Fred Orr, In Memory

For those of us who knew him we have lost a hero. Brain cancer took Fred Orr in just 4 months. It is sad, none of us is prepared for tomorrow without our Fred. And, sad for Fred, because he loved living so much. Fred would love nothing more than to attend his own funeral. To be with the legions of friends, the legions of women who loved him, and the perfect excuse to take a few of them out for a drink afterward.

The severity of his illness was incomprehensible. Now only his absence is left to reconcile. Too lose someone in our life reveals the influence they had-- through Fred much of my life has been molded, and still much of my future will be modeled.

Fred is 45 years older than I. Yet, the grin we shared when together was equally that of a 14 year old. We shared a certain giddiness together-- silently knowing we would continue to have fun after everyone else had gone back to work. It started just 5 years ago at a Friday lunch. At that table sat 6 people spanning every decade back to Roosevelt. This most extraordinary group has met every Friday since. At 1 o' clock --Jaguars and compact-cars pull-up-- we gather around the table for what is often the best part of the week. Fred and I would have one drink, then two, then it became 3 o'clock, then it became too late to go back to work, then drinks were a ritual 4 days a week. Our closeness was instant and never stopped growing.

It never came up, but I guess we knew it odd to be such close friends. Of which he nor I are in short supply. We liked the same things, we saw so much beauty in the world, we were doing as we pleased. Fred and I are the sort who do as we please. He was not wrought to prove any nostalgic advice-- Fred was more secure with himself than that. Each day was something to enjoy and tomorrow would be even better. That is how Fred lived. Because of this state of mind, Fred and I were bonded by a common youth.

Fred would delight at the success of others. If it were a big jury verdict, an attractive date, a trip you were taking, Fred's response had the same genuine enthusiasm. Who can't conjure that slow Dixie accent exclaiming, “Oh my God, that's wonderful!” In my observation his friends wanted the same for him. He deserved that, for Fred believed in good and had you believe in it too. He a trial lawyer by trade; an Atticus Finch by character.

What he leaves us is both concrete and cerebral. He leaves a legacy in Atlanta, the legal community, in politics, and in the lives of the many he touched. Long before Fred became ill we would part and say “I love you”. Fred meant it. Fred meant to say he loved this life and sought to tell all of us he loved that we were in his.