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Joel David Burstein (December 11, 1929 - November 2, 1990)

[Note: Although the Gregorian calendar anniversary of my father's death is November 2, on the Hebrew calendar that date was 15 Heshvan. I'll be observing Dad's yahrzeit starting tonight.]

Eighteen years ago tonight, by the reckoning of the Hebrew calendar, my father Joel David Burstein died.

I tend to think Dad was a fascinating person. He was born in December 1929, in the wake of the stock market collapse, and so grew up during the Depression, which affected his outlook for the rest of his life. When he was almost ten years old, he attended the 1939 New York City World's Fair, and fell in love with the visions of the future it presented. He graduated as valedictorian of DeWitt Clinton High School (which was in Manhattan at the time, I think) and started college at Columbia, where he was editor of the college newspaper, The Spectator.

But while he was in his teenage years and World War II was raging, news of the Holocaust came to the United States. My grandfather was a rabbi, and my Dad grew up in a religious household; but the Holocaust caused him to lose his faith in God and to break away from religion.

On the other hand, he felt a strong connection to the Jewish people. In the 1940s he ran guns to the nascent Jewish state of Israel, and then he dropped out of college, never finishing, in order to smuggle himself into Israel and fight in the 1948 War for Independence.

Dad was dedicated to journalism and newspapers. He used to like to quote Thomas Jefferson, who once said that he would rather have newspapers without government than government without newspapers. Dad spent his life working at a whole variety of newspapers in New York City. In the midst of all this, he married his first wife, Evelyn, and had two sons, my half-brothers David and Daniel. Eventually, Dad and Evelyn divorced. He met my mother Eleanor, married her, and had three more sons: Jonathan, Michael, and Joshua.

By the time I knew him, Dad had been working at the New York Daily News for many years. In 1990, the Daily News unions were locked out and so once again went on strike against the owner of the paper, the Chicago Tribune Company. Dad was in the Newspaper Guild union office eighteen years ago when he collapsed of a heart attack and was pronounced dead at St. Claire's Hospital. My brothers and I were in the Boston area at the time -- Jon in medical school, Josh and me in college. Jon and Josh were on a train home already because my father's mother had just died the day before, and they were going to NYC to be with my Dad for her funeral. We had no way of knowing that on Sunday, November 4, we would attend one funeral after another, with print and TV reporters gathered with our friends and family, the media there to report on my father's death as another tragic story.

My father was a strong believer in justice, in supporting the powerless against the powerful. Two months before he died, I marched with him in the NYC Labor Day Parade. The Greyhound bus drivers were on strike, and Dad – who always kept an eye on family finances – donated money to their fund without blinking. After he died, I found among his personal papers articles he had clipped about a Mohawk tribe in upstate New York struggling to get a piece of land back from the federal government. Dad always shared stories like that with us, to remind us that the fight for justice was a neverending battle.

Dad had been a reader of science fiction and comic books when he was growing up; by the time I knew him, he mostly read mysteries. But he inculcated in me a love of science fiction, and my one regret about my own writing is that he never got to read it. But his spirit infuses every word I write.

Copyright © Michael A. Burstein


He sounds like a man of rare virtue. Thank you for sharing this.

Your Dad

Hi Michael, I'm David Kuznick's father. I, like your Dad was, am a voracious reader of Science Fiction. I introduced the genre to David many, many years ago. He has continued the enjoyment of reading the mind opening stories. Your brief story of your father's life touched me. I'm glad you have such heartfelt memories of him. Always remembering who and what he was, how much he was loved, makes him immortal.

Re: Your Dad

Hi. Thanks for posting.

I don't know if David has told you, but my first collection of science fiction stories has just been published. You can find out more at the I Remember the Future website. The book is dedicated to Mom (who died last year) and Dad.
My dad loved the Daily News. Was your dad a writer there?
Dad was a copy editor at the City Desk for almost a quarter-century. He did some writing too and worked under the name Joel Burton.

Here's a New York Times article that mentions him from the week he died:

Publisher Blames Union Rift in Strike
That's a wonderful tribute. Thank you for sharing it.
He sounds like a wonderful man and a great father.

What a beautiful way to remember him. I know he would be so proud of you.
My nephew, born May 19, 1991, is also Joel David, named after his grandfather Jack and great-grandfather David.
My father's father also died when he was in college, but he has never spoken about him. Thank you for sharing your memories of your father. He sounds like a remarkable man who embodied the spirit of tikkun olam.
I'm sorry we never got to meet him.
Thank you for sharing.

December 2016

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