Oscar Ehrenberg

Milly and Oscar.

I want to introduce you to my friend, Oscar Ehrenberg, of blessed memory. Oscar was a splendid man, elegant and charming. He was a survivor of the Holocaust and bore a number on his arm.

 He engaged me in the early 1970’s to represent him is a business dispute San Antonio investors were having with a bank in Phoenix, Arizona. We played chess on the flight to Phoenix and since we had not completed our game when we landed, he carried the chess board into the terminal where we finished our game. Since he is not around to contradict me, I’m claiming victory.

 We met with the bank president, a bully if there ever was one, who demanded that Oscar answer his question with either a “Yes” or a “No” answer.  If you knew Oscar, you knew that he was not a man of few words. Oscar wanted to make sure the man knew the reason for Oscar’s answer. 

 After the third time that Oscar did not answer with a “Yes” or “No”, each time having been rudely treated, the man shouted for a guard to escort us out of the bank. It was the nicest place I have ever been kicked out of.

 When I went to his home to offer my condolences after his death, Oscar’s daughter told me—“He thought you were special, Drew. . . . He thought everyone was special.”

 That is the way Oscar was. He thought everyone was special. And this man had received the worst treatment any human could receive from other humans.