Paul Goldsmith
My earliest memory of Harold is from a trip to Van Cortland park that I took with him and Vicky, probably a little before they got married. Harold was coaching me how to run since he had been a very successful miler in his day. He instructed me to run on my toes, which I tried, and subsequently could hardly walk. However I was only ten or eleven and recovered quickly. That wasn't what I remember however.
As we walked through the park we came upon two young guys (probably in their 20's) fighting. One was astride the other, his shirt off, pummeling the guy under him. It was a pretty violent fight but Harold ran right over and pulled the top guy off. He helped the other guy up who was sobbing and bleeding and the fight was over. I was impressed at how quickly and confidently Harold had acted, and how he obviously was comfortable around this sort of street violence. This was a manly street-wise side of Harold that was far from the adult businessman that I first saw him as. Looking back on it, I guess Harold had been in the middle of plenty of that sort of fight as a kid growing up poor.
Here's a story Harold used to tell of his early days attempting to make a living. He must have been still a teenager when this story happened. He particularly coveted a certain snap-brim hat (I imagine it like the sort that Humphrey Bogart wore) that he felt would make him look older and professional. In order to save up for the hat he walked back and forth to work in Manhattan from Brooklyn crossing the Brooklyn Bridge. In this way he saved a nickel each way. It was a long walk, often cold and wet and windy crossing the river, but he persevered with his goal in mind.
Finally the big day came, he had saved enough for the hat. Proudly he wore it home and as he crossed the bridge the wind caught it and it sailed out and tumbled down into the river hundreds of feet below. Harold watched it in shock as it disappeared from sight. “Easy come, easy go”, he said to me when he told me the story years ago.