After hundreds of city officials, friends and supporters streamed into St. Monica’s Catholic Church — packed, hushed, cathedral-sized — this morning for the funeral of Santa Monica City Councilman Herb Katz, a Jew, Msgr. Lloyd Torgerson moved directly to the question at the top of many minds:
Why here?
“I know many of you are asking the question: Herb Katz? St. Monica’s Roman Catholic Church?” the priest began, treading carefully while stepping lightly and respectfully.
“Well, it wasn’t my idea,” and that swift rejoinder elicited a laugh that was hearty, especially for a funeral.
“It was Herb’s idea.
“Herb suggested here.
“Herb said this was the place he wanted for his farewell.
“So take it up with Herb.
“I am only the messenger.”
The result was a 90-minute interfaith service, co-featuring Rabbi Neil Comess-Daniels, whose popular Reform synagogue, Beth Shir Shalom, is exactly a dozen blocks east on wide, heavily residential California Street, which hosts both communities.
Indeed, following a rendition of “Amazing Grace,” by Helena Buscema, Rabbi Comess-Daniels formally opened the service, in Hebrew, with a traditional Jewish prayer for the dead, “El Mole Rachamim.”
For the balance of the morning, the ecumenical-minded Msgr. Torgerson, whose church often hosts celebrities, made an overt and sensitive effort to blur religious lines and accommodate the eclectic crowd.
How It Ended
The sitting five-term Councilman, who was re-elected in November and marked his 78th birthday in December, died last Wednesday after jousting with cancer.
Given Mr. Katz’s decades-long, chest-high intimate involvement in the political, social, cultural and educational affairs of Santa Monica, and the matching prominence of Msgr. Torgerson, as leader of the most celebrated Catholic church on the Westside, they intersected often enough to call each other friend.
“Every time I met Herb,” the priest said, “when I walked away, I felt he liked me.”
He explained that, euphemistically, when Mr. Katz was “nearing the door (of death),” City Manager P. Lamont Ewell summoned him to the Councilman’s hospital bed, at the Councilman’s request.
It was in this setting that Mr. Katz announced he wanted to be buried from St. Monica’s.
Without apologies or concessions, the priest thereafter overtly attempted to make everyone comfortable.
While both Judaism and Catholicism place strong accents on ritual and tradition, Msgr. Torgerson established a tone of deftness.
Striking a Balance
He tastefully glided the throng and a roster of seven fairly succinct speakers through a balanced ecumenical service that, while clearly etched in a spirit of farewell, was not weighted down with grief.
Since the Councilman fought cancer a long time, publicly and with typical disdain, his death was sad but not a shock.
At the beginning, the priest promised that the service would be a celebration of Mr. Katz’s life, and it turned out that way.
However, before any entertaining stories were told, Msgr. Torgerson and others relayed messages from Mr. Katz’s widow, Brenda, and his daughter, Dana, who were not up to speaking.
He said that when Mr. Katz declared last August he was a candidate for a fifth term that he knew would be his final one, he was asked:
“Why run and give up all of that time to the city?”
His answer was simple and eloquent: “They need me.”
Mayor Ken Genser, Councilman Bob Holbrooke, County Supervisor Zev Yaroslavsky, Suzanne Frick, now assistant City Manager of Long Beach, who often sparred with the Councilman when she worked at Santa Monica City Hall, City Manager Elwell, an old school chum and a business associate all re-ran memories that were alternately amusing and insightful.
Final Scene
With one exception, the present seven-member City Council has been together many years in Santa Monica, a community that scorns term limits.
The single exception is Michael Feinstein. When he stepped down, he was replaced by Bobby Shriver. The pony-tailed Mr. Feinstein took a position in the aisle seat of the final pew in the large church this morning.
As an honor guard escorted Mr. Katz’s flag-draped coffin out the long middle aisle into the glare of warm sunshine, trailing mourners periodically would stop and give a brief, comforting hug to Mr. Feinstein, whose cheeks were damp with tears.
