Jeffrey Charkow.
I've been quiet on LinkedIn this past week. I couldn't find the words, and I wasn't sure I should be the one to say them. I'm still not sure.
I met Jeff just nine months ago. In nine months, he connected with everyone around him — his assistant, his paralegal, associates and partners. He paid attention to people. He remembered what they said. He took the time to let us know that he was thinking about us — unprompted, no agenda. He had been making friends that way his entire life.
Two months after we met, Jeff joined his family for an Italian vacation. When he came back, there was a bottle of Brunello di Montalcino on my desk. He had remembered from a passing conversation, that it was a favorite. He brought it back for me.
That was Jeff.
He was a Chambers-ranked construction litigator — one of the best in the country — and he brought a fierceness to every case he worked. He litigated disputes on projects people know: the Kellogg School of Management, the Notre Dame Football Stadium and the Art Institute of Chicago. Jeff was an intelligent and tenacious advocate for his clients, and he loved his work.
Jeff and I argued the way two people with strong opinions and no shortage of confidence argue. But when it was over, it was over. No grudges. Five minutes later we were swapping restaurant recommendations, talking through his whiskey collection, debating which albums belonged on Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest — he was working his way through the list, one LP at a time.
Jeff knew what was important. His children — Sophie, Ben, and Lily — were his world. His son Ben started college last fall, and Jeff was there. Nothing was going to stop him from being there. Not an opposing counsel who wouldn't extend a deadline. Not an upcoming trial out of state. Not the fact that he had just joined a new firm. As his girlfriend, Julie said at his service, Jeff's children came first — it was unspoken, understood, not in question.
At Jeff's service, his father played Frank Sinatra's "My Way" — after his own brief, quiet comments about his son. For a man with a serious vinyl collection and diverse musical tastes, selecting just one song might seem impossible. But it was perfect. Jeff knew who he was, in the courtroom, in the office, on vacation in Italy, at Ben's college move-in. He showed up, the same person, every time, on his own terms.
I'm going to miss him.