Unhappily, we have more sad stories, friends, but one of them, at least, has a sweet denouement.
First, Leighton Longhi, a big man in every sense of the word, died at home on August 22, 2024, with Rosemarie, his beloved wife of more than fifty years, at his side.
A prominent dealer of Japanese art, he became a recognized expert in Japanese arms and armor, and Yale was a major beneficiary of his knowledge. He was named a Sterling Fellow for his work in expanding the Yale Art Gallery’s Asian holdings, placing 60 Japanese masterpieces in the University’s collection.
“My roommate Bob Greenlee was friendly with Leighton, “says Barry Bardo. “Both were very big guys. One day, Bob had just returned from riding his powerful Harley Davidson down High Street next to Leighton, who was riding his BMW R69S, also a formidable bike. Yale basketball statistics listed Leighton as 6’5”, but Bob insisted Leighton was at least 6’6”, maybe taller. Bob said that riding on his BMW, Leighton “looked like a bear on a thumbtack.”
“I really only got to know Leighton after Yale,” says Whit Conrad. “Shortly after graduation I was on vacation with my parents on Captiva Island, FL. By happenstance Leighton was there as well. My mother was an artist and took one look at Leighton on the beach and commented ‘What a beautiful human man!” and proceeded to sketch him over and over. Leighton loved it. He was indeed a remarkable man.
“Skipping ahead, Leighton and I lived in neighboring buildings on 5th Ave and we used to see each other on dog walking evenings and had long chats about just about everything on a regular basis. He was a kind, gentle, intelligent person and will be sorely missed.”
“On Christmas Day 1974 my daughter was born,” says Charlie Von Stade. “I saw her for only a minute as she was whisked away to the neonatal care unit. She was in deep respiratory distress, being born slightly early with a case of Hyaline Membrane disease. As I waited for my wife to be released from the hospital I was staying with my in-laws. They could talk of nothing but how the little Kennedy boy had died of what my daughter had.
“I had placed a call to Leighton and Rosemarie and left a message about the early birth and that it was a girl. They called me back and, noting my distress, insisted that I join them for a meal and a movie. Though I can’t remember the meal, the movie was Mel Brooks’ ‘Young Frankenstein.’ It was the perfect prescription for alleviating my dark mood.
“Many years later, these wonderful people attended that little Christmas baby’s both Yale and Columbia P&S graduations.”
Ever wonder why the food has been so good at our reunions? Or why the staff have been so helpful? You can thank Alan Kenney, who was Director of the Yale Dining Halls for more than thirty years. He held himself to high standards and treated people with respect, and that attitude filtered all the way down the ladder.
“Al and I made a good team at our 25th reunion,” says Barry Bardo, who was Reunion Chairman that year. “He used his vendor connections to bring us some of the very best ‘premiums.’ Our reunion Yale baseball caps were the same as the varsity team wore, and our polo shirts with the ‘6Y7’ logo were robust and attractive; I still wear mine to Talk ‘67 events.
“Al loved Yale and his job there, and he was proud of keeping so many different Yale dining halls running efficiently, with students, faculty and staff well-fed and on schedule. He was quick-witted and had a gift for connecting immediately with those he met, and his staff seemed to love him. It was fun when he would introduce people to his wife, Honora, and we would reply, ‘Nice to meet you, Honey,’ as he would introduce her.”
Al met Honey at a college dance, and it was a love match to the very end. He passed away on November 25, 2024, and she followed six weeks later. Their daughters Kristen, Kathryn and Alison held a joint celebration of both their lives.
“He will be remembered for his dedication and generosity, his professional achievements, his ability to connect with others, and the warmth and humor he brought to every interaction,” they wrote about their father. “Words can’t describe how much he will be missed by all of us.”
Finally, I have some good news: The result of this year’s election to the Yale Corporation’s Board of Trustees has been announced, and the winner is… Jaime Teevan ’98, the daughter of our late classmate of happy memory, Jim Teevan!
“The first thing I thought of when President McInnis called to tell me I had been elected to the Yale board was my dad,” she says. “Anyone who knew him knew he loved the school. It was something he wore on his sleeve.
“My dad died while I was in graduate school, and I flew home to San Francisco for a visit about a week before he died. He could barely speak at that point. I think the last words he ever said were ‘Oh, Jaime, what a surprise!’ when I walked in. So I just sat by him and talked a lot. I hadn’t yet admitted this to anyone, but I told him that I wanted to be a university president. He smiled and made a happy noise; it was the last reaction I ever got from him. Over the next few days I listened to him breathe, and then I listened to the quiet.
“I am still very much focused on driving ground-breaking research, helping people grow, and having a positive impact on the world. But joining the Yale board feels a bit like accomplishing what I told him I would. I know he’d be ridiculously proud. I wish I could tell him the news.”