Gilbert E. Dwyer

Gilbert Dwyer Obituary

DWYER--Gilbert E., 81, of Wheeling, WV, died October 31, 2008. Born Scranton, PA, 1927. Former NYC resident, corporate lawyer, executive search consultant, business school dean and entrepreneur. Big intellect, big heart. He is survived by his wife, Carol Geho Dwyer and loving family. Memorial contributions may be made to Kadesh Chapel United Methodist Church, RD#2, Box #164, Wellsburg, WV 26070.

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Published by New York Times on Nov. 9, 2008.

Memories and Condolences
for Gilbert Dwyer

6 Entries

Dad using his game to benefit charities.

Blair DeWitt

November 20, 2008

Gil Dwyer’s Eulogy by Blair DeWitt
November 7, 2008

My Family and I would like to thank everyone for their prayers, kindness and generosity during this past week; it has meant so much to us hearing the stories you have shared with us about Dad. I would like to return the favor.

Gilbert Edward Dwyer was born in Scranton, lived most of his life in New York City, but most recently was an adopted son of Wheeling, WV.

He is my dad, my mentor, my foundation.

He always inspired me to be better in all my endeavors but more than that he showed me through his actions and mentoring how to live.

Dad’s time with the Marine Corps instilled in him that time tested approach of “Leadership by example” which he exemplified the rest of his days with us.

So many times I would seek Dad’s advice, insight and wisdom concerning important matters like; landscaping, horse boarding contracts, house selling, jobs, golf and on and on. The list is endless but Dad always had time for me no matter what I was struggling with.

Dad also expanded my horizons, made me push through my own pre-conceived limitations so that I may dream and then take action to pursue my dreams without costing others their dreams and hopes.

I remember my first night going to hear the symphony, now at age 14 it wasn’t something on the top of my to-do list.

Well for the first hour of the performance I felt as though I was being tortured. Dad just let me twitch in my seat; somehow he knew not to put any more pressure on me by stifling my quite protest.

Something happened to me after intermission, I don’t know what it was; but the music started and I began to enjoy it.

After that night I absolutely looked forward to going to Carnegie Hall with my family; the walk from our building down 57th Street to the hall, the concert and the walk back to our building.

Dad was absolutely delighted that when I moved to Boston; I bought my own tickets to the Boston Symphony Orchestra.

One evening Dad taught me a great lesson in competitiveness and good sportsmanship. We were walking by an arcade in Lake George, NY and Dad always loving arcades walked in, we saw this new type of game called “Air Hockey” and got our quarters pulled together and plopped them in.

Within 30 seconds of simple volleying the game turned into game 7 of the Stanley Cup, Dad and I were battling it out with fierce speed and determination.

Apparently we were creating quite a racket because others were watching us now and mom had to referee the “center line” to make sure it was a fair match.

I don’t remember who won, which probably means Dad did, but what I do remember is that afterward Dad was laughing, smiling and complementing me on my shots.

He taught me how to be a gentleman always; whether you win, lose or draw there should always be humility and compassion for others.

Not so long ago Dad and I were at Cabela’s and it happened again; we happened to walk past their “Shooting Gallery”.

Dad and I stopped in our tracks, looked at each other and smiled……..game on!!!

Quarters flying into the machines we picked up our air riffles and started peppering the targets with BB’s.

Knowing that each of us had been trained by the Marine Corps to shoot; it was a very level playing field.

Mom and my wife Deb got bored after the second round, upon hearing the next volley of quarters, decided they would come back in 30 minutes… Good call.

Again, I don’t remember who won, by now you know what that means, but it was a great day.

There was another day a long time ago when Dad asked SuZanne and me if we wanted to learn to ski.

Not knowing what we were getting ourselves into we said yes.

So the next day we went to the local hill, Dad in his blue and white checkered corduroy pants, SuZanne in her bright red jacket and I was wearing my jean jacket.

Dad gave us 3 simple rules to skiing:
First - keep your skis pointed forward
Second - lift one leg or the other to turn
Third - when 1 and 2 fail – Fall down.

Now that Dad had given us the Swiss secrets to skiing we got on the ski lift and off we went to concur the slopes.

SuZanne and I always seem to take different paths in life and on that day we took different paths down the hill.

SuZanne blazed a path straight down the hill, all Dad and I saw was the Red Baron. I went 20 yards off to the woods and fell.

Dad told me to get back up and try again, then went after SuZanne; all I saw as I lay on the ground was the Red Baron being chased by the Greenwich Checkered Express.

I’m sure Dad saw the day going differently in his mind, but after a long day of trial and error, he accomplished his mission – we could ski …. Sort of.

Now to the most serious matter of Golf or as Winston Churchill often referred to it; “A Walk gone Bad.”

Dad’s passion for the game of golf is well documented and known throughout his circle of friends and family. My introduction to the game of golf came through Dad.

His golf game was always superior to mine and he was a great golfer. About 10 years ago I was able to play more and thus get closer to the level of Dad’s game.

Dad was very impressed with the progress I had made. So much so, that he decided to give me his latest Japanese driver that had polycarbon materials for a better drive.

I guess I just didn’t understand how far drivers had come since Dad had given me my original wood based driver 10 years earlier.

I tried and tried, and tried some more, but I could not hit the ball straight with the new driver.

It got so bad that I had to use my irons only. After such a generous gift I was very conflicted with bringing up my lack of results with Dad.

Finally I called and told him of my troubles. There was a short pause on the other end of the line and then he said “I know, that’s why I gave you the driver. I couldn’t hit it straight either.”

Just 4 weeks ago Dad came up to Boston to help anchor my foursome for a golf charity event. Last years event was a lot of fun and I knew this year’s event would be even more fun for both of us.

In August I got a voice mail from Dad saying he was in the process of “re-inventing” his swing.

Now the pressure is on me to step up my game.

We had a great weekend of Seafood and golf!

There was a special moment when we were at the driving range practicing and I was trying to get my drivers to work again after years of gathering dust. Dad stopped working on his swing and focused on helping me with mine. It was a moment I will cherish the rest of my life.

So Dad, I forgive you for the Driver gift.

I am a very lucky man, because I have a thousand more stories I could share with you about my dad and how much I love him and respect him.

St. Francis Assini once said “Start by doing what’s necessary; Then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.”

Dad must have used this as his playbook for life. For you may have known Dad as your friend, teacher, business colleague, neighbor, relative, or even as an acquaintance but I think we would all agree that Dad made the impossible happen all the time.

Dad was a passionate man, passionate about his marriage, his family, his friendships, his community but most of all passionate about life and all of its blessings.

He loved a good debate. As I look out ……… I can see the smiles from those of you that sparred with him intellectually, mostly likely on a frequent basis. I, like you, will miss those moments.

He was a Genlte-Man in the true definition of the word and yet left a huge impression on everyone he met.

I will probably spend the rest of my life trying to figure out how he accomplished this seemingly impossible feat.

We were not ready for Dad to leave us so soon; I think we would all agree he was too young. Dad always would volunteer to help “The Old People” (he even volunteered to help the old people get to voting stations for Tuesday’s elections).

We will all learn from his example; living life to the fullest right to the very end.

The departed bless us with the path they have taken, they show us it is well traveled. They look for us on that same path to greet us when we travel it as well.

Dad, I love you and thanks for everything you have given me, rest in peace.

John Mansuy

November 16, 2008

My thoughts about Gil delivered at his memorial service at Kadesh Kadish, Nov 7, 2008.

I want to thank Carol and Gil’s family for allowing me to say a few words about Gil. I am honored to do so.

When thinking about words to say about Gil many came to mind: friend, mentor, personable, nice, humorous, kind, caring, and thoughtful are just a few

BUT, when I think of Gil the words that keep coming back to me are PASSIONATE, HUMBLE and CHARACTER

Gil possessed all three of these characteristics like no one I have ever known.

Gil was passionate about everything he did whether it was running a company, starting a company, teaching, being a Dean of the Business Department or rooting for the Wheeling Jesuit University basketball team

At the WJU bball games we sat with a group of grandstand coaches behind the Cardinal bench - Coach DeFruscio the former WJU basketball coach, said he knew he called the right play if he turned around and saw Gil smiling – if Gil wasn’t smiling he knew he called the wrong play and would have to answer to Gil after the game at TJs, the local sports bar. This was one of Gil’s favorite places as they served him nearly raw hamburgers – one of his favorites.

Gil showed his passion in the classroom when he played the role of Donald Trump in the class where students participated in the Apprentice. Gil quickly became known as “The Donald”, The Donald’s job was to fire ONE team in the board room meeting. Gil took on his role with passion and one day fired 5 of the 8 teams. The teams protested, claiming it wasn’t fair to fire more than one team. Gil patiently explained how in the real world it was fair to fire anyone for incompetence. He then discussed with them what they needed to do to be successful. One girl told me the next day that The Donald had really opened her eyes as to what was expected of her. The lesson was learned not only by her but the rest of class. The next board room meeting, Gil did not fire anyone and I protested. He was suppose to fire someone. He PATIONATELY insisted all the teams performed at a high level and none of them deserved to be fired. The Donald prevailed.

Gil was a HUMBLE person. He was a friend to all no matter what their status. Long after he left Wheeling Jesuit I would hear of how he had helped a student get a job – counseled them – mentored them – or was just there as a friend. We never heard him brag about his good deeds – the famous people he knew – the places he traveled - or his successes in the business world. He went about doing good deeds, not to draw attention to himself, but because he felt it was the right thing to do. Gil taught us that great men do not have to tell people how great they are.

The last word that defines Gil to me is CHARACTER. Gil was a man of character and he was a character

When Wheeling Jesuit fell on financial hard times, Gil was asked to resign. He did so with character and with dignity. Because he was so humble, people did not know the important work he was doing – they didn’t know he was bringing in grant money that more than paid his salary. Most people in this situation would be resentful and sever all ties with the organization – but not Gil. It wasn’t long before he was serving on our business department advisory board, teaching in the classroom and playing The Donald. Gil showed us a man of character does not seek vengeance but exhibits dignity, no matter how indignantly he is treated.

When Gil first became our dean, I must admit, he was not accepted with open arms – slowly but surely, he won us over, one by one, except for one faculty member who resented Gil because Gil was pushing him to do better. I am sure Gil knew this but when that faculty member found out he was terminally ill some time after Gil left the university, it was Gil who took him under his wing, took him to doctor’s appointments, helped him through chemo therapy, and was there for him in his dying days. The two became very close friends. Gil taught us that a man of character treats everyone with respect, no matter what that person thinks of you.

As I said, Gil was a man of character and he was also A CHARACTER. As my wife and I got older, we found that friends our age, didn’t stay out much past 10 o’clock, so we started seeking younger friends. Then we started hanging out with Carol and Gil and found out we were looking in the wrong direction. We needed to look for older couples to associate with. Many are the nights Gil would have us laughing at his jokes and stories until 1-2 am.

Gil also showed what a real character he was in the daily emails we fired back and forth to each other. His emails were filled with wit and wackiness. The last one I had from him was this past Friday afternoon at 2:03. It was one of his best stories. It was like he knew it would be his last and it had to be good. It was. Unfortunately I’ve run out of time so can’t repeat it here.

In conclusion, I say goodbye to my dear friend, Gil Dwyer, a passionate and humble man of great character.

Gil's extended family, November 8, 2008, Wheeling

November 13, 2008

Gil Dwyer & Merrill Kallenbach at Amanda & Garrett's wedding, Chicago, May '08

Amanda Kallenbach

November 13, 2008

Photo album contains shot of Gil Dwyer and Merrill Kallenbach at Amanda & Garrett's wedding, Chicago, May '04; Group shot of Gil's extended family, taken November 8, 2008, at Road Worthy Restaurant in Wheeling.

Patricia Sands

November 10, 2008

You have been my rock through so many trials. When you walked into my hospital room, my eyes lit up and they knew I would live.
My heart hurts because it's broken and you have a piece of it. You will always be my loving hero.

Amanda Dwyer Kallenbach

November 10, 2008

In memory of G.E. Dwyer
Amanda Dwyer Kallenbach

November 5, 2008

Over the last few days, memories have flooded back. Not chronologically, but haphazardly, chaotically, like life. A story I tell sometimes. The specifics are fuzzy…we’re on a family vacation. Dad’s behind the wheel of the station wagon. It’s Philadelphia, I think. We’re driving down a narrow street and a car approaches from the opposite direction. The driver of the oncoming car yells out his window, “Hey, buddy—it’s a one-way street!” My father, without missing a beat, yells back, “I’m only going one way!”

That gas-guzzling wagon took us back and forth to Maine many a summer. And once, in the dead of winter, during a snowstorm. Why we did that, I have no idea. Dad could pack that wagon within an inch of its life. I used to marvel at his skill fitting in luggage, furniture, sporting equipment, provisions and cat-carriers, such that, when you stood back, it looked like a 3-D jigsaw puzzle.

One more vacation story. We’re staying at a roadside motel, somewhere woodsy. A nice-looking stranger approaches Dad and spins a tale about losing his wallet. If Dad could only loan him some money, he’d send a check to reimburse him as soon as he got home. Mom urged him not to do it, but he did nonetheless. Well, you know that check never came. Dad ended up feeling he’d been had. He was angry and embarrassed. It didn’t occur to any of us that whatever else that scam may have shown, it exposed his kindness, his compassion.

Gil Dwyer wasn’t always a patient guy. Lord knows, the Dwyer children, myself first and foremost, put him through the wringer many, many times. He must’ve wondered, “who is this band of renegades masquerading as my children?” But he was there in a heartbeat when you needed him…with cash…with, uhh, legal advice…with help writing your resume. He was a brilliant, strategic thinker. And he had a flair for words. Occasionally, we’d have long, involved phone conversations about issues of the day, and while I didn’t always agree with his opinions, I loved the way he expressed himself. I’d hang up feeling so good. It’s that feeling you get when you’re talking to the smartest person you know, and it puts you at the top of your conversational game. He kept you on your toes. And he relished it.

Dad loved to illuminate. Quite literally, he’d make lamps from vintage fire extinguishers and old ships’ hardware. As for metaphorical illumination, he could walk you through the application of logic in search of whatever truth you were looking for. Sometimes I mistook that quality for bluster. It usually wasn’t. I just wasn’t always listening.

Last year, his kids came up with an 80th birthday idea. We found 80 words that somehow described him, and put them all on a hand-made card designed by Garrett, my creative director husband. Some of those words were: brilliant, tenacious, witty, analytical, stubborn, industrious, prolific, giving and awesome treehouse-builder (yeah, that last one counted as three).

Gil Dwyer was all those things, and so many more. His passing will leave a very large hole in our lives. But not in our hearts. He lives there forever.

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