Fred Forman Eulogy

Douglas Forman

Fred Forman, my Father, was a beautiful human being, filled with perfect imperfections.

At times he could be: understanding/stern, silly/serious, friendly/argumentative, cooperative/competitive, easy-going or intense.

But he was always: Concerned about worldly events, dedicated to educating students, and devoted to the generous sharing, caring and loving of family and friends.

His life started in Philadelphia, passed through Albuquerque and ended up in Gilroy, where he settled and raised a family. This is his story:

Fred Forman was born in 1929 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to hard-working Russian Jewish immigrants, Joe and Charlotte Forman; she always called him Freddie. Freddie's parents had come to the US escaping persecution in the early 1900's. They lived through scenarios similar to those described in the play Fiddler on the Roof, my Grandma's favorite movie. Before he died, Dad told us to watch that movie each year, so as not to forget those roots.

Joseph, and his brothers ran a small group of corner grocery stores with help from little Freddie. Freddie's specialty was the produce section; removing old fruits and vegetables, then re-stocking fresh ones. One of the things that hooked him on California when he first came in the 1960's was the abundance of amazing fruits and vegetables, including avocados which he had never seen before. He loved to make salads, especially fruit salads. The last one I saw him make was a giant fruit salad for grand-niece Esther Ann's Wedding Rehearsal dinner.

As he entered Junior High, during the WWII era, Freddie completed his Bar Mitzvah. He also became very active in sports. In High School, he lettered in Football, Basketball and Baseball.  Though his Father, Joe Forman, didn't understand sports, he saw this as a part of the American education and finally convinced mother Charlotte to let Freddie play. Due to Freddie's minimal body size, baseball was the sport he excelled in: at the position of shortstop. He had quick hands and feet and a good eye. He was popular with his classmates and was an average student.

After High School, Freddie did not know what he wanted his future to be, but his parents insisted that he should get a college education and a profession. So, he attended Junior College, continued to play baseball, and hung around at a local fire station where he learned to smoke, curse, appreciate big band jazz music and got pretty good at ping pong.

After a couple of years of basically goofing off, he and a couple of buddies decided to join the Army to support the Korean Conflict in 1952.

He shipped off to Germany for training. By order of Harry Truman in 1950 the Armed Forces had been racially integrated and Dad befriended several of the African American soldiers who shared his passion for this crazy new jazz music called Bebop! Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and Thelonious Monk were the favorites. In their off-time, they discovered some good German Jazz clubs and beer; not getting into too much trouble.

However, due to some medical issues that needed attention, and Army bureaucracy, he was not shipped off to Korea with his battalion, but instead held back in Germany, where he ended up teaching some military courses.  He found he had a knack for it. He told me about how he realized that when he was teaching something to somebody and he could see their eyes light up when they finally "got it", he felt a connectedness and fulfillment. This started him thinking that teaching might be a career for him.

He was eventually sent back to the States and discharged as the "War" declined.

During his early years, in Philly and the Army, he was a Witness to anti-Semitism, racism and violence against minorities and women. As a boy and young man he knew it was wrong and felt powerless frustration.

Later in life, he would find ways to combat these evils as an educator and political activist.

After being discharged, he moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico and used the GI Bill, to pursue a Masters Degree in History and Education from UNM while working as a clerk at Lucky's grocery store.

One night, at a dance, he met a beautiful and quick-witted 18 year-old student named Esther Sofia Costales, who became the love of his life. She introduced him to Green Chile, Enchiladas, Sopapias and a flood of emotions that gave him a sense of direction and purpose. Fred was no longer "a leaf floating aimlessly on a still pond".

He married Esther and cute little Karen was born shortly afterwards. At this point he became very focused on finishing his education and moving forwards with a career in teaching. This career first took him first to Maxwell, California and finally to Gilroy, after little Dougie was born.

In Maxwell, in the 1950's, junior high teachers were expected to paddle students.

During his first week, a kid continued to disrupt the class, and after several warnings, Mr. Forman knew it was his job to use the paddle. He took the kid back to the coat room and paddled him until he cried. Word got around quickly that this new teacher was a bad-ass. He got a call from a School Board member that night commending him on the punishment he had dished out. But, Mr. Forman did not feel good about this at all. After the incident, he gave extra attention to this boy and found out he could not read at all and had a horrible home environment. Mr. Forman spent extra effort to create a program for this boy that had him reading almost at grade-level by the end of the year; that he felt good about. He vowed to never use the paddle again; that was the easy way out. He worked hard to find more creative ways of gaining respect and cooperation.

Through their years in Gilroy, Fred and Esther both were energetic teachers. It wasn't just a job to them; it was their passion. They put their hearts and souls into it. They were a dynamic duo; always up on current events and politics. They were very active in the campaign of Robert Kennedy for president in 1968.

Here is a quote from a former student, sent to my sister Karen via Facebook from

Carol Zizzo: "We were in 6th grade when Bobby Kennedy was assassinated. Your dad tearfully and compassionately delivered the news to our class. He was clearly devastated by the news. I saw him in a different light that … I saw him as a man who cares about his community, education, the state of our world. It was unusual to see a man express his emotions through tears in those days. He was progressive and a good role model."

Initially, My Dad coached Baseball at Brownell Junior High, teaching PE and Health to 7 ^th and 8 ^th graders.

Later, he taught Math, Reading, Science, Language and History, utilizing many innovative methods to motivate and push students forward.  School hadn't come easy to Freddie as a kid; remembering this helped him empathize with students of all levels. He didn't let anyone slide by in the background. He facilitated and expected progress from everyone.

Throughout his career, Dad maintained a dedicated and disciplined work routine. Up before 5 AM to grade papers and prepare for the coming day; ready to go by 8 AM.

For recreation, Dad's biggest hobby (besides watching sports) was building and enjoying an impressive collection of jazz recordings: starting with vinyl: 78 RPMs, 45 RPM, 33 RPM, then moving to 8-tracks, cassettes and eventually CDs. As a kid, I remember Dinner time always being accompanied by a bossa-nova jazz soundtrack: I remember grooving to the guitar sounds of Bola Sete, Wes Montomery and Charlie Byrd while eating my Mom's New Mexico spicy enchiladas and Dad's fresh salads.

Though he was not a musician, my father encouraged music as part of our education. Karen was given accordion, piano and clarinet lessons.

As I entered Junior High, I developed a passion for the guitar. Dad fully supported this. He and Herb Hopkins, who led the Brownell Jazz Band, got me lessons with local guitar legend John Garcia. Dad let my bands practice in the backyard, living room and garage. We learned to play at an acceptable volume (when he and Mom were home, that is)

He took us to many jazz/rock concerts: We saw BB King, Ray Charles, Chicago, Blood Sweat and Tears, George Benson, Freddie Hubbard, Stanley Turrentine and Stan Getz.

He put up a basketball hoop on the garage and showed me how to dribble behind my back and shoot hook shots with either hand.

He taught me and Karen to swim and ride bikes.

He took us to Giants, A's, Warriors and San Jose Bees ball games.

He took us camping in Yosemite and many trips to Rio Del Mar, his favorite beach.

Every summer, we packed up the Station Wagon and drove back to Albuquerque to see relatives. One summer we took a month long road-trip through old Mexico and visited my Mom's Tia Ested, who lived on a large ranch in Chihuahua. Dad only knew a little Spanish, and mostly sat quietly drinking warm Mexican beer, smiling and laughing while my Mom exchanged stories, in Spanish, with her relatives.

We got to see what life was like when electricity and refrigerators were not everywhere.

After Chihuahua, we toured other parts of Mexico, including Tenochtitlan where we climbed the Pyramid of the Sun.

In some ways this was a business trip, because Latin American History was one of the subjects he was teaching at the time. He used some of the Super-8 movies from the trip to augment his class lessons.

Fred was very generous to relatives and friends. Through the years, he and Esther opened their home to visitors from other states, mostly relatives. They took visitors on day trips, showing off the beauty of California. On these excursions, Dad always picked up the check; a tradition I try to carry on. Some of the relatives decided to stay and make homes here. Fred and Esther also generously opened their home, for weeks at a time, to numerous relatives going through a rough patch or transition.

My sister, Karen Forman, married Steve Chavez in 1984(???) and Dad gave the "Father of the Bride Toast", I remember it ended with him raising a glass and saying "... Go Forth and Multiply" … which they did … and after Dad's retirement in 1993 (???), his efforts were devoted to the child care and chauffeuring of their beautiful grand-children, Emilia and Daniel Chavez. In his retirement, he also enjoyed helping out in in Karen's classroom.

Then surprisingly, 20+ years after the first set, my parents were blessed with 2 more grandchildren, my sons Lucas and Ben: the "Forman Boys!" as Dad called them.

Dad drove Mom to San Jose almost every week to visit and help with the boys. He dedicated himself to taking care of his wife as her lungs got worse and worse, but she still continued to carry on: "Live, Live, Live, until you die" she would say, and he agreed.

After Esther's death, we realized that Dad had several serious health issues that he had ignored; thinking they were trivial in comparison to my Mom's suffering. These issues slowed him way down and eventually caused his physical body to fail completely. His mind was sharp to the end and he loved to converse with and educate people around him, including his health care providers.

Fred Forman was a dedicated man with strong principals and compassion; his example will live on in the actions of his family and former students.

I'll end with a quote (thank you Facebook) from one of his former students,

Lee Krahenbuehl:

"I remember him as gentle, good-humored, endlessly curious, with the super-power to keep the attention of a bunch of 13-year-olds at 1 in the afternoon. … Fred, you have touched generations of students … through the hundreds of others like me who sat in your classroom. That's as close to immortality as we get. Shalom v'kol tov, Mr. Forman."

Shalom Dad!