A son of Queens died last week.

We were born the very same day, delivered by the same doctor in the same hospital where our mothers — sisters — shared one same room.

He was my cousin – Howard Michael; I am Michael Howard. Howie was the closest I came to having a brother until stomach cancer quickly took him from us.

In our youth, cousin Howie and I were inseparable.

I was 9 years old when my family moved across the bridge from the Bronx to join the Bergtraums in pioneering a new middle class neighborhood – Kew Gardens Hills.

At first we were a dozen blocks apart – and in a few weeks, this Bronx kid mastered biking the local streets – the Queens kids mode of transportation in the late 50’s — so that Howie and I could join forces when we chose.

Then Aunt Edie and Uncle Murray bought a house just three and a half blocks from our co-op and Howie and his twin sisters Judy and Marcia became everyday fixtures in my life.

I had Carole, my sister, but she was old – three years older than me to be precise – but Howie and the twins – I called them that although they are fraternal and didn’t look at all alike – were my playmates.

In addition to being my first cousin with the same birthdate and names that bound us forever, like characters in a comedy sketch, Howie was my best friend, too.

We roamed the streets together; biked together. Went to elementary school together – P.S. 165 – now named for his mom, the Edith Bergtraum School. We went to Jr. High together – Campbell – and had the same friends. As we grew we started taking the bus to Flushing and Jamaica. We shopped, went to the movies – the Keith’s in Flushing and Valencia in Jamaica, we hung out.

At age 13 we had a joint Bar Mitzvah with large groups of overlapping friends and family. While I was 8 hours older, Howie was 8 inches taller. He was back then, larger than life. He was big, he was tough but he was gentle. Howie looked like a grizzly, but to those who knew him, was much more of a teddy bear.

We took the daily trek from Kew Gardens Hills to Forest Hills High School together – sometimes it was a walk to Jewel Avenue and the Q65, then the trek down – what was it, 110th? At other times we’d hang at his house and Uncle Murray would drive us. The trip home was always by bus, but the pace more leisurely – we were seeing what mischief we could make enroute. At the corner of Main and Jewel, we always stopped at Goodies – old-timers will remember the candy store which anchored the neighborhood – at least for the kids.

Pizza had arrived in Queens when we were in junior high and we’d stop at – I think it was Angelo’s – a half block north of Jewel and for a quarter, have a slice and a coke. Our bike rides took us to the Host Deli on Kissena and about 72nd, where for the same 25 cents you could get a kosher frank – I don’t remember the price of knishes – perhaps 15 cents. I remember Howie and I explored Chinese restaurants together and did Italian regularly. My first adventure to Chinatown I took with Howie. We went to the Village together. I remember our first trip to the Fillmore east to see Lenny Bruce and then Joplin. By the time we got to College, we were a team – we even occasionally dated the same girls. When we started driving, Nathan’s in Coney Island was a favorite destination.

Howie’s parents had been major players in the development of the educational system in our city. His dad became the first Queens member of the newly decentralized NYC Board of Education and served as its second president. Uncle Murray was politically involved. Murray got both Howie and I involved in an early race for the NYC Council. Murray’s candidate was beaten by a guy named Manes – yup, the very same one. My first introduction to a number of the players I have known through the years came from Murray.

At Queens College, our friendship continued while we each explored new circles. We were fraternity brothers – AEPi – and still best friends. We dated friends from the same sorority, hung out in the caf and at the fraternity house at night.

Cornell Law took Howie out of town.

When Howie married Sue Leviten, his college girlfriend, I remember flying home from California to be his best man. He and Sue moved to Maryland while Howie worked at the SEC. Howie became very good at what he did. He later moved back, settling in Roslyn, then Old Westbury, where in New York, he built a career as one of the leading Merger and Acquisition attorneys in our city. He was listed as one of the top 25 private equity fund lawyers in the United States in Chambers Global “The World’s Leading Lawyers” and was also named as “Best ‘Private Fund’ Lawyer” in Best Lawyer 2005 New York telephone poll.

He was bright. He had real command of his subject and was damned good at yours. He had a little knowledge about everything and if you could get him involved in conversation – he was basically shy and quiet – he made a strong impression and poignant contribution on topics that one would think alien to this large, towering seemingly out of place figure. He was the go-to guy for family and friends. His patience and sage advice was sought by friends, family and family of friends. And he was always generous with his time.

His three kids, Jordan, Matt and Andrea, knew his intellect and his love. Sue and her entire family became his. In his own quiet way, Howie attracted people and kept them close. At his funeral, were two of his close friends – college fraternity brothers – one from Philly and one from DC paying their respects more than 40 years later. There were hundreds who came to say goodbye.

His sister Marcia told how their mother, with whom Howie had a special bond, said that she felt Howie’s strength when he was just sitting in the same room; he didn’t have to say anything. Howie was a man of few words. His mother called him a “diamond in the rough.” Marcia explained that Howie’s wife Susan smoothed his edges, and he evolved to become the centerpiece of strength for his family. It was Howie to whom all turned when the going got rough and the chips were down for advice and counsel.

Five years ago, when I was putting together a group of investors to repurchase the Tribune, I brought the business plan to Howie for review. And although Howie and I never recaptured our kinship of youth, we remained close. Family get-togethers, occasions, mutual annual birthday greetings, and email kept us in touch.

There are in life, a small number of very special people who you meet and you know will be part of you forever. For me, Howie was the first of them. I met him the day we were both born. He remained with me throughout life and his memory will remain with me forever.

His thoughtfulness and strength will serve all of us who called him family or friend.

To me he was both.

I’ll miss him.
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Michael Schenkler can be reached at:
MSchenkler@QueensTribune.com