Ed Koch, New York's "Pugnacious" Former Mayor

Ed Koch, New York's colorful former mayor, died yesterday morning.

Okay, part of that might be obvious; if someone becomes New York's mayor, chances are that person is either somewhat colorful or forgotten. It seems to be that simple. Other cities may have mayors whose names most of us are unfamiliar with. But to be mayor in the city that never sleeps, you'd pretty much have to be a colorful character. Even then, Koch seemed to stand out, with his arms outstreched.

I heard of his death yesterday morning on Today, then read about his death in the Tampa Bay Times. The Times article, originally from the Washington Post, caught Ed Koch's essence beautifully. One paragraph from the article states, "'How'm I doing?' the mayor lilked to bellow as he gallivanted up and down city streets, arms raised above his lanky frame, bald pate bobbing. His signature greeting was delivered in a whiny, nasal voice that was as recognizably New York as the screech of an A train."** If that doesn't paint a picture of Koch and the city he was mayor of for three terms, nothing does.

Every time I think of Ed Koch, I'm reminded of my grandmother, especially shortly before she died. This time was no exception.

My grandmother, Agnes Shwedo, died in the late 1980s. She was a character who tended to speak her mind. She was born to Irish immigrants (her maiden name was Kelly), had numerous brothers and sister (all of whom were outspoken, and tended to live long lives), and married my grandfather, the son of Czech immigrants. Both grandparents' parents were unhappy, since they'd wanted their children to marry people from "the old country;" Agnes's folks wanted her to marry a good Irish Catholic boy, while John, Sr.'s parents wanted a good Czech Catholic daughter-in-law.

Grandma outlived Grandpa by twenty years or so. The last few weeks or months that she was alive, Grandma started to go downhill, as so many people do. Dad ended up staying with her for a few nights to keep an eye on her. One night, probably one of the last nights Grandma spent at home, Dad was awakened after midnight by a heavy pounding on the front door. He went to the door, looked through the peep-hole, and saw several uniformed police officers. "What is it?" he asked, opening the door part-way.

"We need to check on the lady here," one officer stated. "She said she's been kidnapped and is being held hostage."

Once the officers were inside, Grandma came out of her room. Turned out, she'd wanted a glass of water, was convinced she'd been kidnapped and was being held hostage, and that she was the Mayor of New York City!

Of course, Ed Koch was mayor at the time, not an elderly Irish Catholic woman. Once the officers realized what was going on ("Yes, of course I know this nice man. He's my son, and he rescued me before you got here!"), they suggested that Dad get her to the hospital in the morning. He did, and within a week or two, Grandma was gone.

Back to Ed Koch's death: I remember hearing all sorts of stories about him while he was mayor, both from news reports and from family back in New York. The Times' headline ("Pugnacious former New York mayor dies") and the accompanying article and photo capture him perfectly, at least as perfectly as a short obit can.

But whether he knew it or not, I'll never forget when Grandma "helped" him run New York, even if it was for only one night.


**Taken from the Tampa Bay Times; the full article ran on page 3A, Saturday, February 2, 2013.