David Nicholson

Last Sunday at a festive family gathering, I checked my e-mail and read the news from Dave Betts (thanks Dave). I turned to a window to hide my tears. It has taken me nearly a week to be able to sit down and address the loss of this wonderful man.

Dave and I go back to days at 30 Rock (home then of the AP and CP) and have shared many an hour at Ronnie’s in London and Maggie’s back in NY listening to jazz, about which he knew so much more than I, despite my unusually early introduction to it at age 8.

We met up at least twice a year in recent times, a renewed contact after a long hiatus that I always looked forward to on visits to London. He no longer shared a jar, but would take a glass of Chablis and the talk would tumble on until it was time to part - there was no topic turned from. Dave would always startle and delight with his enormous breadth of knowledge, hunger for more and blazing wit. Being from New York, I was continually embarrassed in these chats when Dave would ask for more detail on events I knew little about, from the newest recruit for a Yankees’ rival team to that economic story on page 32 of today’s Washington Post.

I always walked away feeling privileged, especially since he would take the train in, not without effort, just to meet up for awhile. A big man with a big heart and a bigger legacy we can all be thankful for. Rest easily, my friend. ■