Warren S. Freedman

July 15, 1936–June 19, 2013

Peabody, Massachusetts

Warren Freedman, punster, trivia hound, candy pusher and Member for Life of the Marriott Concierge Level, lay down on his eternal sofa with a too-loud television playing in the background on Wednesday, June 19, 2013 after a brief illness, but a long, rewarding life. There’s a four o’clock happy hour at Marriotts in the northeast U.S. tipping out Stoli/rocks in his honor.

Warren, who knew local roads better than most city and town planners—and who, by his reckoning, were always wrong anyway—was a Boston-area GPS well before NASA had launched its first communications satellite into space. With the advent of mobile phones, his services were in ever-higher demand, because: Apple Maps.

Born in Everett, raised in Chelsea, graduated from Boston University with an Associates Degree in Communications, Warren “flew a typewriter” in the Air Force Reserves, produced and directed first for radio, then for television at WHDH, including Jess Cain, the local news and Red Sox games live from Fenway Park. After they married in 1960, Warren and his considerably better half, Vita, high-tailed it to the bright lights of New York, where Warren directed spots at J. Walter Thompson for “The Tonight Show” and went out drinking with Johnny and Ed, like you did back then. No, they weren’t the inspiration for “Mad Men.”

Upon leaving New York, Warren found his way into the candy business, first as a salesman with Deran Confections in Cambridge. Then as a sales manager for Smith Brothers cough drops, Willy Wonka candies and, finally, Pez. In fact, there are enough cases of Pez in Warren’s basement to build a pretty nice-sized Pez and blanket fort.

Warren liked to tinker with things around the house, frequently leading to trips to the emergency room. It’s a good thing you never let him try to fix your lawnmower, or he would’ve had fewer good fingertips than the nine that remained after trying to fix his own.

And he played an awful lot of tennis, mostly doubles. Even though some were known to ask fairly recently: “When do you start playing ‘triples?’”

If you met Warren, chances are, he made you laugh, or at least roll your eyes. He reveled in the love of his parents Jessie and George S. (both deceased), his older, wiser brother Alvin and his family, Janet, Dianne, Linda and Mike, Danny, Jonathan and Deborah, as well as a large number of extended family. There are too many people in Vita’s family to name them all—really, you can look it up—but her side of the family loved him, too. This includes Vita’s mother Sadie (deceased), Itzzy and Rosey, Herb and Elaine, and their children Ned, Jenn, Lee, Andrea, Kim, Eric, Laurie, Ross G. and Patty. And their children, along with a few aunts, uncles and cousins, too. See? We told you it was a lot.

He loved his children deeply. There was Deborah (deceased), and there is Ross and Joy, apparently about whom Warren would brag to anyone who would listen. Ross had Warren’s high school yearbook photo in his office, and people would often ask why Ross’s 1986 yearbook photo was in black and white—the proverbial chip off the ol’ block. After surviving Warren’s initial sarcastic gauntlet, Joy learned to give as good as she got, and she quickly became one of his most cherished, favorite people.

Because his daughter Deborah once asked if he was planning to move a bed into Temple Ner Tamid, services will be held there—for old time’s sake. Though Warren will not be available to help set up for, and call, Bingo this week. That’s 368 Lowell Street in Peabody, at 11 a.m. on Sunday, followed by burial at Danvers Jewish Cemeteries and the Meal of Consolation back at TNT.

Feel free to make a donation in Warren’s name to the charity of your choice.