Remembering Ted Berger

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My friend Ted Berger passed away on Thursday at age 86. There will be too many tributes to count, I am certain, no doubt more eloquent than my own yet equally heartfelt. I want to offer a very condensed bio in case you didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Ted, and then say a little about what an extraordinary and beautiful soul he was.

Here’s a quote from basic online information: Ted “was one of the key creators of the Cultural Council Foundation’s Artists Project, which grew into the largest CETA art program in the country. His leadership helped provide vital opportunities for artists across the nation. As the current Executive Director of NYCreates and Executive Director Emeritus of the New York Foundation for the Arts (NYFA), Berger dedicated his life to supporting artists and arts organizations. He first joined NYFA in 1973 as the nation’s first statewide Artists-in-Schools Coordinator and became its Executive Director in 1980, serving until his retirement in 2005.

“Throughout his career, Berger held numerous influential roles, including Treasurer of the Board of Directors for the Joan Mitchell Foundation and positions on boards such as ArtsConnection, the Asian American Arts Alliance, and the CUE Art Foundation. His expertise extended beyond New York, consulting for organizations like the Brooklyn Public Library, Louisiana Cultural Economy Foundation, and Rutgers University.”

Impressive on the face of it, but the face omits a most important part of Ted’s story. Of all the people who held prestigious leadership positions in New York’s art world and beyond, he was without question the kindest; the most fully present; the finest embodiment of personal and political integrity; the bravest when it came to telling the truth in a climate colored by funders’ and policymakers’ habit of withdrawing support in the face of more truth than they wished to hear; and possessor of the clearest vision of what must be done and what must be faced to accomplish it.

When individuals step into prestigious and powerful roles in any sphere of endeavor, temptation rises. People kiss up to you, they tell you what they think you want to hear, they propitiate in the hope of gaining advantage, and it takes tremendous self-awareness and fortitude not to succumb. I honor each and everyone person who resists, but sometimes the temptation is so great that even people you or I may have known in a previous and more humble incarnation show up transformed by self-regard. I’ve seen it so many times I tend to think it is the ego-driven default setting.

But not Ted. Ted did that very rare and difficult thing: accepting influence and power, wielding it for good, and remaining true to what really matters.

Such people are rarer than rubies. I have met and occasionally worked as a consultant in cultural spheres with big shots of the lesser type. I am anything but elevated in prestige and power. My stock in trade tends toward thorns in the side and nibbling the hand that should be feeding artists. (But not me, I should say. I chose not to seek funding for myself so I could remain free to speak out on behalf of cultural democracy and justice tempered by love, an important way to support those who feel themselves not free to speak out. I used to joke that I might sell out if anyone made me an offer, but who knows? No one did, and why would they?)

I first met Ted in 1990, when I and my then-partner were engaged to help the National Campaign for Freedom of Expression (NCFE) plan its work of opposing censorship at the National Endowment for the Arts and elsewhere. There was a national outcry when funding for Robert Mapplethorpe, Andres Serrano, and other artists was denounced by the organized right, where—the irony escaped its perpetrators, obviously—much money was raised through mass mailings of images deemed obscene or blasphemous, delivering them directly to the mailboxes of the people these organizations purported to protect from such material. Mostly, the arts establishment retreated in fear. The NCFE was formed to defend freedom of expression. Ted, as executive director of the New York Foundation for the Arts, was the rare figure of prominence in the nonprofit arts world with the courage to stand up and speak out. I loved him instantly and never stopped.

The love and admiration that Ted inspired was earned, and he kept right on earning it up to the end. The last time we met in person was not quite two years ago in New York after my book In The Camp of Angels of Freedom came out. Ted came to all the events I spoke at, and Rick and I met for lunch with Ted and his wonderful wife, Asya. Ted was dealing with an extremely painful hip and other health problems, so even making it from the restaurant to a cab took major effort, which he bore with customary grace. When we had a little time to kill before one event, we sat down with Ted and the remarkable Betsy Damon to brainstorm how New York’s green spaces could be connected to purify its water—and a few more projects besides. He seemed tireless and evergreen.

Sometimes, Rick and I use YouTube to take part in Shabbat or holiday services at B’nai Jeshurun in New York, the congregation to which the Berger family belonged for forty years. The video camera was positioned so that we always saw the back of Ted’s and Asya’s heads in the second or third row on the left. Sometimes I left him a message: So happy to see you two today! This morning I watched the livestream of his funeral, and there were Asya and their son Jonathan in the usual seats. I hope the service will remain up after the livestream. Here’s the link. I highly recommend watching not only if you knew Ted, but perhaps especially if you didn’t, to have the pleasure of seeing the huge and beautiful footprint left by a man who lived in harmony and alignment with the imperative to help, heal, and love.

A beautiful rendition of Esah Ainai, the first song sung at Ted’s funeral, this version by Neshama Carlebach. “I will lift up my eyes to the mountain, from where will my help come?”