Joel Stewart Charleston

Joel Charleston died on Saturday, August 29. He was 84 years old, though he’d tell you he was 34 on the inside. He and Cathe, his wife of 56 years, recently moved to Jacksonville, but he was a New Yorker through and through.

His life was a study in contrasts. He was a lawyer for nearly 60 years, almost reluctantly, and many would agree he probably should have been a professor. He would have made a great judge. He probably thought he would have been a legendary politician. But when he was lawyering, and even outside of his practice, he was a fierce advocate for his people. And sometimes - almost always - those who started as his clients became his friends.

His methods were unconventional. Once, as his son’s soccer coach, he triggered his defence’s offside trap by blowing a shofar, the traditional ram’s horn used during the Jewish high holy days. It was weird, but it worked.

He had his own, strict, ethical code, though it was not sanctimonious, and it had its various carve outs and provisos. Justice was central to his identity. He rooted for the underdog, except when it came to the Yankees. His dress code was less strict. He started his career in brightly colored suits, and finished it in sweatsuits. He discovered the fanny pack in the 90’s, and wore one until it came back into style.

He was energetic and tenacious, like a dog with a bone. Sometimes this meant arguing an arcane point of law and “defeating the big firms”, and sometimes it meant serving as the umpire for his Sunday softball game even after his vision had declined, calling balls and strikes out of an innate sense of fairness, despite not being able to see the pitches.

He was an original. Somehow, he convinced the single A minor league baseball team for the Yankees to let him throw out the ceremonial first pitch before a game. He practiced for months and threw it from the mound. It wasn’t a strike, but it was “around the plate”. He went on to do the same for the AA and AAA affiliates, working his way up through the minors, packing the stands with his friends. He never made it to the majors, but most never do.

He was a sweet man, but he could be tough if he needed to be. He had undeniable intellectual firepower, but he didn’t over overcomplicate his stances. He could make a subtle point, but he was never quiet, especially when singing the national anthem at Yankee Stadium. He was often serious, but he liked to laugh and maintained a sense of humor even during life’s most trying moments.

He had an artist's temperament, often adding a flourish to the mundane. Newly weds didn't get a wedding card from Joel, they got a wedding book, complete with illustrations, poetry and a tailored inscription. He wasn't an actor, but he was theatrical. In the late 60's, he studied at the American Mime Theatre, and he was its board president at the time of his death.

He was kind to strangers, unless they were telemarketers. He mentored countless young law students, and a stint working in his home office was a right of passage for many in the community. He made deep friendships throughout his life and kept them. He was a devoted husband, father, uncle, brother, son, and poppy. He loved his family and his people and wasn’t shy about telling them. He touched so many and will be dearly missed.