John L. Weaver, longtime music library specialist at Penn and ultimate girl dad, has died at 81
He worked at Penn in the 1970s, ‘80s, and ‘90s, and eventually oversaw the Van Pelt Library’s enormous treasure trove of music material.
John L. Weaver, 81, formerly of Philadelphia, longtime music specialist at the University of Pennsylvania’s Van Pelt Library, self-taught musician, sound system expert, bus driver, and indomitable girl dad, died Tuesday, Dec. 2, of age-associated decline at his home in Santa Fe, N.M.
Mr. Weaver grew up on Ellsworth Street in South Philadelphia and parlayed his lifelong love of music, musicians, and education into jobs that helped students, faculty, and others navigate the music stacks at Penn, and patrons at the old 2nd Fret coffeehouse in Center City enjoy the artistry of Joni Mitchell, Bonnie Raitt, and other folk and jazz performers.
He taught himself to play guitar, harmonica, and keyboards, and told his daughter, Caity, that he was working at the 2nd Fret in the 1960s when legendary axeman Mississippi John Hurt gave him a few guitar lessons he never forgot. “He just made it look like so much fun,” he told her.
He worked at Penn in the 1970s, ‘80s, and ‘90s, and eventually oversaw the library’s enormous treasure trove of music material. He also worked security jobs at the Spectrum so he could see live concerts there and later as a sound system sales expert at Bryn Mawr Stereo.
By the time he moved to Harrisburg in 1988 and then to Santa Fe in 2022, his personal collection of records, CDs, and cassettes numbered in the thousands. “He appreciated music with the unconditional affection of a parent,” his daughter said.
He told his family that Bob Dylan was his favorite musician. But “Gone Fishin’” by Bing Crosby and Louis Armstrong was his favorite song. “I used to play that over and over,” he told his daughter. “I love to hear the dialogue back and forth between the two of them.”
Mr. Weaver used music, kindness, and humor to connect with people, his daughter said, and he made it a point to remember names and faces. “He must have been vaccinated with a feather as he’d laugh at just about anything,” longtime friend Chip McFerran said.
He was an engaging storyteller, and friends called him “such a kind person,” “always a gentleman,” and “a purely brilliant human” in online tributes. His daughter named him “the world’s friendliest man” and noted his “jack-o’-lantern grin and voice like butterscotch pouring over a sundae.”
She said: “John was the kind of too-good-to-be-true father that only exists in movies.”
John L. Weaver was born March 6, 1944, in Philadelphia. He grew up with two brothers, Tony and Bill, in a Black neighborhood that bordered an Italian community in South Philadelphia, and his mother was an expert at concocting delicious pasta sauce and homemade pizza.
Sometimes, he told his daughter, he would hide in the basement coal bin to avoid his mother and grandfather, and he’d emerge later coated in black coal dust. Other times, he said, he would hop a local freight train to a nearby golf course, fish golf balls out of the water hazards at night, and later sell them back to the golfers.
He met Maureen Brennan at the Penn library, and they married in 1988, and relocated to near her home in Harrisburg. They had a daughter, Caity, and he commuted four hours round trip to Penn by train for a decade.
After leaving Penn, he drove a city bus in Harrisburg and reveled in greeting his regular passengers and introducing himself to new ones. His wife died in 2022, and he moved to New Mexico to be near his daughter and son-in-law, Taylor Berman.
“His favorite activity was talking to people,” his son-in-law said. “He loved getting to know anyone and telling his stories. As he’d be the first to tell you, he did all right for a kid from South Philly.”
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Mr. Weaver followed the Eagles and loved cheesesteaks and expensive chocolate. He supported public arts organizations and enjoyed photographing practically everything his family did.
He doted on his daughter, often surprising her with exciting road trips and unplanned pit stops for ice cream. When he knew it was her on the phone, he would answer by saying: “Is this the smartest and most beautiful girl in the world calling me?”
The night before he died, he told her his secret to happiness and friendship. “I like people,” he said. She said that was no secret.
“He had a magnetic personality and never got tired of learning,” she said. “He was just the nicest guy.”
In addition to his daughter and son-in-law, Mr. Weaver is survived by his brother Bill and other relatives. His brother Tony died earlier.
Donations in his name may be made to WITF Public Media, 4801 Lindle Rd., Harrisburg, Pa. 17111; and WHYY Public Media, 150 N. 6th St., Philadelphia, Pa. 19106.