Condolences

Many people pass through life without making much difference. It’s as though a leaf had fallen on a pond: barely a ripple. Most of us are cut from the common grey cloth of humanity, do the things others expect of us, and pass from the scene as though we had never been.

But occasionally someone comes along who is made of a material of different and more vivid color, of richer hue, of more vibrant stuff. Someone whose presence is dramatic, who makes the world seem more energetic, more interesting, more fun. Someone who really lives life, and whose passing leaves an absence.

Someone who wears the color and quality of his life and personality outwardly, as well as within.

Herb Bloom was that kind of person, and he was absolutely an original. From his ultra-vivid sport coats to his great warmth, humor, and longevity, he was a character of rare and special vintage, a Tucson institution, a real presence, and a great raconteur. Frankly, he was a hell of a guy. And most of us in this room figured he was never going to die.

Herb Bloom was born October 13, 1914 in his parents' home, at 210 So. 2^nd Avenue here in Tucson. His father David was a tinker—he repaired pots and pans—who later went into the men's haberdashery business. His mother, Clara Ferrin Bloom, was the first woman graduate from the University of Arizona—one of three women in the class of 1902—and an educator and one of the founders of the Ladies Auxiliary, which became Temple Emanu-El, the first Jewish organization in the Territory of Arizona. Prior to the construction of the Stone Avenue Temple Emanu-El in 1910, services and board meetings for Temple Emanu-El were often held in his parent's home. Herb was our longest-standing member. Counting his family membership, which began at birth, he belonged to Temple for 91 years, and a record I do not think will be broken soon.

Herb was the oldest of three brothers and two sisters: first Herb, then Dave, then Ted, then Lanie. Another sister Harriet died at the age of 8 of scarlet fever. Herb grew up in the Tucson of the teens, twenties and thirties. He went to Roskruge Elementary School, Tucson High, and the U of A where he studied civil engineering. After two years at the U of A, in 1934 he was requisitioned to run the menswear store by his father David, and as the older brother he assumed the management role in the family business.

He was a colorful guy even in his youth. When he was a little boy he was punished in school by being put in the school supply closet. When the teacher came to take him out, Herb had chalk up his nose… Herb remembered that during high school he and his friends dug a tunnel that extended two and half blocks under the street so that they could play; they even put in wood braces, and lights; and none of their parents knew that Herb had arranged and led the whole thing. Perhaps that's what led him into civil engineering. When Herb was 14 or 15 he and his friends would take pennies and put them on the horse drawn trolley tracks in front of his house on University Blvd., but they soon graduated to putting .22 shells on the tracks to create a huge bang. Of course, any time that Herb or his brothers did anything untoward—which happened pretty often—his father would chase after him with a razor strap to try to remand his attention in the proper direction.

Herb was confirmed at Stone Avenue Temple in 1926. He remembered being rounded up for Sunday school by the terrifying Aunt Hattie Ferrin Solomon, his mother's sister, and riding to Stone Avenue in the rumble seat of a Packard sedan. Herb and Ted and Dave and Lanie and Mort Solot, alav hashalom, and various other boys and girls studied Judaism in different corners of the large room and vestibule of temple, preparing for their confirmation. The family were Reform Jews in Tucson, although they came from more observant ancestors in Europe.

There is a family recipe for Passover for matzah dressing that Herb loved, a kind of Pesach stuffing that was very tasty, but fantastically unhealthy, filled with matzah, eggs, and chicken schmaltz. Perhaps that explains Herb's heart operations the last few years…

Just after he graduated from High School he went on a trip across country with his brothers and sisters in an old Packard in the heart of the early phase of the Depression, 1932 or so. They stayed with family across the country, including St. Louis relatives that they had never known before.

In the 1930's Levy, of the Levy Department Store, came to David Bloom, who had opened a small store called Myers and Bloom which was a kind of small clothing store, which advertised "Now you don't have to go to San Francisco to buy fine men's wear." It was really the Pueblo of Tucson then—there was a wall around the whole the business section in those days, which included the stores. Myers and Bloom was the first store on Congress to have glass showcases. When the Depression hit, things got tough, and Mr. Levy, of Levy's Department store came to him, purchased his business, and told him "David Bloom, we'd like you to start your own small business to help Tucson grow," which was the origin of Bloom's, the store that became the fine men’s haberdashery—and more—for so many years here in Tucson.

Herb met Naomi in the early 1940's. Naomi had a foundation store—making women's custom undergarments—and one day she bought something from Bloom and Sons, and Herb delivered it the one block away that her store was. One thing led to another, and they started dating. Shirley Franklin had a store between the two stores, and she leaned out the window and called to Naomi "Don't you start dating that Herb Bloom; he's no good!" Naomi's family were primarily Jews from Germany, and they definitely did not approve of her match with this Lithuanian Jewish family from remote Arizona. Of course, as Jeff says, they would probably never have approved of anybody for their daughter… In spite of that, they married in 1943, after Herb completed Officers' Training School in Virginia, and Herb went off to Europe where he served in Patton's 3^rd Army. Herb was in charge of mechanized maintenance for the entire 3^rd Army, a huge job. His entire unit was African-American, in keeping with the segregated US Army of World War II.

Later, Herb was in charge of a group that went into Dachau and documented the atrocities of the Holocaust in that infamous concentration camp. He brought in the German citizens of the local town who pretended they had not known what was happening at Dachau, and forced them to see what they had ignored for more than six years. It was one of the most difficult experiences of Herb’s life.

Herb came back from the war in 1946 or so and took over the store. His father died in 1955, and Bloom's moved from its downtown store to El Con Mall in 1963, into a $3,000,000 store, a huge sum in those days, and a huge financial obligation. The other big stores were Levy's, Steinfeld's, Ward's, and Penny's. Bloom's had the largest selection of Levi's in the Southwest, but none of them were on the sales floor, since that was utility clothing in a fine menswear store. Bloom's remained the anchor of the El Con Mall until it closed in 1990.

Herb and Naomi started a family as soon as he got back from overseas. Jeff was born in 1947, and Russell was born in 1950. The family was members of Temple Emanu-El, as Herb had been throughout his entire life. Herb was a Rotarian of the first order: a member of the Tucson Rotary Club with perfect attendance for more than 50 years, he joined on April Fool’s Day 1940, sponsored by his father Dave, was president from 1963-1964, and was the club historian of the truly historical Rotary Club in Arizona. And his sport coats were nearly as legendary as his reminiscences. There was a general belief that any coat that was simply too gaudy for Bloom's to sell during its long and august history ended up in Herb's closet, and then was worn to Rotary Club meeting and events. Herb was also known for being a charter member of the eleven o’clock club, and he enjoyed a martini before each club meeting—it certainly made things more fun, and Herb was always fun.

Herb and Naomi were also very active in the Heart Association and Hadassah, and he received the deMolay Award from the Masons.

When his grandsons were born, he introduced them to hot sauce, one of his abiding loves, quite early. One day Herb came home from Rotary Club with a small bottle of Tabasco, which he gave to his 4 year old grandson Joseph to play with. Joseph promptly drank it, which put Herb in the doghouse for years.

Herb would trap the squirrels on his property near Casas Adobes. Herb didn't like the squirrels, so he would take the boys with him and release the squirrels at Evergreen Cemetery—right here. For the boys were 5 or 6 they decided that for their birthdays they wanted to go, not to McDonald's or Burger King, but to that place where grandpa brought the squirrels…

And Herb loved curing olives. He got a special permit from the University of Arizona, and from Doubletree Hotel and Evergreen to collect olives. At the age of 90 he would climb up on the roof and collect olives with a big white bag. He would collect them, cure them with kosher salt and lye, and bottle them with a label with his picture on it. They were terrific olives.

Recently the family had a big tamale-making party. When they discovered some beetles in the bottom of the bag Herb ran in the house and got some string, tied it around the beetle's legs, and let them fly around his head. He said, "I haven't done this since I was a kid." Apparently it was a Tucson preoccupation in the old days, before satellite TV.

Naomi died in November of 1996. Herb was devastated, but his fine sense of humor and incredible spirit carried him forward.

Norma has been a family friend for over 30 years. They became business associates, and then traveling companions, and then true companions through the rest of Herb's colorful life. Herb relied upon Norma's strength and intelligence and companionship and care through the last decade, and she made his last ten years worthy and good. She was a real gift.

This week at Temple Emanu-El, where Herb was a member throughout his entire life, the Haftarah, the prophetic reading, is from the Book of Joshua. It tells of how the Israelites reached the Promised Land, and the incident includes the dramatic use of a brightly colored cloth. In effect, the vivid hue determines the entry into the Promised Land, predicts success and bounty.

Herb has crossed into his own Promised Land now, and the vivid quality of his life and personality remain a beacon for the rest of us, guiding us from the historical Tucson he represented and lived to a future of goodness and blessing.