Morgan’s Life of Drimer
Note: Dave Drimer predeceased me (in April of 2026)
and thereby wins the wager we laughed about as college colleagues fully certain
that our futures would be newsworthy. Back in the day, we imagined that our
individual accomplishments would make a meaningful mark on the world. I regret
that my account will be inferior to anything my dear friend Dave might have
written about me. (He always was a superior wordsmith.)
Little things are big things. It’s in those simple
gestures in life that you see (usually too late) just how much those simple
things add up. With Dave there are so many memorable things that may have gone
unrecognized (or under-recognized) at the time that add up to a mountain of
goodwill. I wish I could create a tapestry or weave a rug that might illustrate
what a remarkable person he was and how fortunate I was to have him as my dear
friend.
Having lost Dave just a few weeks ago, I so easily
feel the tears of my loss. (I know, that is selfish and self-centered.) This
might just be the time to record a few nuggets that will likely form a sort of
mosaic. The picture, if well crafted, will provide a portrait of “Maurice” the
music fan, or any number of attributes from “joker” to “midnight toker” or “gangster of love” and beyond. (Apologies to Steve Miller).
“Hey, nice shirt. Got any others?” I made a crack
something along those lines (maybe in August 1974) when the kid from the dorm
at the end of the Mahoney Hall second floor past by my room #234 (which I
shared with my brother Greg). It was Dave in a black button-down shirt he
seemed to be wearing for a week. This exchange happened and Dave was not
amused. It would be a while before we would become the closest of friends. We
shared adventures in creative writing classes with Professor Lester Goran and
in that crash course in business – Program in Management Studies (PMS) that
made the two of us Liberal Art Students qualified to pursue an MBA.
Dave and I were in a small group of students who
decided to visit Mexico. Since we were in Miami that short trip was accessible
(maybe 1977). We climbed the structure at Chichén Itzá, a spectacular ancient
Mayan city located in the Yucatán Peninsula. We went to Cozumel. I had a
backpack for this kind of travel. Dave was lugging a valise like a kid from New
York.
Dave and I became a sort of comedy team. We wrote (and performed) mostly for our own amusement. We were fans of Peter Cook and Dudley Moore (I had a recording of Good Evening). We Wrote a Mothers’ Day Song that mocked our inability to express true appreciation for Moms everywhere: M is for the MANY things she gave me, O is for the OTHER things she gave me, T is for the THINGS she gave me. H is for the HUNDREDS of things she gave me. E is for EVERYTHING she gave me. R is for the REST of the things she gave me. Put them all together they spell MOTHER.
We liked to role play job interviews: "So you are applying for the assistant book-keeper position. How would you feel if the head book-keeper job opened up?" (In our sketch the interviewee cannot see opportunity in that scenario since assistant is as high as his ambition can take him.)
Dave and I were fortunate in being selected to be
regional representatives of the University of Miami Admissions office. In
exchange for representing UM admissions at High Schools and College Fairs
regionally we got a modest stipend and Gold American Express Cards. Through this
program we learned some valuable lessons in salesmanship and academia. We were
filling out applications for the Admissions Office at one point. It was a
formality really and I recall laughing and telling Dave “You don’t have to tell
your family history on this thing, ya know.” Dave went for the joke with his simple question “How do you spell Schnauzer?” (As if including his family dog
was an essential part of the application.) Funny, Dave.
Kidding aside, David P. Drimer shows up. He has shown
up for me again and again. When my wife lost her Dad in 1993, Dave was
graveside in Neptune, New Jersey along my wife and kids (about 10 and 6 years
of age). He was also present when my wife passed in 2022. I shared Dave’s
comment about my wife after he and some others, Lynn among them, shared a house rental in Miami (around 1978).
“When Lynnie’s Happy, I’m Happy. When Lynnie’s Mad…I’m Scared.” (So cute and a
telling insight.)
Dave shared my quest for exploring Art. I was bouncing around Advertising Agencies as a account manager in New York beginning in 1982. I’m pretty sure Dave and I visited the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), The Met, The Whitney, The Guggenheim and the Frick and more.
In fact, in 2025 Dave agreed to meet me
at MoMA. I flew in from Saint Louis (where I’ve lived since 1996). I hadn’t
seen Dave in years but it was like old times. When he spotted me sitting
outside the gift shop he did a double take. “Oh, I was looking for the 30 year-old Wes Morgan.” (Funny, Dave.)
Dave and Donna lived on Avenue A in Lower Manhattan.
They were most gracious in helping me settle in when I returned to NYC to work
at BBDO around 1989. I shared a story of a photo of my parents at the Stork
Club (early 1940s). I casually mentioned that I would love to have one of
those Stork Club ash trays as a souvenir. Dave gestured me to follow him
outside. We walked just a couple of blocks when Dave pointed into a restaurant
supply/décor store window. There in the window: A Stork Club ash tray. (It cost
me $30.00 but it is a prize possession and a memory of Dave to this day).
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