Credit us with this mistake: We had no idea. Perhaps, credit others with the same mistake: They had no idea.
All of us, of course, had an idea, and a very large one: an idea of the reach, the fields and the impact of Steve Farber. The reach: from Denver to the White House. The fields: law, lobbying, philanthropy, kidneys, each field embracing many subfields, many expertises and kindnesses. The impact: the Denver skyline, the Denver sports scene, the Denver International Airport, the Democratic National Convention, 2008, at which Barack Obama was nominated.
Of all of this, yes, we had an idea. Still more: We knew that Steve Farber’s effectiveness was due not only to his education, his native intelligence and his way with people.
What we had no idea of was this: the universal echo, the truly unfailing consistency, of his way with people. It was not only with family and extended family, not only with clients and colleagues, not only with politicians and pals. Not only in the portals of power but in the unnoticed spaces.
As if we did not already know, the massive turnout at his funeral that filled Temple Emanuel showed just how large the number of people he interacted with was. Yes, this we knew. What he had no idea of was how unaffected — up and down the social, economic and professional ladder — Steve Farber’s friendliness and interest in people were. He was the same Steve Farber, mover and shaker, when he interacted with: Taxi driver. Secretary. Waitress. Nurse. Flight attendant. Clothier. Coach. Junior associate. You name it.
When President Franklin Delano Roosevelt died in Georgia, the train carrying him back to Washington passed through many states. Lining the route were the “common people.” They turned out in droves, weeping. When Steve Farber died, it was, yes, his throng of friends and associates who were grieving, but so were countless other people, who knew him only casually or in brief encounters. That was the impact of his persona.
The list of people on whom he left an imprint runs on, for in his multifaceted career in and beyond the law, Steve Farber came into extensive contact with: The celebrated. The stricken. The rising. The falling. The idealists. The discouraged.
It was easy, at least for those not steadily within Steve Farber’s circle, to have no idea of his universal mien and manner because of his outsized public trajectory. Sum it up this way: At his funeral were three Colorado governors, three mayors, two Congresspeople, three US senators, state legislators, City Council members, corporate CEOs — and these are only the ones we spotted — not to mention representatives of the numerous philanthropies to which he devoted focus, resources and time. And not to mention, a message directly from former President Bill and Sec. Hillary Clinton. All of these leaders sought Steve Farber’s advice, both legal and otherwise, or his fundraising prowess, or his lobbying skills, or the confidence he instilled, or simply the opportunity to be around him because of an intangible quality that made him fun to be around.
Amidst all this, there is one element in Steve Farber’s life that was little commented on at his funeral and that has hardly been commented on over the years in the considerable press coverage he garnered. This is significant precisely for being silent. We refer to an element of take-it-for-granted, which is anything but in many other cities around the country. We refer to the smooth relations between Jews and the general citizenry, including its leadership, political and social, in this city and state.
Recall that General Rose Memorial Hospital was founded because Jewish doctors had a hard time finding staff positions in Denver hospitals in the 1940s. Recall that when Steve Farber and his close college friends pledged what was termed a non-Jewish college fraternity in the 1960s, this was breaking a decades-old precedent, as fraternities had been defined on the basis of religious discrimination. Recall — or open the history books to learn — that anti-Jewish feelings and policies, formal or informal, characterized Denver — up to a certain moment.
A few notable Jews in this city managed to bridge that gap beginning in the 1940s. The bridge figures managed to reach out and reach across by demonstrating class, fairness, intelligence and good will. A few Jews — not hiding that they were Jewish — managed to break down those barriers. So thoroughly undermined are these barriers that now, who even remembers the trailblazers? One of the people who had that class, fairness, reach, intelligence and influence was Steve Farber. He made it look so easy, so natural that it was hardly noticed.
Which hardly means that Farber’s life was always so easy or natural. He turned his suffering from kidney disease into the American Transplant Foundation, which thus far has saved 1,417 lives.
Sum up Steve Farber in a few phrases: Style. Moral compass. Optimism. Love of Denver. Love of family. Generosity of spirit. Hard work. Risk-taking. It’s hard to believe that they all came together in one man.
Copyright © 2020 by the Intermountain Jewish News
