Lux et Vermontitas

Timeline & Memorial Information

In Uncategorized on November 4, 2009 at 5:10 am

Peter’s April 18 Eulogy :Dan Freed Eulogy – Peter Freed – Yale 2010-04-18


Memorial Information

April 18th, 2010 at 2PM there will be a memorial at Yale Law School (<– click for google directions)

Yale Law School Main Entrance
100 Wall Street
New Haven, CT 06511-8913

(203) 432-2324

In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to:

Garden Project
BMAC (Brattleboro Museum and Art Center)
10 Vernon Street
Brattleboro VT 05301.

January 31, 2010: Brattleboro Memorial

The public memorial was held at 3PM January 31st, at the Brattleboro Museum in Brattleboro, Vermont.

This was the Program, and the speeches are reprinted below:

Judy Freed:

Daniel died at New York Presbyterian Hospital where our family of 18 gathered closely around him to join in comfort care.  Peter and I slept on cots next to him at night with Jonathan there too the last night. Our room was 14 floors above the East River. The lights of Roosevelt Island shined through our grand window.  The outline of our apartment building across the water peaked through the 59th Street Bridge. It became our architectural home.

Dan sipped chocolate drinks forbidden for years.  His beloved Yale cardiologist, Larry Young, emailed a hug and permission.  Dan had already begun his feast so retroactive permission became another hug. Dan slept intermittently and often was peacefully delirious, repeatedly telling of a boat on which he was traveling. He wanted me to find the timetable so I could go with him.

The next to last night, about 3:00 am, with my head gently leaning into his, he lucidly described another hallucination. I asked him how he felt about having them.  He said with pride “now I understand more about hallucinations.”  That instant was wondrous for me because he was the learner, researcher and teacher again.

The moment was something like our first date.  As we wandered through MOMA 43 years ago we talked about process.  He told me about the process of helping lawyers think through their use of laws — and I about therapy and teaching. Maybe you don’t think that to be such a great first date.  It was.  But can you imagine — only just more than two weeks ago, in the midst of tears and anguish, in our darkened room, we had another date talking about process.

An old Washington DC friend called. He laughingly said “you know the only trouble with Dan was he had no interest in gossip.”  I had forgotten about gossip.  I had been converted to process. I had been hoodwinked.  So began an imaginary moment with Dan. Can I get him to gossip a little, for fun.   No, I shouldn’t be trying to change his style. Duplicating what he and I had done in our life together countless moments, my imagination pushed on and from my study I yell “hey Dan is hoodwinked one word or two?  He becomes suspicious and asks “Why would you want to know about that?  In my imagination I tell him and he gossips but only for a minute.

Here with you now I want you to know that in recent healthier days Dan and I thought together a little about this eulogy. Most of all he wants me to thank you. I join with him. Perhaps you can gauge the measure of importance for him to say thank you.  Let me take a few minutes to illustrate.

First and last he thanks his dear extended family whom he loved without judgment– each and everyone.  He was deeply proud of his children and the avenues they found with partners, children and careers. He enjoyed them in their various stages of development and in these last months was delighted to receive their many telephone calls and news.  But don’t be lulled into perfection here. He could say he was disappointed in each of us, with a touch of judgment, now and then. He could say he was dismayed.  Ouch. Yet Dan would gradually find a way for healing, using his patient, listening talents.

He adored moments with each of you.  He loved his friends from near and far. He loved his doctors in Brattleboro and the many medical people at the hospital whom he saw often. He loved learning about plumbing or mowing or truck fixing, judging, or sentencing, even his own medical case.

When our kitchen door opened and in came a visitor: a neighbor. a repair person, a town official  or someone from further away,  for us and our barking dog, Tali, it was a moment to be with a friend and to ask about their view of the world. Afterwards he would rehash the visit and be happy learning new things and feeling his delight about the visitor.  That is what Vermont meant to him—– those moments of learning from you and enjoying your company for which he wants to say thank you.

He thanks the Museum and the River Gallery School especially for giving us the opportunity to immerse ourselves in art and he thanks them for giving me homes away from home.  You saw some of Dan’s sculptures in the slide show.  He and  I contemplated the Museum garden project often and he was happy picturing himself at a table in the garden, munching a sandwich and sharing ideas with a town friend or me.

He thanks Brattleboro the place we admire and love in which there is always someone to hug or share a word. How can we estimate the life giving force this town has for us.

He thanks Guilford for being a community of a rich variety of people and land. He loved town meetings and the way neighbors talked together about disagreeable matters.

He thanks his wonderful farm and home recently named Freed Road inside and out.  He fell in love with it the first instant and never faltered.  He did not mind when the loaned heifers broke through their fencing. He knew that meant he would see one of the Franklins.

His career within the law, in which he found his unique voice and used it with judges, students, government officials and school colleagues is one of his loudest thank you-s.  He especially thanks his collaborators for joining with him when developing new ways to understand legal issues or how people could effect change.

He would say thank you to all those who’s careers he helped design, partly for their own success and also because he felt creative in helping them think about their possible opportunities.

And he was attached to the Federal Sentencing Reporter as a co-editor and founder.  Attached is the right word because pages of it often came to bed with us for continuing edits.  At those moments I used one of my famous wifely inspired lectures and occasionally FSR waited until early morning.

He could talk about baseball or football but his favorite team was composed of combinations of legal and sociology people.  His winning team members Professor Kate Stith and Judge Nancy Gertner, attended to him always, as he did to them, and in the last months they were adorable mother hens—-young mother hens.  It turns out that love and intellectual legal matters can produce an amazing combination.

Hours spent on the phone, typewriter  (remember) computer or meetings in his office working on challenging issues were pure joy for Dan.  Sometimes it was difficult to get him home even after supper.

He loved his time at Yale, and with the Vera Institute of Justice in NY and the US Department of Justice. His delighted attachment to Yale of over 41 years began with the undergraduate swim team where he was known as Red Fred.  He kept it a secret as to why so let us assume it has something to do with undisclosed athletic fame.

So — the final thank you from Dan, the one in his mind that tied all others together.  You know.  “My Judy”  I adored being his Judy and we created an us-ness that we treasured every day.  We traveled the world and loved to return to Vermont. I have taken care of him for some time. It was a privilege — really. We discovered patience and endurance not known before.  Dan and I loved spending time together no mater how.

We had on going wishes.  We wished for more days to live. We wished to find ways to answer his needs and also live life to the fullest. We wished we could keep some independence and do our own things. We wished to face the truths before us then push them aside and have fun.  We did believe we fulfilled our wishes well enough.  That allowed us to feel proud and give us peace of mind.

There is something more though.  It is because of being with you and your thoughts or suggestions, your strengths, that our us-ness grew and made us more agile people for each other and ourselves and our wishes. I don’t mean only now,  even long ago and in between when someone taught us how to plant corn or cut down raspberries or take the snow off a roof.  For all that Dan and I thank you very much.

SO NOW  Daniel— Thank YOU!

* * *

Emily Freed:

I remember Thanksgiving weekend, my dad wasn’t feeling well and just wanted to rest quietly. I sat down next to him on his favorite striped tan couch in the living room. I asked him if I could just hold his hand. He warmly smiled saying, “Yes absolutely. I would love that.” We were both so content for several minutes. We sat peacefully. His warm hand felt soft and nurturing on my pregnant belly. I told him I loved him. I told him that often. I deeply hoped for Dad to meet my daughter. He was too sick to be at the hospital when Chloe was born on Wednesday January 6. Two days later after an unexpected decision to admit him to New York Hospital, Dad was being wheeled on a stretcher to an ambulance. Felix, Chloe and I were being discharged from our hospital. We knew Chloe would not be allowed to visit Dad once he was admitted to his hospital. Peter and Mom called us to say we had only a small window of opportunity for Dad to meet Chloe. We had to quickly navigate New York midday traffic in order to make this moment happen. As we approached the destination block, we received a call from Peter. He said, “Park behind the ambulance on the corner. Dad is about to come out in the stretcher.” We made it with hardly a minute to spare. It was amazing. Dad came out of the elevator escorted by two kind paramedics who had waited as long as they possibly could. Two-day-old Chloe met Grandpa. Through teamwork we made it happen. I was so happy. When it was decided Dad was going to comfort care we were so relieved the pediatrician granted permission for Chloe to be present for those precious memorable days when everyone had a chance to say goodbye in just the way they desired. My dad’s warm caring hand touched Chloe. He kissed the top of her head several times. He also held her with some assistance and looked down lovingly at her as she soundly slept. I told my dad I love him for ever and ever.He told me the same. I told him I’ll take good care of Chloe. He told me “Oh I know you will lovie. She’s wonderful.” I am and forever will be grateful Dad waited for our Chloe.  That he did. He waited.

* * *

Amy Freed:

Throughout my life, whenever I heard someone describing a death as the person “passed away,” I had the same thought. The speaker was using a euphemism for the word “died” because they were afraid to say the word. When I witnessed my own father’s death, I suddenly understood. People use the phrase “passed away” because that is exactly what happens. It isn’t a euphemism at all; it is simply a description of the process of leaving one’s body. My father passed away peacefully 2 weeks ago with Judy, my two brothers, Jonathan and Peter and me by his side. He had been trying valiantly for years to keep his failing body going, and had succeeded through great effort and perseverance. A few days earlier, he had  accepted that it wasn’t possible to do any longer. His children and grandchildren traveled from near and far to see him at the hospital on the East River in Manhattan. His wife, his four children and their spouses and six grandchildren,  including my sister Emily’s week-old baby, gathered around him in his light-filled room. He spoke to us, saying how much he loved and was proud of all of us, and then asked that each of us come give him a kiss.  One by one, each of us went to him and exchanged a few words and kisses. The following afternoon, he had a surge of wakefulness, and Peter got him out of bed for the first time in 10 days and into a wheelchair. We took him down the hall to the sunny lounge. There he sat for more than an hour, overlooking the East River. He spent the time doing many of his favorite things – being with his family, eating foods that had been forbidden for many years for medical reasons, and sitting in the sun. He even had several last phone calls with some friends and relatives.  After that he spent most of his time sleeping. At times he would awaken momentarily, and when he spoke, it was about waiting for the boat and wondering when it would come. Sometimes he would say, “Let’s go.” After his death, my brothers and I each felt his presence very strongly. I had an intensely peaceful feeling completely fill up my body. Jonathan felt almost knocked over backwards by the force of the freedom he felt our father experiencing. Peter felt totally blissful. We each knew that he was now free of the body that refused to carry him any more. We knew the boat had come for him and he was at peace. I miss my sweet father.
* * *
Jonathan Freed:
A few hours after our father died on January 17, 2010, Jonathan gathered all of us in the room where Dan lay. He then read this:

Daniel, Daddy, Grandpa, Your family, those who know and love you most are all here with you to see you off on your last ferry ride.  We are not sure where you have gone, but we know in our hearts that it is a place where you are once again and finally free from pain and struggling with your tired body. While we are all sad that you won’t be with us in the same way any more, we share your joy in your new freedom, and welcome your spirit to rest and remain with us, inside and around us, as long as we still live here.  We bless you, we love you forever, and we thank you for all the time, love, and blessings that you have so generously shared with us and so many others during your adventure with us on this island.  We will never forget.
* * *

Peter Freed: (PDF is can be downloaded by clicking Daniel Josef Freed Eulogy by Peter Freed)
What does it mean to be brave?

I never expected this question to fill my heart and my mind, to carry me through these past weeks as though borne upon a breeze, or to receive it from my father upon his deathbed as a final gift of magical surprise and endless depth.   I never expected this question to make me smile, or allow me to comfort somber friends, or to leave me explaining in words that came out fresh and unplanned each time, that my father had had a beautiful death, a creative death, a death that had shifted my understanding of him as a person, and altered my understanding of what it means to be a man. I adored my father.  I marveled at him and treasured him my whole life through. He made me feel more loved, more accepted, more optimistic, and lighter on my feet, than I can possibly describe.  And yet for all these feelings, I never valued him for his bravery. His other qualities were so remarkable, and so sufficient, that I never thought about it; it simply never came up.  His was a life of wise words, due diligance, careful consideration, and – as anyone who ever caught a ride with him knows – a deep and almost spiritual reverence for the speed limit.
And so it was more than a little surprising to find, as I knelt beside his body six hours after his death, before the nurse came in to wheel him away, and held his hand, and said my last thank-you, and pledged my last vow, that there in that room I was overcome with a sense of happiness, and togetherness, that has not left me since.  But as I talked to my family about how they all were doing at the end of his long, patient and persistent fight, and heard that they too felt remarkably strong, I began to suspect that the reason we felt so together was because he had used his final days in a very particular way to help us all consider, and then answer, the question: what does it mean to be brave?
My father was not a metaphysical man. He wrote the most delightfully clever and twinkly poems to people on their birthdays; but he was not a poet.  He cared deeply about justice, but in a real-world, not a Platonic way.  As an undergraduate he majored in math, not philosophy, had planned for a career as an actuary, not a thinker, and took Yale’s law school entrance exam one morning on a complete lark when his college roomates bet him he’d do well, and he, having nothing else to do, figured: what the heck. And then found that the test was fun, and legal thinking was fun, and in that endlessly admirable way of his trusted his gut and changed the course of his life.  He wasn’t a constitutional lawyer; he founded Yale Law School’s clinical program, focused on the here-and-now challenge of protecting regular people from getting raw deals.  He implicitly believed that the big ideas were already out there; the point was to get them mobilized. And yet in the days leading up to his death he did the most metaphysical thing I have ever seen anyone do.   He found a way to make his death not be about him.  In retrospect this should not have been surprising.  My father always believed so deeply in other people that it was through their voices that he preferred to hear his own ideas.  At Yale he poured his hardest work and greastest passion into editing the work of others rather than creating his own.  He left a people trail, not a paper trail. Even as a metal sculptor it was his instinct to take the rusty shards and discards of times gone by, ask them how they’d like to fit together and what they’d like to become, and then solder them into compositions that were always relational, communal, emotional, and kind. So many of you have written in to his website to say, each in your own way, that this was my father’s signature quality: he took you in with delight, treated you with respect, and believed in your potential.  And so you left his presence feeling stronger about your self, and therby better able to focus on others. In his spirit I’d like to read three of your contributions now.

Tony Kronman, the former Dean of Yale Law School: Today, as on every other day of his remarkable life, Dan Freed is a quiet hero of dignity, courage and clear-headedness. There are many brilliant people at the Yale Law School. Dan is certainly among them. But he possesses something so much more valuable than brilliance. He possesses humanity–the all-too-rare gift of never underestimating others or overestimating onself. And because of this, Dan is beloved by all his colleagues: not merely respected and admired (which he is), but beloved. The example of his decency and kindness and deep wisdom about both the power and the limits of the law belongs to the permanent treasury of the Yale Law School. My love to you Dan, and to your family, which is so unbelievably lucky to have you at its center.

Fred Humphrey: We in Guilford have gained so much from our association with Dan. I think especially of the Board of Civil Authority where his calm manner and wisdom were so valuable regarding town affairs, and at the meetings of the Friends Of Algiers Village, Inc. where his very presence gave us hope and strength. Personally, I have never known a man for whom I felt so much respect and affection. I can’t write this without tears in my eyes. Most of us were only dimly aware of his professional career and knew him only as one of us in our small, rural town. His great modesty never betrayed his many and sensitive contributions to the law and to human decency. He has left a beautiful legacy.

Julie Stewart: Dear Dan – I have to let you know how much you mean to me.  I didn’t go to an Ivy League school, don’t have a law degree, and stumbled upon sentencing only after my brother received a mandatory minimum for growing marijuana.  But you treated me with the respect and dignity that you showed everyone.  You assumed that my ability to tackle sentencing policy was as good as any of your students.  Your confidence in me was inspiring – and maybe a little intimidating because the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint Dan Freed! But I loved the challenges you posed, always presenting new questions about what good sentencing policy is.  What does it look like?  You didn’t pose the questions knowing the answer – you, too, were trying to figure it out, which I loved.    I love you, Dan.  I will miss your dear smile, and soft voice, and deep wisdom.  I hope you can go in peace, knowing how many lives you have touched, and how much you have contributed to this world.  Goodbye, dear friend and teacher.

As everyone here knows, my mother, Judith Darrow Freed, saved my father’s life. Over and over, in ways too numerous and invisible to count, she got him through one day at a time for year upon year, not just surviving, but thriving.  And somehow, along the way, she and he fell deeper into love – not merely with eachother, but with their doctors, who fell in love with them too.
Yet even with Judy Freed at your side, death can be terrifying.  Your self is coming apart.  And it is natural, and normal, to focus on that self, and retreat into that self.
But this was not what my father did.  On that transitional day when my mother knelt beside him and said that the time they had held at bay for so long had finally come, and that comfort, not cure, must now at last become their goal, he protested only once, saying “but I want to be married to you for 100 years.”  And so just as they had with every other challenge he had faced, they they thought about that, and found a solution. He slipped his wedding ring off, put it on her finger, and said “with this ring, I thee wed.”  And that, as they say, was that.  His body, his self, so long the focal point of their lives, was now beside the point1.   He just treasured, and used, the time that was left.  My mom asked if she could get into his bed with him and she did, and they lay there snuggling as best you can in a hospital gurney, holding hands, and he whispered “I feel so privileged, I feel so privileged.”
Later that day Mom got Larry Young, Dan’s cardiologist of 13 years, on the phone to say goodbye.  I want to share with you the brief transcript of Dan’s converation with man who had valiantly tried, long succeeeded, but finally failed, to keep him alive.
Larry Young: Dan how are you?
Dan: I feel sad but accomplished.
Larry:  Well Dan, we’ve know eachother for quite some time now.  It was a privilege to work with you all these years.
Dan: That’s how we feel.  You took just marvelous care of us.  You’re a gem.
Larry: Well thank you Dan. I know you have your family around you.
 And you just had a new grandchild.  So, Dan, the cycle of life continues.  And you have Judy with you. She is just amazing. Judy is just really the best.
Dan: We agree.
Larry: Well it is a real honor to have known you for all these years and worked with you and been a part of your life.
Dan: We’re even.

We’re even.

Equality between people – children and adults, professors and students, defendants and judges, Vermonters and New Hampshirites — well, okay, there are limits — was never about abstract rights for my father.  Equality was about fair trade, was about being even.  It was a transactional truth: we each can receive as much from everyone else as we have to give; the trick is to make the trade, not prove its potential.  And he believed this was true not just in law, but in love.  In fact, I’m pretty sure he didn’t see the difference.  Dan Freed believed in you, loved you with all his heart.  And you loved him back, with all of yours.   For 82 years, it was a fair, fair trade.   Which is why we are here today, to say back to him what he taught and treasured as the true meaning, as the unending goal, and as the sacred dream of human life:
We’re even.
*  *  *
When my father first came to Yale law school, sentencing – that momentous event that falls between a guilty defendant’s trial and his incarceration – was a neglected and largely hidden aspect of criminal justice, at least from the standpoint of academic legal studies.  While clear rules governed arrest, and trial, and incarceration, sentencing was part wild west and part lottery.  A huge amount of disparity was tolerated in a process that was supposed to be fair; if you got yourself a hanging judge, well – that was your bad luck.  Dan Freed didn’t believe in luck – not that kind. His signature creation at Yale Law School was a course that could only be conceived by a man who knew that we were all even.  He collapsed the strict hierarchy of American law and brought state and Federal judges into the same room with law students, had them each read the same case, and asked them to explain to one another how they would sentence the defendant. As you can imagine, a huge amount of disparity emerged, which was precisely the point.  Halfway through his career, the United States Congress invented a mathematical grid for calculating sentences, not unlike the one we’ve all used to look up our taxes.  My father used his class to emphasize that this was far too blunt a solution, and left so many nuances out of sentencing that it created almost as much disparity as it was meant to correct.  And so this math major spent his professional life fighting against the quantification and mathematicization of criminal entencing, and placed his faith in people, and the unbelievably sweet belief that through conversation – simple, untranscribed, halting, imperfect conversation – justice could prevail.  Year after year, he asked his judges and his students to talk themselves into consensus, and consistency.  In that space, for those hours, they were all even – even in being called on, even in being questioned, even in having to explain rather than assert their views.   Well wouldn’t you that the way Dan Freed made his death not be about him was by putting on that same class in his final four days of life?  Though his body was bed-ridden, he vaulted himself into an emotional space I never knew existed, between life and death.  And then he invited us into that space with him, like students and Judges asked to consider what to do between his verdict being read and his sentence being passed, and helped us think about what to do in a world he’d left behind.  Which is to say, even when dying he was a guide at our side: he didn’t make his death be about him. He made it be about us.   My mother told me that a few days before he died she asked what would happen to her when he was gone and he answered, glowing, “you’re just going to soar!”  Emily called him on the phone once, crying, and he said “you’re my sweetheart forever and ever. I hope you have the most glorious life.”  He learned all his nurses’ names, thanked all his doctors, took every call, listened to every email.  He let his end by an end for everyone, not just him.  Two days before he died, he gathered his entire family, Judy and all his kids and grandkids, into his room overlooking the East River of New York.  And I watched gaze at them in love and say their names as though they, and they alone, were the answer to that greatest of all questions: what is the meaning of life?   And then he said a few words which I’d like to read to you now:
Dan: I’m so happy, couldn’t be happier, that all of you came to this space today, that you know the time, and it’s an opportunity for me to tell each of you, so I just wanted to say that living through all your lives, I really feel (and here he looked around the room at his various grandchildren, and teased each of them one last time) that I’ve been blessed with you little monkeys and you little geniuses and you little fishermen and you little kickers, so I want to say to you now, because I won’t have a chance again, that you’ve been the most marvelous family that a grandfather, or a father could have, and I thank you so much for the sadness that I am sure all of us share that I’m not going to go on forever.  So this is a time, this is a time, when we’re going to have the opportunity to say goodbye.

After we miraculously danced him into his wheelchair just a few hours before he fell asleep for the final time, and rolled him out into the hospital’s common area overlooking the river in an angled space that was not unlike the prow of a ship, and someone got him a chicken sandwich, and another got him some chocolate milk, I sat on the floor looking up at him as he looked out into the world for the last time.  And with his kids and grandkids and wife eating and talking behind him so noisily that the nurses asked us to move, amidst all that hubub and life, he caught my gaze with his warm brown eyes and we looked straight into one another for a few seconds that will, in that strange way the universe has of working, last my whole life long.  And in that moment I felt some force come out of him and flow into me, I felt something transmit between us.  And it hasn’t left, and I am beginning to think it never will.
And then he was ready to go. We watched him prepare.  When he was just waking up, or falling asleep, he would say excitedly, urgently, eagerly, ‘let’s go.’ Over and over – “let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”   When his body’s toxins had pushed his lucid mind into a semi-dream, he told us he was on a boat, and was waiting for it to sail; he kept asking when it would go, and if he had any worry, it was that it would be postponed.  Looking at some artwork on the wall at the foot of his bed once I caught him staring at the reflection of the door to his room.  I asked him what he was doing, and he looked at me as though it were the most natural and common sense thing in the world and said “I’m waiting for it to open.”
I want to leave you with one final anecdote. On the day we decided to withdraw care, an hour or two after the doctor had left, I was sitting next to my dad when all of a sudden it hit me that this really was it.  After all his operations, all his blood draws, all his thumbs-ups as the orderlies wheeled into the operating room again, it was over. The medicine that had stood between my father and death as a protective barrier was about to be peeled away, and I was going to lose him. I threw myself on him, buried my head against his neck, and sobbed and sobbed, asking over and over where I could find him when he was gone. He didn’t say anything, he just kissed my cheek, in these small little raspy kisses, and that was enough.  The next day I came to visit, and my mother said to me “Peter, do you know how you asked daddy yesterday where you could find him when he was gone?”  I said yes, and she said “well last night I asked him too, and we looked out the window, and we picked out some stars.”  I began crying, and looked at my dad and asked “is that true dad?”  And in that light and bemused tone of his, that everyone here knows, he smiled without opening his eyes and said “it’s truedad.”  Now you have to know him pretty well to know what he was doing there, but I can tell you that this was one of his favorite private jokes his whole life long, and one I’d always loved but never understood. What he was doing was putting the words true and dad together into a single word, a nonsense word that nevertheless said everything that needed to be said.  It said that it was true. He and my mother had picked out stars, and he would be there, always, and everywhere else as well. And if she ever needed to find him, she could just soar, up and away, and there he’d be. And it said that there was a space between those words, and that it was his inclination to find the space between things where no one else was looking, and use it playfully, hopefully, and passionately to remake the world. But it also, I believe, said something about his sense of what it he meant his legacy to be.  It said that even on his deathbed, he wasn’t going to interfere with my thoughts.  If I said true dad, he would say truedad in return.  He would reflect my own words back to me, and by that generous act would tell me, for the hundred thousandth time, that he trusted me to think for myself, and learn for myself, and understand for myself, and be myself. The ball was in my court – always had been, always will be.
To leave this world without rage is one thing. And to leave this world without bitterness, to leave this world without regret, to leave this world with sadness and yet a twinkle in your eye, these are other things. Wonderful, marvelous things. But to leave this world without making your death about you, and in your final hours to help the ones you leave behind to use the space your loss will leave, this is something else entirely. This is love.
* * *
Daniel Josef Freed, I give you to the universe.  I am now, and will always be, your true son. And you are now, and have ever been, my truedad. Weʼre even. Weʼre all even. And on behalf of everyone here I say to you now: weʼll meet again, and again and again, in the spaces in between.
Thank you.

Sunday, January 17, 2010:

At 12:15 PM, as Judy was telling Jon and Amy about the time Dan had won a trip to the Olympics, and with Peter sitting beside him, Jon noticed he was breathing erratically.  We all made it to his bedside and he stopped breathing. The family sat with him until 6pm, holding his hand, telling them they loved him, thanking him, and saying goodbye.  It was a very peaceful and beautiful death.  It was very like Dan to pass away when he could hear the voices of his family nearby, but when nobody was speaking to him, as he would have considered this impolite.

Saturday, January 16, 2010:

Dan has slipped into an obtunded state, and is sleeping comfortably.

Friday, January 15, 2010:

A bit of a miracle! After 10 days in bed, Dan had a burst of energy and we got him into a wheelchair, and took him out to the beautiful common area on the 14th floor, which instead of having a flat window has two angled windows that come together in a point overlooking the river.  Dan talked with all his grandkids, ate a little chicken sandwich, had some soda and a cookie, and beamed and beamed and beamed. After he got tired we took him back to bed, and he whispered to Peter “thank the Lord for such fun.”  When he became a bit delirious later in the evening, he kept saying that he was waiting for a boat, and asking when the boat would leave, and whether the boat had been postponed.  Later the boat became a ferry.

Thursday, January 14, 2010:

Dan, surrounded by his four children and six grandchildren, an a beautiful room at New York Hospital overlooking the east river, gave a very sweet speech about how much he loved everyone, how it was a sad time but also a time for thankfulness, and how he accepted what was happening. He was very calm and brave. Then each person came up and said a final goodbye to him, one by one.  And then we had dinner. Dan was particularly excited by chocolate ice cream, which had been forbidden him for years by his cardiologist.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010:

Q: Do you know what’s happening to you?

Dan: Yes, I’m dying

Q: How do you feel about it?

Dan: I hate it. I love living!

Dan is resting comfortably at New York Hospital right now, and has agreed with his doctors and his family to stop all of his medical care. His kidneys and liver have failed, and dialysis and other treatments are only making him worse. His doctors believe he will probably pass away in “days” .  However he still has his wits about him and enjoys diversions, so if you want to write in with any words of farewell, now’s the time! He enjoys just hearing people’s names, so don’t worry about what to say.

November 4, 2009

As you probably know, Dan is unfortunately ill.  His spirit is strong, he loves life, but his body isn’t quite doing him justice. He is in his beloved Vermont, with his even more beloved Judy, and is clear as a bell and has million projects and ideas he’d love to work on.

Stephen Phillips

My name is Stephen Phillips and I was lucky to have known Dan Freed.  I am also lucky to have Judy as a friend, and I’m very pleased to see his very talented children and grandchildren gathered today.

How do we measure the life of a man? A great man? In hours and days? Years and decades? Home runs hit?  Accomplishments and awards?

Dan Freed touched many lives in ways so significant. As a teacher, he inspired his students to change the world. One student said “He taught me who I wanted to be, and who I wanted to be was Dan Freed.”

Dan’s work in sentencing of criminals was groundbreaking. First, Dan saw an injustice in the way the law was applied. Then, he went about fixing it. It was the way he went about his work that was so incredible. He started by listening and learning. Dan was a great listener. He valued new people for their ideas and perspectives- all kinds of people. He seemed to find good- some good- in just about everyone, and he took the time to listen. His handful of students took the seed of an idea, making a part of criminal law more fair, and ran with it. Just think about the people this was to benefit: the convicted criminals for whom much of society believes justice and fairness need no longer apply. But, he also worked for all of us, to make a society that is more just and more fair.

Dan wanted this to be a light hearted event. This is hard to do. He loved his family- Judy, his children, Jonathan, Amy, Peter and Emily. He felt lucky every minute he could be with you and your children, his grandchildren. He was very proud of all of you.

He loved his friends and the time he spent with them, talking and listening.

I wish I had known Dan as a young man. I can imagine him serving his country in the Navy- full of idealism. I see him at the Department of Justice righting all kinds of wrongs in the 1960’s. I knew him as a retired gentleman. A wise professor. If we were still living in an age in which there were still princes or kings, Dan would have been a good one. He was wise, patient, discerning and fair.

His role as a husband to his wife Judy was how I observed him most closely. What a great love! If Romeo and Juliet had not had so hard a start, being star-crossed and all, and had survived to maturity, they might have had the chance to achieve what Dan and Judy had together. Devotion, respect and joy in being together. It was contagious to be with them and to see their love in action.

I will remember Dan always and he will continue to inspire me to be the best man I can be.

Ultimately, the measure of a great man may be is in the love he gives to all of those who surround him. Dan was great because of this great love.

Dear Dan,

In Uncategorized on November 4, 2009 at 5:08 am
danfreed

Daniel Josef Freed, Fall of 2009

Dan was able to hear all of the letters sent to him before he passed away, though towards the end he could only nod when he heard.  But he was very moved by all of them, and felt absolutely bathed in love.

Please feel very comfortable to continue sending messages to peterfreed@gmail.com, or to leave comments below.

3/17/2010

Danny and I were good friends, though distance kept us apart in our later lives.  When we graduated from YLS in 1951, he and I were together on our first job, as two of the four interns on Senator Lyndon Johnson’s Preparedness Subcommittee.  I am sure that Danny took that job for the same reasons I did:  the subcommittee had played a key — perhaps even vital — role in World War II under then Senator Harry Truman, deeply probing problems in the interface between the economic war effort and the military effort.  When we graduated from law school, the Korean War was on, and we expected that the Committee would play a similar role there.

Unfortunately, that did not turn out to be the case, references to the subcommittee in Robert Caro’s definitive biography of President Johnson notwithstanding.  The job was a disappointing introduction to law practice for Dan as it was for me, though we both in our respective and quite different ways overcame that beginning, and as you know, Dan went on to make very major contributions to the law, particularly in the field of fairness and decency in criminal sentencing.  Dan and I also shared a house as bachelors at the time we left YLS, and I became very fond of him.  He was always bright and decent and warm; and I am proud to have known him and to have been a friend.  Though we did not see much of one another in recent times, I will miss him.

– Kurt Melchior

2/2/2010

Dear Peter, Talya, and Teo,

We were so, so sorry to hear of your loss.  Please know that our thoughts are with you during this difficult time.  We had very much hoped to come up to Vermont for the ceremony this past weekend; my parents said it was beautiful, that you all spoke so lovingly.  Your father, Peter, always stood out as one of the warmest and most gentle people I knew.  I have many memories of him (and of you all, of course) from my very earliest days; I remember in particular a Passover at your house in Guilford (must have been over 25 years ago), which remains one of my all-time favorite Passovers largely because of the humor and kid-friendly intellect with which he led the Seder–he convincingly explained to me a sudden and well-timed burst of wind and rustling of leaves at the front door as the coming of Elijah, and despite his wink at the time, I still sort of believe him.  I was always so happy to run into him in Brattleboro, and I was thrilled, when I first moved to New York, to run into him once in the West Village.  Whenever we spoke, he had the ability to make me feel, even when I was very young, that I had important and interesting things to say.  I feel very lucky to have known him.

I would have preferred to write you a proper letter, but I can’t seem to find your address, so an email will have to suffice for now.  I do hope that we can see you all soon.  It has been too long.  I look forward to seeing how the boys interact with each other these days; Teo must be on the verge of vertical movement.  What a blessing that your father was able to be a part of Teo’s life, and Teo of his.

-All our love,

-Daniel and Marianne (Tober)

1/28/2010

Dear Peter,

I would like to convey my most sincere sympathy to Judy, yourself and all the family on Dan’s death. It was one of the saddest moments of my life when I visited the Yale Law School site and learned of his death. The only consolation was that it was a Monday evening and I had just completed a round trip of about 250 miles from Galway to Cork (here in Ireland) to give a class on sentencing to a group of trainee lawyers. I think Dan would have approved.

In 1987, I made the best decision of my life when I turned down offers from Harvard and other law schools to attend Yale for the LL.M. programme precisely because it had a sentencing course that sounded interesting. Early in September 1987 I met Dan for the first time. The warmth of his welcome and the depth of his interest and encouragement made that year a wonderful experience. Many others have written about his sentencing clases in which I was privileged to participate every Friday. He was always available, always interested and ever encouraging. I can still picture himself and Joe Goldstein wandering into the cafeteria for an early morning coffee. From some of the recent tributes, I gather that they swam together was well, but I wouldn’t have known that, not being the atlethic type!

There are so many memories I could share, but I will just mention two. After returning to Ireland to teach, I kept in touch with Dan and he kept me supplied with the Federal Sentencing Reporter. In Spring 1993 while on Sabbatical in England, I made a short trip to Yale and it was truly like coming home because of the warmth of Dan’s welcome. It happened to coincide with his workshop for the Alabama judges. One everning, he and Judy hosted us at their beautiful New Haven home and it was one of the most pleasant occasions I have ever enjoyed. The Goldsteins were there as, of course, was Peter Kougasian with his magic tricks.

And then about three years ago, I realised a longstanding ambition when I persuared Dan to come to Galway as he and Judge did. It was wonderful to have them there. Dan captirvated the students and something unique happened when they decided quite spontaneously that they would buy him a gift. I never before, or since, saw such a spontaneous gesture on the part of students, but those who knew Dan would not have found it in any way suprising.

We all feel bereft by his passing and he was, as the Federal Sentencing Reporter put it, a true giant both as a scholar and as a person. I am working towards the completion of a book entitled Principled Discretion: Towards  A Coherent Sentencing System. Dan approved of the title, I am glad to say, one day while we were driving in Galway. I had intended to dedicate to him, but will now sadly, but enthusiastically, be dedicating to his memory.

With every good wish to Judy and all the family at this difficult time.

Tom O’Malley
School of Law
NUI Galway
IRELAND

1/25/2010

The only annoying thing about Dan Freed was he had absolutely no appetite for gossip.

– Gerry Kaplan

1/25/2010

I can still hear Dan’s voice — so gentle and nurturing and always asking good questions.  He will be missed.

– Jean Bellow

1/25/2010

Judy, Peter, Emily…and Dan !
Days and Nights in New Haven and Vermont….
I not only hear you, Dan, say “let’s go to Ashley’s”….but also…”…oh, maybe just s small piece..”, “Lovey, that may be too much…but I’ll try it…thank you.” (and then you, Judy, would laugh and giggle from head to toe….not yet handing him his folk…)   Dan..with the extraordinary mind, quick to the humor, the sweet voice, tenderness in delivery and that child-like smile that melts me to this very day !
and…I do love you, Judy, very much. He was and IS who he is because of you two TOGETHER !
Deta (Reid)

1/25/2010

I had not seen Dan in some years, but his kindness, warmth and generosity remain vivid. He welcomed me to Yale in 1983 as an eager new associate dean. Indeed, Dan sent two of the most exceptional public interest student advocates to see me even before I came officially to New Haven — a gesture simultaneously thoughtful (to assure me I had made a wise choice) and gently but brilliantly strategic (to assure that my commitment to the public interest issues about which he cared so deeply would be cemented). How very characteristic.

It was a privilege to be his student and ally as I put my shoulder to the public interest wagon he and an amazing group of students had so long and wisely been moving forward. I admired his patience and willingness to walk the path of discovery year after year with new students, and the boundless energy and joy he brought to our work. Yale’s reputation for leadership in public interest law, and specifically its remarkable loan forgiveness program, owe more to Dan than most will ever know.

Dan, and you, Judy, were always kind to Gary and me, and like so many others we could see and aspire to the closeness and respect that you shared. We join the many, many friends who were honored and warmed to have been touched by Dan, although we could not be with you for the cookies and milk. I am glad that Dan’s twinkle was bright until the end.

Jamie Studley

1/24/2010

Peter – how good it was to discover Dan’s website.  Thank you for letting us share in the tears and smiles.  We were so, so sad to learn of Dan’s passing.  I know you hear this over and over again, but he was the kindest man, and without him, there seems to be a hole in the universe.  Please give our love to everyone.  We will see you next Sunday.  I’m so glad you are having this memorial.  Is there anything we can do to help?  Kisses to all, Felicia and Jim (Tober)

1/23/2010

I have many happy memories of hanging out at the Freeds’ house on Lawrence St. Dan and Judy were so generous to provide a place for Peter, Emily, and their friends to watch movies, eat, and talk, and talk, and talk. In fact, I think most of my memories involve conversations–conversations that could be lighthearted, serious, or political, or all of the above. I remember Dan Freed as a benevolent and bemused presence. I knew he was a distinguished lawyer and law professor, of course, but I always thought of him as Peter’s and Emily’s dad. Thank you Mr. Freed for these memories.
- Carol Faulkner
1/23/2010

Dear Judy and family,

I haven’t seen much of you since our year teaching together at Bank Street School for Children in 1964, but I have continued to hear about you, and loved catching up with you once in New Haven. I read with deepest sorrow about the death of your beloved husband in the New York Times last night and so today followed all leads for how I could get in touch with you.

Just found https://danfreed.wordpress.com/ and have read every word, with tears of sorrow and of joy for a life so well lived.

We will send a donation but I want you Judy and your family to know that the person I read about just now is the Judy I knew from many years ago at Bank Street—inspiring, loving, dedicated—a unique and visionary luminary in education. You have meant more to me over the years than you may ever know, but I hear your words again and again in my mind and have always followed the path you showed me in 1964.

With much love and sympathy,
Ellen May Galinsky

1/23/2010

For Judy, Peter and Emily,

I met Dan in 1977 when Abe Goldstein introduced us. He said that Dan was doing important work on bail, and perhaps he could find a place for me. When I arrived at Dan’s office it was of course difficult to find a place to sit among the many books and articles.  Dan was curious about what I had done in the past and what I wanted to do in the future. He asked lots of questions, as was characteristic of him. This was the beginning of a long and singular bond for me that began as student and teacher, and slowly over the years evolved into a close friendship, through which Gabi and I were able to share with Dan and Judy and Peter and Emily. Our sons Itamar, Eytan and Daniel also enjoyed the warmth and caring of the Freed family.  It is a measure of our view of Dan that we chose the name Daniel for our son Daniel, who along with Eytan, spent the first few weeks of his life in the Freed family house, which we had the very good fortune of making our home during the summer of 1983 when our twins were born.

I began to get a sense of the special person I had met when I participated as a student in Dan’s sentencing workshop at the law school.  Dan had a magic ability to ask questions, to probe people’s minds, to get in and under the thoughts of others and to learn what his professional counterparts really think about the subject in question.  This ability to inquire in a deep way and then respond in the most thoughtful of manner is one of the main qualities of Dan that I recall so well. It bridged professional and personal life;  Dan asked not only professional questions, but also personal questions, when the appropriate place and time so permitted.

Appropriateness in place and time were essential to Dan’s sense of action and restraint.  In my experience, Dan was fundamentally concerned in life, in all respects, with ethics.  I think that his commitment to ethics, his intuitive sense of ethical behavior and ethical feeling, informed all parts of his life.  It must have been at the root of his overriding concern with equality in the criminal justice system, in the law generally, and in personal and social life.  Dan was not motivated by acquisition of a place for himself, but rather with promotion of others to places where they deserved to be, whether it be students, the underprivileged in the bureaucracy of everyday life, minorities and the poor in the criminal justice system, or friends and acquaintances, as well as the regular persons who appeared on his scene in everyday life in regard to whom he made a conscious effort to generate the greatest respect and to imbue the highest dignity.  Dan was a deeply loyal person, loyal to his values, to his friends and colleagues, to his family.

It is my view that Daniel Freed made an enormous contribution to law in different ways.  Dan was dedicated to the reform of the law in the fields of legal aid, the right to release from prolonged arrest, and the right to equality and humanity for persons facing prison sentences. Motivating this striving for reform, I think, was the strongest possible notion that freedom from arbitrariness lies at the heart of a democratic society.  Dan had a commitment to the creation and maintenance of a legal system that guides the overwhelming power of discretion to its least harmful results.

Another major contribution to the law, which is of course linked to reform possibilities, was Dan’s refinement of a special teaching methodology.   The workshops that Dan devised and conducted for many years at Yale Law School constituted an on-going forum in which students and experienced professionals learned from each other not only how to upgrade the protection of freedoms in the criminal justice system, but also learned the method for communicating the important messages of reform to others. The method was based on the assumption that students must learn not only from the treatises of the law, but from the people who make and apply the law in their professional capacities. The workshops demonstrated persuasively that that law is fashioned by people in the legal system making low visibility decisions. Dan’s method was centered on making visible what otherwise would remain far from the eye and mind.

I for one adopted wholeheartedly the method of the workshop forum I learned from Dan, and attempted in my own way to use it at the Tel-Aviv University Law School where I had the privilege and satisfaction of trying to help law students understand the situation of the underprivileged in the criminal justice system.  Dan’s methodology made it possible for me to generate recognition and concern among law students, many of whom eventually chose public interest careers, with the aim of reforming the criminal justice of Israeli, in ways similar to those advanced by Dan.  In this important way, I have sometimes seen myself as a kind transmitter of the criminal justice reform that Dan defined for his own setting, complementary justice reform that Israeli students could seek in their own legal system. Dan was a guest participant in the Israeli workshop, that was self consciously created in the image of the workshop lead by him at Yale. Dan was also a guest consultant of the new Public Defender’s Office of the State of Israel, which had grown out of the Tel-Aviv University Law School Workshop.  I could feel in these meetings that Dan was connecting to roots that Israel represented for him.

I am deeply thankful for the opportunity, somehow given to me, to meet Dan Freed, and to have shared in drawing from his wisdom and his ethics, and from his warmth as a loyal friend. Since I moved to Israel years ago I have missed him very much. Life’s exigencies put many miles between us, but I surely will never forget him or his family.

– Kenneth Mann

1/23/2010

Dear Judy and All Freed Family Members;
I extend to you my sincerest sympathy on Dan’s passing. We in Guilford have gained so much from our association with Dan. I think especially of the Board of Civil Authority where his calm manner and wisdom were so valuable regarding town affairs, and at the meetings of the Friends Of Algiers Village, Inc. where his very presence gave us hope and strength.
Personally, I have never known a man for whom I felt so much respect and affection. I can’t write this without tears in my eyes. Most of us were only dimly aware of his professional career and knew him only as one of us in our small, rural town. His great modesty never betrayed his many and sensitive contributions to the law and to human decency. He has left a beautiful legacy.
My love to all of you,
Fred Humphrey

1/22/2010

Thank you Peter, for letting us all glimpse your father’s last moments. It seems to me that men who have lived good lives die good deaths. They don’t like it but they do.
My father’s death was so similar. Including the rally on his last day — a Sunday. He had breakfast, lunch and dinner with us — all at home in Connecticut. The day before, the hospice nurse had been very clear with us about what was coming. On Monday, he woke his caretaker at dawn and asked to get up. He had breakfast, and asked Attah to wake my mother. They sat together for an hour, talking. Then he said he was tired and wanted a nap. My mother and Attah tucked him in — she went out to plant peppers. When she went to give him some water, and hour later, he had died. He liked to do things in private — he got to say his goodbyes.
You will always remember these things. I can hear the last time he said my children’s names — and used his special voice for each — our kissing and saying goodbye, all on that rally Sunday night. The feeling of happiness (and I am sorry to say, hope) that burst of energy gave me. The call at 10:30 the next morning.
The love and support from friends — especially from Yale.
We have been lucky children. I am so sorry that he is gone — please express this to your whole family — and my gratitude for making it possible for those in this extended community of grief to share our thoughts and memories.
I did love your dad very much. He sparkled.
- Catie Marshall (Daughter of Burke Marshall)

1/22/2010

I am so sorry!!! My mom gave me the sad news last night.
I wish I lived closer. I really miss you guys. Please know that I am with you in spirit. I loved your dad. he was literally like a part of my extended family. he was one of the best men I’ve ever known. love you peter freed. please give a hug to emily, amy and of course your mom.
love,
madeleine (smithberg)

1/21/2010

Dan was always lovely to me and he was fun to talk to and such a great
person.  We would do this for anyone, but we do it with a little extra love
for Dan!  Everyone here on the administration–from the dean’s office to the
IT department– liked him and was so sorry to hear of his illness.  We all
have fond memories of him and are thinking of all of you.

– Janet Conroy

1/20/2010
Please accept my condolences on your Dad’s death.  My mother, Edith Freed Penzner, felt a special bond to him and very much appreciated his calling her just before she died in 2007.  He touched my life as well.  While a senior in college, I visited your parents in New Haven in November 1969 in order to obtain “life advice.”

Michael Penzner

1/19/2010

Peter,

I am sorry to hear about the passing of your father.  I knew your father as a kind and thoughtful man.  He always had a mirthful twinkle in his eye, and an incredible interest in helping others.  Though it is a great loss, I am certain that he was happy to be surrounded by his loving family. Hope that you are as well as you can be, and I look forward to another opportunity to catch-up (though no chance encounter can be top our ‘traffic stop’ in San Francisco).   Please give my best to your entire family, Tom (Priest)

1/19/2010

DEAR PETER EMILY JUDY, WE ARE DEEPLY SADDENED TO LEARN OF DAN’S PASSING AWAY. HE WAS A KEY PART OF OUR  LIVES  AND VERY MUCH A MODEL FOR ME. HIS LESSONS AND DEMEANOR AND CARING HAVE ALWAYS BEEN STRONGLY FELT IN ME.
WE ARE ON A WILDERNESS TRIP OUTSIDE OF ISRAEL. WE WILL CALL AS SOON AS WE CAN.

LOVE KEN AND GABI (Mann)

1/18/2010

Peter: My world, the world, is diminished big time without My Friend Dan. I am so sad, and I hope you know, and your Mom, and your sister know ,  how my thoughts and prayers are with you. Someplace, somewhere, Dan is still sharing his delight in ideas, pushing, questioning, examining, and doing so in his own, unique warm and wonderful way. I will always treasure what we had together for so many years.
Love, Milty (Heumann)

1/18/2010

Dan Freed was and will always be a guiding light for students at Yale Law School.  He modeled and taught the very human dimensions of being a lawyer – compassion, grace and care, in addition to excellent intellectual analysis.  His gentle smile and that warm twinkle in his eyes have left an enduring mark on generations; an immeasurable gift.  Thank you for sharing him with all of us.

Brett Dignam

1/18/2010

Peter, Judy, and all your family

I was in London giving talks and am just back to be greeted with this terribly sad news.  I just wanted [not for the web, as of yet, but for you all] to say how much Dan was a role model and mentor. Dan’s  generous and friendly support of me in my very junior years stays with me – and reminds me to try to reciprocate by doing the same for others.Dan put me in a position to do research on women in prison, made me the temporary head of the Guggenheim program here when he took a leave, honed my interests in prison, sentencing, habeas, the Department of Justice (in its  best incarnations) and much else.  He was a warm and wonderful supporter of so many of us, and I am lucky to have had known him, worked with him, and been launched through his help and friendship.  Judy, you were so welcoming when I came to town, and co-hosted many dinners at your home. I hope to see you soon to say thanks in person, and sorrow.In short, I feel honored and grateful to have known and worked with Dan.

Judith (Resnik)

1/18/2010


Hello..I would like to share these words with Emily and her family about her father..although I did not meet Mr. Dan Freed it is apparent that he was a truly great man; I can say this because I know his daughter Emily.  She shared a deep connection with him and would speak so warmly about their relationship.  He was a man full of love, kindness and a true genteel nature.  His legacy will live on in his children and grandchildren; but his positive energy and being will influence us all to be better to others and aware of all the blessings we have in this life.  Love you Emily and my thoughts and prayers are with you…Natasha (Larrando)
1/17/2010

So sorry to hear this Peter (unfortunately I’ve been out of the country with very limited web access and only saw this mail today).
Please let your father know that, though across the ocean, my thoughts are with him. Thank him (& your mom) for having opened their home to us all so generously when growing up.
Also send hopes of strength to you and your family, I can’t imagine what you, your mom, sister & Dad are going through now, but let me know if there’s anything I can help with from here. Take care, and keep in touch.
Love, Josh (Murray)

1/17/2010

Jonathan, Amy, Peter and Emily, I just wanted to send a short note to let you know how sorry I am about your Dad’s death earlier today.  He was such a wonderful person.  I will always remember his smile, accompanied by that clever Freed twinkle in his eye, and his youthful energy. His body may have let him down during his illness but his zest for life was still very apparent. I particularly loved the poem he wrote that you posted on the website – I plan to hang it up at home.
I know this is a very difficult time for all of you, but hopefully it’s comforting to know that your Dad died peacefully and surrounded by those he loved most.  I also like to think that he has had a warm reception on the other side by friends and relatives, including my mom (no doubt with a hot meal and some chocolate chip cookies.)  My thoughts are with you.
Much love,
Didi (St. Pierre nee Freed)
1/17/2010

I could not have been luckier during my first year at Wooster than to have your daughter, Emily, as my roommate.  Countless nights we lay awake laughing and telling stories.  How often Emily would recount hilarious antics of the Freed family she experienced growing up.  How often these stories were punctuated with reminders of her close relationship with you.  This past week, as I was talking with Emily, I commented on what a beautiful memory I have of you toasting her and Felix at their wedding.  The joy with which you expressed your thoughts and feelings at this special occasion truly warmed my heart and reminds me so much of Emily’s joyful and loving outlook on life.  What a tremendous legacy of love.
Diana Cushman Stefaniuk
1/17/2010

Dan, If you hear this, greetings and a fond embrace from another former student who made sentencing a career.  As a third-year student, I was part of the original 1974 Sentencing Policy seminar that you and Denny Curtis organized at Yale Law School, with so many illustrious jurists and scholars of that time as guest participants.  From you I learned the policy perspective, when most of what I had heard and known until then about sentencing and post-conviction, as a Danbury Project participant and co-author of an extensive student study of the pilot project Parole Guidelines, was on the technical legal side.  For over 30 years, following a few years of teaching, I have been a private practice criminal defense lawyer subspecializing in sentencing, appeals and other post-conviction aspects of the system.  I try to bring to those efforts the same combination of humanity, dedication and intelligence that I received from my best teachers, as I do in my volunteer work on sentencing for FAMM, ALI and NACDL.  Your students carry on your work in so many ways.  It was wonderful to see you again last year at the LSO reunion.  The outpouring of appreciation on this website is well deserved.  Thank you for your wisdom and inspiration.
Peter Goldberger
1/17/2010

Prof. Freed was my favorite teacher.  Just this past Friday, not knowing of his illness, I gave a lecture that focused on his teaching at St. Thomas law school in Minnesota.  I hope you won’t mind posting the following on the tribute blog:

Prof. Freed is the warm, kind, brilliant, engaged teacher who probably never realized the profound effect he has on his students. He engaged us on many levels– challenging our beliefs and ideas at the same time that he challenged us personally and supported us in our endeavors. He is the reason, the primary reason, that I am a law teacher (I wanted to be like him), that I am passionate about sentencing (he was right to care so much), and that I try to be fully human with my students (he was that, as well).

There are bonds of love that tie the world together– romantic love, agape love, love within faith– but the bond between a teacher and student is nothing less than any of those. It is one we carry on forever, that survives even death. If there is immortality on this world, it is that, and there is no one, no one, who has achieved it more stunningly than Daniel Freed. Yes, it is his spirit that carried forward in Blakely, in Booker, in Kimbrough, in Spears, but more importantly in what we all teach, which is a lengthening of his own mind and passion across space and time to our own students, who will go on to accomplish things we cannot imagine.

I, too, am a Freedian forever.

Mark Osler
1/16/2010

Dear Ones: we just heard in Italy from Diana and Bob Post. We are with you in our thoughts and prayers and in all the grateful and happy memories of what Dan has meant to us as a friend, and knowing what he has meant to Yale and the whole world. His work and his kindness will be remembered as long as there are  people who teach, the  young and  the old, Dan’s gifts prove that the law can truly help those in need and make society better for all.. We love you. Anne and Guido (Callebresi)

1/16/2010


I like to think of myself as a Dan Freed “pretrial release protege.”
Just last week I was remembering our seminars and many discussions on this subject, when the NYTimes reported on favorable treatment of white collar defendants (e.g., Madow).
Although I am no longer involved in bail decisions on a daily basis (I left the bench to become a full time mediator and arbitrator almost 15 years ago), I continue to be inspired by Dan’s commitment to systemic change in social institutions.  I frequently mediate (pro bono) disputes involving systemic failures (e.g., conditions of confinement at mental hospitals, waiting list for juveniles to move from mental hospitals to residential treatment centers, failure of a new computer systems for delivering publis assistance benefits), and am hoping to lend a hand in resolving the recent suit over the use of excessive force and failure to provide adequate psychiatric services to juveniles in New York detention centers.
I do think of this as Dan’s legacy.
Many thanks,
Kathie Roberts
1/16/2010

Peter:
I am here in Washington and heard about your Dad. I love him. He was always so kind to me, in every way, from the day I walked into Yale Law School. I still see him and Joe Goldstein, in my mind’s eye, swimming over the Payne Whitney Gym. I am traveling abroad and did not want to bother you with a call, but please send him my love. He does not know how many lives he touched, but mine was certainly one of them.

Harold Koh

1/16/2010

As a friend of Emily’s since she was 8 years old, I have seen her love of her father — and his of her — from when she was in pigtails up through her wedding when he ‘gave her way’ with the kindest words.  I have never seen such a beautiful love between a father and his daughter!  I thank Dan for making Em the incredibly sweet and giving person that I have always known her to be, and for supporting her 100% through all of her ups and downs.

Beth (Ferholt)

1/16/2010

Dan, my wife Karina and I sadly, only have had the privilege of meeting you at the marriage of Peter and Talya, my niece.  We were then able to see why Peter and your dear wife Judy were so very proud of you (and you of them and all your family).  You gave a wonderful speach welcoming Talya into your family with my brother Martin and Orna my sister in law.  Your humour and gentleness shone through and although I was only able to speak with you a short few words it was very evident that you were so happy and full of pride at the bringing together of your lovely family.  We have since learned of your brave fight and the dignity and spirit you have shown in facing your illness.  You are an inspiration to all who know you and a comfort to Judy by being who you are.  Karina and I wish you well, have comfort from the love from all who know you.
Warren and Karina (Boston)
1/16/2010

I met Emily’s dad for the 1st time on her wedding day.  I remember clearly his wonderful warm smile and his amazing loving words he shared about his daughter, Emily, and his son-in-law, Felix, and the immense joy he felt on their wedding day.  He shared his happiness so freely for us all to see and made sure that myself and my husband, and all of Emily’s guests enjoyed a wonderful evening of celebration.

Michele Imhof

1/16/2010

Dear Dan –  Although Ron sent his wishes from both of us, I have to let you know how much you mean to me.  I didn’t go to an Ivy League school, don’t have a law degree, and stumbled upon sentencing only after my brother received a mandatory minimum for growing marijuana.  But you treated me with the respect and dignity that you showed everyone.  You assumed that my ability to tackle sentencing policy was as good as any of your students.  Your confidence in me was inspiring – and maybe a little intimidating because the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint Dan Freed! But I loved the challenges you posed, always presenting new questions about what good sentencing policy is.  What does it look like?  You didn’t pose the questions knowing the answer – you, too, were trying to figure it out, which I loved.  You never tired of analyzing sentencing policy.  I love you, Dan.  I will miss your dear smile, and soft voice, and deep wisdom.  I hope you can go in peace, knowing how many lives you have touched, and how much you have contributed to this world.  Goodbye, dear friend and teacher.


Julie (Stewart)

1/16/2010

Hi Peter,

Professor Freed taught the sentencing workshop I took in my third year of law school. He was brilliant and also warm and funny. He was one of my favorite teachers, for his insight and the depth of his experience, and for the utter care he took in his interactions with students. When you had his attention, you had it fully. He gave the kind of intense, provocative feedback that makes us better. Better thinkers and better human beings. My older son Eli was born two weeks before that workshop began. Dan and Denny Curtis and Judge Gertner let me bring Eli to class for the first several weeks, when he could be more or less relied on to sleep through it. Dan was gracious and funny about the whole thing and made me feel the opposite of self-conscious. He was a rare person. I got to see him last year; I’m so glad I had that chance to catch up.
Thinking of you and your family,
Emily

Emily Bazelon

1/16/2010

Emily and Peter,

My love and prayers are with you both right now.  Your dad is such a special person – I have always thought of him as such a lovely man and wonderful father.  Although I have memories of him at Wooster and New Haven and Vermont – I will most remember his wonderful comments about Em at her wedding this summer.  He may be known by many as a great teacher,  scholar and lawyer, but I know him as a great dad – full of love and kindness accepting you both as exactly the people you are.  His memory and sprit will live through both of your lives and those of your wonderful children.  I pray for God’s peace and comfort for you and your mom.

Molly (Carlson)

1/16/2010

Peter,

Marcy and I are here in  Morocco at a Yale Law School conference where we just heard about your dad’s condition. We have such fond memories of our times with him, Judy, and you and Emily that we are filled with sadness and sympathy for what you all must be going through.  Know that you are in our thoughts and please send our love to the other Freeds.  Hang in there.

Love,

Peter (Schuck)

1/16/2010

All my love to Professor Freed and his family from another former student of his wonderful, wonderful class.  I have no doubt it is one of the reasons why I am a criminal defense attorney today.

You will be missed.

Nina Beattie

1/16/2010

Dear Judy,

So, it seems as though you and the family have arrived at
a decision that I support fully.  It is still a very sad time, however.
I am glad that he got to be in NYC for the birth of the grandchild.
Your support, above all, has been an amazing thing to witness over the
last 6 months.  I wish you, Dan, and the family peace and comfort during
this time.  Please give my best wishes to Dan.

John Silkensen

1/16/2010

Please give him a hug for me and tell him that I’m thinking of him…and that the coke and chocolate is OK with his cardiologist!

Larry (Young)

1/16/2010
Dan Freed has a smile that always warmed my heart.
I am sure you all would agree

Thank you for allowing me to share as well,

Jamie Depew

1/15/2010

Dear All,

I was Dan’s secretary for many years at the law school.  I am so sorry to hear about Dan and pray that I could do something for him.  He is in my deep thoughts and prayers and wish I could tell him how much I will miss him.  Whenever we spoke he would always say Love you, Dan…..I will miss that. Judy, Dan was so fortunate to have you as his angel through all of this and he so often expressed how lucky he was to have you.I send my love to all of you and prayers during this difficult time.

Paddy Spiegelhalter

1/15/2010

Dear Dan,
I know you mostly as Emily’s father, and though you are much more than that, it’s a role you have perfected. Emily is a tribute to your kindness and gentle way.  I remember your picking up Emily in front of school, your driving us up to Vermont, your patient listening to us playing duets on the recorder, your talking to us about current events, your being the kindest father and quiet center of the family where I always felt so welcome and comortable. Later you gave me guidance and inspiration in my career, and you danced with Emily at her wedding.  My family sends love and best wishes to you and your family.
–Ali Bers

1/15/2010

I am so sad to hear about Dan.  I first met him 25 years ago,  and in every encounter over the years, I found Dan to be one of the gentlest, most supportive, kindest human beings on the planet.  He was always interested in the work of others, dealt with difficult situations with a smile and sage advice, and, above all, and, somehow, always made things seem a little better.  He truly made the world a better place.

Bob Solomon

1/15/2010

Dearest Uncle Dan,

With Harvey away on the west coast, you were elected my favorite uncle. From when I shot off a cap gun in the FBI building when I was 6 years old (imagine doing that now) when you took us on a tour to finding my fishing hook in the mouth of the shark Jonathan caught to Peter and Tanya’s wonderful wedding at your farm, you have been a shinning part of my life and I am glad for it all. I love you and will always have you in my heart.

Love,

Your Nephew Rick (Freed)

1/15/2010

Dear Peter,
I am so sorry to hear the news about Dan. I have worked at the Law School in IT for 20 years and always enjoyed my interactions with your father. He was curious, kind and appreciative when we assisted him with his computer questions and problems over the years.  He was a delight to work with and somehow managed to break things in the most creative ways.

On a personal note, he was very thoughtful and committed to those he worked with. I will really miss him.
Best,
Susan Monsen

1/15/2010

Peter:
Please let your dad know that he continues to have a very profound
impact on how I view sentencing and sentencing issues. I become Chief Judge
of the Third Circuit Court of Appeals this May and I intend to devote 2
Judicial Conferences to sentencing issues to try to sensitize trial judges
to the extent to which sentences – even those under the guidelines (and
perhaps especially those under the guidelines) are based on assumptions
that are either not supported by fact-based analysis or is perhaps
contradictory to what empirical evidence would suggest.
If I have any measure of success at all, it will be due solely to Dan
and even if I don’t, I know that his impact will still be felt by the
countless students and judges who have been touched by his sensitivity  and
insights over the years.  I would love to be able to end this by saying “Get well Dan.”
However, it sounds from your email that things have progressed beyond the
point of such social niceties.  I will therefore end by saying: “Dan, you
lived not only well, but splendidly and I remain grateful that our paths
crossed.  I thank you so very much for the role you played in my nomination
by President Clinton and subsequent confirmation and I will continue to
look forward to reading cases that will bear your imprint even though the
parties and judges involved may not know of the impact you have had on
them.”  One more thing, our former Chief Judge, Ed Becker had a saying that he
used to say was the highest praise that can be bestowed upon one by people
from South Philadelphia.  I am not from “South Philly,” but I will use that
phrase anyway; “Dan, ya done good.”

Your eternal friend and “compadre”

Ted McKee

1/15/2010

Dear Dan,
Thank you for being such an extraordinary teacher and example.  Yale is a small place, but for much of my time there I felt lost in the crowd.  Your sentencing class and being part of the Guidelines anniversary conference helped me find my way.  The things I learned writing a paper with you–and with the assistance of your vast network of friends in the sentencing policy world–are endlessly useful in my work on Capitol Hill.  You were the professor I most wanted my parents to meet on graduation day, and I will never forget how you went out of your way to speak with them and the kind things you said.  I will be forever grateful for the privilege of knowing and learning from you.
Michelle Schwartz

1/15/2010

He is accomplished — and courageous and strong and smart and dear and
my hero.  Would you please just give him some kisses for me?  I wish I
were there in bed with the two of you so I could do it myself.
Fuerte hugs and kisses to you, extraordinary person!! Genie Shields

1/15/2010

All of us at the Yale Law Library are saddened to hear about Dan Freed’s deteriorating  health.  He’s been a terrific colleague and lovely human being who we’ve enjoyed working with on his many research projects over the years.  We’ll miss seeing and learning from him in his continuing quests for social justice through law.

S. Blair Kauffman

1/15/2010

Dan, Old Friend and Mentor  –

I can’t believe it has gone by so fast:. from Yale Law School ’51 and the
days on the Journal, to the young marrieds of the 50s and  the bail reformers
of the 60s. You played such a crucial role in getting me launched in the
profession: the early Bobby Kennedy Department of Justice, the sixties Crime
Commissions, the excting beginnings of Vera, and, for more than twenty years,
trusted source of law clerks.   Always an empathetic and wise counsellor ,
you have been a true and enduring friend throughout our lives. What a legacy
you are leaving behind. How we will miss you.. Safe journey..    Muich
love,  Pat (Wald)

1/15/2010

Dan, you were one of my father’s most valued and fun colleagues at the Yale Law School. I remember when we first met outside of Yale, at some forgettable event or other. Herb Sturz introduced us; I am sure that Fritz Schwarz was there too. You talked to me about my father, Burke Marshall, and you made me feel so much better — your remembering him so vividly and talking about him with such warmth made it clear that he still had a place in this world. I remember thinking how much I admired your straightforward way of speaking and your gentle manner; and the fierce, but thoughtful way you asked the best, and most unexpected questions. Dan, I have missed sitting next to you in Vera Board meetings — I don’t really have anyone else to whisper with now. It has been fun conspiring with you — and an honor to serve with you. And I miss you, Dan. Thank you for the respect you showed me — you have no idea how important that has been and how it has helped to change me and make me (feel, at least) so much more useful. Well, maybe now you do. I am sorry I didn’t get to tell you in person. I feel very lucky to have known you even this little bit.
Thank you for everything.
Love and respect always, Catie Marshall

1/15/2010

I will remember Dan always as friend and mentor.  He opened my eyes to many new
ways of looking at the law, and at life, and I will always be grateful to have
known him.  May God bless Dan and his family.

Stephen L. Carter

1/15/2010

I am praying for my dear colleague Dan and for all of you at this fraught time.  Sending you so much love and warmth, as he so often did to all of us.

Jean Koh Peters

1/15/2010

I am a former student of Professor Freed’s.  I graduated in 2003.  If it is
not too late, please let him know that Katherine Tang Newberger is still a
happy Federal Public Defender in Maryland.  I’m in my fourth year as a
federal defender, and I feel that his sentencing course put me on the path
to getting and loving this job.  He taught me to love sentencing, and I’m
in two big sentencing fights right now.  I’m trying to get an 18 month
sentence in an illegal re-entry case, and a 3 year sentence for a young man
who is facing a career offender sentence of 12.5 to 15.5 years.  He planted
the seed from which all my sentencing results have grown.  I owe him so
much and will remember him fondly always.

Katherine Tang Newberger

1/15/2010

Hi, Peter. I am writing this immediately upon receiving the sad and painful news from our Dean about the progress — or rather the distressing lack of progress — in the treatment of Daniel’s cardio-renal failure and the decision to cease aggressive interventions. I am numb. But through the thick sense of disbelief, I do recognize two sensibilities, which I know will sharpen in the days to come. One is a deep sense of sorrow for the impending loss of a friend, someone who I shared experiences and also values and hopes with. Daniel was particularly kind to and engaging of me from the moment I came to YLS; indeed, the excited and friendly spirit he displayed toward me and my ideas and interests–which to my good fortune had so many connections with his own–made me cognizant of the intellectual community that exists here and the immense value of being a part of it. I will miss him; I can feel the pain of that absence already. The second sense, though, which is just as deep, is a comforting assurance that Daniel will never disappear from my life. Even the mention of his name immediately fills my consciousness with a vivid picture of him, and just as significantly a vivid sense of contact with his passion and spirit, and a concrete apprehension of the many valuable things — from very particular ones: insights into the workings of sentencing and other procedures of criminal justice; to much more general ones: the meaning of a good life as an academic lawyer — that I understand with greater clarity by virtue of having known him and of having been his colleague. Those things will stay with me, I realize; he’ll continue to be woven into those strands of my life, and that will furnish me (and I know many  others, including, of course, his family members and closest friends who enjoyed connections to him that were even more intimate and meaningful) with an enduring and continuing sense of happiness. I thank him and my good fortune for that.

–Dan Kahan

1/15/2010

Dear Mr. Freed,

My name is Sophia-we’ve never met but I feel as though I know you, your essence, through Peter.  The letters of love on this tribute and an article by Ronald Weich called “My teacher, my colleague, my friend” confirm that you embody—and have imparted onto Peter— those very traits which make you beloved to so many people, and which make Peter one of the people I love and respect most deeply. Throughout Mr. Weich’s article, I sensed your spirit as I sensed Peter’s, hovering among the lines. You and Peter leave gentle yet indelible marks on people blessed enough to know you. This may be the greatest gift one person can give to another. Your legacy lives on, in people you’ve never met but whose lives you’ve touched. I send you and your family all of my love, Sophia Porrino.

1/15/2010

Of all my friends at Vera Dan is the dearest to me.  Awed by his brilliance, I felt so privileged and moved by his tender and caring friendship. Please tell him how much I love him. You and your family have all my sympathy.

Susan Powers Lodge

1/15/2010

Dear Dan, You no doubt have already heard and will be hearing from your many, many other friends at the Vera Institute of Justice.  But, on behalf of the entire board of trustees, I wanted to convey our profound thanks for your many years of service on the board and, far more importantly, for all of your deeply thoughtful, wise, and boundary-pushing comments during the board’s discussions over those many years. In your kind and gentle, but always potent way, you constantly pushed the Institute to stay true to its highest aspirations, to reach well beyond the commonplace or convenient solutions, and to keep the goal of acheiving justice at the center of everything we do and strive for.   On a personal level, it has been a great privilege and honor for me to have served on Vera’s board with you for the past fifteen years.  I can’t begin to catalogue all of what I’ve learned from listening to your sage advice over those years.  You have enlivened all of our meetings with your wit and gentle humor; you’ve made us smarter than we could ever have been without you; and you’ve always kept our ideals and our mission clearly in view.   We will miss you profoundly and will remember you always.  From all your fellow Vera board members, you have our best wishes, our prayers, and our deepest appreciation for all that you’ve shared with us and achieved with us.

With great fondness,
John Savarese

1/14/2010

I love you, Dan. For more years than I’ve been on the Board (25 or so), you have been the navigator of the noble ship Vera, the Jimminy Cricket of this waywardly-inclined Pinnochio, the silver-tongued conscience ever vigilant that the basic precepts of the founding fathers be the guides for every Vera undertaking. May we find the wisdom and strength to recognize and follow the principled paths which you have kept us traveling along all these many moons.  – Joe McDonald

1/14/2010

I love Dan, love what we shared over so many years acdemically, but far more importantly loved   Dan the Mensch, Dan the lover of family, Dan who so genuinely shared the ups and downs of my life. Your Dad is a piece of my life, and though I followed the medical stuff over the years, somehow, I just believed that our relationship would continue, and that medical stuff was just another hurdle, but not something that could or would trump all the academic and fun things we shared.
I am in LA visiting grandchildren (until next week), and yesterday for some reason as I was wandering the streets my mind (this is really the case) turned to Dan,and I determined that upon my return I would visit. And never in this conversation with myself, did I think of my visit as a bedside chat about health. Instead, I thought of sentencing stuff I could throw out–some vindicating our earlier work, some raising new questions. I knew that your DAd’s unquenchable interest in this area would probably get him out of any bed, and have him arguing vociferously. This is how I see Dan the scholar; how I see Dan the Mensch is a personal set of recollections that I will always treasure. I feel so helpless out here, but my thoughts are with you, with your sister and Mom, and with “my friend Dan.”
Love, Milty (Heumann)

1/14/2010

Peter,

I am so so sorry to hear this. I’m the director of the Vera Institute and have known Dan for only a decade or so–far less than many others on our board and staff but it feels like a lot longer than that. He is a truly iconic figure in our world and also one of the lovliest, warmest and kindest men I’ve ever met. I know you must be getting deluged with these emails but I wanted to write a short note to him with a longer one to follow for later. Dan, though I’ve only known you for a fraction of the time of many others on the Vera staff and board I want both to thank you for not only being so kind and supportive to me, but to all of us at Vera for so many years. You cannot possibly know the impact you’ve had on the organization and our work but also on the lives of so many of us who have worked here over the years and decades. Your personal connection with the staff and your interest and guidance in their work has been so important and meaningful to us. Any words of encouragement or advice or gentle criticism from you were so welcome, so meaningful and taken so seriously by all of us on both a personal and professional level–so much so that it’s quite difficult to describe. Suffice it to say that just from your work at Vera you have touched the lives of so many staff who have known you and through them the lives of literally hundreds of thousands of people–millions really–who have benefitted from all of Vera’s programs. And every one of those programs is better than they otherwise would  have been without you. I know I speak for all the Vera staff for all of the almost 5 decades we have been around when I say that you have meant more to us than you can ever know.  And rest assured we will work endlessly and tirelessly to improve the systems of justice that you have spent your own life trying to make more just. Thank you Dan.

Godspeed

Michael Jacobson

1/14/2010

Dear Peter,

I received the email you sent to Marc Miller and others about your father. I am so saddened by the news, but am simultaneously comforted by your description of his spirits and by being to read about him on the website you established.

I am a student of his from Yale (1996). Your Dad was a huge influence on my life, and will remain so. In addition to studying and writing with him at Yale, he helped me figure out how to make something of my experience there, divert it in a way that fed my passions, and put me on a trajectory that has defined the course of my post-YLS career and life. After Yale, I went to clerk for Hon Jack Weinstein, one of the great judges – and scholars and thinkers – on modern sentencing. I then spent 10 years at the Vera Institute, working on state sentencing reform for much of that time. It was wonderful to see him at our quarterly board meetings – to see the man who had pointed me to my work and to Vera, to reminisce and to be the recipient of his warm smile and to hear his tales of becoming a town justice. Something about learning from him, and then seeing him regularly over the next decade as the subject of my study evolved into work and reform was immensely gratifying. I owe him a lot, and in his humility, he probably doesn’t know that.

I am in New York – at the Rockefeller Foundation – doing good work, but in an area different from the one we inhabited. I’ve missed seeing him, and thought of him quite recently when I sent a holiday card to him @ 53 Freed Road.  Please let him know. And please let him know that three words he once said to me haunt me to this day. He said, “Nick, you will be a star.” Okay, that is six words. Proof that I’ve got a long way to go. I do indeed have a long way to go, and I doubt I will ever fulfill that promise, but I tell you, it sure felt nice to be one in the eyes of my mentor. If you could let him know, I would really appreciate it.

Nick Turner

1/14/2010

Dear Dan,

I guess it’s only at times like these that we let ourselves say things from our heart.  But I really wanted to tell you a few things about how much you’ve meant to me, and about the impact you’ve had on my life.  The truth is that, when I entered law school, I was pretty lost, but somehow I managed to find my way into your sentencing class.  Jennifer Kaplan, Leonard Bailey, others —   it was a remarkable class.   We all saw, in your deep commitment to justice, in your abiding loyalty to your students, a model for what being a great teacher and a human being is all about. When I finally graduated from law school and wondered what to do with myself, you were there for me too.  I remember calling you on the phone one evening from Alabama, asking whether I should take a job that didn’t seem quite right.  And you told me to have faith in myself.  And because you did, I  did too.  And I found the strength to follow my own way. When I started to think about an academic career of my own, you were there too, offering advice and a helping hand, and bringing me on board the good ship FSR.  I know I  haven’t been a particularly good correspondent these past several years, and it pains me deeply not to be able to say these things to you in person.  But you have always been close to my heart.   I know you’ve touched many people.  I just wanted to tell you that you’ve touched one more, to the very core.  You’ve been – and always will be – a true inspiration to me.

With all my love,
Aaron Rappaport

1/14/2010

Dan: Always a night owl (that’s when we emailed), I can’t sleep without telling you again and again how much you have meant to me, to our students, to the countless lawyers, judges, probation officers, academics, government officials that you have mentored, and launched. Your unrelenting clear vision and brilliance has been critical, and really, truly is irreplaceable. Quite apart from the work, though, we had so, so much fun teaching, talking, emailing endlessly, visiting, eating, writing. I am a Freedian forever.

Nancy Gertner

1/14/2010

Dear Dan,

I am sorry that I haven’t written this e-mail many years ago.  Often did I think about it, but never did I actually set pen to paper (or keyboard to screen). The message should be entitled THANK YOU!  Thank you for helping me become who I am;  thank you for making it possible for me to have followed my passion and my dreams.  I vividly recall the hours in your Sentencing Seminar, and I have flashbacks to the meetings with judges and prosecutors.  I have always admired your amazing ability to make everyone appear smart, and turn pedestrian comments (of mine) into great insights.  I have admired your incredible ability to shape small groups and to change attitudes and perceptions without the person even noticing.  A few months ago one of my colleagues told me that he ran into Inge Johnson, now a federal judge in Alabama, who still vividly remembers how I visited Alabama to write a report on her.  And I surely remember that trip – and how you got it all funded.  In fact, your ability to fund that amazing experience has made me a firm believer in my mantra as Hofstra’s dean, “at least one unique experience for every student,” and my hope in finding money for such unique experiences.  And, then you had the confidence in me to join you on FSR, and you introduced me to Marc who has also been a wonderful mentor to me.  What an honor and privilege to work with you after graduation – and I realize that just now do I begin to feel comfortable calling you Dan rather than Professor Freed.  It is that belief that you had in me that I now try to extend to my students and graduates.  It is your belief in reform and change that has made me committed to the “impact” mission Hofstra Law has developed.  You have enabled me to find a niche in the academy that allows me to work in my areas of greatest love – crime and sentencing.  You have modeled for me how to be a committed teacher, a law reformer, and a scholar.  You have supported me throughout my career.  And as I have come to realize in writing this message, you have also deeply shaped my thinking as a dean.  I cannot write this without tears streaming down my face, but I wanted you (rather than just your family) to know all of this.  There are only a few people in my life to whom I owe the gratitude I owe you.  THANK YOU for allowing me to be a part of your student circle.  I love and admire you, Dan. Fondly yours, Nora

Nora V. Demleitner

1/14/2010

Dear Judy and Dan:

Ben keeps me up on the news of the larger world, and I just want to say I am thinking of you, and remembering how our children grew up near each other and how Peter and Ben have kept up their friendship. I know how proud you both are of Peter and Emily. You have built a wonderful family together. I have good memories of time shared in New Haven. I also think of Dan’s impact on American law, and how I sometimes felt he was doing a good job for the rest of us.

There is nothing I can do now and there is no advice to give. I am still trying to learn acceptance of this part of the journey, and it is not easy. So many people have been affected by you. Spending life well is a gift to those around you.

You have my love and concern, and both sons join me in these thoughts.

Barbara (Fussiner)

1/14/2010

Dear Dan,

As a teacher, you are insightful, inspirational, but most of all, kind. There are lots of smart people out there, but not so many who are also profoundly kind.   This is you.  Two months after Diane died suddenly in 1998, you came to see me in Baltimore, and you comforted me in my grief. We talked for many hours and it was very helpful.  I was deeply honored
that you, whom I regarded so highly, would come to my city and invest your best effort in assisting me.   I was reminded then that you, more than anything else in this life, care for people and their well-being.  You are the most loyal of friends.  Your important work at Yale, at Vera, and with sentencing and bail issues speaks for itself.   Most important to me is that I have never been merely your “student”, but your friend.   And to be friends with Dan Freed is one of the treasures of my life.   Godspeed.
Jim Bredar

1/14/2010

Dear Dan,

I have learned through the sentencing world grapevine that your health has taken a turn for the worse.  I am terribly sad to hear this, and at the same time more profoundly aware than ever of what you have made possible for me.  You pointed the way for me to an incredibly important body of knowledge.  Beyond that, I am grateful for the wisdoms that you modeled for me:  the wisdom to listen, the wisdom to give real weight to lived experience, the wisdom to read skeptically, the wisdom connect legal concepts to human experience.  Every time I put pen to paper (well, make that fingers to keyboard), every time I teach a class, every time I talk with a legal practitioner or a person caught up in a legal mess, your models of wisdom go before me.  Thank you.

Peace.

Ron Wright

1/14/2010

Ron Weich and Julie Stewart send him our boundless love, respect and gratitude.  We both feel so privileged to have known him, worked with him and learned from him.  We’re so glad we had the chance to share our feelings about him in the video that was shown at the sentencing conference in San Francisco in 2008.  He will always remain an inspiration to us as we carry on his work for a more just and effective sentencing system.  — Ron and Julie

1/14/2010

Dan — Milty called to tell me you are in my jurisdiction (that’s the good news) but that you’re in the hospital (that’s the bad news).  For starters, if you’re up for visitors, let me know and I will drop everything and come see you.  Hospital visits are a specialty, although usually to take inculpatory statements from injured defendants before their right to counsel attaches.  For you, I’ll make an exception and visit for humanitarian reasons.

I miss you so much!  Olivia Sohmer still works here, and we speak of you often;  and I see Peter Pope now and then, and your name always comes up.  You have been an enormous influence on all three of us, although for the life of me I still can’t detect the influence on Olivia…

We are now into day fourteen of the Cy Vance administration.  I have to say, my old boss went out with a bang;  this last year he seemed to be everywhere at once.  The icing on the cake came when Mayor Blumberg accused him of illegally squirelling money into secret bank accounts.  There is nothing that Mr. Morgenthau enjoys so much as a bare-knuckles political fight, and by all accounts he won by a knockout in the early rounds.  The highlight was when Mr. Morgenthau pointed out to The Times that contrary to keeping anything that wasn’t ours, our Office had actually turned over to the City, just in the past year, $180 million dollars, “even more than the Mayor spent to get re-elected.”

Believe it or not, when they gave Mr. Morgenthau a huge going-away party at the Javits Center, he said that one thing he’d enjoyed in his career was doing things that people told him not to, and he gave as an example hiring me 30 years ago, notwithstanding the recommendation of his hiring committee that I be rejected.  You may recall that you and Joe Goldstein played a big role in getting him to reconsider that decision.

The nice thing about being 54 years old is, I now know how I will be remembered by history:  I am the guy who knew Sonia Sotomayor.  It’s not what I would have picked, but it’s nice just the same, and I was included in a profile of the Justice in last week’s New Yorker.  I always think of you as the guy who went to Yale with George H.W. Bush.

Anwyay…if you like this email, I can send many more, much longer…I can even come to visit…whatever you like.  You know I will keep you in my prayers and keep love headed your way.  One could make an argument that everything I’ve attained professionally I owe to you — not just my gig here at the DA’s Office, but my involvement in the Bar Association where, I’m told, I will next month be featured member of the month or something…anyway, whatever I don’t owe to Sonia or the Lord I owe to you.

All my love,
Peter (Kougasian)

1/14/2010

I cannot begin to tell you how much I value my experience of learning from you.  My “time” in the sentencing seminar and as your research assistant simply IS my memory of law school.   That, along with a couple of choice quotables from Geoff Hazard (“what are you going to do with a 24-hour extension?  Just take the ^%$&ing exam!”) and Charlie Black (“as we say in Texas with our irrepressible enthusiasm, ‘disirregardless’…”). I know that you, being you, will read this and protest that you learned from me — from all of us.  That’s true, and that’s what has always made it so great to study with you.  You have never been one to speak ex cathedra, but always take an egalitarian and collaborative approach to every issue you explore.  What fun! Participating in that seminar gave me a good look at judges as people, “with their robes off,” as it were.  Not only has it given me lasting friendships (I saw Jeff Atlas in October, by the way, and he asked after you then.)  To my mind, a healthy realism (not, of course, disrespect!) is a good thing — too much awe can be crippling.  Though I’ll admit, I was right to worry about how much fun I had at my first (and so far only) argument in the NY State Court of Appeals.  I did, indeed, lose that one. People v. Bailey, 13 NY3d 67 (2009).  At least I drew a respectable dissent from two of the seven.

Never doubt for an instant that you are one of my top five role models for intellectual exploration and teaching.

I love you tons.

warm hugs,

Olivia (Sohmer)

1/14/2010

Dear Dan,

It is now more than a quarter of a century since you took me, then a mere first year, under your wing. You may not know how much your mentorship meant to me then, and how much it has influenced me over the years.  I never strayed very far or very long from the courthouse that you sent me to study Judge Rothwax.  You gave me my first look into the system in which I have labored ever since. At the Vance inauguration last week (the first new DA in 35 years, imagine that), I was with a former assistant DA who used to appear in front of Rothwax while I was profiling him.  She asked, all these years later, just how it was that I got to sit next to Harold.  And I got to tell her (as I have so many others over my career) that you had sent me there, and why, and how much you and that class had influenced my life.

You taught me so very much.  But you especially taught me the value of thoughtfulness: how good judges, good lawyers, good public servants analyze a problem with respect, and struggle quietly and sincerely to arrive at a prudent, sensible, and, above all, just answer.  You taught me to see the strength in the arguments of others, not just the weaknesses.  You taught me that wisdom often resides in those with whom you strongly disagree, and that you must allow yourself to see it, to feel it, if you truly wish to solve a problem.  You showed me how a process of respectful negotiation – conversation really – can bridge enormous gaps.  For you to allow me, so early, to look at problems through your eyes changed the way I looked at the world, and the way I have tried to solve problems ever since.

Thank you for being my teacher.

My wife Elaine sends her love as well.

Love,

Peter (Pope)

1/14/2010
Dearest Dan and all the Freed Boston Family

I am waiting at home in London for Orna to arrive from New York and I have just heard from Peter of your up to date medical situation.

I am sure you have heard from Peter,Judy and Talya that we have constantly been enquiring about you and the horrid procedures that you have been undergoing for so long but with such unbelievable fortitude and courage. Judy’s support and loving attention to everything and especially the recent constant dialysis is truly staggering.I am so sorry that I was not able to see you when I was in New York but I was very pleased that Orna  and  Talya with sweet lovely Teo who is of course the delight of all our lives could see you. I also want to give you also a belated mazaltov on the birth of Chloe who I understand who is such a cute addition to the Freed family.We have had an all too short  but profound friendship since we met in New York on Judy’s birthday some nearly three yearsago and then a delightful but exciting visit to Vermont to plan the wedding . I remember with great fondness some of the particular highlights between us. I remember sitting in your kitchen and your telling me something of your early professional career and then of your fascinating work as a Professor of Law at Yale. I of course learned later of the great eminence that you had achieved in your chosen field.I also remember with fondness on the same trip you telling us about you first trip to Israel as a student and showing us the photographs with you I think meeting Ben Gurion.However the wonderful memory that really stands out is when we both went swimming in your lake I think the day before the wedding and it was such an idyllic day. You told me modestly  something of your early athletic prowess and we really both had such a fun time. Then there was the fairy tale wedding ceremony and party and you standing so distinguished and tall on the chuppa. I shall not also forget you in the famous baseball cap at the party.I am so sorry have to communicate with you by email but I am sure that Peter, Talya and Judy will convey to you the affection and love we feel for you and that we are constantly thinking of you.Peter please give your dearest Dad a big hug.from us.

Martin (Boston)

Please tell Dan Jim and I truly love being a part of your family and  we think of Emily like a sister..as all her friends do…and you know how much Lily loves Jaspar.  We will always be there for both of you to share the stories about Dan who was only in our lives for a short time but left with us such a feeling of joy and laughter.  Emily’s wedding day was such true happiness that I know he will set up a party in heaven for all of us just like that.  No rain, perfect temperture, and beautiful music.  And all the girls will turn their turtlenecks over their heads and be princesses…Dan’s princesses because it is so rare in life to meet a man like him who made all of us feel so special…like a princess.  With purple parasols.  Xx oo.  Jim and Joan

Joan E. Dunne

1/14/2010

He was always exceptionally kind to me in our younger years and I remember him very fondly.  I hope one day to be as smart and humane as he.

Regards,
Greg (Kraus) Friend of Peter

1/14/2010

Dear Dan,

It’s been 30 years since I first saw your smile and felt the burn of your gaze as you questioned my ideas. It was about sentencing and justice, but it could have been about anything.  That smile and those questions are burned into my mind, and keep me smiling and thinking every day, just as they are alive and probing for hundreds of your students, friends, and colleagues.  We’re with you; as you are with us.

Love, Chris (Stone)

1/14/2010

Dear Dan:

I just got the news that your time is terribly short.  In the hope that a few words will reach you in time for you to hear them, let me say only that you are one of the most intellectually and personally generous human beings it has ever been my great good fortune to meet.  Your interest in an obscure midcareer prosecutor helped set me on a new and rewarding path.  I’ll be forever grateful.  Most importantly, I want to say that there are innumerable “professors” in American graduate education, but there are only a bare handful of teachers.  You are one.

God bless you and Godspeed.

Your friend,

Frank Bowman

1/14/2010

Dear Dan,

One day in 1995, I received a call in my Chicago law office that would change my life — both professionally and personally.  When you and Marc Miller called and offered me the chance to guest edit an issue of the Federal Sentencing Reporter, I was simultaneously amazed, thrilled and terrified.  From that very first call, both of you have always been wonderful to me.
As a more-than-green almost academic, I had the good fortune to run into you and Marc at an AALS conference in 2000.  It was the first time we had ever met in person.  Within hours, you arranged for me to be a regular FSR editor.  I started to question you sanity but was (for once) smart enough to accept.  My next task was to co-edit a double issue of FSR with you on pardons and clemency.  I learned so much from you while working on that issue.  You taught me about writing, about editing, about being a lawyer, about the criminal justice system, and about the law.  This started a steady stream of collaborations, consultations, and conferences between us.  Each one was punctuated with laughter and a love of life.  You graciously helped me try to copy your innovative sentencing workshop here in Pennsylvania.  Although my effort has been well received by Pennsylvania judges, it will always remain a pale imitation of the Gold Standard Freed version.  You have continued to teach me in innumerable ways.  Your kind humor and gentle persuasion are as wildly effective as they are pleasurable to observe.    I treasure our time together — be it in person, by email, or on the phone. You will always be an important part of my life.

With love,

Steve (Chanenson)

January 14, 2010

Dear Dan,

You have been a wonderful friend to me, to Vera, and to justice.  I admire you and love you.

Susan Rai

January 14, 2010

Today, as on every other day of his remarkable life, Dan Freed is a quiet hero of dignity, courage and clear-headedness. There are many brilliant people at the Yale Law School. Dan is certainly among them. But he possesses something so much more valuable than brilliance. He possesses humanity–the all-too-rare gift of never underestimating others or overestimating onself. And because of this, Dan is beloved by all his colleagues: not merely respected and admired (which he is), but beloved. The example of his decency and kindness and deep wisdom about both the power and the limits of the law belongs to the permanent treasury of the Yale Law School. My love to you Dan, and to your family, which is so unbelievably lucky to have you at its center.

As ever and forever,
Tony Kronman

1/14/2010

Hi Judy and Dan,
You are in our thoughts and hearts. With love, Kim Hartman Colligan
1/14/2010

Very dear Judith and Dan,

Our hearts and thoughts are with you.  Knowing that you are surrounded by loving children helps.  We love you too and thank you for staying in touch.

Marion & Mark (Schlefer)

1/14/2010

Dearest  Judy and Dan ,  I’m sending  tons of Love .. Peace ..Strength  and Comfort to you both …… you are in my thoughts and heart constantly . I would love to offer my support in person  if you  would like .  Please cal me if you would like me to come down ,,, I would come right away if you desire .. with  sincere love , from , Petey (Mitchell)

1/14/2010

Dear Dan —

I was so sorry to hear the news of your condition.  While it must be a horrible time for you and your family as these toxins course through your body, it also allows some time for people to tell you how much they care about you and the lasting impression you have left on them. I am one of those people whom you profoundly touched, although I am certain you never knew it.

I used to see you at your house as a teenager, and through the years I would bump into you at a variety of events in and around New Haven.  You always offered a huge smile and a kind greeting and really made whomever you were talking to believe that they were the only person in the world at that moment.  You were quick with something funny to say and you always took a moment to educate me on something if there was something to be learned.  The way you always treated me left a lasting impression on me — you taught me how to treat other people (particularly how to build a relationship with the friends of my children when they are older). I have always thought of you as the wise, learned owl who smiled with his eyes, and you will forever be in my memory that way.

There is no way to say goodbye. Know that you are loved and respected by so many; and that you raised wonderful children that you can be so very proud of.  Peter is the kind of man (husband, father, son, friend, brother) that he is because of YOU.

With a big hug and a kiss and many thanks for all that you brought to my life, even if you didn’t know it.

Sirri (Spiesel)

1/14/2010

Dear Dan  –

We are thinking of youi tonite and of all the good and special times we had together.

With great affection,    Pat and Bob (Wald)

1/14/2010

Dan, I told Peter that I would not write just now as I was speechless but I now realize that I must tell you again how much you mean to me and how grateful I am to have you in my life, in Teo’s life and I want you to know that you will be with us forever. We will all remember and Teo will know your charming mischievous smile and wise controlled consideration of all matters. From the first moment, you welcomed me into your family with generous loving open arms and I know now that those arms will remain there for me forever. Dan, thank you, thank you for your love and spirit and calm controlled brilliance, thank you for your acceptance and welcome and thank you for your son and family, thank you, thank you, thank you. I pray that you continue to feel the warmth and love that surrounds you. Your loving grateful daughter in law Talya

1/13/2010

Dan,

I’ve loved you from the moment we met 50 years ago, and it’s only gotten better over time.

Herb (Sturz)

1/13/2010

I was able to speak to Dan, through Judy, tonight, and I told him I loved him.  A most momentous occasion of my life is when I heard Dan answer back, “Tell Kate Stith that I love her, too.”I am sure we feel all that and he feels that about all of us.  What a horrible loss awaits us.  I am so sad, and yet so thankful that without deserving it in the least I was able to work with and learn from, and especially talk confidentially with, Dan Freed.  Dan, your many insights go well beyond sentencing and the criminal justice system, as important as those are.  My 18 year-old-son just came in (and has already left), and I treasure your insights and help on how to “relate” to him.   You are forever part of me and so many others.

Love, Kate (Stith)

1/13/2010

Peter – I’m so sad to here this news.  Please give your pops a big squeeze for me and convey large amount of love and appreciation.   It’s difficult for me to imagine him in a hospital bed.  Whenever I think of him, I picture him with mischievous smile (which he passed onto his his son), walking around his property in Vermont, wearing a big red flannel shirt.

More soon,
Jon (Shenk)

1/13/2010

Oh Peter!
Please tell your Dad that I will miss him and that I feel very, very lucky to know him.  I have so many small but warm memories of times with him.  In Maine and on Lawrence Street and in Vermont and in the New Haven apartment.  I think of sitting and talking about books and movies and eating bagels and fruit salad.  When I think of your Dad I think of warmth and kindness.  And smiling. I send a hug to you too.
Jan (Nichols)

1/13/2010

Dearest Peter –

I just got your email in Calcutta. I’m sorry that I didn’t know your Dad well enough to send him direct wishes or memories, but I love you, and my thoughts and love are with you. Sending love to you and your beautiful family, and prayers and love to your father. I will never forget his joy and pride and overflowing sense of  good humor at your wedding.
So much love,
Nicole (Newnham)
1/13/2010

Peter,
I’m really so very sorry. I can’t think of anything off the top of my head and need to think for a moment. I can tell you that alexander is going to be very sad as he has such nice memories of our Thanksgiving with your parents last year–playing with the dogs and playing with the flashlights in your parents’ bedroom. They were both so warm and gracious and even though your dad wasn’t well, he really engaged and played (and tolerated) the shenanigans of two little kids. And I guess that is it really. Your dad is calm in the midst of chaos, a grounding force for your family. I will remember him with his calm countenance and a smile on his face, like he knew he was the luckiest man in the world to be married to your mom and have his family. We will miss him. Alexander told me that he knew your dad was going to die and that it was very sad. What has been upsetting him most, however, is that he doesn’t want you to be sad. That, he said, is terrible. We love you, Peter, and hope that your dad and your family are at peace, as much as you can be right now. I really feel for Emily and the extreme of emotions she must be experiencing right now with the birth of her daughter and the loss of her father within the same week. I do have poem by Mary Oliver I’ll send shortly.
Christine (Fulton)

In Blackwater Woods

by Mary Oliver

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

Dan has certainly left his impression in this world–his work, his wit, wisdom and smile. His love for Judy, his children and grandchildren will carry on.

When Death Comes

by Mary Oliver

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measles-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

1/13/2010

Dear Dan,

We adore you and wish we were right there beside your bed to say so in person and hold your hand. We think so often of our visit to you this summer, in Vermont; of the long brunch in our apartment when you recounted your first date with Judy; and of the wit and tenderness you showed when talking about Teo and Penelope, both just days old, in Peter and Talya’s apartment one year ago.
In that visit, you said something typically wise: that recording every single event in a child’s life might obscure rather than preserve the story of the child’s development – that you should instead record the points of inflection, the moments of change, and by stitching them together, perhaps see the contours of a life emerge.
You are now at a very different point of inflection, from which the contours of an uncommonly well-lived life are unmistakably clear. We are honored to have called you our friend, Dan, and we will miss you terribly.
With love, and more love, and more love still,
Ariel (Kaminer) and David (Schab) and Penelope
1/13/2010

Mr. Freed (I could never call you by your first name),

I have very fond memories of our conversations at your house when I would come over to hang out with Peter. You were one of the few parents of my friends who engaged me intellectually and I remember being incredibly flattered when Peter told me once that you thought I was smart. I always felt like a little bit of a dork in high school, but less so at your house.You know this, but you raised a wonderful son. Not only is he smart, funny and charismatic (James Carville once told my Dad that you can never go too far – there are no limits – when you compliment a parent’s child), but he is compassionate and generous. I know that your values will be passed on to Teo as well.I am sending you all my love,
Anna (Greenberg)

1/13/2010

Dan,

I have spent so many wonderful days and nights at both of your homes. You have always been a wonderful presence in those memories. You welcomed me in from a very early age, through my extremely awkward youth and into adulthood. You kept your spirit and your humor when Peter and I tried your patience. “Are you guys trying to set a record?” about our leaving all the lights on in the house. You got across your message, and managed to do it in the context of our silly games.
I was always wowed by your intelligence and your wisdom. You seemed to know so much about so much. As we got older and our interests started to become shared, conversations around the kitchen table (in New Haven, but especially in Vermont) took on an excitement and energy. It has never been boring in the Freed home.
I am so glad that I see a bit of you in Teo and we can regale him with stories of our shared past. You have been a strong, strong fighter through such a difficult ordeal. You make us all very proud.
May peace and light come to you,
Love,
Ben (Fussiner)

1/13/2010

I am in the air on my way to London and want to take the opportunity that they now allow the use of cell phones during flights to tell you that I am constantly thinking about you all.  I find myself recalling all the times we have met in the last few years so many of which have been happy, joyous and celebratory occasions. I remember Talya and Peter’s wedding of course and Teo’s birth but also our first meeting in Vermont almost 3 years ago, going on the marathon of looking for the wedding accommodations and then ending the day with a glass of good red wine chosen by Dan, listening to music – a perfect tranquil ending to an exhausting day.

I am so grateful that I was able to see Dan in hospital last Friday. I understand that Teo and Chloe will be visiting tomorrow and they are both so sweet, adorable and sure to put a smile on Dan’s face.

In the meantime I hope that you can keep up your courage and be strong. With much affection and love to you all, and Talya, do give Dan a kiss for me,

Orna (Boston)

1/13/2010

Dan,

You are a great friend and will be an asset to my life always. Pete talks about your big smile. That’s what happens to me when I hear your name. You talk with me and I never want to leave your side.
All that is to come, for which all people someday become seemingly absent, I am confident is only a space around which you and I will one day together wrap our entire beings. For real.
Love to you and your family.
What a great man you are.

Robert (Jordan)
1/13/2010

Peter,
I am so, so sorry to hear this.  I love your dad.  He was one of my favorite dads growing up – always funny and interesting all mixed into one.    I had so much fun staying with your family in Vermont (and New Haven, for that matter).   I’ll never forget all the effort he put into coming to my wedding.  It meant so much that they were both able to come.   We were so lucky to have parents growing up that reached out to our friends.   The result is now a shared sense of deep sadness.  Please tell him that my thoughts and prayers are with him and the rest of the Freeds right now.
Love, charlotte  (Pooley)

1/13/2010

Oh Peter, that is very sad news.

I only met your father a few times, so there’s not much for me to say beyond that I’d like to thank him for giving the world such a kind and profound man as you; and I’d like to say goodbye to him, and to offer the words of the Psalmist as a token, as it were, for his passage:

131 A Song of Ascents; of David

Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor
mine eyes lofty;
Neither do I exercise myself in
things too great, or in things too
wonderful for me.
Surely I have stilled and quieted
my soul;
Like a weaned child with his mother,
My soul is with me like a weaned
child.

O Israel, hope in the Lord
From this time forth and for ever.

- Greg Ford
1/13/2010

Dan -
We’ve met a bunch over the years but my persistent imaginings of you are through the lens of your son, who in my book carries your last name as both his first and last. The calls always begin, “FREED,” shouted more than spoken over the phone. So, in this respect, he has doubled-down on the commitment to your legacy in my mind. Freed-Freed if you will. Or just plain Freed.
Over the years, I have somehow always imagined you as always being in Vermont though Freed would persist in telling me that you were often teaching and in New Haven. And as far as I was concerned, you lived in the oldest and most charming house in Vermont. Based on his descriptions which always included the cows, I somehow assumed that they were basically part of the family and would not have been stunned to find one lounging in the kitchen quite comfortably passing the time with a cup of tea and ginger snaps. That house is inextricably bound to your person and your affection for that place made an indelible impression upon Freed. So it was a delight to finally make it up there for the wedding and to, in fact, realize that it was a real place with real cows. And the old barn is awesome. Simply put, awesome. That was my favorite spot and though empty of cows, it was pretty easy to imagine how excellent it must have been when packed.
And Freed loved Freed. I remember when he called to say he was going to take you to that yankees game a year or two ago. It was such a poignant little moment because he was so full of anxiety and expectation (were the seats good enough? would you really love it?). The game was less about your day at the ballpark than about how much Freed wanted you to love it and be satisfied. And don’t get me wrong. It sounded like a real winner of an idea. Probably a momentous turning-point game in some spectacular series of which I had no idea. Perhaps, now I am thinking maybe it was the Red Sox. No? Yes? Blasphemy? And I can’t even remember the reason why this would be such a big deal for you, though I must assume that you always followed the yankees and new all their stats. And so I have fabricated some memory of you crouched in the attic of some place you never lived listening to some incredibly cool old tube radio crackling with snippets of commentary and the whack of a ball while everyone else was out or thought you were asleep. Anyway, the point is I really have no great actual memory of you and baseball, just of how much Freed was so full of great expectation for you to love it and be finally fulfilled with this game. It was a small moment that somehow came to symbolize and concentrate all the meaning of the bond between you. Your kid is so mad about you that he wanted everything to be right about that trip. And in this you can feel complete and in fact fulfilled. Totally fulfilled up to the brim. You were a father who raised an extraordinary kid. One that is my best friend and one that loves you very deeply. And so that baseball game was really a testament to something very pure and wonderful and rarely had. A feat to behold and cherish, I love Freed. And by God, Freed really truly and deeply loves you.  So, Mazeltov! Mazeltov.
Love -
Nik (Weinstein)
1/13/2010

Please tell Dan I love him. And from Chris.

We all do.

I will continue my decades of conversations with Dan about life and law — one of the great friendships and working relationships in my life — even if I will have to stop and remember what Dan would have asked, and would have said.

Love to you all.

Marc

1/13/2010

Dear mr freed (sorry if that sounds formal, but you ARE the parent of a close friend, and, you know… ). As I write this I have an image of you standing above me on the grassy slope at your sons wedding, as the sun was beginning to set in a very golden way. Although personally we have had few exchanges, I spent some formative years with peter in residency, and really wanted to convey, simply, the following: Through peter I’ve seen your intelligence, your humor, your integrity, and your depth, and I thank you for that. In addition, as I’ve seen first hand, as a father you’ve made a son very proud. So, (and here I will get more a tad more familiar), I say to you with the warmest, heartfelt, conviction, bravo old chap!!

– Anna Chapman

1/13/2010

Hi Peter – I am so sorry to hear about Dan.  He was always so welcoming and easy to be around. When I picture him he always has a knowing smile on his face. I’m so glad Talya and Teo were part of his life.  Please give Emily and your mom my love too.

– Kathryn Greenberg

1/13/2010

Dear Pete,

When I think of Dan Freed, the first image that comes to my mind is the way he embraced you on the couch when we first arrived up in Vermont in the summer of 2001.  He held you like you were his newborn son and he had that joy that people have when holding their infants.  I was impressed by the child-like joy and the no-holds-barred affection that he conveyed.  That was the summer that he finally discovered Donna Summer and would just beam when he listened to her on the car stereo.  He is a wonderful man, and a great father, and to me he’s seemed most happy during these last ten years, being in Vermont, discovering Donna Summer and the Red Sox, and taking great joy in his wife and children and grandchildren.

Saul (Fussiner)

Reflections

In Uncategorized on November 4, 2009 at 4:30 am

Ken Mann:

I met Dan in 1977 when Abe Goldstein introduced us. He said that Dan was doing important work on bail, and perhaps he could find a place for me. When I arrived at Dan’s office it was of course difficult to find a place to sit among the many books and articles.  Dan was curious about what I had done in the past and what I wanted to do in the future. He asked lots of questions, as was characteristic of him. This was the beginning of a long and singular bond for me that began as student and teacher, and slowly over the years evolved into a close friendship, through which Gabi and I were able to share with Dan and Judy and Peter and Emily. Our sons Itamar, Eytan and Daniel also enjoyed the warmth and caring of the Freed family.  It is a measure of our view of Dan that we chose the name Daniel for our son Daniel, who along with Eytan, spent the first few weeks of his life in the Freed family house, which we had the very good fortune of making our home during the summer of 1983 when our twins were born.

I began to get a sense of the special person I had met when I participated as a student in Dan’s sentencing workshop at the law school.  Dan had a magic ability to ask questions, to probe people’s minds, to get in and under the thoughts of others and to learn what his professional counterparts really think about the subject in question.  This ability to inquire in a deep way and then respond in the most thoughtful of manner is one of the main qualities of Dan that I recall so well. It bridged professional and personal life;  Dan asked not only professional questions, but also personal questions, when the appropriate place and time so permitted.

Appropriateness in place and time were essential to Dan’s sense of action and restraint.  In my experience, Dan was fundamentally concerned in life, in all respects, with ethics.  I think that his commitment to ethics, his intuitive sense of ethical behavior and ethical feeling, informed all parts of his life.  It must have been at the root of his overriding concern with equality in the criminal justice system, in the law generally, and in personal and social life.  Dan was not motivated by acquisition of a place for himself, but rather with promotion of others to places where they deserved to be, whether it be students, the underprivileged in the bureaucracy of everyday life, minorities and the poor in the criminal justice system, or friends and acquaintances, as well as the regular persons who appeared on his scene in everyday life in regard to whom he made a conscious effort to generate the greatest respect and to imbue the highest dignity.  Dan was a deeply loyal person, loyal to his values, to his friends and colleagues, to his family.

It is my view that Daniel Freed made an enormous contribution to law in different ways.  Dan was dedicated to the reform of the law in the fields of legal aid, the right to release from prolonged arrest, and the right to equality and humanity for persons facing prison sentences. Motivating this striving for reform, I think, was the strongest possible notion that freedom from arbitrariness lies at the heart of a democratic society.  Dan had a commitment to the creation and maintenance of a legal system that guides the overwhelming power of discretion to its least harmful results.

Another major contribution to the law, which is of course linked to reform possibilities, was Dan’s refinement of a special teaching methodology.   The workshops that Dan devised and conducted for many years at Yale Law School constituted an on-going forum in which students and experienced professionals learned from each other not only how to upgrade the protection of freedoms in the criminal justice system, but also learned the method for communicating the important messages of reform to others. The method was based on the assumption that students must learn not only from the treatises of the law, but from the people who make and apply the law in their professional capacities. The workshops demonstrated persuasively that that law is fashioned by people in the legal system making low visibility decisions. Dan’s method was centered on making visible what otherwise would remain far from the eye and mind.

I for one adopted wholeheartedly the method of the workshop forum I learned from Dan, and attempted in my own way to use it at the Tel-Aviv University Law School where I had the privilege and satisfaction of trying to help law students understand the situation of the underprivileged in the criminal justice system.  Dan’s methodology made it possible for me to generate recognition and concern among law students, many of whom eventually chose public interest careers, with the aim of reforming the criminal justice of Israeli, in ways similar to those advanced by Dan.  In this important way, I have sometimes seen myself as a kind transmitter of the criminal justice reform that Dan defined for his own setting, complementary justice reform that Israeli students could seek in their own legal system. Dan was a guest participant in the Israeli workshop, that was self consciously created in the image of the workshop lead by him at Yale. Dan was also a guest consultant of the new Public Defender’s Office of the State of Israel, which had grown out of the Tel-Aviv University Law School Workshop.  I could feel in these meetings that Dan was connecting to roots that Israel represented for him.

I am deeply thankful for the opportunity, somehow given to me, to meet Dan Freed, and to have shared in drawing from his wisdom and his ethics, and from his warmth as a loyal friend. Since I moved to Israel years ago I have missed him very much. Life’s exigencies put many miles between us, but I surely will never forget him or his family.

Anecdotes:
Years ago when I was in my early twenties and  starting my artistic career, Mom and Dad and I came to visit Dan and Judy for the weekend in Vermont. I spent three hours watching a calf being born. At one point Dan asked to see some artwork I had brought. He bought some of my work and then insisted on paying the sales tax. As I worked and lived in MA and the sale was in Vermont, we could not figure out which state to pay or which tax rate to use. I suggested we forget about it –not possible, according to Dan. He paid me the tax. I cannot remember what we decided or what I did with it. I can remember that I went on to get myself tax numbers in six states so that I could legally sell in all of them. Dan was always the most honest person I knew, and held me to the same standard (except, of course, for the time he was driving and hit a house……).

Deborah Freed (Norman’s daughter, see below…..)

Dear Peter,

I am the only person to share the affection and love of your Dad for 80+ years.  It was a great ride with much mutual admiration. We produced seven wonderful children and enjoyed the grandchildren they produced, and achieved many goals.

Dan’s initial goal in life was to become the world’s fasted swimmer and try to excel in math.  That is why he went to Yale, where he did not set a world record, but was sidetracked into law, and developed into a “world class” brother and educator.

After a few years, Dan enlisted in the Navy and was shipped to Treasure Island in San Francisco Bay.  I never understood what he did there, but the Japanese investigated, contacted General Douglas MacArthur and surrendered to the USA!

After this extensive and productive naval career he returned to Mt. Vernon & Yale at the advanced age of 18+.  As a younger brother of 16+, who learned to drive while his older brother was winning the war, I was given the order from the family leader, JLF (Grandpa Jules), to teach Dan to drive a car.  (This was before driver’s Ed was invented, and our Dad had already struggled to teach me to drive and that was enough!)

Dan and I embarked on a trip on Route 22 from Mt. Vernon, NY to White Plains with Dan at the wheel.  The trip to White Plains was uneventful, and we started back with Dan still at the wheel.  At that time, the building codes were not very strict, as there was one house in that 12-mile stretch that was built within 6 or 8 feet of the main road.  It started to rain; there were probably leaves on the road.  Dan slowed down to be more cautious (he always was cautious).  The car skidded on the road and smacked into the porch of this house and cracked it!

Since Dan, the returning “war” hero, inherited a high degree of ethics, we contacted the authorities to file the necessary forms.  He was already a student at Yale, and we thought it best to indicate I was the driver and take the blame.  I am confident that we had lengthy discussion (one minute) as what to tell Mom and Dad, the authorities, and the long-term impact on Dan’s career and the sentencing problems that could ensue.  As a 16 year old with a driver’s license, no war record, I couldn’t care less.  This was probably Dan’s first lie, and most likely his last.

I eventually spent a career in the world of finance, so I gained experience!

Today we call this a “win, win” situation.

Once every 10 or 20 years I would remind Dan of this escapade.  He would develop the “all knowing little smile,” and the twinkle in his eye said don’t let the legal profession know.

After 66 years it is time for me to come clean.

Love,

Norman Freed (Brother)

Dear Dan,
You brought us to Martha’s Vineyard. I think that you told Dad that you and Walter were going and asked Dad to come too. The first year we stayed in the little fishing shack near the Coast Guard Station, behind The Galley. I was three. Amy and I walked underneath and around all of the little docks behind the houses at low tide and collected fiddler crabs and other treasures. We watched for “The Little Lady”, an enormous black fishing vessel. A year or two later we stayed in the “Beach Plum Jelly” house at the curve in the road into Menemsha, right at the start of Crick Hill Road. You stayed with Walter and Nancy Shebly in the house up the hill with huge windows overlooking Menemsha harbor. We had Andy’s 3rd birthday party in the Beach Plum Jelly house with Brook, Megan, Becky, Amy and Jon. One day Dad grilled lamb chops next to the house and a seagull came down and took one from the hot grill. Andy was asleep, so they just didn’t wake him up to tell him that the seagull had just eaten his dinner. Amy and Jon and Rick, Andy, and I spent the summer, barefoot, running up and down between the houses, cutting through behind Seward’s General Store and Post Office, eating soft twist ice cream cones from the Galley. A woman in a house between our houses saw a tick on my ear and invited me in and took it off. Our feet were rough and calloused, we were invincible, sun burned and tanned and carefree. There was sand everywhere. The best moments of my childhood happened then and there.
When the swordfishing boats came in they blasted a horn and we all went running to the docks to see the magnificent fish come in. I remember once, when the horn blasted, my father ran down to the docks carrying me in his arms. The fishing boats were immense, blanketed with smelly nets and shells and buckets. The fisherman were always enchanting and mysterious and reeked of fish. They invited us on their boats and we were afraid to touch anything. Once I opened a barrel sitting on the dock and saw what looked like the hugest eyeballs in the world looking back at me. I think Dad still has a swordfish sword in the basement. We lay on our bellies on the dock catching fiddler crabs and spider crabs on strings tied up with pieces of squid. We’d fill the bucket and dump, often getting pinched in the process. We stood under the light on the filling station on Dutcher Dock, bobbing for squid at night. When they came up you had to take care to avoid being squirted with black ink. There was a shack on the Crick Hill Rd side plastered with sword fish tails. We ate ice cream sandwiches sitting on the bench at Squid Row.
The jetty in Menemsha thrust out along the channel, swimming area on the right and swift, dangerous fast flowing channel on the left. We ran to the jetty’s end in bare feet, jumping the gaps between the rocks and avoiding the ever present fishing hooks. We were the mountain goats of the jetty. We saw dead skates and fish heads between the rocks. We tried to avoid the casting lines of the fisherman, although once Rick got caught. We fished there for scup, mackerel and baby blues, and caught millions. In later years we fished for striped bass. Once Jonathan had a mighty fish on his line, and it popped off. He jumped into the channel and hugged the fish, but the fish won. The man who jumped in after a fish has become jetty lore to the the fisherman, and I think, to the fish.
Another year we all stayed together in The Homestead with Grandpa Jules and Grandma Sid. Sid sat on Menemsha beach with her easel and oil paints while we swam in the wavelets of the beach, made drippy sand castles, and collected precious rocks, shells and glass in our buckets. I have her painting of the beach and jetty hanging in my house. The Homestead wasn’t on the harbor, but it was still Menemsha. There was a little cottage next to it with a family from Washington D.C. Amy and I played with their girls. Jonathan showed us that when you put ketchup and mustard on a potato chip it radiates heat. On Lobsterville beach where the sand is red and you could walk out 100 yards before it was over your head, Amy and I collected a plethora of hermit crabs in a sand bucket and released them on our feet. They skedaddled in rays 360 degrees around, tickling our feet. Then we did it again and again. We collected horseshoe crab shells and often saw live ones burying themselves on the ocean floor. Dad sailed a sunfish and took us all out in turns. When we tipped, I was not afraid of the water, the boom or the ropes. I was terrified of stepping on a horseshoe crab. Another time I saw a school of baby horseshoe crabs with translucent shells, no bigger than my fingernail, swimming on the surface of the water. Recently I met a paleobiologist who has researched horseshoe crabs all of his life. He was fascinated by my childhood memory, as there is debate in the field about whether the newly hatched crabs swim at the surface or crawl on the ocean floor.
In later years you stopped coming and we rented other houses, usually in Chilmark. We saw Walter and Nancy frequently, and still do. In 1968 we rented the Four Winds. In 1970 we went out west to see the National Parks and Harvey and family in San Francisco. In 1972 my parents bought the Four Winds, about the same time that you bought a farm in Guilford, and Harvey bought Inverness.
Jon, Andy and I spent many falls fishing Chappaquiddick, leaving home at 4 am to meet the rising sun at East Beach. Jon won derby pins as he was the most dedicated and fanatical fisherman of us all. However, we all had grand successes, and we ate a lot of fish. My parents got used to us sleeping and rising at all times of the day and night, and didn’t care as we kept the grill going with fresh caught fish. Jonathan is the consummate chef.
I take my children now to my summer haunts and do the things I did there, with them. Watching them dump the bucket of hermit crabs to see them scuttle gives me the thrill I had as a child, in addition to the delight I get in watching their pleasure. Watching them run down the jetty makes me feel the trepidation of a parent. We’ve been impaled by no hooks, so far, and no one has fallen in the channel (well, except for Jon, but he jumped). I made sure that they all were good swimmers, and two are on swim team following your lead. This year Andy, Rick, and I, our spouses and children, celebrated Dad’s 80th in the Four Winds. Walter and Nancy were there as well as Jon and Lauren and family.
The Little Lady is still in the harbor. The first shack we stayed in fell down about 20 years ago. On the shack with swordfish tails, shreds remain. Some of the docks at Menemsha have collapsed, some new ones exist. Seward,s has another name. The Galley is my children’s favorite restaurant and we get soft twist ice cream cones and sit on the rocks by the channel licking them heartily, lest they melt all over us. Jon and Andy still wake at odd hours, and catch and grill big smelly fish. The Vineyard is now infamous and famous and a haunt for politicians and the renowned. To us it is a place where we live in nature and sun, sand, and water. It is the same place and different from my childhood memories. Some things are still there, some are gone, like you, and this saddens me to my core. Dan, you were the exemplary lawyer and an accomplished teacher. To me you were my Uncle Dan. I will miss calling you and singing Happy Birthday on May 12. I will miss your warm smile and loving ways.
We owe it to you Dan, this place my parents now call home. I thank you for the invitation, almost fifty years ago. We have this precious place because you found it and shared it with us. Thank you.
All my love,
Deborah (Freed)

11/10/2008
Yale Law Professor Dan Freed has undoubtedly been the biggest influence on my own career as a law professor. I had him for a year-long sentencing course during my third year — a course that was a descendant of the legendary Yale Sentencing Workshop that Dan helped to organize in the 1970’s. The Yale workshop brought together lawyers, judges, policymakers, law professors, and law students for intensive discussions about the sentencing process. A proposal emerging from the workshop caught the attention of Senator Ted Kennedy, who used it as the framework for a major sentencing reform bill. Eventually enacted (with several important modifications) as the Sentencing Reform Act of 1984, the Kennedy bill created the United States Sentencing Commission and the Federal Sentencing Guidelines.

By the mid-1990’s, when I had him as a teacher, Dan had become an outspoken critic of the Commission and the Guidelines. However, his course still reflected his faith in the value of bringing together people with diverse perspectives to talk to one another in a rational, mutually respectful manner about sentencing law and policy. Thus, we had a parade of fascinating guests in the course: judges, prosecutors, defense lawyers, probation officers, law professors, a sociologist, a Senate Judiciary Committee staffer, and others. Taught seminar style, the course included many lively, memorable conversations with our distinguished guests. The experience sparked what has become a long-term interest of mine in sentencing — a subject that I now teach and write about regularly. In fact, the paper I wrote for Dan’s course became my very first law review article. I’ve stayed in touch with Dan (now retired) since then, and have benefitted from his counsel at many turns.

Dan has been a model for me in several respects.

First, his efforts to bridge the gap between academics and practitioners — reflecting a belief that both groups have a lot to learn from one another — have fueled similar interests on my part. Indeed, this very Blog was envisioned as, among other things, a vehicle for academic-practitioner dialogue.

Second, Dan’s devotion to achieving useful reform in the law has been a big influence on my scholarship and public service activities. I’ll never forget meeting with Dan to discuss the first draft of my seminar paper, in which I railed against what seemed to me an especially poorly worded provision of the Federal Sentencing Guidelines. Dan simply asked me, “Well, how would you have drafted it if you were on the Sentencing Commission?” At his urging, I included in the next draft specific wording for a proposed amendment to the Guidelines. The experience led me to see legal scholarship in a whole new light — not just as an exercise in criticism for its own sake, but as an opportunity to participate in the law reform process. In the course of all of my subsequent academic writing, I have persistently asked myself, “Well, what exactly do I want to accomplish here and how exactly should the new guideline/statute/rule be worded?”

Third, Dan’s teaching and writing focuses intensely on the institutional context in which sentencing occurs. Sentences are not imposed by Olympian judges operating in some sort of social vacuum, but rather reflect the collective efforts — sometimes cooperative and sometimes not — of several different actors, including prosecutors, defense lawyers, and probation officers, each of whom plays a particular role subject to particular constraints. With Dan having drilled this insight into my head, I think I have avoided the tendency of some other scholars to view sentencing merely as an exercise in applied moral theory — a tendency that sometimes leads to law reform proposals that, however philosophically appealing, seem unworkable in practice. In both my writing and my teaching, I try always to attend to the particular institutional settings in which criminal justice is pursued.

One final thought about Dan. Midway through the fall semester of my course with him, Dan suffered a serious heart attack and missed about a month of classes. His first time back in the classroom, he took ten minutes at the start of class to describe, with wonderful grace and good humor, what the heart attack experience had been like for him and his family. In my memory, this was the first time I really saw one of my professors as a human being, not merely as an otherworldly oracle of legal theory. This, in turn, helped me to see that I might actually be a law professor one day myself.

– Michael O’Hear

The original can be found here

November, 2008

I also had the pleasure of counting Dan Freed as one of my professors. He joined the Yale Law School faculty while I was a student, and he was the chief faculty advisor for the clinical program that the school was in the midst of developing. I worked closely with him setting up a post-conviction remedies clinic at the Danbury Federal Prison and was always impressed with his general good will and with the careful and thoughtful way he addressed the understandably leery prison officials. One year after the establishment of the clinic, students working in the clinic managed to free a man by showing a sentence miscalculation. When I arrived at the prison for office hours the next week, one hundred inmates were lined up in the hallway outside the clinic office, all prepared to argue their sentences had been miscalculated.Odd as it may seem in the present, the debate within the law student community about Professor Freed’s work reflected tensions between liberals and leftists. I was a member of the student board for the clinical program and frequently heard arguments that Freed wanted only “band-aid solutions” rather than more profound structural change. I suspect that Professor Freed himself wanted both, but in a way the leftist position helped insulate liberals from conservative attacks. By the end of the 1970s, the left had largely disappeared, and liberalism was much more vulnerable. Indeed, as I recall, one of President Reagan’s first efforts was to end legal services programs. Had he somehow been in charge of the Yale Law School, he surely would have suppressed Professor Freed’s noble undertaking in Danbury, Connecticut

– David Papke

Below are seven .pdfs from the Federal Sentencing Reporter issue on Dan and others’ contributions to the field of sentencing:

1FSR Cover

2FSR Editors’ Notes

3FSR Freed Intro

4FSR Gertner on Freed

5FSR Stith on Freed

6FSR Weich on Freed

7FSR Wilhelm and VERA on Freed

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