After a brief period in private practice, Millard entered the Department of Labor in 1946 and remained there until 1971 (
In addition to his strenuous work on behalf of his family and his dedication to his job, Millard found time and energy to serve the community in other ways. In the early 1960s, when he and Ruth had three children in public schools, he became President of the Donations
In lieu of flowers, the family requests that contributions be made to the Millard Cass Memorial Fund at the University of Virginia School of Law. Please mail donations to:
Millard Cass Memorial Fund
University of Virginia Law School Foundation
580 Massie Road
Charlottesville, VA 22903-1789
Tributes
Pam Gershkoff, daughter
Daddy, there is not a single word that I could use to describe you. You were brilliant, generous, protective, and compassionate. A true “southern gentleman”; you were the patriarch of our family. Admired by all. You were an inspiration and a role model.
All of us have warm memories of times spent with you. Intellectual conversations were highlights of being together. Whether talking about events that took place in your lifetime or ones from history, you always had insightful stories and opinions.
You had a zest for learning. An avid reader, you always had several books that you were reading simultaneously. Your curiosity of countless subjects led you to look things up in the encyclopedia on a regular basis. In addition, you loved poetry and had memorized numerous poems as a child that you were able to recite all of your life.
Your mind was constantly working hard on such things as how to make our world a better place. You wrote to many of our national leaders with suggestions. Even after your recent stroke, you were working on a disaster preparedness plan. Although you were unable to do most things for yourself, you were sitting in a chair writing notes about having a national ID card that each citizen would carry. It would list one’s name, address, telephone number, social security number, blood type, and allergies. When I asked you what that was for, you said that it was in case there was a national emergency; the authorities would know who you were and be able to help.
You were always thinking about other people. Your generosity was overwhelming. Even when you didn’t have much money, you were interested in giving to others. You were so compassionate that tragic stories, even about strangers, would bring you to tears. You weren’t a dad who played golf or poker. Helping others was really your hobby. You spent hours every week calling to check up on friends. You sent letters to people who were ill. Anyone lucky enough to be your friend was a friend forever.
You were the most trustworthy person I know. If anyone told you a secret, you would never reveal it. You valued honesty, trust, and loyalty above any other traits. You never asked for favors for yourself, yet you constantly were doing favors for others. Titles did not impress you; one’s character was what was important. You treated everyone with respect. You’d hold a door for a lady; politely thank a doorman; or send flowers to an ill store employee. We teased you about being a big tipper, but you always felt sorry for the waiter, taxi driver, or valet. You related to them because you had been poor as a child. You thought that extra money might be as significant to them as it was to you years ago.
Family, however, was the most important thing in the world to you. Mom was the center of your universe. When you spoke of her, your tone was always gentle and affectionate. Your devotion to her was a testament not only to your love, but also to your belief that family comes first. Because your childhood was not a happy one, you strived to make ours better. One of my fondest childhood memories is of having a dog. You prevailed upon Mom to let us get our collie, Candy, and she became my best friend. Making your wife, children, and grandchildren happy was your life. Your dedication to family permeated everything you did. You wanted to protect us and to provide for us. You did a great job.
If you could look around the room today, we know you’d be so extremely proud of your entire family. You’ll be a hard act for any of us to follow, Daddy, as you were really our rock. You were one of a kind, and you will be truly missed by all who knew you.
A Tribute to Puh, The person I most admired in this world
Amy Gershkoff, granddaughter
To all the grandchildren, Millard Cass was known as Puh, a nickname coined by Stephen Burt, and copied by the rest of us grandkids. Each of the grandchildren had a different special relationship with Puh, and I’d like to tell you about mine.
To me, Puh was first and foremost a teacher. Many times, he told me stories about how he worked to put himself through college and law school, borrowing money only once and repaying it promptly. He told of how he had landed prestigious jobs always by hard work, not through special favors. These stories were a powerful lesson about the incredible value of honest, hard work, about earning your successes through determination and perseverance. Puh always said that he worked hard so that his children and grandchildren could have opportunities without struggle, but ironically, I believe it is from his struggle that we have the most to learn.
Puh also taught me the true meaning of tzedakah. I remember him telling me how each month he deposited money in his mother’s bank account, and she never knew that he was the depositor. He didn’t need credit for the mitzvah because seeing his mother happy and provided for was enough for him. We should all strive to perform mitzvot in the manner that Puh did: doing something for someone else and not caring whether we get credit for it.
Puh did for others without expecting anything in return. For example, during Puh’s time in the government, he met lots of political dignitaries, but he never asked any of them for a favor. Puh also often sent cards and money to people who neither thanked him nor returned the favor. And while most people might be upset by this, Puh honestly didn’t mind because his joy came in giving, not in receiving. We should all hope to emulate Puh in this respect.
But Puh also taught me something else that’s far more important: he profoundly demonstrated what it means to love unselfishly. Puh loved Grandma, after 61 years of marriage, the way I hope spouses everywhere love each other. Even friends of mine who met Grandma and Puh only once would remark how clear it was that Puh was so in love with Grandma.
But Puh didn’t just love Grandma, he loved all of his children and grandchildren. He derived more pleasure from trying to make us happy than he did from trying to make himself happy. We should each strive to love our parents, our siblings, our children, and our grandchildren the way Puh loved us. He was always happy to give to us, to help us, to share in our successes, and above all, to see us happy. If we look back through photos of Puh at his grandchildren’s Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, graduations, and weddings, in every one, Puh is beaming, radiating a loving pride at each occasion.
When I visited Puh at the nursing home not too long before his death, I told him that the previous week Laura and Dan and I had gone out all together, and that next week, Jon was coming to see all of us. And I said, “see, your grandchildren get together all the time and have so much fun together!” And Puh, in a rare moment in his last days, actually opened his eyes and looked at me and smiled and said “that’s wonderful.”
When I was at Grandma and Puh’s house after Puh’s last stroke, I found something Puh had written shortly before his last stroke, and I would like to read you part of it because I believe he honors his own name perhaps better than I could. He said:
“I leave with no regrets of wrongdoing. My only regrets were that I could not do more to make life pleasant and easy for my beloved wife, my children, and my grandchildren. I am richer than millionaires because my family is so wonderful. I leave the world no better than I found it, but I leave my loved ones better than I found them, and I leave more loved ones than I had when I came.”
I hope we each can learn from this loving husband, father, and grandfather to live our lives with no regrets, and that we can each strive to love each other the way Puh loved each of us.
Brian Gershkoff, grandson
I have a happy thought. A short, and simple thought, but a happy one.
At the game of life, my grandfather simply won.
That’s a strong statement to say. But I say it without hesitation because of the obvious truth behind it. The meaning of life in my book is very simple and straightforward, an axiom that I try to lead my life by every day: It is to leave the world better than where you found it. An ultimate act of good is one that benefits everyone but yourself, and an act of evil is the opposite. My grandfather was the most selfless person I have ever met. Everything he did, it seemed, was for the benefit of someone else. Just look at his work throughout life. A lawyer, a prominent member of the Department of Labor, a Federal Arbitrator. The purpose of each of these jobs is not self-serving but the complete opposite, it is helping others. Especially when he worked at the Department of Labor, he made decisions and influenced policy that helped millions of people that he never even met. That’s incredible.
In his home life, the pattern was the same. He was always looking out for the well-being of my grandmother, his children, his grandchildren, his whole family. He always asked out of genuine concern, how were we? How were we doing? What were we doing? How was the weather? We joked about his concern for all of us saying “Don’t worry! Don’t worry!” But he always would. And nothing we said could do anything about it. He cared so much for all of us.
So that’s my happy thought. Today, we celebrate that he was a great man, and that he won at life. And to him I say…
Thank you.
Dear Pam and Sandy,
I am so sorry on the loss of your beloved father. He was such a
wonderful man. You were blessed to have him for many years. But no
matter how many years we have a parent, it is never enough. I always
loved your father. I remember as a girl, the trips we made to DC, and
how wonderful he and your mother were to us. I also will never forget
his words to my father, when he learned I was getting divorced. He told
him that if it has to end, better sooner than later. Cut the losses and
move on. Those were such comforting words, and gave me such strength at
a very difficult time in my life.
I'm happy that Ken, Channah Rochel and I got to see your father a two
years ago when he was healthy and vibrant. Channah Rochel has such good
memories of that trip to Washington and of both of your parents. .
And Pam, it is so wonderful that you are back in the DC area and able
to be there for your mother, and that you were there for your father.
May the beautiful memories of your father give you strength in the
days, months and years to come. And may yo, your mother, Ronald, and
your families be comforted among the mourners of Zion. Please share
this with your mother.
Love,
Devorah
Dear Ruth, Millard’s children and grandchildren,
It was with great sadness that I learned from Pam this morning of Millard’s passing. He was a remarkable person who taught me a great deal professionally, but also personally, since we met in 1981.
As a new attorney working for the Hotel Trades Council (labor union) in New York, Millard was the first Arbitrator to decide cases that I presented. He was supportive but tough. He took notes in longhand during each hearing, nearly verbatim, and wrote detailed, thoughtful decisions in each case. He was extraordinarily conscientious and sometimes agonized over the responsibility he had for people’s lives, wanting each decision to serve justice. We were together every Wednesday and Thursday while he presided over several arbitrations, and during our lunch break on those days Millard and the two opposing counsel would sit together in the hearing room while we ate. Every Wednesday and Thursday, year in and year out, Millard had, without fail, a cheese sandwich and “tea with nothing in it.” Once in a great while, I seem to recall, he would indulge in plain cheesecake. He expressed definite ideas about every topic, from world politics to raising families to the current government, and I still remember how we struggled with him about gay and lesbian rights, which he had a difficult time with. “It’s not natural!” he would protest, loudly. Conversely, he was very concerned that all of us settle down and get married, since that was what had brought him so much happiness and meaning. Millard loved to tell a joke, the cornier the better, and would laugh heartily each time he told it! At least once a month he would brag about never going to the doctor, and in a curiously irrational fashion, would pronounce “why do you think I’m so healthy?”
He was deservedly proud of the obstacles he had overcome in his own life, the career he had enjoyed prior to arbitrating, but nothing came anywhere close to his depth of feeling for all of you. We’d get a weekly update on what the children and the grandchildren were up to -- who had had a baby, who had changed jobs, what country which grandchild was studying in or visiting, Ruth’s visits with her sister. I looked forward to getting the report for the week, but I was also struck by the level of Millard’s personal involvement with your family, in contrast to many fathers and grandfathers in those days, who left “family business” to their wives. As tough as Millard was otherwise, he often choked back tears – of joy and sorrow – when he shared family news with us. The only reason he ever left his office during those days was to select postcards to send to the family. You’d think that being in midtown Manhattan, he would have taken advantage of Broadway, the museums, all that the city had to offer, but not Millard -- never! He had postcards to get in the mail before he left town!
One day Millard let us know that Ruth would be joining him in New York during an upcoming week, and he invited me and Shelley Greenwald, the management attorney at that time, to join the two of them for dinner. We had a lovely time, of course, but the most prominent memory for me was the honor of sharing an evening with a husband and wife who were so devoted to and in love with each other.
I was no longer with that Union when Millard resigned as Impartial Chairman. He had been made a pawn in a political situation that had nothing to do with him, and, as honest and straightforward as he was, he initially believed that proving his innocence would result in appropriate closure to the whole ordeal. The way he was treated would have been inexcusable under any circumstances, but it was particularly so given his devoted service to the industry for so many years.
Millard was thrilled to get news that I had eventually “settled down,” of course. My daughter Iliana (4 ½ ) loves the pink bunny rabbit stool that Ruth and Millard sent when she was born, and can’t wait to use the fairy “tooth holder” that came in the same generous gift package.
Millard was a great man, a terrific teacher, and despite only intermittent contact in recent years, a dear friend. Please accept my deepest sympathy on your loss.
Mary Moriarty
I just read with real sorrow about Millard's passing. He was extraordinary -- brilliant, kind, thoughtful, energetic and a wonderful mentor. As a young labor attorney who appeared on behalf of management, he always made me feel (even when I lost) that I had done a good job. It's been many years since I've seen him, but Millard repeatedly crossed my mind and brought a smile to my face.
Please accept my sincere condolences on his passing.
Shelley Greenwald
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