Head Strong: City of character and characters

Steve Solms died last week.

I knew him only peripherally, but always got a kick out of his joie de vivre. Others have reminisced about the time the real estate developer and diehard 76ers fan brazenly walked onto the court during player introductions and presented Julius Erving with a doctor's bag. I'll always remember seeing Solms in the midst of a real estate crash, but looking no worse for the wear at poolside in Las Vegas and flashing a wad of cash while buying a drink.

Charlie Bowser just passed, too. Bowser was another Philadelphia institution - a civil-rights pioneer, fierce political tactician, and brilliant legal mind. He influenced an untold number of young Philadelphians looking to enter public life. I brushed shoulders with him when serving as an intern for the MOVE Commission, of which Bowser was an influential member.

Both men were giants in this town, and also characters. Don't misunderstand. To me, character is a term of endearment. It's a descriptor of a man (yes, maybe it's a guy thing) who lives unconventionally, is usually a risk-taker, and has a sense of confidence and fierce independence. I have been fortunate to know many characters. And watching them lead their lives has enriched mine.

Hardy Williams, who along with Bowser made a bid for mayor in the 1970s, was a character. Williams was another African American trailblazer. He was voted the most popular student in his predominantly white high school class, and when I came to know him later in his life, I understood why.

A contemporary of Williams was Jim Beasley, the famed lawyer whose trial bag I had the privilege of carrying. Beasley was known for his record-setting malpractice and defamation verdicts. He once drove a Greyhound bus past Temple's law school building and decided he wanted to study there. (Today, it bears his name.) In his spare time, he flew a vintage World War II P-51 Mustang. Beasley was a great dinner companion. Give him a glass of red wine and he was ready to litigate any subject over a meal, especially if it involved individual liberties.

Speaking of dinner companions, none compare to Jay C. Waldman. This Reagan-appointed federal judge married my wife and me. The man who was former Gov. Richard Thornburgh's political eyes and ears had an ability to see around corners. A Center City resident, Waldman became convinced that the city's urban core was improving only when he learned that Ruth's Chris and the Palm were opening steak houses. Later, he'd finish those meals with a cigar and a walk down Walnut Street. He had a unique test for assessing my level of friendship with someone: "Smerc, have you ever had a cognac with the guy in his house or yours?" (Which often made me realize I didn't know the guy so well.)

Lunching with Councilman W. Thacher Longstreth was a treat. The bow-tie-wearing Princetonian had a unique way of seating himself at the Union League. He would take one of the legs supporting his 6-foot-6 frame and lift it over his dining chair. Yes, he always wore argyle socks, but he never sported an overcoat, even in the depths of winter.

His chief of staff was another WASP and character, W. Russell G. Byers. Russell and wife Laurada had an entertaining style and grace that must have been genetic. The Christmas parties at their Chestnut Hill mansion featured sleigh rides. I like to say that Russell had a green thumb in the garden and nicotine fingers in the drawing room. Long before Mad Men, this guy knew how to smoke. Back when Joe Camel was still legal, he made it look stylish. He found his calling as a columnist for the Philadelphia Daily News until the night a thug stabbed him to death outside a Chestnut Hill Wawa. Damn, I miss him, too.

We've lost so many, and they are not easy to replace. Michael Nutter might be mayor, but he is no character. Ed Rendell makes the cut. Andy Reid does a fine job coaching the Eagles, but Buddy Ryan was the character. Georges Perrier? For sure.

Pat Croce is the likely dean of the new generation. The swashbuckling former owner of the 76ers is the epitome of a Philadelphia character. Pulitzer Prize winner Buzz Bissinger once insulted my father on the radio, and yet I still like him. That's the mark of a character.

I would also give Neil Oxman this badge of distinction, but not for being a celebrated political adman. It's because he also managed to caddie for Tom Watson and once told me that he sees 230 movies a year - in theaters!

Zack Stalberg at the Committee of Seventy shows great potential. Kenny Gamble as well. You don't write "Me and Mrs. Jones" without knowing a few things.

I don't know what it's like to live in Phoenix or Dallas, Indianapolis or St. Paul. But I have a hard time believing they can match us man for man. Hopefully, it stays that way.