throw windmill, just a short windup. The New York Times offered him a copyboy job out of high school if he'd pitch for the team (talk about ringers!). He turned them down, a regret in later years. The Times guy, who offered him the job said he was crazy to not take the job. But, a scholarship to NYU was a big deal for a poor kid from Brooklyn. When he couldn't find a journalism job after he graduated from NYU (that Times SOB was right!), he worked briefly for one of the horse-racing papers -- "The Daily Telegraph". There were nine racing rags in NYC at the time, according to Dad!).

When his sister Shirley began dating a fella from Harvey Comics (it didn't last long -- she soon met Bill Grossman), Dad wrangled a job there (Comics was a growing industry and open to Jews and other ethnic minorities). He soon was running the editorial department there. He edited almost every one of their books for about 35 years. This included their 50's horror books (wrote "Colorama" a weird story for the Harvey horror book), crime books, romance books, and their many comic strip adaptations ("Joe Palooka", "Dick Tracy", "Flash Gordon"). He didn't draw or do any of the visual stuff but edited and wrote stories and with the inimitable, Warren Kremmer, a great artist at Harvey, they created a few well-known comic book characters (Richie Rich, Wendy the Witch, Spooky, Hot Stuff, Little Dot, Nightmare, Little Lotta, Jackie Jokers). He worked with many wonderful comic artists like Gil Kane, Ernie Colon, Jack Kirby and side by side with funny, funny writers such as Lenny Herman, Stan Kay, Howie Post, Joe Simon, Angelo DeCesare (and so many others).

Dad's range of freelance projects was mesmerizing. He would continue to make a living spun from his indomitable will and endless pool of creative ideas.

In the late 50's he began writing lyrics to songs. Seth once asked him how he started and he said, "I thought I could do it." And that was him. Not afraid to try and fail. He would see how it went. Well, he has about 100 published torch and love songs (circa late '50s and '60s ("The End", "Warm", "Don't Pity Me") and novelty songs ("Yogi", "The Yen Yet Song" and my personal favorite, "Dr. Poop"). He wrote comedy records performed by folks such as Sandy Baron (both for Sick Magazine -- "Why not Mad?" I once asked. "Mad didn't pay enough!" he told me). He wrote the lyrics to a collection of folk songs about New York City, "The Citizens Sing About a City of People". In the 50's he invested in Loraine Hansbury's original production of "Raisin in the Sun" ("she was a gem who died way too young," he once said). He even invented a board game "Chairman of the Board", but we have not yet located a copy.

He met our mother, Ruth R. (she made it Rene in practice) Allison, at a ski chalet in the Adirondacks, perhaps it was Avalock. She owned a small boutique with her mother, our grandmother Sylvia Allison. Alone they did this with not much more than a farthing for inventory. Grandma did all the seamstress work (mostly knock-offs) and mom would handle the store and business. They'd do prototypes of dresses and display them, telling customers a shipment was coming that week and to please return. Then Grandma would sow the desired item for that customer. Needless to say, the model was flawed and they soon closed the store. But Dad was smitten by Mom's gumption (and figure!) and they were married in a cousin's house in Brooklyn. Seth was born soon after that and Kathy followed a year and two weeks year later.

We have fond memories of Dad coming home at night with his big brown reel-to-reel recorder. Dad, our Dave Seville, would play us a demo he and his songwriting partner had made (mostly we remember the voice of Lou Stallman, but he wrote his biggest songs with Jimmy Krondes). It was sure to be a hit! On rare occasions, Dad would be singing, and sadly, he couldn't carry a tune very well (tough luck for a lyricist). So, when the actual song was released, it seemingly had no relation to the song dad had shared. We remember us all dancing to his "Waltzing to Jazz" in our living room in Leonia and waltzing to some of his own songs. Such joyous memories! We can also remember the thrill of hearing his "Yen Yet" song on the Captain Kangaroo show. Now that was something amazing! The song holds great pride for us with lyrics like:

I met a man from Tokyo

It seems he was upset

He lost a lot of money

And he couldn't find his yen yet

Yen yet, yen yet!

Dad was always coming home with cool stuff for us kids. Richie and Casper comics each month stuffed into large gray envelopes (with the Harvey jack-in-the-box stamped on the outside). Records of all sorts. Once he came home with two LPs - one for Kathy and one for Seth. Kathy got "The Beatles Second Album" but Seth felt he got the better deal (please don't tell him the truth)! He was given "The Chipmunks Sing the Beatles". Not even the Beatles themselves could top the Chipmunk's cover of "I want to hold your hand!"

In truth, most of Dad's records didn't become "hits" although a few did both in the US and abroad. "The End" landed in a Chobani commercial we first heard in the middle of the Oscars, and also was played in a freakishly weird scene in the second episode of Jordan Peele's "Lovecraft Country". Dad rarely expressed disappointment about what could have been -- he lived in the moment. "On to the next!" he would say when asked how he coped with his disappointments.

Seth: I can remember going up to the Harvey offices on the second floor of the Gulf and Western Building (NOW "Trump" Building, a sad twist of fate) at Columbus Circle. Late 60's, 70's. I'd look down at the sea of busy New Yorkers, one floor below. The guys in the office would be cracking tasteless jokes about big-chested woman or the "joiks and shmoes". They'd often be kibitzing, Lenny Herman was the ringleader, loud and boisterous with a fat cigar always in his clutch. Dad laughing up a storm. Stan Kay's sardonic. Ernie Colon - always so confident. Dad had this wonderful laugh. His soft hazel eyes always dancing with gentle warmth (He was a handsome man and a dapper dresser, make no mistake about it!).

Seth: Sometimes the Harvey team would take a break and play penny poker in the middle of the day and while I was visiting, one of the Harvey brothers came in unexpectedly on them. Lenny quickly threw someone's coat over the cards, but a few of the cards were sticking out. Everyone pretended they were working and tried to distract Mr. Harvey from seeing the cards. I had to turn away from everyone, unable to keep a straight face, and nearly gave the ruse away! Lenny would sit to Dad's right, usually smoking a cigar and telling a dirty joke. He was the Walter Matthau of the group (he played handball with Walter's brother even!). Ernie might come in with his Richie pages to get Dad's stamp of approval. Dad loved to cajole his band of brothers and wasn't afraid to tell them he was less than happy with the work he received if it wasn't their best, "What kind of fuckin' shit is this!" he would say when he didn't like something.

When dad wasn't at his day job at Harvey or writing lyrics, he found the time to write trashy detective fiction ("Dirty Son of a Witch"), or a naughty comic strip ("The Girl from M.O.T.H.E.R") for "Swank" Magazine (these issues Seth discovered stowed at the bottom of his closet, much to his 7-year-old delight!). He also told us he had created a sci-fi cartoon for kids ("Johnny Cypher") but, we have yet to see it.

He wrote a woke comic satire, "The Black Comic Book". We were proud of this comic satire on famous comic strips with the hero's recast as African-Americans, who had to deal with the realities of racism! Ernie Colon did the drawings!) He did another one about a Jewish superhero, "Captain Israel and Boychick" (Stan Kay did those drawings!). This one had a guy who looked a lot like Woody Allen as the bad guy! He wrote these books under a pseudonym because Harvey had some claim on his intellectual comic-related material so he called himself "Eric Reuben" ("Erica" was Kathy's middle name and "Reuben" was mine).

Years later, he divorced our mom and met Maggi Rosen, whom he married and had more than 30 great years with. She rejuvenated him (though "The Joy of Sex" on his office shelf was probably not supposed to be seen by us!). She inspired him to write legit novels: historical fiction about Jewish families in America ("Streets of Gold" and "Another Time"). Somehow, he also found the time to start Two sports magazines for kids ("Superstar Sports" and "Team"). Years later, he'd write a biography about Pete Reiser, an immortal Brooklyn Dodger, who the story goes, was always getting concussed and coming back too soon (which ruined a career of tremendous promise). He was an old Dodger fan, who had switched to the Mets when the Dodgers left town. Years later, he moved to LA and had a second love affair with the Dodgers. Seth was NOT happy about this betrayal of his beloved, Mets ;))

In the '80s and '90s, when Harvey closed, he went to Marvel comics where he built a new kids' line of comics. Alas, it was not his best work. He'd always say he had a great time at Marvel, but it would never be Harvey. About eight years later a new principal purchased the company and rights to the Harvey characters, and dad was offered a job in Los Angeles as Editor-in-Chief. His wife Maggi was thrilled to make the move to California and start a life there. Dad missed a lot about New York, mostly friends and family. But Kathy followed soon moving out to Northern California (thanks to the mysterious California Rock) and meeting her husband days later.

In 2004, he again reinvented himself with Ernie Colon (he did so many projects with Ernie, they were like brothers) and they did the "The 9/11 Report: The Graphic Adaption", which became a best-seller, and launched for him a new career in the fledgling field of historic graphic novels. Ernie and Dad later did graphic novels about the Bush presidency, Che Guevara, Ann Frank, and Vlad the Impaler. His last book was another graphic history with Ernie Colon -- "3/5s a Man" the story of African-American civil rights. It was a beautiful book and though commissioned by a major publisher, was never released (possibly for political reasons, but no one really knows).

Dad was productive into his late 80's, writing several unpublished novels (one of them, "Dating at 80" is pretty funny! He should have retitled it "90", but we'll say no more!) and still developing a comic musical about Frankenstein monsters (he was enamored with the Frankenstein story), and with Glenn Rabney, a graphic novel and potential TV series about the Sacred Band of Thebes (a Greek army made entirely of gay lovers)! Dad never cared if some might say it wasn't appropriate for him to tackle certain subjects.

He is survived by his daughter, Kathy Battat, and her husband, Philip Battat. His grandsons Jacob and Andrew Battat, and Rebecca Jacobson.

Kathy's Additional Memories:

Anyone who knows me knows that I adored my dad. Some of my earliest memories are dancing with him to a new love song he wrote the lyrics for. I was incredibly proud of him even at a young age. Dad was a romantic. He once painted my bedroom floor white with splattered blue paint which I guess was inspired by Jackson Pollock - it was pretty cool if I might say so myself. He wrote long poems as the blue tooth fairy, a tradition which I carried on to my own children. I figured out his alter ego once after oral surgery when the anesthesia wore off and I snuck into his office and found the carbon copy paper of the note he had just written and stuck under my pillow- busted.

Other memories included playing catch with him, him coming to my softball games, lots of bowling on weekends, and gin rummy games. He gave me my first record (Carol King's Tapestry) - I didn't know that he knew her and wrote with the same agent. I remember his occasional temper at poor service or long waits at restaurants, and his abominable driving throughout his life, a truly scary thing. He gave up his two-pack-a-day cigarette smoking when his doctor told him to take up jogging and I loved jogging the track with him. He later turned to race walking and I too followed in his footsteps. He was never afraid to try something new, he did yoga (I remember he could make his stomach as tight as a drum) and Transcendental Meditation.

With divorce comes some hard truths of limited time with one or the other parent. I have fond memories of vacations with our new extended step-family in Cape Cod, Connecticut, and the Adirondacks. His marriage to Maggi was a gift- she treated me like her daughter and gave me a positive role model for a happy relationship. Maggi was as beautiful and bright as they come and I loved her very much. We enjoyed many good times together in New York and LA and over the years as our family grew.

Time passed, and it was with great joy that I was able to spend the final two and a half years of my dad's life with him as much as I did. He lived with us for seven months during the start of Covid, we were in our cocoon together. After that, he lived about ten miles from me in San Calrose where I could see him twice a week for long visits. He thanked me repeatedly during each visit for taking him to doctors' appointments and other things I did for him, He told me over and over again how much he loved me. He made me feel so appreciated, and I saw that repeated with others around him. I will miss going on walks together, having lunch with him in one of the outdoor restaurants, and just hanging out and answering the same questions over and over again about how the family was doing. He really cared.

Dad loved his grandsons and always asked about them. The questions were about their happiness, not their careers. He wanted to know if either was serious about their relationships- he hoped so. And he totally supported Andrew's interest in comedy as a pursuit (we do too, but encourage the Sid Jacobson method of having a steady job as well).

He deeply loved his son-in-law, Phil who earned a "ten" in an early reconnaissance mission by a mutual friend who reported to Dad before he had met Phil. Two years later Dad was blown away when Phil called from Paris after proposing at the Eiffel Tower (violin), asking for his permission for my hand. Such chivalry made a great early impression.

My father was a voracious eater as we've said. Even in his 90s, he could out-eat my husband. He always enjoyed food, a gift to those of us who enjoy cooking. However, after moving to the Bay Area, I failed him in not being able to find a decent deli that could turn out a pastrami sandwich to Dad's liking and match anything close to what LA or New York had to offer. Sorry, dad! He used to love feeding our dog Pebbles under the table with incredible skill and deception. He loved Pebbles who often crawled into his bed when he stayed with us.

He loved walking and when he moved to San Carlos, he enjoyed walking the neighborhood there, walking down Laurel Street past the many shops and restaurants, where he could stop in the small park or on a park bench and people-watch, or stop in someplace for a soda or French fries. We shared many enjoyable lunches and dinners together in any of the numerous different restaurants in the two blocks downtown.

Dad was always a ladies' man. He must have broken many hearts over a lifetime. The two women he was most recently involved with were no exception. He met Audrey online (dad was always a modern man) and before they realized they lived on opposites sides of the country (New York and LA), they continued corresponding for a year and ultimately started a romance. They never figured out how to live on the same coast and the relationship could not be sustained after my father moved into assisted living and it became too challenging for him to travel to New York.

He met Lucy his closest friend at the Elms. She, a holocaust survivor and a lovely woman, became his ever companion for meals and walks and talks. Lucy and Dad both got Covid on June 25th. Dad's seemingly mild case did not end well, and Lucy had a much tougher time from the start (we wish her well). On day nine of dad's illness, I was notified that he hadn't touched his meals all day (highly unusual as I've emphasized). We rushed over and after being taken to the hospital, we learned he had suffered a major stroke in the speech area of his brain. His decline was swift.

Until the end of his life, Dad maintained his charming self, and almost every nurse and caretaker he met up through his last days in hospice would comment about what a nice a man he was or must have been, even when he had so few words left to express himself. The hospice workers were taken aback by his good looks at the age of 92- Dad had the whole package.

I truly cherished every moment we shared together, as did others. He was the kind of guy that people wanted to be with, to look out for, to share a story with- you name it. His enthusiasm for life was infectious and the glass was always half full. He believed in a world where we could all make a difference. I know he made the world a better place by being the positive, smart, and loving person he was. He oozed love. That's his legacy to me. And in his own words, from his most famous song, Dad "Our love will go on 'till the end of Time".

Seth Additional Memories:

I'm blessed to have spent so many days with him. My treasured moments:

- Playing catch in front of the house in Leonia. Dad taught me how to throw a curve. Mine never broke as much as his though!

- Playing hearts with Dad and Kathy on many lazy evenings during our summer holidays in Cape Cod or our trip out west (where Dad and Kathy would eventually settle)! Dad loved games. He was a good card player (played competitive bridge with Mom) and both Kathy and I remain fond of games.

- Shooting hoops with Dad at Woodpark in Leonia. He taught me the bank shot which I still pull out in games today!

- Went to a Jets-Vikings game with Dad four or five years ago (he was in from LA to spend time with his new friend, "Audrey" (they met online, both in their mid-late 80's!) and my boyhood friend, Mike Allen, an artist and character designer now. Dad had published some of his early drawings in Superstar Sports. It was a blustery cold day and he never once complained despite the JETS playing like the JETS!

- Dad and I running around the old track at Leonia High School, circa mid '60s. Just the two of us on that weedy dirt track (a skinny race walker would sometimes show up, who'd do like 8 miles to Dad's 3!). He had read the Canadian Aerobics book and turned over a new leaf and committed to daily fitness for the rest of his days (he took walks every day till his last stroke). He found out early he had high cholesterol and began taking statins and watching what he ate very early on (I remember our having way too much angel food cake and skim milk!) His conscientiousness and commitment to good health and fitness inspire me to this day!

- Dad attending one of my JV baseball games in Great Neck. He had begun wearing these weird green "space-shoes" (he had bunions) and I was embarrassed of his feet. Silly me.

- Dad introduced us to his second wife, Maggi at his 58th Street apartment near the old New York Coliseum. She was beautiful and smart and they were hopelessly in love. He was so happy to have us meet her. It was strange and wonderful to see him so happy with a mate (Mom and Dad had a rocky marriage). Maggi and Dad would be peas in a pod for the next 25-30 years until she passed many years ago.

- His love of all kinds of food! All kinds! We'd drive into Manhattan from Leonia and go to our parents' favorite joint, the Shanghai Cafe in Harlem in the 1960s. I was the Luddite in the family and would not touch anything but the Wonton soup while the rest of the family devoured everything in sight (the hot and sour fish there was a huge hit). Mom and Dad would take unsophisticated me to the greasy hole in the wall around the corner afterward for a couple of dirty dogs! We were no happier when we were eating Mom's cooking or Chinese food!

- In the backseat of his car, with Kathy. Maggi in the front. Dad at the wheel. Someone cut us off dangerously. At a red light, he came alongside the car. He was furious and leaned out the window and yelled at the driver "You big...(long pause as he assessed the risk) DODO!" Even when he was angry, he could be so damn funny!

- The way he devoured a roast chicken! Like Houdini, nothing would be left of that chicken when he left the table... but a small wishbone! Some would say this was a leftover from the depression. But I think that Dad just loved to eat (another quality I inherited)!

- Dad's favorite expression of exasperation, "Boy oh boy oh boy!" or when that isn't enough (like now), "Oy, yi, yi, yi, yi!"

- Huddling with Dad that last visit. Holding his now emaciated hand. He couldn't say much, his language area had been hit hard by the stroke. We pulled out this great old photo of him as a boy posing with his basketball club. He pointed to one of his old pals and exclaimed "sport!" and then pointed to the next kid and said "sport" and on through the list. When he came to himself, he didn't seem to recognize it was himself, and labeled the photo "sport". That was painful to see this lifelong wordsmith, so lacking words. And, yet, he was right on! He was and will remain always the best of sports!

In my tears, I will quote the lyrics to his beloved song, "the End":

At the end of a rainbow,

You'll find a pot of gold

At the end of a story,

You'll find it's all been told.

But our love has a treasure

Our hearts always spend

And it has a story without any end.

At the end of a river,

The water stops its flow

At the end of a highway,

There's no place you can go

But just tell me you love

And you are only mine

And our love will go on till the end of time.

Till the end of time...

Dad, your love and the joy you brought into the world will last forever in my heart and many others...till the end of time!


Mission Hospice & Home Care
66 Bovet Road, San Mateo ca 94402
(650) 554-1000
www.MissionHospice.org