I met Raymond in the mid '60's when we were both working at a magazine affectionately called "the nudie lewdies." I was really a high school English teacher looking for some extra earnings during the summer vacation so that my husband and I could extend our planned trip to Europe. Raymond was really certainly something other than a writer/editor of those tacky little rags. He was so smart and cultured he was destined to leave that grimy underground business, but where would he end up? Who knew he'd end up teaching special ed for LAUSD?
I think I helped get Raymond his job at Widney because when I returned from an extended trip to Europe, I substitute taught there and developed some contacts with the district. In any event, whether I really helped him get that job or not, Raymond seemed to appreciate me and seek my company. I always felt I had to work hard to keep up with him. I could never slide by, saying I had seen "Cosi" for example and enjoyed it. He wanted details: who sang what role, how was it staged, etc. Recently I tried to get him to join me at the Opera at the Movies Series, but he had an objection, in detail, to each opera included in the program. He could have won a bundle on Jeopardy if the subjects were all the fine arts.
(About that trip to Europe, Raymond joined my then husband, Ken and Jim and Marlene Henerson and me on parts of that trip. I'll leave the Raymond in Europe stories to Jim Henerson who has ample detail and samples of Raymond at his best and worst with which to regale you.)
When we returned from Europe, our lives took separate routes, other than a Chinese lunch downtown at Yang Chow where he chastised me for eating off the plate without first wiping it. We lost touch for several years, until last June he read about my ex husband Ken's death and joined us at a memorial gathering in his honor. It was in these last 6 months that we renewed our connection. Sadly all we had time for was one Chinese and one Japanese lunch and a few phone conversations in these last few months.
Although we talked about going to the movies, theater, music, whatever was of interest, we never put it together before he went through this last period off illness, hospitals and convalescent homes. I spoke with him last when he was returning home from the care facility. He promised to call me as soon as he felt up to an outing. I was still waiting for that call when we learned from Louise of his passing. He was one of a kind and will be sorely missed.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
By Marianne Muellerleile
Memories of Raymond Lieberman
August 9, 1923 -March 3, 2010
Raymond always said he met me when I arrived at Terry's trailer one MBT night wearing sorely patched overalls, a man's military coat and caring a plate of warm, marbleized brownies.
I have no memory of this specific encounter but the scenario is all too familiar, and I will forever bow to the master of memory. That man could recall the color of your nail polish and the height of heels at any given event.
I do remember his visits to Meadow Brook and how he told me I should look him up should I ever come to LA.
When I arrived in 1981 I did just that.
Raymond was always so interested in everything. His intense interest in me had me detailing the minutiae of my life for over 30 years. And with that incredible memory, he shared marvelous stories and recollections from his youth in Adrian, his military tour as "Raywan Liberwax," his time in Paris, his NY salad days, his fights with his Mother, his travels, teaching, friends, relatives, theater, art, opera, everything...the minutiae of his life.
He offered advice, all the time. And although I saw that this characteristic sometimes rubbed people the wrong way, I loved it. I loved it because we were so different from each other. His point of view was rarely my point of view.
And let's face it, the man was highly intelligent. Chances are he knew a fact that I didn't although we sometimes tussled over words. Invariably it came down to choice of pronunciation!
Stubborn, negative, truculent, inquisitive, vain, shy, critical, hyper-sensitive, brilliant, fearful, gifted storyteller, worrisome, obsessive, indignant, supportive, defensive, penurious, atheist then agnostic, contradictory, appreciative, and the best audience, ever. I miss my complicated, difficult, fiercely loyal friend.
Around 1985 I invited him to spend the weekend with me at my brother's home in Mexico. I told him I would have to read a movie script and take some time to work on it but otherwise he'd have my full attention. His reply “Oh, I'll help you.” I couldn't imagine how but help me he did.
That was the beginning of his being my drama coach.
His life-long dedication to self improvement and psychoanalysis was the bedrock on which he drew his suggestions on how I might portray a certain character. He was a keen observer of the human condition. He loved analyzing body movements. We always tried to find out what the character was saying with her body that might inform or contradict what she was saying in her lines.
I attribute my long and successful career to Raymond. He loved helping me by applying his life knowledge to my work. When I got the part, he got the part. And when I didn't, he called them fools, pearls before swine, “Hollywood, Follywood” he'd say. I sometimes wonder if the last 25 years of working with me didn't bring him as much joy as his many years of teaching. He really loved our collaboration, although you can only imagine how often we argued over choices.
We also shared a love of movies and home improvement and finding a “deal.” I very much miss all our outings around those interests. I also miss that he's not there to rave when I bring him something I baked or cooked. He loved those little culinary surprises. For years I did his mending until I think he finally loosened the purse strings when it came to replacing socks or bed linens or clothes. I can't be sure of that but he basically stopped asking me to sew for him.
Up until the very end he was asking about the minutiae, the block club meeting at my house and what I was serving. He thanked me for every “ice cold” slurpy I brought him or the ads from the weekend paper. Oh how he loved to read those ads, every one!
I cannot begin to express how much I miss him. And how much everything reminds me of him. I see an ad and think how I must tell him and how we must go to see what they have, and how much it costs. I go through Cahuenga Pass and picture him up in his living room pouring over the paper. I have a home improvement task and want his opinion on how to approach it.
Hours before he died I asked him if I could read some prayers over him, for me, I said. Of course, he said. As I read the prayers of the dying I cried, choking out the words ever so softly. He remained looking at me the whole time and held my hand to squeeze it. He comforted me as I said my good-bye.
I told him many times over the years that he simply could not die as my career would nose dive. In the end I told him it would all be fine, he would continue to inspire me as he did while with me.
There'll never be another Raymond. The man was one of a kind.
By Terry Kilburn
I first met Raymond in 1951 at the Player's Ring Theater on Santa Monica Blvd. He had recently returned from Europe where he had been working for the Marshall Plan in Paris. He had gone back to USC for his degree and there he had met Al Herwitz (known as Boomie) who was an actor with the Player's Ring Theater; I also acted and directed at there. Raymond used to come to the theater a lot and after some time he started helping out with props and assisting the stage manager.
One day he discovered me sitting in my car, during a break, reading "Obscure Destinies" by Willa Cather, who was one of Raymond's favorite authors. Our enthusiasm for her led us to get the inspiration to write a screenplay together based on one of her most tragic and moving short stories "Neighbor Rosicky." It was to be a starkly realistic "art movie." So, we started work on our project one afternoon at Raymond's house where he was living with his parents. We started off seriously enough, but being young and pretty foolish we little by little began to see the funny side and pretty soon "Neighbor Rosicky" had become a musical with Busby Burkely style dance numbers and lot of flash!! One big number featured neighbor Rosicky driving his horse-drawn cart across a long stretch of the Nebraska plains--on each side of the road giant sunflowers were blooming and as he passed them each flower opened to reveal a platinum blonde chorus girl dancing and crooning in 1930's style. We were ashamed of ourselves, but couldn't stop laughing. So, we realized that we were not cut out to be screenwriters. But, it was the beginning of our friendship and through the years, although there were some rough spots, we continued to laugh--for as you know, Raymond loved to laugh--our friendship which began in 1951, lasted a lifetime. And even in his last hours, we shared laughter. How I miss that laughter.
One day he discovered me sitting in my car, during a break, reading "Obscure Destinies" by Willa Cather, who was one of Raymond's favorite authors. Our enthusiasm for her led us to get the inspiration to write a screenplay together based on one of her most tragic and moving short stories "Neighbor Rosicky." It was to be a starkly realistic "art movie." So, we started work on our project one afternoon at Raymond's house where he was living with his parents. We started off seriously enough, but being young and pretty foolish we little by little began to see the funny side and pretty soon "Neighbor Rosicky" had become a musical with Busby Burkely style dance numbers and lot of flash!! One big number featured neighbor Rosicky driving his horse-drawn cart across a long stretch of the Nebraska plains--on each side of the road giant sunflowers were blooming and as he passed them each flower opened to reveal a platinum blonde chorus girl dancing and crooning in 1930's style. We were ashamed of ourselves, but couldn't stop laughing. So, we realized that we were not cut out to be screenwriters. But, it was the beginning of our friendship and through the years, although there were some rough spots, we continued to laugh--for as you know, Raymond loved to laugh--our friendship which began in 1951, lasted a lifetime. And even in his last hours, we shared laughter. How I miss that laughter.
My Raymond Story by Louise Owen
I first met Raymond in 1968. He was teaching at Widney High School, a school for the physically handicapped, in Los Angeles. I had just been hired as an itinerant teacher to work with visually handicapped students in special schools.
Raymond had a newly blinded girl in his English lit class, and I was teaching her braille. He expected her to turn to a specific page in the book (one of 37 braille volumes), and then a certain paragraph, and begin reading. This would be a challenge for an advanced braille student, and I read him the riot act. He told me later he liked me immediately after the dressing down.
After several weeks, he paid me a back-handed compliment. He said my predecessor was beautiful, but I did more for the students. We became friends then, but mainly professional until 1986 when I moved to Los Angeles and rented the apartment beneath his house.
Raymond was the most intelligent person I’ve ever known. He became my mentor and my confidant. We were, however, different in so many ways. He was arts, theater, music. He was LA Opera. I was Dodgers baseball. He flew to Paris. I backpacked in the Sierras. He toured the Greek Isles. I hiked the Grand Canyon.
He was thrifty to a fault. He read Consumer Reports, ads in the Los Angeles Times and the New York Times, and shopped for bargains. I hate to shop. He liked steaks very rare and vegetables al dente. I never had a quality steak until I was in college, and then didn’t know what it was! I think he enjoyed my naiveté and lack of sophistication.
I heard of his earlier exploits but couldn’t relate to them. He was way out of my league. As years passed, I met many of his friends. He had gone from grade school through high school with Landis Stewart and Bob Aldrich. They became lifelong friends. Bob and Kate Aldrich named their younger son Raymond. The Aldriches became Raymond’s adopted family. The last trip of his life was to Ann Arbor for Thanksgiving with the Aldrich family.
His Los Angeles adopted family was the Howards. He taught school with Mickey and Edith, and when Edith suffered her stroke, Raymond visited every day. They had shared years of art, music, theater, films, museums, travel and food. From the time I met him, his Sunday evenings were spent with Bob Chapman until Bob’s death. I don’t think Raymond ever recovered from that loss. He was a fiercely loyal friend, which, perhaps, explains why he was slow to forgive when he felt wounded.
There was a time when Raymond’s exercise regimen included the 3.2 mile walk around Lake Hollywood. To ease the boredom he listened to music on his tape recorder and established a ritualistic routine of tapping certain posts, circling a tree, and counting ducks. Ducks were his good luck charm, and he was thrilled when he saw them by the dozens. He told me one time, “When I die, just say ‘His ducks ran out’.”
He became very reflective this past year. Because of his declining health, we were together more. He ate a lot of meals in my apartment and we watched movies ordered from Netflix; revisited Jane Austen as he tried to steer me to Edith Wharton. He constantly marveled at the “jewel box” night view of the city from his deck and the San Gabriel Mountains behind us. He expressed joy watching his frolicking cats and worried about the survival of his newly planted rosemary.
I would find him sitting on his deck watching the gold fish in the pond. When asked what he was thinking, he said he felt so fortunate to have (and to have had) so many good friends.
Raymond was engaged to the end. Two days before he died we laughed about getting mail from the Neptune Society. Every time I entered his hospital room, he started talking before I got to his bed. He always asked, “What’s happening?” Even his nurse laughed when I told him Bill Maher said, “The next time we go to war for oil, I hope we get some.” He wanted the day’s headlines. He missed watching The Food Channel. The morning of the day he died he said to me, “Tell me again how you make your potato salad.” He forgave me for taking him back to prison (hospital).
At seven o’clock that evening the doctor called to tell me life support had been removed. Carolyn (Lofrano) drove me to the hospital. Manuel (Escobar), Raymond’s longtime worker, who had become a caregiver, was there. Marianne (Muellerielle) and Terry (Kilburn) came.
Raymond said, “There will be no tears in this room!” And until the morphine caused him to hallucinate, his incredible sense of humor and wit remained intact. Carolyn and I stayed until the end when, finally, his ducks did run out.
Raymond had a newly blinded girl in his English lit class, and I was teaching her braille. He expected her to turn to a specific page in the book (one of 37 braille volumes), and then a certain paragraph, and begin reading. This would be a challenge for an advanced braille student, and I read him the riot act. He told me later he liked me immediately after the dressing down.
After several weeks, he paid me a back-handed compliment. He said my predecessor was beautiful, but I did more for the students. We became friends then, but mainly professional until 1986 when I moved to Los Angeles and rented the apartment beneath his house.
Raymond was the most intelligent person I’ve ever known. He became my mentor and my confidant. We were, however, different in so many ways. He was arts, theater, music. He was LA Opera. I was Dodgers baseball. He flew to Paris. I backpacked in the Sierras. He toured the Greek Isles. I hiked the Grand Canyon.
He was thrifty to a fault. He read Consumer Reports, ads in the Los Angeles Times and the New York Times, and shopped for bargains. I hate to shop. He liked steaks very rare and vegetables al dente. I never had a quality steak until I was in college, and then didn’t know what it was! I think he enjoyed my naiveté and lack of sophistication.
I heard of his earlier exploits but couldn’t relate to them. He was way out of my league. As years passed, I met many of his friends. He had gone from grade school through high school with Landis Stewart and Bob Aldrich. They became lifelong friends. Bob and Kate Aldrich named their younger son Raymond. The Aldriches became Raymond’s adopted family. The last trip of his life was to Ann Arbor for Thanksgiving with the Aldrich family.
His Los Angeles adopted family was the Howards. He taught school with Mickey and Edith, and when Edith suffered her stroke, Raymond visited every day. They had shared years of art, music, theater, films, museums, travel and food. From the time I met him, his Sunday evenings were spent with Bob Chapman until Bob’s death. I don’t think Raymond ever recovered from that loss. He was a fiercely loyal friend, which, perhaps, explains why he was slow to forgive when he felt wounded.
There was a time when Raymond’s exercise regimen included the 3.2 mile walk around Lake Hollywood. To ease the boredom he listened to music on his tape recorder and established a ritualistic routine of tapping certain posts, circling a tree, and counting ducks. Ducks were his good luck charm, and he was thrilled when he saw them by the dozens. He told me one time, “When I die, just say ‘His ducks ran out’.”
He became very reflective this past year. Because of his declining health, we were together more. He ate a lot of meals in my apartment and we watched movies ordered from Netflix; revisited Jane Austen as he tried to steer me to Edith Wharton. He constantly marveled at the “jewel box” night view of the city from his deck and the San Gabriel Mountains behind us. He expressed joy watching his frolicking cats and worried about the survival of his newly planted rosemary.
I would find him sitting on his deck watching the gold fish in the pond. When asked what he was thinking, he said he felt so fortunate to have (and to have had) so many good friends.
Raymond was engaged to the end. Two days before he died we laughed about getting mail from the Neptune Society. Every time I entered his hospital room, he started talking before I got to his bed. He always asked, “What’s happening?” Even his nurse laughed when I told him Bill Maher said, “The next time we go to war for oil, I hope we get some.” He wanted the day’s headlines. He missed watching The Food Channel. The morning of the day he died he said to me, “Tell me again how you make your potato salad.” He forgave me for taking him back to prison (hospital).
At seven o’clock that evening the doctor called to tell me life support had been removed. Carolyn (Lofrano) drove me to the hospital. Manuel (Escobar), Raymond’s longtime worker, who had become a caregiver, was there. Marianne (Muellerielle) and Terry (Kilburn) came.
Raymond said, “There will be no tears in this room!” And until the morphine caused him to hallucinate, his incredible sense of humor and wit remained intact. Carolyn and I stayed until the end when, finally, his ducks did run out.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Stories from dear friends
Hugh Martin
I can't tell you how grateful I am for letting me know about the death of Raymond Lieberman. I lost track of him during the last few years, but we had a wonderful friendship before that happened. Ray and I had a lot of laughs together (he had a great sense of humor) but as you know he had his serious side also and I'd admired him for that.
I wish that I could attend the gathering of his friends and family but I'm 95 years old now and I don't travel anymore. Again, thanks so much for the sad information and for the lovely things you said about him.
Wendy Munger
I am one of what must have been many people whose names were in Raymond's files, and who received your wonderful Raymond story. I don't know if I'll be able to come to the celebration on May 22, but I want you to know how much I loved getting your letter. You did him justice, which was not easy to do. He was a friend of my mother, who died in 2002, and I talked to him only a few times after that, but every time I did, he made me laugh and he made me think. I am so happy to know that he had a friend like you, who was in turn so happy to have a friend like him. If each person who got your letter reacted to it the way I did, you have brought great happiness to a large number of people. Thank you so much for taking the time to write us.
Tom Peters
Raymond was a man with whom I became well acquainted during difficult times in his life. He was always affable, interested and interesting even when the time came that we saw each other less frequently. Raymond was truly a man of many voices. He could always surprise and sometimes disappoint, but always he was empathic, helpful and a dear friend to many. Here is to Raymond: May his memory always delight, and remind us of his many "Raymond" stories!
Melinda Peters
I knew Raymond only through our coincidentally same LA Chamber Music series. He was always so gracious and almost old world charming. However brief our contact, he had a way of making me feel special, and I suspect he was similar with many who have come to celebrate him. I am sorry not to have known Raymond better, but am pleased he touched my life.
Barbara Silverman
My friendship with Raymond was different from any other relationship I have ever had. There was never any judgment. We were extremely honest with each other.
Raymond was one of the smartest men I ever met--while at the same time being naive about so many things. He taught me about opera, literature, plays and politics without ever sounding one bit pompous. He questioned my judgment as I questioned his knowledge. We were very comfortable together and spoke at least five times a week.
I will miss him, but I will always know what a good friend truly is and feel blessed to have been able to share these last years with him. Rest easy my friend.
I can't tell you how grateful I am for letting me know about the death of Raymond Lieberman. I lost track of him during the last few years, but we had a wonderful friendship before that happened. Ray and I had a lot of laughs together (he had a great sense of humor) but as you know he had his serious side also and I'd admired him for that.
I wish that I could attend the gathering of his friends and family but I'm 95 years old now and I don't travel anymore. Again, thanks so much for the sad information and for the lovely things you said about him.
Wendy Munger
I am one of what must have been many people whose names were in Raymond's files, and who received your wonderful Raymond story. I don't know if I'll be able to come to the celebration on May 22, but I want you to know how much I loved getting your letter. You did him justice, which was not easy to do. He was a friend of my mother, who died in 2002, and I talked to him only a few times after that, but every time I did, he made me laugh and he made me think. I am so happy to know that he had a friend like you, who was in turn so happy to have a friend like him. If each person who got your letter reacted to it the way I did, you have brought great happiness to a large number of people. Thank you so much for taking the time to write us.
Tom Peters
Raymond was a man with whom I became well acquainted during difficult times in his life. He was always affable, interested and interesting even when the time came that we saw each other less frequently. Raymond was truly a man of many voices. He could always surprise and sometimes disappoint, but always he was empathic, helpful and a dear friend to many. Here is to Raymond: May his memory always delight, and remind us of his many "Raymond" stories!
Melinda Peters
I knew Raymond only through our coincidentally same LA Chamber Music series. He was always so gracious and almost old world charming. However brief our contact, he had a way of making me feel special, and I suspect he was similar with many who have come to celebrate him. I am sorry not to have known Raymond better, but am pleased he touched my life.
Barbara Silverman
My friendship with Raymond was different from any other relationship I have ever had. There was never any judgment. We were extremely honest with each other.
Raymond was one of the smartest men I ever met--while at the same time being naive about so many things. He taught me about opera, literature, plays and politics without ever sounding one bit pompous. He questioned my judgment as I questioned his knowledge. We were very comfortable together and spoke at least five times a week.
I will miss him, but I will always know what a good friend truly is and feel blessed to have been able to share these last years with him. Rest easy my friend.
By Sandy Aldrich
I was first introduced to Raymond in a hospital room at the University of Michigan while I was in college. I believe I brought him an arrangement of irises and was eager to make a good impression. You see, Ray and I had just started to date and I had heard all about "Big Raymond" so I knew how important he was to Ray. Raymond greeted me with a warm smile and since that very first meeting he has made such a lasting impression on me. Every encounter, regardless of the time that had passed, was met with the same smile and warm embrace. Raymond was always eager to hear about all my new career adventures and even tolerated my "kid" stories after our children were born. Although our youngest child (pictured with Raymond and Grandpa Bob at Thanksgiving) will not remember Raymond, when we share this picture with her we will pass along our Raymond stories so she will know what a special person he was to us all.
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