Jack Brennan, 1949-2002

Jack Brennan, Central Park Track Club founder and member since 1972, passed away after a sudden illness early Sunday morning (February 17, 2002) at 2am.  He was 52 years old.  He is survived by his wife Marian and three children.  Jack helped to found the Central Park Track Club while a law student at New York University and became a tremendous long-distance runner.  He represented the club at the 1980 US Olympics Marathon Trials and has a marathon personal record of 2:20:50.  He continued to train and race throughout his life.  He contributed tremendously to the atmosphere of the team.

On Tuesday, February 19th, 2002, the following two items appeared in the New York Times: Brennan -- Jack (John C.), 52.  Of Irvington, New York on Feb. 17, 2002.  Graduate of University of Scranton and NYU Law School.  Former Deputy Commissioner Taxi and Limousine Commission, NYC.  An avid runner, he was finalist for 1980 Olympic Marathon Team and founder of the Central Park Track Club.  Loving husband to Marian (Schuman), father of Elizabeth, Alexander and Carolyn, son of John Brennan and Mary McCall, brother of Nancy Koester, Patty Brennan, Peggy Bermel, Joe and Michael Brennan.  Funeral 1:00pm Tuesday, Edwards-Dowdle Funeral Home, 64 Ashford Ave., Dobbs Ferry, NY.  Visiting from 11:30AM.  Memorial to: Westchester Community Foundation, 470 Mamaroneck Avenue, White Plains, New York 10605. Brennan -- Jack.  The Central Park Track Club mourns the loss of its founder and beloved member, Jack Brennan.  Jack will be remembered for both his brilliant long distance running, including his performance in the 1980 United States Olympic marathon trials, and for his everlasting ability to make us laugh.  We extend our deep condolences to his wife Marian and his entire family.

Obituary, Scranton Times, March 4, 2002

From Frank Handelman, who is a co-founder and team member of the Central Park Track Club

Jack Brennan
(Eulogy delivered at Jack's funeral on February 19, 2002)

When I met Jack, I was having lunch at the cafeteria during our first semester at N.Y.U law school.  I was from Ohio, Jack of course from Pennsylvania.  He came over to my table without introducing himself, and said, “So I hear you think you can run.”  Within minutes, we had made a date to go running in Central Park, each thinking the other was all talk and probably a hopeless jogger.  That first run, we did eleven miles around the Central Park reservoir, and began a lifelong friendship. 

As law school got easier, and it does from term to term, our training got more intense.  By our third year, we were heading off several times a week for 20 or 22 mile runs, leaving Greenwich Village and heading up the West Side over the George Washington Bridge, into the Palisades; or over the Brooklyn Bridge, past the docks to Sunset Park and Bay Ridge and Coney Island, talking all the way.  With some people, you run and don’t talk.  With Jack the conversation began with the first step and never stopped. 

By our last semester, we were committed marathoners. On graduation day in June, 1974, we ran Yonkers, our third marathon in two months.  Jack was strong in the middle and waited for me, and I was strong at the end and waited for him.  We finished, holding hands, in 2:35, then went down to Washington Square and graduated.   Even then, we had our priorities straight.

Along with Lynn  and Dave Blackstone, here today,  and a few others, we began the Central Park Track Club in the fall of 1972.  This year, the club will celebrate its 30th anniversary - it is a beautiful institution,  made up of some 300 people of every possible description, from all  over the world, running marathons and triathlons, middle distance and sprints, with three coaches and more team and individual awards than can possibly be counted.  But most important to me about the CPTC is the spirit and fellowship and humanity of the club, and Jack was instrumental from the first months in setting that tone.

Jack got better at the marathon, much better, but I kept running 2:35 till I  went back to my first love, track.   In 1977,  Jack finished 3rd in Yonkers, and in 1978 and 1979 he came in third and then second in  the national 50 kilometer championships - 31.1 miles - breaking three hours both times.  For you distance runners,  that is better than 5:47 pace.   And in 1980, he ran his marathon best of 2 hours and 20 minutes, and competed in the United States Olympic marathon trials.   

In running as in life, Jack was a force of nature. Whatever the distance, whatever the race, he just ran how he felt.  When Jack wanted to go, he just went, and no logic or pre-race plan or sense of pace could stop him.  We were in a five mile race at Liberty State Park in Jersey in the late 70's, and Jack was running behind the lead pack of 8 or 10 of us for the first mile.   Suddenly he caught  up and went flying by, and built up a huge lead.  Near the end  the pack caught him, and he finished about 10th.  I asked him why he had run with such abandon, when with pacing he might have won the race, and he said, ”I just felt like going fast so I did, as far as I could”.

That was Jack.  He went as fast as he could, all the way through life.  On the other hand, you didn’t want to set your clock to Jack’s.  If he said he would pick you at 10 am,  he’d show at 11.   I don’t think anybody ever missed as many race starts as Jack, but he would never care.  He would just hang out and shoot the breeze and watch the race, without a worry, even if he had traveled three of four hours to get there. 

After law school,  Jack moved near me on the West Side,  and we ran on.  In those days, we did about 70 miles a week, and we were considered light trainers, even lazy.  Going for a run with Jack would be like spending an evening bar hopping  - he would stop his workout a dozen times and talk to anybody he saw.  If you were running the opposite direction, he would turn to join you or stop for a chat of 10 or 15 minutes.  In 2 hours, we would run maybe half that time.  Of course, we would go home and write down, “two hours, steady running”,  in our training diaries and feel like we had really put in the miles.

While all this running was going on, Jack was building a career.  One of the smartest students in our class, Jack joined the honors program of the New York City Law Department after graduation,  then became general counsel and deputy commissioner of the Taxi and Limousine Commission, before going into private practice and eventually forming Bass and Brennan, with his partner Mary Bass.

Jack went to Woodstock in 1969, and he told me it changed his life.  I was into jazz, but he would drag me along to rock concerts.  We saw the Stones at the Garden, and the Jefferson Airplane.  One night, running in the far West Village, we heard music pouring out of  a loft and Jack said, “That’s the Grateful Dead”!  - and sure enough, it was Jerry Garcia rehearsing with the windows wide open.  Jack stood there transfixed until it ended.  One unforgettable New Years Eve, we went to see Bruce Springsteen at the Nassau Coliseum - I can still see Jack on his feet well past midnight,  as the E Street Band rolled into the umpteenth verse of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”.

From the beginning,  I was Jack’s straight man.  From the earliest Central Park Track Club gatherings, Jack would destroy me at the microphone with stories I can’t tell here.  Really,  we were just two kids from out of town who wanted to run fast and get girls and have a great time in New York, and we did.  In about 1980, when I complained (forgive me, I really did) that our club didn’t have awards in the early years when I was the best runner, Jack presented me with a beautiful award at the club dinner for the most valuable runner-up - and then gave himself the MVP award. 

My first run with Jack was on December 1, 1971.  In those loops around the Central Park reservoir, we got to know each other and started to tell each other our life stories.  I learned about Jack the altar boy and Eagle Scout, Jack one of six kids, about Peggy and Nancy and Patty and Joe and Mike and his parents, about life in Scranton and at Scranton Prep and the University of Scranton and his early cross country heroics. 

Our most recent run was 24 days ago in Van Cortlandt Park, and we talked about our families and our future plans.   Jack talked about Marion and Elizabeth and Alex and Carolyn and her upcoming Bat Mitzvah - he always said to me, with a touch of  irony and pride, as if I would find this both astonishing and reassuring, “You know, my kids are Jewish.” 

I’ve been running with Jack for three decades, and like you, can’t imagine not having him there.  But yesterday afternoon, running around the Reservoir, I felt Jack with me, stride for stride, talking all the way.

And I hear Jack now, sneaking up behind me, waiting to grab the microphone,  and saying, ”Cut the crap Frank, and when are you going to break 2:30 for the marathon?”

From Peggy Brennan Bermel, sister of Jack Brennan

Jack Brennan, My Big Brother

I'd like to share some thoughts on Jack's life as it impacted mine.  My first awareness of life included Jack's presence.  I have never known life without Jack. 

During grade school, Jack was the altar boy for the daily 7:30 am masses at the Chapel School convent.  He was the first one out of the house.  On snowy mornings, his footprints would lead a path from our front steps to the steps of the convent.  As the oldest, Jack, of course, had the best pair of boots in the house.  I would wear my Mother's shoeboots which were a few sizes too big for me, but they worked in the deep snow, as long as I stayed in Jack's footprints.  Once I passed the convent, I was on my own.  But I always set out, reassured that I was following Jack, hoping that if I walked fast enough I would catch up to him.  These snowy morning treks, of course, became a metaphor for my life--following in Jack's footprints, never being able to catch up to him, but confident that I was on the right path.

One day, the Bishop came to visit the Chapel School.  He went to every grade, and asked one question.  No one knew the answer to his question, until he got to the 7th grade class, and Jack, of course, knew the answer.  That unequivocally established Jack as the smartest student in the school.  After that, he became the Bishop's altar boy.

Jack was also, in fact, an Eagle Scout.  My entire family went to pick him up at Camp St. Andrew after a weekend on camp rations.  His only request was to stop at Shadow Brook Farms restaurant.  We went in and watched Jack eat steadily for close to a half hour.  We had never seen anyone eat so many hamburgers and drink so many vanilla milkshakes at one time.  When we went outside, Jack promptly "blew lunch". 

One of Jack's favorite walks was a 14-block round trip to a soda fountain for ice cream cones.  One day on the return trip, as we crossed the railroad tracks, my shoe fell off.  There was a train approaching, and I called out to Jack that I had lost my shoe.  Jack ran back to the tracks and grabbed my shoe just before the train passed by.  Only Jack was fast enough to accomplish that.

As I went through grade school, I realized at the beginning of every school year that great things were expected of me because John Brennan was my brother.    

Jack won a full scholarship to the Scranton Preparatory School, and it was there that the Jesuits were introduced to Jack.  Jack spent a lot of time "in jug",  which was afterschool detention, I think mainly because he was habitually late for class.  Jack would leave home 5 minutes before class started, expecting to cover the 5 block distance in that time.  Even then, I was amazed at how quickly he could run down the front steps, cross the street, start down the hill, and disappear within seconds.

As we grew older, we would share some of the same friends, the same taste in music, and Jack would take me on some of his runs with him.  He would always have a back way for getting to Lake Scranton, which usually involved vertical climbs up East Mountain, and then once we got to the Lake, we of course couldn't just run the 3.5 mile circumference, we had to then take the 6 mile trip up through the woods, on what became known as  the "Jack Brennan trail",  before circling the Lake.  I thought that I was a pretty good runner because I could keep up with Jack.  He never let me know that he was slowing his pace considerably for me, but I, of course, found that out eventually. 

I once ran the Perrier race in Central Park at Jack's urging.  Midway through the race, I realized  that I wasn't properly hydrated.  I picked Jack out in the crowd, and yelled to him that I was thirsty.  He didn't have any water to give me, but gave me the best advice he could, which was "swallow your saliva".

Jack came to visit in Phoenix in 1979, and he ran the Marathon.  The day before, Jack, Patty, and I drove to the Grand Canyon.  We hiked/ran 13 miles down and back.  Patty and I were happy to get back in the car.  Jack was disappointed that we didn't have time to get to the bottom of the canyon.  We returned to Phx, exhausted, and Jack said, "Do you want to go for a run?"  I thought, this guy is unbelievable, but of course, I said yes.  After the run, I starting to think about calling it a day.  Then Jack said, "Hey, do you feel like going to see a movie"?

That's the way every day was for Jack.  He had so much energy.  It was impossible not to feel it.

I could never say no to Jack, because he expected you to give your personal best all the time, and you knew it, and didn't want to disappoint him.  He expected only one thing of his friends and family, and that was that they be the absolute best person that they were capable of being.  He was so instrumental in shaping my life and so many others, because we knew that he was special, and we tried to emulate him.  Every friend was special to him, and he made everyone feel that they were the most important person to him, and of course, they were. 

I ran all of my major life decisions past him, and he always listened very patiently and gave me the absolute best advice.  Jack was the funniest guy we knew.  We knew that, but we would still always try to make him laugh.  If you got the "hmm" and the wry smile, you were happy.  If you got the full blown laugh, you knew you'd hit a home run.

I recently told him that I was training for my black belt, and he said, "yea? that's great", and asked when the test would be.  I told him probably not until the summer, and he said, "hmmm", sounding somewhat disappointed.

On February 17th, 1990, Jack was inducted into the Wall of Fame at the University of Scranton for his running accomplishments.  Twelve years later to the day, on Sunday morning, February 17th, my Father's 77th birthday, Marian called at 2:37am.  I screamed "NO!!!" over and over for an hour, as if that would make it not true.  At 4:30, I was asking "Jack where are you, where did you go, please don't leave us, give me a sign that you're okay".  With that, there was a single flash of lightening, and a single clap of thunder.  I waited for more, but that was it.  I said to my husband, "that was Jack".  Even after life, he continues to be a "force of nature", as Frank has called him.  Jack was the rock, the anchor, the nexus.  He brought everyone together.  I never had an argument or disagreement with him, and loved him dearly, as we all did.  We had no choice, of course; you had to love that guy.

He taught us the lessons he came to teach us.  He is counting on all of us now to do our personal best and get through this.  It's our obligation to live up to his expectations. He loved his family and friends.  We all miss him.  God, I would do anything to have him back.  He was the absolute best big brother anyone could have, a wonderful, true friend, an extraordinary human being.  But of course, we all knew that.

Be strong for Jack.  He expects nothing less from us.

From Michael Brennan, the brother of Jack Brennan:

A Jack Brennan Memorial Run

I knew how the afternoon would unfold. Jack was going to torture me again. Another 15 mile run with my brother would end up well over 20 miles. I would complain, probably at the 18-mile mark and say, "How can you be this far off? I gonna collapse out here." I was wrong. He knew.

Jack started talking at the first step. "So when are you going to get in shape?"

"Jack, I'm going on a 15 mile run - I'm not in bad shape, besides, I've been busy."

"You know when Fritz ran his 2:20, he was 40 and he had a job - and his was more difficult than yours..."

I vaguely remember the day that Fritz ran that race. It was Boston in 1978 and I was a college sophomore that was badgered on the marathon course. My finish was just behind Jack, OK, eight minutes behind Jack. It didn't register then, but I never saw anyone as excited as Jack was about someone else's PR. When he finally found Fritz to congratulate him, in typical form, there were no congratulations given. He asked Fritz how he finished "without tripping on your cane."

Near the five mile mark, after getting updates on the lives of Frank, Stu, Matt and a parade of others, he started telling me about a Who show that he saw earlier in the month. The show was great, but the highlight came prior to going into the auditorium. He and Marian were waiting in line when a couple people tried to cut to the front. When the crowd chastised them, one of them said, "You're all too old to be going to see the Who!" Jack immediately shot back, "When we were at Woodstock, you were at home, beating off to Donny Osmond records." When I asked Jack how the guy responded, he said, "He really didn't do much of anything - I don't think he knows Donny Osmond. For all I know, he might have thought it was a good thing. Let's do a pick-up on this hill." This hill? I cringed.

Jack was first to recover from the hill and took the opportunity to tell another of his kids' stories. I've heard them before, since he would often call me on a Monday morning to let me know what they did over the weekend. "Did I ever tell you when Elizabeth and Alex ran in a race together?"

"Uh, yea, I think so, a couple of times, maybe more."

"We were at a two mile kids' fun run in Van Cortland. It was one race for all ages and when Elizabeth finished 2nd, she ran up to me and said, 'I hate running. This sport is stupid. I'm never going to run again.' Alex finished 2nd last, and just after he crossed the finish line, he said, 'Hey dad, I beat somebody!'" Next was the time when Carolyn was three and was on a quest to get apple juice. From the hallway to the kitchen, she droned, "want applethuice, want applethuice" until she made her move at the refrigerator and broke the monotony with, "s#@&%, spill applethuice."

Somewhere around the fifteen-mile mark, we launched into war stories from the starting line, laced with a few brilliant excuses for not running 15 seconds faster on some particular day. Jack started, "Do you remember when we ran the National 20K Championships in Hollistan?"

"Yea, I ate too many pancakes that morning... I think I finished 63rd."

I know it's lame, perhaps the stupidest excuse ever, but I did eat too many pancakes. The way the excuse unfolds is that Jack asked me to get a few of my college friends to run in the race for the Central Park Track Club. The only catch was that we had to pretend we lived in New York, and we had to stay with BAA officials and have dinner and breakfast at their homes. Unfortunately, the pancakes in my guest home were perfect, and my ruse was not. It didn't take long for our hosts to know that none us had any idea about our supposed hometown. Not even close.

"Was it Ray or Hags who said he had an apartment near the Statue of Liberty?"

"I'm not sure, but I could have sworn that Fordham University was in Manhattan. People at the dinner table thought I was an idiot."

"Huh, you make it sound as if that's not usual."

None of us maintained our cover, or if we did, the BAA must have thought that CPTC was recruiting from a national list of running savants.

"Jack, we've run at least 20 miles... when are you going to stop?"

So the run's over and it feels as if I've run too far again. God, I've only gone three miles. It was spent going over conversations that I hadn't had in years, in an attempt to get a better understanding of someone I once knew. I think I get it. After every run with him, the obvious insight was his love of the sport. He loved to compete. He loved humor. He loved to tell stories that twisted with unexpected reality. He loved his friends. He loved his wife, his children and his family. It was infectious and everyday was a memorable one with Jack. I will miss him and it now occurs to me that my last question was only rhetorical. The torture has ended and perhaps I miss that most of all.

From David Blackstone, who is a founder and team member of the Central Park Track Club

Remembering Jack Brennan

            The sudden and unexpected death of Jack Brennan is a huge loss to the New York distance running community.  Jack was a renaissance man.  He was a lawyer, a national class distance runner, a wit, a standup comedian, and a loving husband to Marian and devoted father to Elizabeth, Alex and Caroline. 

            Over thirty years ago, and before the formation of the Central Park Track Club in 1972, I met Frank Handelman, who was then an NYU law student, for a workout in Central Park. Frank brought along another NYU law student, Jack Brennan, and predicted, “this guy’s going to run 2 hr 20 min for the marathon”.  Jack was wearing a raggedy Scranton University sweatshirt, an old pair of sweat bottoms, and he was not in top shape. But he kept cracking one-liners throughout the ten-mile, 6-min 30sec per mile, workout.

Jack was the most successful long distance racer among the CPTC founders. In 1980 he ran the New Orleans Marathon in 2hr 20min 50sec, qualifying him for the 1980 US Olympic Marathon trials. He then raced in the US Olympic trials along with his CPTC teammates, Shelly Karlin and Pete Squires.

            In the early and mid 1970’s, we rented a beach house at Ocean Ridge/Davis Park, Fire Island. House members included Dave and Lynn Blackstone, Jack Brennan, Nina Kuscsik, Michael Koenig, Hugh Sweeney, the late Shelly Karlin and many other club members. We ran on the beach, and with total indifference to the high tide. The long run was to Smith Point, Fire Island, which was sixteen miles round trip.  In 1978, the distance running boom even led the Brookhaven township to authorize an unmeasured 10k race along the Davis Park shore line to the Pines and back on Labor Day. About fifty people entered. Jack and Michael Koenig dueled for first place, with Jack edging Michael out. I took a distant third. Nina and Lynn were first and second in the Women’s Division. Our beach house was then dubbed “runners’ house” because we were considered professional.

            I saw Jack for the last time the Saturday night before last at the NYRR Banquet at the Sheraton Hotel. He looked healthy and upbeat. He danced with Lynn, and clowned with the “other Jack Brennan’s” award nomination ribbon. Jack was a person who did not have enemies. Everybody liked Jack despite his acerbic tongue and quick wit. He could step up to the dais without notes or preparation and deliver a funny monologue off the top of his head. Jack’s talents were multifaceted, and I had thought his greatest accomplishments lay ahead. Nature is not always kind.

From Fritz Mueller, a Central Park Track Club Hall of Famer and a good running friend

Jack Brennan

It is hard for me to find the words which could express the deep sorrow I feel about Jack’s death. Jack of course would understand, because he always made fun of my English anyway.

Jack was more than just a friend for me; he was also my PR person. I feel I owe Jack my Central Park running persona, what with his exclusive interviews, so dedicated to detail and fact; he provided me with a whole family tree of American relatives in the woods and trailer parks from Maine to Arkansas; he shed light on my early blood doping and on my hidden chemistry background. A  PR person from hell one might say, such as only a truly good friend could be.

Reliving the races with Jack was sometimes the best part of the day; his humor, his stories, his upbeat spirit for seeing the silver linings could lift anyone’s mood.  He was a wonderful man, honest, and fearless often in telling the truth. He was the master of the master of ceremonies.

I miss Jack. It seems unimaginable to run in the Park and not by chance see him come jugging along, from afar already recognizable. He would run right by me and at the last second I would yell: “Jack!”  That’s how we last met, and then we ran together a few miles, talking and laughing about what was, what would have been, could have been, and what is. He also told me the latest anecdotes about his children of whom he was so proud.  

Jack was also a kind of bridge for me to a time when I was younger myself; with his death I feel even older now than he always made me out to be.

I will miss Jack a lot. He will often be on my mind, and I feel younger again as I listen to his voice, making my way around the reservoir.

“By the way, Fritz -  I am still amazed that you could run so fast, with that shuffle, so close to my PR,  only one second off”
“Jack!  yes, but it was a second faster!” 
“… if I hadn’t have to tie my shoe laces  …   ”

Central Park Jack

My running partner and longtime friend Central Park Jack Brennan died suddenly this morning, February 17th, at 2 AM.

Jack was the ultimate practical joker. The most recent example was on Club Night just last weekend. He went up to the registration table and announced that he was Jack Brennan. So they gave him the nominee's ribbon which he wore around his neck much of the evening. But it was for Taconic Jack Brennan, not him. Many drinks and laughs later he awarded it to Taconic Jack. Despite this, Taconic Jack gave his friend Central Park Jack a ride home to Westchester when the drinks were finally shut down. Shelly spotted him out running on our trails early the next morning.

It was Central Park Jack who first introduced me to my good friend and training partner Taconic Jack Brennan. This was in 1995 at the Masters Challenge at the Teatown Reservation, up north where Central Park Jack had a weekend home at the time. Both Central Park Jack and myself had not trained much or competed much in many years, and we were shocked to get hammered by so many masters runners. At the post-race party hosted by the Taconics, I was bitching about the fact that I was almost last. He commented: "That's nothing, I wasn't even first for my name!" And then he introduced me to Taconic Jack.

Jack's son, Alex, and daughters, Elizabeth and Carolyn, participated in our youth track program. And mom, Marian, and Jack were cheerleaders. Quite a sight seeing Jack trying to remain a calm parent on the sidelines as his kids ran. They all had talent. Young Alex was a chip off the old block for sure.

After Jack moved to Irvington, just down the road from my home in Sleepy Hollow, we trained often together. We did many long runs and many hard Ridge Runs together--usually accompanied by Shelly as well as Taconic Jack, Taconic Art Weisberg, and Jean-Claude Periac. As Boston Marathon refers to the Johnny Kelleys (who have won the fabled race) as Johnny Kelly the Elder and the Younger, I jokingly referred to them as Jack the Elder (Taconic Jack) and Jack the Younger. Jack the Younger always amended it as "Jack the Better Looking."

The stories the three of us---Coach Bob, Central Park Jack and Taconic Jack, told on our many runs were plentiful. And Central Park Jack's stories were endless. Not only that, every time I heard the same story it got better. Many of his stories from his past glories on and off the roads are not fit to print, but were hilarious near the end of a hard run. And they may or may not have been true. But they were always entertaining. And they lasted several miles. Of course I always reminded him of the two times I beat him back in the late 70s---once in the Snowflake 4 Mile in Central Park, and once in the old Schenectady to Albany 30K. Not too many runners beat him too often in those days. Despite his small stature, he was a giant on the roads. To say he was an intense competitor would be an understatement. 

As Jack was approaching 50, I encouraged him to up his training and join me in the Ancient Warrior battles, and he did. We did many brutal speed sessions on the Sleepy Hollow track as he prepared for his comeback race. And what race did he pick? The World Masters Marathon Championships in Scotland. Typical Jack, he couldn't pick a small race.

Shelly convinced him to try those new-fangled gels because his long runs ----well they kept him out there a lot longer than in his youth and he was fading on the runs. Of course in the old days we ran so fast we didn't need them. I got a panicked call from him as he was heading for the airport. He had waited to buy the gels and the Westchester Road Runner store was not open. So I drove to his house and gave him a handful of gels. I had left the car door and house door open as I intended to head back out right away. But he was nervous and wanted to talk. A few beers later---ok several---I returned to my car and drove off. As I pulled out of the driveway, I was frightened by a noise in the back seat. I turned to see a dog! It was his beloved pet, Pepper. It had jumped in while we were inside drinking. So I returned to the house with the dog, only to be greeted by Jack who accused me of stealing his dog! "What's next! “ He yelled,” are you going to steal my wife, too!" Typical Jack Brennan humor.

So off he went to Scotland. Well his first mistake was that the marathon was at the end of the week. So he had a full week of running and drinking to get out of the way. Taconic Jack took him on a brutal fell run---you know, through the fields and up the mountains. By the time the marathon came along Central Park Jack was wiped out. But he went for a sub 3:00 anyway---mostly because I had assured him his training indicated that such a feat was impossible. He scoffed at that, saying he used to run sub 3:00 as an easy training run. He was slow to grasp the fact that runners age and with that our performances.

Well as he lined up he couldn't remember where I told him to carry the gels. He thought about tossing them. He remembered Taconic Jack’s tip about cutting them open slightly with nail clippers to make it easier getting at them on the run, but he ripped the top off and pinned them behind his race number on his chest. Off he went, stubbornly at sub 3:00 pace and after he started to die, he remembered the gels. Reached for them to find that they were smeared across his hairy chest and his singlet was stuck to him like glue. And not only that much of it had oozed down to his privates. Ooops---guess he shouldn't have cut them open. So no gels to ward off glycogen depletion combined with a too fast starting pace meant a painful run to the finish. His finish time remains a secret. The last joke of this story: the singlet was glued to his hairy chest and he had to rip it ---and much of his hair---off to remove it. Finally he agreed with me that aging had slowed us and with my summary: "aging sucks!"

Prior to this disappointment, he was starting to show flashes of his former self on the roads. In fact, he was running in the low 18s for 5K which is very competitive for a 50 year old. But things started to go downhill. He continued to join us for many of our team Ridge Runs---and was joined at times by his brother Mike (who he often told me was a much better runner than he was, but he would never admit that to his little brother).  But he had slowed a lot. Something was off. And I told him so. 

Jack suffered a lot the last few years with a variety of ailments. He was getting slower and slower and slower, but he still loved to get out there and mostly he loved telling stories on the run about the good old days.  

He was having a tough time in many ways, and he confided in his training partner about much of it. There was a sensitive person behind all the jokes.  And throughout it all he remained caring about his family and friends, although he wasn’t always so good at showing it.

We had talked on Club Night about getting together for another run. Last time I saw him running he was on the Aqueduct with Mike. Of course I accused him of slowing his brother down. He was barely moving. A sad sight. I intended to call him at work in the morning to give him a hard time as usual. Then the word got to me that he had died. I figured it was just one more of his practical jokes. I called Norm Goluskin to see if it was true. He told me that he thought it was Taconic Jack. So I frantically called around to locate him. But then I called the funeral home. It is not a joke. Central Park Jack is dead.

But when I go to his funeral on Tuesday, if he jumps out of the coffin and grabs a beer, I won't be surprised a bit. Wouldn't that be great!

A good training partner is hard to find, harder to keep as we age, and painful to lose. How many more times will I reach for the phone to call for a Ridge Run before I realize that it is true. Central Park Jack has run off forever.

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Jack Brennan Memorial Tribute

If you have to share a name with someone, I can think no better person to so with than my namesake, Jack Brennan. We both enjoyed the confusion created by having the same name in the same running community. I would joke with him by asking what our marathon, etc. PR is and I would also give him my personal race reports by saying that we had won this race or come in second in that race. He would get calls from out of town friends accusing him of lying about his age when actually they were seeing my results and age in some masters magazine.

Just before the World Veteran Games in England, two years ago I called up Sid Howard to make final arrangements for the trip and announced myself by saying that it was the good looking Jack Brennan calling, Sid shot back that he didn't know any good looking Jack Brennans. Jack and I roomed together in England and as we were about to check in I absentmindedly asked whose name we should register under and Jack's deadpan answer was " Whatever ".

Sid spent the days before competition resting and drinking water. Unfortunately Jack and I were both easily led astray. Taking turns doing the leading, we spent our time checking out the local pubs. I also dragged Jack into a fell run up King Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh, a rather large & rugged hill. Afterward I assured him that a quick dip in the North Sea , near where I was born, would be the perfect tonic for our tired legs. I neglected to tell him that even though it was August the water temperature was 49 degrees. Well, needless to say I bombed dropping out of two races the same day, while Sid won a silver medal.

Jack's event, the marathon, was the last event. I don't know why he continued to listen to me but I had one final piece of advice. I told him to use a nail clipper to slightly lengthen the tear cut at the top of his five gels. This I assured him would make them easier to open when during the race his hands would be clumsy and sweaty. Unfortunately he cut them a little too much and the Goo went down his shirt, shorts and eventually between his legs. Anyone else would have been furious with me but Jack treated it as just another story to tell.

The last few days the same line from a Joni Mitchell song keeps going through my head, "you don't know what you got 'til it's gone". I had thought that I would always have his friendship to enjoy. I'll miss him greatly.

From Chloe Foote, team member of the Central Park Track Club

Remembering Jack Brennan

A year ago April, I attended Lynn Blackstone's running party and walked into the arms of Jack whom I hadn't seen in years.  He immediately recalled many things of my past I'd chosen to forget; and at the same time, those I was proud to remember, such as going to the Allman Brothers concert with him circa 1975.  His memory was razor sharp and delightfully accurate.

Jack had his own style of lending support to his teammates.  He was often there to congratulate me at the finish of a long race asking fondly, "Why don't you try running next time?"

One can only feel thankful and lucky to have felt Jack's humor, his competitive spirit, his zest for life and his wonderful appreciation for those he shared the world with.  Death has taken a special friend, but his presence will be etched in our memory forever.

From Janet Taylor-Rizzolo, a friend of Jack:

Notes from A Non-Runner

Jack tried. God knows he tried to introduce me to running. But alas, running never became a good friend. Not that I didn't envy those who ran. I just never had the discipline it required from the get-go. He also knew that. But we remained friends...

He even invited me out to Fire Island - "The Runners Place." It was 25 years ago when Jack's sister Peggy, my boy friend Stan (now my husband) and I arrived in the land of hard-core runners and far-off nude beaches. I said, "Jack, you know I don't run and you can forget about that nude beach too." He was relentless, in his way, and would say, "maybe you will." He was almost right about the running - somehow, some way, I wound up running with Nina Kuscsik, the First Lady of Marathons, on the beach. I said, "I don't run", and she said, "You have really great form." Needless to say I was in awe that she made that comment and full of myself the rest of the weekend. "Nina said I had great form!" That was enough to keep me happy forever. I even ate extra cookies.

In addition to my perfect form, Peggy met her now husband, Tom. Maybe Jack knew about the cosmic possibilities of that weekend in advance. There were a lot of cookies in the house.

Jack also influenced my husband. Stan started running after that and completed three marathons: Neptune, NJ, the NYC Marathon and the Boston Marathon. He finally must of thought, "I got the bug." I wanted to, but I fell into the comforts of life by taking it easy. Those damn cookies did me in. Jack would say, "Come on, you can do it." My response was, "What if everyone ran, and no one was at the finish line to witness the winner, share his (or her) joy, hold the tired, and cheer and give admiration to the last person coming in? That's my place in life. That's my destiny." He laughed - no retort. I won that round. It was like winning a race to me - I got him.

I really may start running, let's be honest - even walking. It will most certainly be because of his influence. Who knows, I may even do a marathon someday, in his honor.

We were friends for 30 years. It's a long time, and I truly feel blessed that our friendship lasted that long. We kept in touch but when you don't see someone for two years, five years or even 20 years and it's the same as if you saw them yesterday, you do feel blessed. We would share, talk and feel the same - that's a friend. Jack touched people that way. To leave our world with a positive impact on so many people, and to make a difference - that is what really matters. He certainly did that. We should all be blessed with such a legacy.

Marian, Elizabeth, Alex and Carolyn; your Dad knew he had a wonderful family and not only appreciated it, but carried on a tradition with all of you. Thank you so much for sharing him with us. He will always be lovingly remembered and dearly missed. Now if I can just find my old running shoes, and maybe a cookie or two...

From Gary Harrity, a fellow student and teammate at the University of Scranton:

As a new member of the University of Scranton cross-country team, I met Jack in September, 1968.  Over the intervening years, the team never numbered more than 7-8 individuals; some were good runners in their own right but Jack quickly established himself as being in a class by himself. He was a superb athlete, but also a character, part philosopher - part prankster.  In the late 1960’s long distance running had yet to come into its own.  Its adherents were few and even by the standards of those turbulent times we were an eclectic group of individualists. Jack fit right in.

As the stepchild of the athletic department, we never had a full time coach, but Jack jumped into the vacuum setting the duration and frequency of our daily runs.  For the three years we ran together – Jack was ever the team cheerleader, mentor, and de facto coach. Jack’s training philosophy was simple ─ Never run one mile if you could run two. And the difference between a good run and a great run was going that extra mile. ─ Jack ran with an abandon and joy that few could match, yet that never stopped him from trying to bring us round to his philosophy of piling up the mileage. Primarily it was his charm and wit that pushed us to run farther than anyone of us really wanted, yet it was not beneath Jack to fall back upon guile and deception if the former should fail. One afternoon in late fall, we headed out from the University up Moosic Street to Lake Scranton.  As it was Jack’s way, running the Lake was never enough and he always strove to explore side trails if he thought he could get away with it.  As we headed past the lake, Jack assured us he had found a new short cut to run. And run we did, eventually emerging in the failing light of day about fourteen miles from our start point.  That run was the furthest I (and I suspect most of my team mates) ever ran. Even then when we realized how far astray Jack had taken us we could only laugh. It was hard to stay mad at Jack. That was the quintessential Jack leading us on runs to places we never would have gone if we had only known when we started out, but never regretting it once we returned.

If one is blessed, one will find an activity to give life balance and joy and if truly blessed to find like-minded friends to share it with.  For me, it was running and at that point in time that friend was Jack.  I was shocked to learn of Jack’s passing for I can never remember him fatigued no matter how long the run nor ever suffering any injury in our years of running together.  He was seemingly indefatigable and indestructible, effortlessly running on as the rest of us mere mortals suffering the normal array of  shin splints, pulled muscles and twisted ankles.  To his friends and family, I extend my deepest condolences. Ralph Waldo Emerson once counseled, “Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” I suspect Jack would concur.  I have no doubt that even now Jack is lacing up his shoes and waiting to lead his friends and family on that perfect run through the back lanes of heaven.

From Roger Yergeau, a legendary Central Park Track Club runner

A Tribute to Jack Brennan 

            In early 1979, I had been running for less than a year and joined CPTC.  After running with the boys several times, I got to meet one of the stars of the club, Jack Brennan.  Jack also turned out to live in the “neighborhood” as I lived on W89th Street and Jack was on W87th Street.  Jack was friendly and very outgoing and was a product of a Jesuit college like myself.  Over the years we ran many miles around the reservoir with many club members.  I always enjoyed the many funny and offbeat stories Jack told no matter what speed were running.  Jack had a great respect for Fritz Muller, but Jack always would try egg Fritz on with stories of Jack’s past exploits and who would beat whom in the next upcoming major race. 

            I was always amazed at Jack’s knowledge of rock and roll.  He knew all the groups, their songs, and always had tickets to the hottest concert in town. He was a huge fan of Bruce Springsteen and told the story many time of how Tim McClune lost out on becoming Bruce’s drummer.

            Many times he would talk of this wonderful place in Westchester where you could run for hours, Pocantico, the Rockefeller Estate.  Leaving the City one spring Sunday morning, a group of CPTC runners went to Pocantico for a long run. It was a great day exploring the trails and hills and running for what seemed for hours.  On one of our runs, we ran past a man who was driving a horse-drawn wagon with his grandchildren.  Jack instantly knew it was David Rockefeller and then proceeded to tell several stories of the owners of the running trails, the Rockefeller Family.  Little did we know that years later we would both settle in Westchester and run in the Rockefeller Estate many times. 

            The classic road trip with Jack was the Virginia 10 miler in 1981.  We rode to Lynchburg, VA with Jerry McCarthy with Jack acting as navigator.  I still remember we got all turned around after stopping for lunch and crossing four lanes of traffic on one interstate to get on to another interstate in about 200 yards with Jack shouting at Jerry between tractor trailer trucks Go Slow, Speed Up, Slow, Go! Everyone in the car thought we would never make it across the road but Jack’s got Jerry across with several near misses.  Returning home, Jack suggested we stop at Jefferson’s home in Monticello. The adventures continued when Jerry decided to lock his keys in a pair of pants in the truck.  Jack took charge and got the necessary help to open the trunk before nightfall.

            Running the MAC 50 miler in 1982, Jack kept me company for a couple of loops.  I still remember him telling me, “Holy shit, I can’t believe you won the race.”  I know he was proud of my accomplishment and happy to help a fellow CPTC member, but most of all a friend.

            My only regret is that despite both of us living in Westchester, we drifted apart.  We still exchanged Christmas cards, the Brennan card always had the kids in an unusual or unexpected pose.  I now wish that I had made that call to get together one more time.  If Readers Digest still had it Most Memorable person column, Jack would be my story because Jack, the storyteller, was a story to remember.  Goodbye my friend. 

From Stuart Tucker, a member of the Central Park Track Club

         I lost my close friend and running partner this weekend. As you all know, Jack was a multitalented and successful person. As for running, we all know of his accomplishments as a CPTC runner. But we should also note that he established three X-C course records while attending the University of Scranton.  No small task since Jack told me running the hills around Scranton made Central Park look "flat". Running was in his genes. His father, ran a 2 minute half mile in the days of cinder track, and heavy spike shoes and no training. However, we (Frank and Fritz) would often kid Jack that only his brother Mike got all those "fast-twitch" fibers from his dad ( Frank found out the hard way how true that was).

         I remember long summer days running with him in Central Park, Fire Island ,"Secret Spot" and Bovina.  It pains me to know I won't be able to do that with him again. I will miss him forever.

From Alan Turner, a Westchester resident who was a Central Park Track Club teammate of Jack

Jack was a witty, trustworthy and honorable man. He was also extremely entertaining. Running with Jack would inevitably include the question. "Did I ever tell you about the time...?" The story would end several miles later. As we got older, the miles were slower and the stories longer. The running stories increasingly were replaced with lovingly told recent events in the lives of Alex, Caroline and Elizabeth.

Back before sagas of his children replaced sagas of his running days, Jack introduced me to the carriage trails of Pocantico Hills.  He reassuringly said he knew them all well.  We soon found ourselves lost!  He then told me how he had taken Marian there on their first date and gotten her lost after having told her the same thing.  He certainly knew how to make friends! I know the trails there now very well but I've lost Jack!

From Jody Greco, a friend

I am stunned and saddened by the death of my old friend Jack Brennan. I  first met Jack at the Road Runners club at the West Side Y in the late 70's, during those wonderful, heady, early days of running.  

The last time I saw Jack was about 2 years ago in Central Park.  He had moved to Westchester, and spoke lovingly about his kids and family, of whom he was so proud.

I don't know how Jack died, but from the tributes, I gather that he had been in poor health for a while.  And yet he continued to run, even with days to live. What courage and guts he had to do that, to be so ill and still tough it out to the very end.  Indeed, running was Jack's poetry. 

I will only remember Jack as a brash, wiry, wickedly funny, full of fun, cute as a button, perennial alter boy, who, like me, came from Scranton, Pa, and who ever-so-tactfully would see me in Central Park and say 'I was hoping to see you. I need to run slow'.

Thanks a lot, Jack.

Anytime .....       

Jack Brennan Memorial Run

One week after his untimely death, his friends and family gathered for a run through the trails of the Rockefeller Estates in honor of his family.  There is a photo album of that occasion.

On March 17th, 2002, the St. Patrick's Day Races organized by the Taconic Road Runners Club were dedicated to the memory of Jack Brennan.  The T-shirt design is a copy of the memorial card given out the day of Jack's funeral.

From Bob Glover, Westchester resident and running partner of Jack:

Westchester Jack

I dubbed him Central Park Jack to differentiate him from our training partner and fellow Ancient Warrior Taconic Jack Brennan. But he was Westchester Jack as well. That is, he loved the area---the history, the running trails and more.

For years the family had a weekend home in Croton and eventually they moved to Irvington. And it was at this time that we became more than casual friends. Training partners are after all special.

Jack was big on the history of the area, including the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, as was I. We ran together often along the Pocantico River where Ichabod Crane was last seen riding Gunpowder with the Headless Horseman in pursuit. His house is right across the street from Sunnyside, the home of Washington Irving. Irvington is named for the famed author. And Washington Irving is buried just a quarter mile from Jack in the adjacent Old Dutch Church Cemetary made famous by his book. Irving also wrote “Rip Van Winkle.”

When the movie "Sleepy Hollow" came out, Jack thought he should have a starring role. I said: "What, as Headless Jack?"

Jack is buried alongside the running path of the Old Croton Aqueduct which is fitting as that path connected his life in many ways. The trail starts in Croton, not far from his former weekend home, and ends in NYC, where he lived on the West Side prior to coming to Westchester. On the trail in Ossining was his favorite race--the Double Arch Run---in which he won several trophies made from bricks. The trail runs right past the Sleepy Hollow track where we ran many Wednesday night speed sessions together. And it goes right by his house in Irvington. And it connects to trails through Van Cortlandt Park where he ran many cross-country races.

And so he is now buried just a few yards below the trail, where I run almost daily as did he. And just a few yards above the Pocantico River, where Shelly takes The Chocolate Beast to frolic in the water by the wooden bridge. And where the Headless Horseman still roams at night. Jack probably tells him some great stories!

If you want to visit Westchester Jack, aka Central Park Jack, here’s the directions on the run or by car:

ON THE RUN VIA JACK’S TRAIL:

From the parking lot, go across the street and enter the Aqueduct trail. The section from here to Jack’s grave site I have dubbed “Jack’s Trail.” The section beyond the cemetary to Ossining I named “Khalid’s Trail.” World record holder for the marathon Khalid Khannouchi of Ossining runs there daily when in the area. And Jack and I passed him many times on the trail and worked out at the same time with him on the Sleepy Hollow track.

The dirt trail goes some 400 yards before coming to a paved road. Cross Gorey Brook Road and enter the lower (to the left) of the two trails. That is the Aqueduct trail itself (the upper road is another trail which we ran often as it leads to many, many great routes). A few yards later to the left---down the hill---is Wilson Park. A quarter mile or so after that the park ends at a wire fence which separates it from the upper part of Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. Standing at that spot, looking down the hill some 50 yards is Jack's grave.  Jack loved hills and he has one to run forever now. His grave is just below the upper road that winds around the cemetery. If people want to go to his gravesite, from the trail just scramble down the bank to the fence at the corner of the park and the cemetery. The fence has been 'adapted' at that spot to gain access. Otherwise you can enter at an opening in the fence another 100 yards down the Aqueduct Trail. 

BY CAR:

Take Route 9 (Broadway) through Tarrytown and Sleepy Hollow. After passing the Philipsburgh Manor (a historical attraction---an old dutch farm) on the left (and my house overlooks it high on the hill to the right---Jack drank many a beer in our back yard looking down onto Route 9 and the Old Dutch Church), turn to the right in front of the Old Dutch Church. Enter the gates to the Old Dutch Church Cemetary. Follow the Pocantico River (which is to your right) until you see a wooden bridge to your right. Cross it. Jack is directly up the hill from there.

New York Road Runners Club Night 2002

On February 9th, 2002, at the New York Road Runners Club Night, Jack Brennan (far right) went up to the podium to accept the first-place award for the Men's Master team, along with  his teammates (L-R) Peter Allen, Alan Ruben, Jerome O'Shaughnessy, Noel Comess, Tony Ruiz, Stuart Calderwood, Alston Brown, Sid Howard.  This was the third year in a row that the Men's Masters took first place.  Over the thirty years of its existence, the team that Jack co-founded has won innumerable number of awards and titles.

The Central Park Track Club
Hall of Fame

On November 16th, 2002, at the 30th Anniversary Party of the Central Park Track Club, Jack Brennan was inducted into its Hall of Fame.  The award was accepted by his sister Peggy Bermel Brennan and his brother Michael Brennan.  The induction speech includes: "Our first inductee tonight tragically did not live to see this honor bestowed upon him. He was one of our founding members in 1972. He was an integral part of our club for more than 29 years. His tales of running were legendary; he could also run fast, particularly at the Marathon and longer. In 1977 he finished 3rd in the Yonkers Marathon, and in 1978 and 1979 he came in third and then second in the national 50 kilometer championships, breaking three hours both times. For you distance runners, that is better than 5:47 pace for 31 miles. And in 1980, he ran his marathon best of 2 hours and 20 minutes in New Orleans, and competed in the United States Olympic marathon trials. His amazing 2:20 is still number three on CPTC's all-time Marathon list. To receive the Hall of Fame award for Jack Brennan we are indeed very pleased to have with us tonight both his brother Michael and his sister Peggy."

The Jack Brennan Photo Album

The collage that appears at the top of this page was compiled from the various photographs of Jack Brennan taken by our website photographers after this website came into existence in 1996.  Of course, Jack had a life before then and outside.  Here are some contributions from friends and family:

In 1989, Jack Brennan was inducted into the University of Scranton Wall of Fame.
His notable accomplishments included:
1968 - 1970: Three Year Letterman - Cross Country
Broke home course record three straight years
1977-1978: Two-time AAH 50K All-American
1977: Third place 50K National Championship
1978: Second place 50K National Championship
1984: Second place New York State Road Runners Championship

    
The above is a clipping from a Scranton newspaper.

This is the photo of a 10-foot tall poster showing Frank Handelman and Jack Brennan
in front of the Prudential Building in Boston, 1977.

In the early 1980's, with Jack pondering
about what to do witt that fork in his hand

2001 Summer: Jack relaxes ...

Unfortunately, this is a faked picture with the Central Park reservoir background