Ken was the 5th of 7 children born to Arthur Rose and Madeleine Guerard. He was raised in the home his father built and named Heidelberg. The family moved to Manhattan, NY c. 1916 and remained there until after his mother died at which time he moved with his father, a sister and a brother to Rutherford, NJ. He married Ruth Caroline Mendas
(1910 – 1967)and they had two daughters. His ashes were buried next to his wife.
Tribute to Kenneth Guerard written by Bill Cass, a nephew of Kenneth's wife. Bill was very close to Ken.
New York City
July 4, 1980
Today a great man died:
Ken Guerard.
My friend. My hero. My progenitor.
He was, above all, a gentleman.
Sensitive, perceptive,
a man of the precious past.
And the future.
A man who saw electrons
while others dismally cranked shafts.
A man who heard the blue bird
while others banged tin drums.
A man who sailed the waterways
while others splashed in mud.
One whose spirit, mind,and body,
were Olympian amid the ghettos, back streets
and swamps of our brave new world.
Ironic, to leave on America's birthday
You, son of our Revolution.
You, Torry, in the highest sence.
You never held a gun,
yet I salute you.
You never raised your voice,
yet you were always heard.
Oh, subtle patriarch
is there no one to carry on the tradition...
of gentility, and love?
You live in each one of us
whose lives you touched.
You spam a generations through us.
Through us.
Awkwardly at first, we try to.
And later perhaps, with some measure
of grace we may.
Yet never quite like you.
(1910 – 1967)and they had two daughters. His ashes were buried next to his wife.
Tribute to Kenneth Guerard written by Bill Cass, a nephew of Kenneth's wife. Bill was very close to Ken.
New York City
July 4, 1980
Today a great man died:
Ken Guerard.
My friend. My hero. My progenitor.
He was, above all, a gentleman.
Sensitive, perceptive,
a man of the precious past.
And the future.
A man who saw electrons
while others dismally cranked shafts.
A man who heard the blue bird
while others banged tin drums.
A man who sailed the waterways
while others splashed in mud.
One whose spirit, mind,and body,
were Olympian amid the ghettos, back streets
and swamps of our brave new world.
Ironic, to leave on America's birthday
You, son of our Revolution.
You, Torry, in the highest sence.
You never held a gun,
yet I salute you.
You never raised your voice,
yet you were always heard.
Oh, subtle patriarch
is there no one to carry on the tradition...
of gentility, and love?
You live in each one of us
whose lives you touched.
You spam a generations through us.
Through us.
Awkwardly at first, we try to.
And later perhaps, with some measure
of grace we may.
Yet never quite like you.
Ken was the 5th of 7 children born to Arthur Rose and Madeleine Guerard. He was raised in the home his father built and named Heidelberg. The family moved to Manhattan, NY c. 1916 and remained there until after his mother died at which time he moved with his father, a sister and a brother to Rutherford, NJ. He married Ruth Caroline Mendas
(1910 – 1967)and they had two daughters. His ashes were buried next to his wife.
Tribute to Kenneth Guerard written by Bill Cass, a nephew of Kenneth's wife. Bill was very close to Ken.
New York City
July 4, 1980
Today a great man died:
Ken Guerard.
My friend. My hero. My progenitor.
He was, above all, a gentleman.
Sensitive, perceptive,
a man of the precious past.
And the future.
A man who saw electrons
while others dismally cranked shafts.
A man who heard the blue bird
while others banged tin drums.
A man who sailed the waterways
while others splashed in mud.
One whose spirit, mind,and body,
were Olympian amid the ghettos, back streets
and swamps of our brave new world.
Ironic, to leave on America's birthday
You, son of our Revolution.
You, Torry, in the highest sence.
You never held a gun,
yet I salute you.
You never raised your voice,
yet you were always heard.
Oh, subtle patriarch
is there no one to carry on the tradition...
of gentility, and love?
You live in each one of us
whose lives you touched.
You spam a generations through us.
Through us.
Awkwardly at first, we try to.
And later perhaps, with some measure
of grace we may.
Yet never quite like you.
(1910 – 1967)and they had two daughters. His ashes were buried next to his wife.
Tribute to Kenneth Guerard written by Bill Cass, a nephew of Kenneth's wife. Bill was very close to Ken.
New York City
July 4, 1980
Today a great man died:
Ken Guerard.
My friend. My hero. My progenitor.
He was, above all, a gentleman.
Sensitive, perceptive,
a man of the precious past.
And the future.
A man who saw electrons
while others dismally cranked shafts.
A man who heard the blue bird
while others banged tin drums.
A man who sailed the waterways
while others splashed in mud.
One whose spirit, mind,and body,
were Olympian amid the ghettos, back streets
and swamps of our brave new world.
Ironic, to leave on America's birthday
You, son of our Revolution.
You, Torry, in the highest sence.
You never held a gun,
yet I salute you.
You never raised your voice,
yet you were always heard.
Oh, subtle patriarch
is there no one to carry on the tradition...
of gentility, and love?
You live in each one of us
whose lives you touched.
You spam a generations through us.
Through us.
Awkwardly at first, we try to.
And later perhaps, with some measure
of grace we may.
Yet never quite like you.
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