Remembering Jerry Weintraub

It is nearly too coincidental to be true. Jerry Weintraub and I lived in adjacent apartment buildings on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. He was dating a girl who lived in my building. I was dating a girl who lived in his. We would pass each other on the street en route to calling for our dates, never making eye contact. Jerry was tall, in a neighborhood of short Jewish men, and good looking. I was not tall and probably average looking. Thinking back, we probably ignored each other because each regarded the other as the competition. There was no competition. Before I became aware of Jerry, I called the very girl in my building he was dating and asked her out. She brushed me off. She was dating Jerry.

Here is the too-coincidental part. About 20 years later, I had become a writer, Jerry had become a movie producer and he was producing a movie of my novel, Oh, God!

I saw an item that stated the movie was going to open in 500 theaters. This was before movies "opening wide" and it concerned me. I called Jerry. He obviously recognized my name and took the call.

"Why is this movie being dumped?" I asked him.

"It's not being dumped," he answered. "I selected the theaters for distribution myself. Do you have a piece of the movie?"

"A small piece."

"Buy a house," he said and hung up.

Jerry was right. The movie was a hit and I did buy a house.

Accompanying the obits was a picture of him, the mega-successful Jerry in a convertible, palm trees in the background. But I returned to my image of Jerry, that self confident, good looking, tall young man on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx.