On a sunny Sunday afternoon, Mrs. Pincus and I drove down to Mt Sharon Cemetery in Springfield, just outside of Philadelphia. Along with a very small gathering of family, we were there for the Jewish tradition of an unveiling. This ritual is the formal dedication of the grave maker of a loved one. This usually occurs just after the first anniversary of the loved one’s death, but there really is no set time for it to take place. It’s pretty much at the discretion and convenience of the survivors who have paid for the headstone. The cemetery grounds crew wraps a piece of sheer cheesecloth around the marker prior to the ceremony’s start. Then, a few prayers are recited, a few anecdotes or remembrances are exchanged, the cloth is removed and then everyone splits for some lox and bagels. The ceremony, on this particular afternoon, was completed in record time, as the skies grew dark with foreboding storm clouds. The rabbi in attendance sped through his liturgy, taking shelter under an open umbrella as the first few drops of precipitation splattered the pages in his open book of prayers. Barely allowing for any “call and response,” he brought the service to a quick close and everyone retreated to their nearby cars.
Where am I going with this…? Well….
Two years earlier, when I attended the funeral of my wife’s aunt (whose unveiling we were attending today), I found myself wandering around the cemetery prior to the service. My maternal grandparents are interred in the same cemetery, although their plot is several sections away. However, just across the small access road, in Section T, are three graves of note — all within very close proximity of each other.
Right up front, alongside the road is the grave of local Philadelphia disk jockey Ed Sciaky.
Ed Sciaky (pronounced “SHOCK-ee”), in the eyes and memories of Philadelphians of a certain age, was a legendary figure in the Philadelphia music scene. Over the course of his nearly 40-year career, he was employed by eight different radio stations in the Delaware Valley. He had an uncanny ear for hits and talent. Over the years, he introduced and championed the likes of then-unknown performers like Janis Ian, Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen and David Bowie. He was also instrumental in the successful careers of Yes, Renaissance and Sting. I met Ed several times. Once, he gave me an album by an up-and-coming singer named Elvis Costello. Another time, I saw him at a Boomtown Rats concert, where he was dressed in a yellow Devo jumpsuit. He was very well-known, but also very accessible. In 2004, Ed and his wife were visiting New York City. On their way to the train station, Ed collapsed on the sidewalk and never regained consciousness. He was just 55 years old. On the night of Ed’s death, Billy Joel spent over thirty minutes on WMGK radio (Ed’s last employer) reminiscing about his old friend. E Street Band drummer Max Weinberg and folk-rocker Steve Forbert served as pallbearers at Ed’s funeral.
A bit further back in Section T is the final resting place of comedian David Brenner.
Prior to his successful career in stand-up comedy, David Brenner was an award-winning documentarian, producing, writing and directing informational films for several media outlets in his native Philadelphia. The always-funny Brenner took a chance on stand-up comedy and never looked back. He was a staple among variety and talk shows. David was the most frequent guest on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, gracing his stage and conversing on Johnny’s couch a whopping 158 times. David also guest hosted the Tonight Show over 75 times. He starred in four HBO specials and wrote five books. Capitalizing on his popularity, NBC gave David his own sitcom. The series, Snip, was loosely based on the Warren Beatty film Shampoo. It featured David as a hairdresser, along with a cast of supporting characters. The show, which was heavily promoted, was pulled from the schedule at the last minute and was never broadcast. David claimed the network feared backlash over a gay character featured in the show. In his personal life, David fought two heated custody battles with ex-wives. He was briefly engaged to celebrated skater Tai Babilonia, although they never married. Ever the joker, the reverse side on David’s headstone reads: “If This Is Supposed to Be A Joke – I Don’t Get It!”
To the immediate left of David Brenner’s plot is the double-size grave of Yale and Nina Schwartz.
In the late 1960s, recent college graduate Yale Schwartz met Nina Lemisch, a widow with five children who was 14 years Yale’s senior. Despite their age difference and vocal disapproval from Yale’s parents, the couple fell in love and were inseparable. They married, much to the chagrin of Yale’s parents and remained married until Nina’s death in 1997. When ordering the headstone to mark the grave, Yale gave instructions to engrave both of their dates of death as “April 19, 1997,” noting “when Nina died, I died, too.” Yale and Nina’s love story was the subject of the film Ageless Love, directed by Philadelphia filmmaker Joshua Coates. The 2023 film, shot in the Philadelphia area over the course of a whirlwind 12 days, featured Yale in a small role. Yale passed away in October 2019, just after filming was completed.
We parked our car right in front of Section T, so it was not a far walk. Lox and bagels await.
* * * * *
