By Marty Snapp
The world lost a great teacher last October when Bruce Breimer died after a long illness, and they still haven’t stopped mourning him at the Collegiate School in New York City, where he spent his entire life except for his four years at Yale. The school called him “a man whose name is nearly synonymous with Collegiate, a school he attended, worked for, fought for, loved deeply, and dedicated nearly his entire life to. He will be missed. He will never be forgotten.”
“I first got to know him while he was a sports editor at the Yale Daily News and later reconnected when he persuaded my son Parker that Collegiate was the place for him, says Whit Conrad. “Coach, teacher, advisor, big personality, and friend of every student – there was nobody like him. He was known at Collegiate as “Boss Breimer,” derived from a course he taught on New York City political bosses. It was about how despite the corruption, the bosses got things done. Boss Bruce was seen as a rough-hewn, unvarnished Tammany Hall figure who, in contrast to the high minded, enlightened teachings at school, revealed how things get done in the real world – practical advice that he taught his students and applied to the college placement process. All the kids went to first tier schools. He was a big voiced guy, reminded me of Jimmy Breslin. Just a fabulous guy.
“His approach to college placement was unique among secondary schools. He required students to visit schools on their own, spend the night, attend classes and make all their own arrangements. His theory was that this was a transition to adulthood and also that he didn’t want the parents’ reactions to overly influence the decision.”
Bruce had a different nickname at Yale: Bruiser. “I remember meeting Bruiser in the early days we arrived on campus. He was relaxed, seemingly unconcerned about the start of classes,” says Tom Goldstein. “He was padding around the Old Campus in a bathrobe and slippers, chomping a cigar, in search of a television set to watch an important baseball game. As a nervous freshman from Buffalo, I decided, quite accurately I think, that students like Bruiser who grew up in New York City were different from those who did not. Like many student journalists, Bruiser majored in the Yale Daily News. His beat was hockey, and he was a rabid fan and gifted reporter.”
“It is probably true that Bruce and I were never close friends in the ordinary sense,” says John Kane. “It is also probably true that we loved each other. Funny how both can coexist compatibly. When we arrived at Yale in mid-September, I was congenitally immature while Bruce was chronologically immature – not a recipe for success. We were compatible, however, in two respects. Both of us were sports nuts, adequate athletes ourselves (soccer goalie for Bruce, squash for me) but World Class as fans and followers. He wrote better than I did, and his major niche became ice hockey, rising to excellence along with our class of players: Warren Gelman, Jack Walsh, Jack Morrison, Dwight Miller, Mike Brooks, Zef Fessenden and others who had made Yale hockey successful through our Senior Year.”
“There was no fan more supportive than Bruiser,” adds Warren. He had a strong dislike for the Cornell hockey program led by its coach Ned Harkness. Bruiser had buttons made that said ‘Ned must go.’ During our senior year, Bruiser traveled to Ithaca for our game there shortly around Christmas time. Before a sellout crowd in Lynah Rink, we defeated a previously undefeated Cornell team in overtime when our All-American center Jack Morrison stole the puck from Cornell’s All American defensemen Harry Orr at center ice and scored the winning goal on a breakaway.
“Bruiser was so excited that he jumped on the ice to celebrate with us, but he forgot that the press box was several feet above the ice surface and he could have hurt himself. Luckily, he was not hurt. When Bruiser wrote about the game, he dubbed Jack’s goal as ‘The shot heard around the Eastern College hockey world.’ A few years after Yale Bruiser ended up at the Collegiate School in NYC where he had gone to high school. At Collegiate Bruiser was known as “Boss” and he served as a teacher, coach, college guidance counselor and eventually as interim headmaster. At his memorial service in January, he was lauded by many former parents and students as a great mentor.
John Kane adds, “One summer during college Bruce ran an elevator in his building and with the proceeds wandered the country betting on horses. He wandered as far west as the Ak-Sar-Ben Track in Nebraska, and as far north as Maine and the Skowhegan State Fair. The latter offered harness racing, either trotting or pacing (the distinction matters). There was a highly regarded horse, let’s assume trotter, but the race was pacing. Bruce made a tepid bid on the horse, who finished well ahead. As Bruce redeemed his small winnings, an old Mainer arrived with a hatful of winning slips. How long has he been pacing?’ Bruce asked. ‘Long enough,’ replied the old Mainer.
“Bruce ran the race, too, and in my opinion, ‘long enough’ – long enough to excel, to impact lives, to live his own life to the fullest, and to be remembered for his achievements, his character, his personality, and what he gave to thousands of kids.”
Finally, we have not one but two Lannys with new books: Lanny Davis, whose memoir, “Finding the Third Way: Lessons in the Politics of Civility From My Journey through History,” about how his time at Yale shaped his career as a political/legal advisor, and Lanny Goldman, whose 11th book, “The Subjectivity of Value,” due out later this year, argues that our values derive from what we care about or desire, not from objective values, which are presumed to exist in the world independently of our attitudes. You can find out more about both books on our class website, Yale67.org.