Morton Kalin

Morton Kalin passed away peacefully in Aventura on October 31, 2020 at the age of 99. He was born in Springfield, MA, the third of four children to Mary and Samuel Kalin. He served in the Pacific during World War II with the 112th Cavalry Regiment, which was the last mounted unit of the United States Army. He received the Bronze Star.

He married Sylvia Berger in 1948 and had two children.

He was a land/golf course developer and builder in Towanda, PA, Manotick Ontario and Pembroke Pines. He was a principal in the development of the Pembroke Lakes community.

He was a life-long horseman, starting with his father’s business trading horses and performing in rodeos. He continued to ride well into his 90s.

He was a life-long avid golfer. He was a member of and long-time advisor to the South Florida PGA. He designed his first course partly by driving a ball into the woods and following the path for the fairway to be.

He and Sylvia were 49-year supporters of Hollywood Memorial Hospital, the Jewish Federation of South Broward County and the Posnack JCC in Davie.

He was a long-time member of Temple Beth El in Hollywood.

He is preceded in death by his parents, his three siblings, his wife Sylvia and his daughter Susan Kalin. He is survived by his son Dr. Jack Kalin (Olivia) of Wilsonville AL, grandchildren Joseph Kalin (Mary Hope) of Birmingham AL and Sarah Kalin-Cruz (Sergio) of Denver, CO and great grandson Kaeden Cruz of Denver, CO.

A crypt-side service will be held at Beth El Memorial Gardens in Davie on November 05, 2020 11:00 AM with entombment to follow.

The family requests in lieu of flowers, donations be made to Jewish Federation of Broward County, Memorial Hospital Foundation of Hollywood, Jewish Children’s’ Regional Service of New Orleans LA or a charity of your choice.

Morton’s near-century saw Mary and Sam, Louis, Harry and Beatrice; Sylvia and the Bergers; Susan and me, Olivia, Joseph, Sarah, Sergio, Hope and Kaeden; nieces, nephews and friends. There was Great Barrington, Springfield, Mount Vernon, Towanda and Lake Wesauking, Manotick and the Rideau River, Pembroke Pines and the muck.

Morton grew up during a time when sense was common, little was taken for granted and you were entitled to nothing, a time when people were smarter than their phones, lawyers and politicians hadn’t refuted Sir Isaac Newton and me replaced we. His generation endured the Great Depression, hit Omaha Beach, smelled Auschwitz and feared fire and rope in the night. We whine about traffic, Wi-Fi and toilet paper.

Morton’s accomplishments came from visions, energy and patience he had, opportunities he seized and risks he took. I stand in awe of people who achieve without the education, technology, and resources I was handed. While we may all read the same book, we can each have different experiences. This is my take from my time with Morton.

Morton was smart. There is scholarly smart, where they call you an expert, grant you tenure or have you on Jeopardy! You are a master of the facts. This I know from lecture halls, libraries and laboratories. Then there is clever smart, where a fine line separates brilliant success from pain, prison or a postmortem. You think you are a master of the game. This I know from crash reports, crime scenes and courtrooms. Then there is the smart you muster when the math doesn’t add up, the instructions fall short or the power goes out. You are a master of survival. This I know from Morton, who knew there is no substitute for dependable information, critical thinking and a screw driver. He knew the world is put together in a finite number of ways you can figure out if you just make the effort. He knew what you don’t know will hurt you so you can be ignorant but only once. He knew you have to adapt because things change, plans fail and some ideas are just bad. He knew alternate views can often save you from yourself. He knew group think, like gut instinct can be full of crap. He knew faith may provide inspiration and comfort but not logistics. He knew you can never learn with your mouth.

Morton was an innovator. Innovation comes from the realization that current choices suck. He built with pre-stressed concrete when it was known only to structural engineers. He got an aluminum fishing boat from Grumman Aircraft when boat manufacturers used wood. I still have it. He created a golf course, marina and residential community on what Sylvia called a potato farm. It was the second in North America, which I suppose makes him a mere imitator. He had a car phone when they took up half your trunk and had antennae the size of a live oak. He paid $3000. Maybe that’s why he kept the same number for 35 years. At 75 he got a computer. He would call me at all hours in a panic because his desktop shortcuts had disappeared. Through the phone I could hear him pounding his mouse without mercy.

Morton had discipline. He set goals and worked tirelessly. There was never a short game, low road or half-assed anything. He knew what he had to do and went where he needed to do it. He knew the upside may be the objective but the downside can be the reality. He could disassemble and reassemble complex issues like no one else. He was meticulous. No one sweated the details like Morton. His memory was enviable, humbling and annoying.

Morton was sensible. He knew if you want what you need, you can be happy. If you need what you want, you will likely be miserable. He knew the difference between a problem and mere inconvenience. He told me we would always have enough if we just work, save and not fool it away. There is nothing more foolish than squander and nothing more expensive than stupidity.

Morton was a negotiator. His skills are legendary because he knew everyone needs to win something. It may not be what you wanted but it was probably what you deserved. You didn’t suffer. You just had to see it.

Morton was direct. He knew flash can be a cover for laziness, ineptitude or malfeasance. He knew partners can be helpful, hapless or hazardous. And he never forgot who was which. See memory, above.

Morton was demanding. Look up demanding in the dictionary and you will find his picture. He was relentless. His control was suffocating. He knew his way would work, so only by besting his game would he ever take your word for it. When he called, you answered because you knew who was in charge. He commanded respect because pride and disagreement aside, you knew he had thought things through. He understood failure but not inaction. Excuses excuse nothing. He knew preparation, timing and perseverance lead to achievement. Any less is, well, less. And, good luck with luck.

Morton was devoted. Devotion can be warm and fuzzy, which he was not. His was to preside over his family, protecting and providing more than praising or pampering, except for Sylvia, of course. He had Joe Berger to deal with. He preferred to help rather than carry because he knew things are more likely valued when earned than when given. You buy the Chevy; he would chip in for the Caddy.

Morton was generous. He did give to those truly in need, those whose mission he thought worthy, even those whose execution he thought extravagant because if not him, who else? He and Sylvia were especially generous with Memorial Hospital and organizations supporting Israel, their beloved Jewish community, kids and horses.

Speaking of horses, Morton herded horses to auction down 2nd Avenue in New York City when he was a kid. Then it was for Borden and Kraft Dairies, Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circuses. Now the only horses in the Big Apple run at Belmont, pull tourists or carry cops and leave manure in Times Square. Morton was a horseman when it was a way of life, not a pastime or some cultural statement. SSgt Morton Kalin rode with fellow Troopers in the last mounted regiment of the United States Cavalry, the 112th. Morton was Tom Nilak, the legendary rodeo star when that was mainstream entertainment. As a friend recently said, Morton broke the 8-second horn by a lifetime. I am delighted you who fancy yourselves cowboys with your cell phones, Lucchese boots and chromed-up pickup trucks had the opportunity to know the genuine article.

Morton experienced change only a near-centenarian can know. He plucked chickens for dinner and fanned the forge for the village blacksmith. He hand-cranked cars and telephones. He fought hand-to-hand in WWII and received the Bronze Star. He was a boxer who claimed to have sparred with Joe Lewis and met Mohammad Ali. He was a golfer, a fisherman and a hunter. He was a machinist, a textile worker, a carpenter, a horse trader and an entrepreneur. He went to Cuba to import saddles in the days before Castro, fearing ever to return after stealing his last shipment. His adventures changed IRS rules and National Electrical Codes. He listened to the radio before there was TV yet he downloaded updates for Windows 10 and iOS 13.

So Morton, I thank Mary and Sam for raising you, I thank an anopheles mosquito for saving you and I thank Sylvia for keeping you. I admire and envy your stamina, concentration and principles. God bless you.

So, together we say: “Everybody loves everybody but get the hell out.”

Jack