I have known Harvey for only about ten years. We got to know each other better in the late nineties. Those were still good years to go to AC –not that far from Harvey’s home state of New York - to play some bj and kick ass in all kinds of tournaments. The first time we really got to talk was in Taj Mahal at a baccarat tournament. The last time I saw him, in late December, we (Harvey, my bro and I) went to the Outlets for my holiday’s shopping. Harvey wasn’t buying anything he just trotted along to make this horrifying for me experience more fun. It was a day after I played using Harvey’s player card to earn him some comps. In this supposedly “nice” just off the strip casino I managed to lose thousands, but the next morning, instead of comps –they checked Harvey’s id - he was forced to run away from the security goons. Over the years our friendship grew slowly and steady. We went to many places together and in some of them we also had been asked to not come back. Such is life in Las Vegas. We had numerous dinners together, and spent many evenings at Harvey’s earned free rooms. I often bored him to sleep by talking tournament strategy where he finally would say: you will need to repeat it tomorrow. But the next day I would rather listen to stories of his childhood Manhattan’s brawls, or stories about -always so dear to him- his family. There are many good and idiosyncratic things about Harvey, but I think one that made him so special was that he possessed a very unusual balance. He achieved this balance, seemingly without striving to, by being able to encompass many omnifarious extremes. Being somewhat privileged he cared a lot about “everyday people” and he could make them feel important. In company of “big names”, in just a matter of minutes, he would make them act just like everyday Joe, and Jane, and Jim, and Susan. Many people set their goals on some objectives and in the process of getting “there” lose the track of anything that happens in between. Not Harvey - for Harvey, though he had many “theres”, it was also always “here”. He enjoyed everything, every moment, sharing it with everybody. Harvey used to greet his friends with “Hey kid”. Regardless if you were half or double his age, male or female (well, there would be somewhat more warmth if you were not exhibiting any facial hair), and regardless whether you were well dressed or well mannered – so long as you were his friend. And friends there were many. Some of Harvey’s friends were not readily accepted by others, but Harvey could find in them this little speck of human aspect that was worth making a connection. Though Harvey had a mild and positive approach most of the time I saw him ready to take it “outside” whenever the rules of acceptance were broken even if a guy was 6’6’’ and 250lb. Harvey could walk the walk and talk the talk –that’s for sure. In our meetings away from our homes Harvey often talked about respect he had for his wife. Harvey’s eyes twinkled the shiniest when he spoke of his children. Rarely a day went by without Harvey talking how much he loved them but felt that he needed to be firm; how good he felt about their future but needed to guide them. Always so proud of them and with the same continuous and even love for both: “my little one” and “my older one”. I just realized that Harvey was this very rare person who I could talk to without any hesitation or without searching for the proper words. I could spell out things without regard to norms; no PR, no bullshit and Harvey would reciprocate in the same honest (maybe slightly gentler) way and in the truest form. I could joke about his thick NY accent (look who is talking), and on a bad day tease him about his barely noticeable limp –only to get a laughter or at least a smile. I could tell him anything and … And only for this reason I allow myself now, for a moment, to think and to whisper: My dear Harvey, damn you, damn you, how could you let it happen… Harvey never disappointed me and I hope I didn’t him. Well, maybe I did, once, when he came along to watch me playing the main event of WSOP 04’. With a lot of anticipation and expectations of four days of excitement I managed to get busted out of the tournament by a young turk in less than one hour. Just in time for Harvey to make best friends with six, or so, people watching the game, including the young turk’s mother and daughter. That was Harvey with his unquenchable thirst for contact with other human beings. Harvey was an excellent tournament player. We played and celebrated many a success together. One week, I remember, both of us got into a final and Harvey asked me if I would be interested in swapping 20% of each other. I turned him down and took second place. Harvey was genuinely happy for my second place win. The same week we both got into another final and carrying a “no deal” deal Harvey promptly took the first and I took the last. I guess we won’t make any finals together anymore. I could ask you, in memory of Harvey, to go out and proliferate Random Deeds of Goodness, today, tomorrow and next week. But it would be me asking you. Harvey would more likely just say: Hey kids, just go on and enjoy yourselves Harvey, see ya later kid. S. Yama
