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Classmates and Friends Remember Jim Stovin |
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From Joe Silverman (a high school friend) on hearing of Jim Stovin’s death: I spoke with Jim a few weeks before he died....of a heart attack while he and Jan were waiting to go into a theater. Joe and I went back to high school and while we were not as close as we were, we did see one another once or twice annually. He certainly loved life and was interested in everything. His daughter, Annie, is a radiologist, just like Jim, and the two of them had attended together (much to their delight) a radiology convention earlier this year. On interesting sidebit: While making a shiva call, I noticed someone who looked just like Bill Moyers, and it was as I found out when he introduced himself to me. He was a fellow tenant in the building where Jim and Jan lived and was being a good neighbor in making the call. I always did like him and now I have another reason to do so. A remembrance from Bill Sabin: I remember Jim Stovin quite well. In fact, when we lived in the New Brunswick area between 1961 and 1966, we occasionally saw Jim because his practice was in a nearby town. He was always such a healthy looking specimen that it’s hard to believe he could die so suddenly. My favorite story about Jim appeared many years ago in a New York Times feature called “Metropolitan Diary,” a weekly collection of anecdotes about NYC life. Jim was living in an apartment on Central Park West at the time, and on a bitterly cold morning one winter, he went out to his car, parked overnight on the street, and found that it wouldn’t start. Another driver, looking for a space, was hovering behind because he had seen Jim go into his car; now he was waiting for Jim to pull out. Jim got out and told the driver that waiting was pointless. In the process, he mentioned his frustration because within an hour he would have patients waiting for him in his New Jersey office, and he didn’t know how he was going to get there. The other driver said. “What time do you usually get back to the city at night?” Jim told him his usual schedule. The driver said, “Look, you don’t have a car and I don’t have a parking space. Why don’t you take my car for the day and we can meet back at this spot tonight? They shook hands on the deal and both went on their way that morning. It’s a lovely story and a lovely way to remember Jim A note from Constantine (Gus) Vasiliadis to Alan Stamm: I’m shocked about Jim Stovin. I can’t believe he dropped dead, he was such a health guru and appeared to be in such top physical condition. I just saw him on May 24 at the “Medici” benefit for Teatro Grattacielo (organization that presents neglected verismo operas) at the University Club in NYC. He told me he just had one of those top Executive health scans which covers every inch of your body inside and out and was declared in excellent condition except for some incipient skin condition that could lead to melanoma, and that was his concern. I since learned after talking to the Director of Teatro Grattacielo that he apparently had some stents, so I guess there was an existing condition. She also told me his wife, Janet, said that he died doing what he loved best, planning an evening at the theater and dying in front of the box office, and that he didn’t experience a lingering and painful demise. We had a great time at the benefit and were planning to get together at Glimmerglass Opera (at Cooperstown, NY) where he an Janet stay part of the summer. I could never dream our Glimmerglass visit would wind up a remembrance occasion for Jim. He and Janet were ardent New Yorkers and never missed a significant cultural event. We could never stop talking when we got together. I knew them when they lived in Metuchen, NJ in the mid to late 70's. That was the time his daughter was in training at the Joffrey School of Ballet. They were both active with the New Jersey Symphony Orchestra League when I was working with the orchestra, and that’s how we met. |
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