Mr. Thorne D. Harris Jr.
Mr. Thorne D. Harris, Jr., 78, died
peacefully at his home in New Orleans on Thursday, January 9, 2003. Before
retirement, Mr. Harris was President and owner of Globe Finance Co. He, along
with his late wife Myra, founded Glendee Kennels and bred over 40 Irish Setter
Champions. Mr. Harris was a past President of the Louisiana Kennel Club and was
a charter member and past President of the Irish Setter Club of Greater New
Orleans.
Mr. Harris was the husband of the late Myra Banister Harris; father of Thorne D.
Harris III and Glenn K. Harris; brother of Loie Abbott; grandfather of Erin A.
Harris and Glenn K. Harris, Jr.; and a very dear friend of Betty DeGrusha and
Hank Klimitas.
Link to Lake Lawn Remembrance Registry Search Page
This
is not going to be easy. Dad would probably just say, “Words Fail.” And then he'd sit down. But,
he’d still want to regale anyone within earshot with a story or a joke.
For most of us, one we’d heard a 100 times.
But we didn’t care. We
loved him and he enjoyed the telling so much that we enjoyed the listening.
My
best friend called Dad “The Gentle Jester.”
Thanks, Burt. That’s
beautiful. He did love to tell his stories.
So, I want to share some stories about Dad today.
WITH
MOM, HE SEEMED TO BE IN THE BACKGROUND
While Mom was alive, Dad always seemed to be in the background.
Some thought he was quiet or withdrawn.
The problem was: Compared to Mom, unless you were shouting at the top of your
lungs and dancing on rooftops, you WERE quiet!
Dad’s
job was to make Mom look good and nobody did it better.
Whether it was running the camera while mom danced to Little Egypt on New
Years Eve, or fixing leaks, or adding on to the house, Dad took care of things
and made everything happen. In his words, he did whatever had to be done.
HE DID WHATEVER NEEDED TO BE DONE
I remember growing up wondering how he did it all.
He was up at 5:30 in the morning to feed the dogs.
He brought Mom coffee in bed to help with her asthma.
He woke Glenn & me up for school.
Then he went to Globe Finance and put in a full
day’s work.
When he got home, he would feed the dogs again, wash
the dishes after dinner, and then start working on whatever household project
was in progress. (He built or
rebuilt everything on Turquoise St.: Bathrooms, kitchens, floors, paneling,
wiring, plumbing, you name it.)
If
he was lucky, around 10PM he would fall asleep in his chair, but by midnight, he
was up again letting the dogs out for the last time that evening.
He started again at 5:30AM.
GLENDEE KENNELS
It
was the same with Glendee Kennels. You
might have seen the framed article in the other room about how the kennel came
to be. Mom saw an Irish Setter and
had to have one. Not only did Dad
provide, but they started a prize winning kennel, producing 41 champions, and
accumulating roomfuls of trophies. (Anyone
need a dog trophy?) They had an international reputation and shipped their
puppies all over the world.
Again, Dad made things happen, but was happy to let mom take the glory.
The Glendee Kennels business card said it all.
Along with a picture of Rocky (Ch. Glendee’s Bourbon on the Rocks, for
the uninitiated), were the words “Myra Harris, Professional Handler” and the
words “Thorne Harris, Kennel Boy.”
DAD KNOWS
My
favorite movie, “It’s A Wonderful Life” has a scene in which a young
George Bailey needs advice and he sees a sign that reads: “Ask Dad, he
knows.” Not only did Dad know,
but he could do. And not knowing
when he started never stopped him from doing!
Dad almost never called on a “professional.”
Anything that needed to be done, he did:
Tear down the wall between the kitchen and breakfast room? No problem.
Install new kitchen cabinets? No
problem.
Wire the house for extra telephones and speakers in multiple rooms? No
problem.
Add a cabana, a workshop, a club house, a bathroom? No problem
Need
to create a Solar System for a Christmas decoration? No problem.
Need a balloon drop at midnight from a low-ceilinged den? No problem.
Dad did all these things with such finesse and grace that he made it seem
easy. But it was a lot of hard work
and perseverance.
Once, while in the Garden Club, mom decided she would make a hat out of
camellia blossoms. However, she and
Dad talked it over and decided that, for dramatic effect, the flowers should
start at the top with tight little buds and gradually wind around the hat with
buds and flowers of ever increasing size, with the biggest on the outside.
Think about that! The plan was to find exactly the right blossoms, in exactly
the right shape, in exactly the right size, in exactly the right stage of
opening, and, because the Garden Club was not going to change the date of the
show, all of this had to occur at exactly the precise right moment in time.
The whole concept seems crazy. But
for Dad, no problem.
When the time approached for the show, they had a camellia
bush, and it had buds. But they
were not going to be graduated in the correct sizes, so every night for a week,
Dad would set his alarm, go outside in the middle of the night, and train a
light on certain sections of the plant so different flowers would open at
different times, so they could get the effect they wanted for the hat.
Mom won first prize, of course.
Dad was not mentioned.
HE WAS ALWAYS THERE, EVEN AFTER I MARRIED
Even after I was married, I called on him whenever I had a question.
One Christmas, we bought a model car raceway set for the nieces and
nephews to play with on Christmas Eve. But
the track was too big and cumbersome to set up and tear down over and over
again. It needed to be fastened to
a wooden surface and kept secure, but how?
Nailing it was out of the question and trying to fasten all of those
pieces with screws would have been extremely time-consuming.
Dad not only immediately told me how to accomplish the goal simply and
quickly, but came over that night with the special glue AND the fixative to
speed up and finalize the process.
If I needed a special tool, he always had it.
And he could show me how to use it.
Dad also gave freely without the need for acknowledgment.
After Mary & I eloped, Mom was, shall we say, a bit upset.
Glenn reminded me the other day that she forbade him to speak to me.
Mary & I were in Baton Rouge, with no money, no jobs, and law school
looming. Dad slipped me a $100 bill
and said: “Don’t tell your mother.”
And later, when we were robbed of our tiny 12 inch TV, who showed up
unannounced the next day with a new TV? Dad.
He drove from New Orleans to Baton
Rouge to surprise us!
FLAIR FOR THE DRAMATIC
Dad had his own flair for the dramatic.
On one trip, mom needed her asthma medicine, which she had run out of.
They were in a strange city and did not have a prescription.
The druggist did not want to give them the medicine….until Dad faked an
asthma attack of his own in front of the druggist.
He got the medicine.
Or the time we were working on an English project for Glenn one Sunday
– Remember Links of Literature? We
needed some gold leaf paint to complete the project, so Dad and I went down to
the TG&Y. Unfortunately, when
we got to the checkout counter, we were told that, because it was Sunday, the
law at the time, did not allow them to sell that particular item.
Dad calmly placed enough money on the counter to cover the item, looked
the checker in the eye, and said: “You have two choices:
You can either ring this up and charge me, or call the police.
But, either way, I’m walking out with this.” She rang it up.
He once went to Charity Hospital after a friend was injured, only to find
him languishing in the hall waiting to be seen by a doctor. Dad simply
impersonated a doctor and ordered the nearest nurse and orderly to take this man
to X-Ray and start an evaluation.
He was always willing to help and gave his advice freely.
At least, until the Bar Association asked him to please stop practicing
law without a license.
FIERCELY SELF-RELIANT
Dad could be fiercely self-reliant.
Some would say “pig-headed and obstinate.”
I remember asking my mother where Dad was a half hour before a 4th
of July party at our house only to be told that he was on his way to the
hospital. He had discovered he had
blood poisoning – he saw a red streak running up his leg.
So, he drove himself to the hospital, got it treated, and drove back to
the party….in time to barbecue the chicken and hot dogs.
He steadfastly refused help – because he could do everything himself.
Two weeks after his first, massive heart attack in 1985, Mom came home to
find him on the roof installing a new TV antenna.
After all, he explained, his
doctor said he could resume “normal” activities. It’s just that the doctor didn’t realize what was normal
for Dad!
MOM DIED IN 1987
When mom died in 1987, we were all concerned that Dad would waste away
with nothing to do, no purpose in life. Mom
had always kept him so busy….
But that was not
Dad. He was not going to quit. He
decided he would live. He renewed
old acquaintances, pursued hobbies, visited friends.
HOBBIES
He
became an avid radio control airplane enthusiast.
He loved to build models. Even
after his physical condition prevented him from doing the walking necessary to
fly, he continued to build the planes. We still have a number of these, some of
which were never flown. But that
wasn’t the point. It was the
building, the doing, that was important.
This love of aircraft spilled over into the dozens of books he read on
aviation and the countless model planes he built, which we still have.
He also built model boats, with and without radio control, some that were
meant to float and some that were not.
Dad could do anything and never having done it before was not seen by him
as an obstacle. He once told Glenn,
“See that block of wood. That’s
a boat.” Glenn said, “no way.” It
was just a chunk of wood almost 2 feet long.
Now, it’s a beautiful Sloop on Dad’s wet bar, which he also designed
and built.
DAD’S HUMOR
No description of Dad would be complete without at least a brief word about his humor. He loved to tell stories and jokes. Usually, the same ones over and over again. Put him in a room and the joking would begin. However, rather than try to tell any of Dad’s jokes, here are just the punch lines from a few of his favorites.
"I’d like two tickets to Pittsburgh."
"Why, that’s the change of life."
"I don’t know his name, but his face rings a bell."
KNOWN AND LOVED BY MANY
It is no wonder that everyone liked him. His old friends, some of whom he would call out of the blue after years, new friends, secretaries, clerks, and just about everyone he ran into. He always had a joke or story at hand and was friendly to evertone. He kept up, as best he could, with his friends in the dog world. The LKC is dedicating the May Show to Dad!
His neighbors have come one by one to tell me what an incredible asset he was to the neighborhood and how much he will be missed. He opened his home to everyone. Many of the neighborhood kids learned to swim at Dad’s house in the last 10 years, even though he has not been in the water for a much longer time. His own children had long since grown, but that didn’t mean the neighborhood kids couldn’t come over and play with his grandson, Kevin, at his house.
He was known as the best martini and strawberry daiquiri maker in the neighborhood, even though his physical problems prevented him from partaking. He gave unstintingly of himself and asked for little in return.
Because of his stature in Irish Setters, Dad knew millionaires, inventors, and politicians. But he also was a friend to all neighbors, handymen, clerks, janitors, and anyone who wanted to chat – or listen to one of his many stories. He could truly “walk with kings’ but not “lose the common touch”.
COMMENTS FROM MY FRIENDS
A few of my friends emailed me when they heard the sad news.
What they said was touching. These
are just a few of the comments:
Bill Sickinger wrote:
“Although
I didn't have much contact with him, I always admired his wit and happy-go-lucky
approach to life. It seemed that
whenever I saw him, he was genuinely glad to see me, and he always had something
cheerful to say.”
And from Ron Dubroc in Houston:
“[He] was one
of my most fav people. He was one of the few people who left
a strong influence in my life. He was a wise soul. And he had class
and style. He enjoyed life as a New Orleanian should. He
tolerated us as obnoxious teenagers, encouraged us as young men and on occasion
counseled us as human beings.
I remember to this day a piece of sage advice he gave me as a 17 year old.
He said, "You don't have to be first to be the best."
I had the opportunity to talk to him about a couple of years ago or so. I
wasn't sure he would recognize my voice after 20+ years, but he did. We
talked for quite a while........ like no time had passed at all. It was
quite comfortable, quite natural.........but isn't that the way [he] was??”
From Tom Stirewalt:
I only met your Dad
the one time (at the 2002 Office Christmas party). I liked him. He
was a dog person.
I am sorry
for your loss, but I'm sure your Dad made lots of souls happy at the
Rainbow Bridge.
And
Burt, describing "The Gentle Jester”:
Your father lived his life on his
own terms.
He was well pleased to be with you as long
as he was. Remember his wily kindness that slipped you some cash while you were
in law school. He loved you more than any principle. Being right wasn't
important to him. He surrendered his ego to entertain, to serve and to love
those around him. He was a man...a man to be proud of...a man to emulate...a man
to cherish in your heart every day of your life...as he did cherish you.
Thank you all.
TWO SPECIAL PEOPLE
I want to mention, all too briefly, two very special and important people
in Dad’s life.
HANK
Hank Klimitas was almost like ANOTHER SON to Dad.
Dad loved to help out down at Hank’s veterinary clinic.
It gave him another purpose and reason to get up each day.
Of course, Dad was up for anything, from opening up the office and being
behind the counter, to helping with the books and offering advice on the new
location and operation. Dad even
volunteered to do surgery, although Hank assures me that, despite Dad’s
offers, he didn’t let Dad operate on any pets …or people.
I know Dad was thrilled to help and he often spoke of the dinners,
outings, and work down at the clinic.
Hank, he loved you, and Glenn and I appreciate all that you did for Dad.
Thanks.
BETTY
In the last few years, Betty DeGrusha brought a new spark and twinkle to
Dad’s eye, and a new spring to his step.
Although a very private person at heart and not one to share details, he
made it clear how much he cared for you, Betty. After mom died, Dad eventually started going out, dancing,
and seeing people. But he never
felt comfortable bringing anyone else to our house for Christmas Eve.
That was a real tribute!
Not only was Betty good for Dad, giving him the opportunity to enjoy many
of his favorite things like dancing and going to the Jefferson Orleans (where
they came to be known as Fred & Ginger because of all of the dancing), but
on several occasions she actually saved his life.
It was Betty who convinced him to go to the hospital over a year ago when
he “wasn’t feeling well.” It
turned out that he was having multiple heart attacks and, had it not been for
Betty getting him to the hospital that night, we undoubtedly would have missed
this last year with Dad. Betty also
kept close tabs on him and called me or Glenn whenever Dad needed convincing to
see a doctor or take medicine. Thank
you, Betty, for all you have did for Dad. He loved you, and Glenn & I feel
that he was richer for the experience.
HIS FAVORITE POEM
Dad
never asked for much. He was very
difficult to buy for when it came to presents.
If you asked him what he wanted, it was usually “whatever.” He said he had everything he needed.
One of the very few times he expressed a definite view was when I asked
him if there was anything special he would like read at his service.
He first said no, then changed his mind.
He wanted his favorite poem, Invictus, read.
In reading this over again this weekend, I think it fits.
Dad lived life on his own terms. He
was not afraid. He was unconquerable. He
was the captain of his soul.
Out
of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I
thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In
the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under
the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond
this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And
yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It
matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I
am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
Jackson
Brown sang, “Nothing survives, but the way we live our lives….”
Dad
lived his life well.
He
touched all of us. We were
fortunate to have him with us so long.
I
know I speak for all of us when I say our lives are the better for having known
him.
And
I know I speak for Glenn when I say “I am proud to be his son.”