Dutch Leonard, In Memoriam 1925-2013

"If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it."

Elmore Leonard, 2010

photograph by Marc Hauser/getty images

Elmore "Dutch" Leonard passed away this morning, from complications brought on by a recent stroke. He was 87 years old.

It is said that "time heals all wounds," but when I heard the news of Dutch's death, it reminded me just how unsympathetic time can be, as it quietly and methodically moves forward, never concerning itself with sentimentalities and bonds that are forged within the timeline of a life lived.

Both my parents have had long storied relationships with Dutch, dating back to the forties. My Dad worked at Campbell Ewald as an intern back then. It was a low-paying job that Dad eventually quit in order to provide for his family. Dutch was a copywriter at the agency. A job he held while trying to jump-start his career as a novelist, diligently writing short stories and western novels in his spare time, with the hope of eventually landing a book deal. Dutch's first wife Beverly, was my Mom's best friend. A friendship that has lasted nearly 70 years now. It was through Beverly and Dutch that my parents were introduced to each other on a blind date.

 In 1948, my Mom, Beverly and Dutch were at the Wyoming Show Bar in Detroit to see jazz pianist Bobby Stevenson perform. Dutch had phoned my Dad, who was an avid jazz aficionado, and asked him if he wanted to meet up with them at the club to see Stevenson play that night. Dad showed up along with another friend of the Leonard's who was obnoxiously drunk and loud, embarrassing my Dad, who was sullen and speechless throughout the evening. Unimpressed, and put-off by how shy he was that evening,  Mom drove home with the Leonard's that evening, sending my Dad home alone with his tail between his legs. During the ride home, Beverly pleaded with my Mom to give it one more try. The next evening, the plan was for the four of them to meet at the Uptown Club for Campbell Ewald's annual Christmas party. Just prior to the start of the evening though, Dutch and Beverly would cancel, as one of their children was running a fever, leaving my parents, who barely knew each other, in the uncomfortable position of going out on a blind date together.  Three years later they would marry, and as people often say, "The rest is history."

After Dad quit his job at Campbell Ewald, he maintained a somewhat casual relationship with Dutch, but eventually their relationship would fade, as each of them went different directions and the randomness of life put them on different paths. Dutch and Beverly divorced, and like any divorce, sides were taken, and the dynamics of my parents relationship with the Leonard's changed.

My Dad remained fiercely loyal to Dutch though, taking time to visit him whenever an opportunity would present itself, whether it was through mutual friends, family weddings, or  anything else that would give him the chance to reconnect with his old friend.

For the entirety of his life, Dad closely followed the arc of Dutch's literary career, reading every new book the minute it hit the shelves. Many of the books were inscribed with personal notes from Dutch, notes that could only be written between two friends with a past.

Dutch was becoming increasingly famous the older he got, and once his screenplays hit big, he went from being a local Detroit celebrity to a nationally recognized name in literary circles. Dad was enamored with his rise to fame and proudly wore it on his sleeve, while my Mom was always measured in her response; as if being too impressed might somehow compromise her loyalty to her best friend Beverly. That being said, both my parents adored Dutch, and fondly remembered the times they spent together, especially in their youth.

For my Dad, deep down inside, beyond the shallow veil of fame and fortune, I think he felt a deep sense of gratitude for Dutch's role in introducing him to the love of his life. While their relationship wasn't always reciprocal, Dutch would show up at opportune moments when it really counted, and Dad, forever loyal, was always appreciative.

The last time I saw Dutch Leonard was when my Dad was in the hospital after suffering a heart attack. A byproduct of his heart attack was he was disoriented and showing signs of dementia. In light of this, our family had made it known that other than immediate family, we were not taking visitors. Dutch, the faithful old pal, showed up anyhow, bringing with him a copy of his latest book. Written on the inside of the book, describing my Dad's situation as aptly as he could, the great author had inscribed the words,"Walter, get outta here!"