Remembering David Mercer…
I was alone that night back in early 2019, seated at the Cafe Milano bar in Georgetown. It was the favorite hangout of my longtime high school friend and Democratic mover and shaker, David Mercer.
I thought it was cool Milano served a special martini named after him — even cooler than having your face enshrined on the wall of The Palm.
But David had both.
Per usual, he was late. But that was just “Mercer.”
I ordered one Mercer martini and waited. Then another.
David eventually walked in thirty minutes late — flashing that big gee-gosh, I’m sorry smile as other patrons took notice of the tall, exquisitely-attired model-looking dude joining me.
That happened whenever he entered a room.
Mercer always had a good excuse for being late. But by the time he showed up and settled in you didn’t really care because his cheerful manner exuded a disarming “wait until you hear this” DC insider vibe emblematic of successful Washington politicos.
Besides, Mercer had a big heart. He always made up for being late with thoughtful hand-written notes, birthday calls, event invites and the other social niceties that are the currency of inside the Beltway dealings.
He developed and retained strong lasting relationships regardless of political affiliation — testament to his open-minded, positive views about people and placing personal relationships ahead of partisanship. Anyone who met David was touched by his kindness, optimism, clarity of thought and infectious presence.
Mercer and I were at Milano ostensibly to discuss teaming up on a bipartisan business project in the Caribbean requiring a significant ‘on site’ presence. Of course, I was all in on that hardship duty.
Through the years, we’d drifted in and out of each others’ worlds. But that was really the last time we had a good visit.
David passed away on December 9, 2021.
Today, March 29th, would have been David Mercer’s 62nd birthday. I’ve spent the past few days thinking about our last meaningful time together that night at Cafe Milano.
We talked business. But we spent most of the time recalling our summers washing dishes and bussing tables on Martha’s Vineyard in the late 70’s; how we both showed up in Washington during the 80’s — David a Democrat, me a Republican — with no connections of consequence, big dreams and still working restaurant gigs to make ends meet.
Mercer and I also discussed how lucky we were to attend Milton Academy, near Boston, for high school. It’s where we transitioned (slowly, and surely not smoothly) from teenagers interested only in sports, girls, music and partying into prospective public servants with the intellectual curiosity and wherewithal required to succeed.
College? It paled in comparison to what we learned at Milton. We also discerned that evening we’d both initially received rejection letters. Our grades were decent — but not close to those of the lucky few typically brilliant students annually accepted. It turned out we’d both written letters to admissions director, Frank Millet, saying how much we wanted to attend, imploring acceptance.
We both ended up getting into Milton. Mr. Millet wrote us back saying he always saved a few slots for those he believed would benefit from the academic rigor. “We want people who want to be here,” I recall he wrote.
That was also a good lesson in persistence as David and I eventually found later in DC. Losing a political campaign or two on the climb up from House races to big statewides and presidentials involved being broke, hungry and desperate for returned phone calls. It’s a tough town. One’s “time in the barrel” will surely come if you want to succeed.
I always love hearing cocktail lounge “campaign experts” tell me they’ve “never lost a race.” That just means they’ve worked safe incumbent re-elects, avoid brutal toss-up contests that draw the best talent, or “worked” their races from inside the Beltway from the safety of the RNC, DNC or Senate and House campaign committees.
Milton Academy has produced a long line of political luminaries — from U.S. Senators Robert and Ted Kennedy in the 20th century to Governors Deval Patrick (D-MA) and J.B. Pritzker (D-IL) more recently, to name just a few.
Republicans? Not many. Elliot Richardson from the Nixon Administration is one. But I wasn’t counting.
During David’s illness, family and friends contributed funds to support him. It was his request that their greatly-appreciated ongoing generosity be directed to Milton Academy to help students in need — as he had so been helped — and which he felt enabled him to go forward with greater confidence to realize his potential.
David’s passing occurred in the midst of the pandemic.
His good friend, Kimball Stroud, produced the finest memorial service I have ever attended — at Halcyon House, in Georgetown. Despite obvious concerns about the virus, several hundred endured on-site testing and packed the beautifully lit and outfitted room.
Among a Who’s Who of prominent, high profile Democrats from Clinton, Obama and Biden-world, I was asked to make the first presentation because of our connection longevity. While by no means a dynamic public speaker, I recounted tales about the dilapidated group houses we rented and crashed in during our Vineyard summers.
“Let’s just say they were the type of houses with associated conduct we now as parents pray our own children never encounter,” I said to laughter before ending my makeshift stand-up routine. They had no idea — those were different times.
But I was so glad to exit the stage that I forgot my primary message and responsibility was to announce the fact David’s longtime friend, Leah Pisar, had successfully helped establish the David L. Mercer ’79 Memorial Scholarship Fund at Milton Academy — and that contributions could be made online starting that day at https://www.milton.edu/graduates/give/
Besides honoring David’s memory today, that’s a primary reason I’m writing this post: to rectify my oversight last, make my own contribution, and encourage others to do the same.
Jamal Simmons — who’d just started working for VP Kamala Harris — was next in the line-up. He astutely noted that besides the fact Mercer “looked like he’d just stepped out of a J. Crew catalogue,” David, as a key mentor, taught him to avoid poisonous partisanship that prevented establishing relationships across the aisle.
“He was always in the middle of connecting people,” Jamal observed. “It didn’t matter if he knew you or not, he acted as though he did — making people comfortable and conveying he wanted to help them.” Well said.
Minyon Moore went on to praise David’s unique people skills, noting his historical relevance at the DNC in 1996 when it came to the Clinton re-elect major donor fundraising.
“David was one of the first African American fundraisers to usher-in major African-American donors,” she pointed out. “He didn’t just like people — he respected them and their viewpoints — it made him successful in a way still recognized today.”
The best anecdote came towards the end — from David’s cousin, Lauren Hobby. Now a successful New York attorney at Sullivan and Cromwell, she had interned at the Justice Department, and mentioned David’s imparted wisdom about survival in Washington, D.C.
“David told me the first day I arrived here that it’s a challenging, high pressure town where most people are doing just one of two things,” she recounted.
“He said people are walking around in their own world either buggin’ or chillin’… and even if you are buggin’ — it’s to your advantage to appear to be chillin’,” she deadpanned, bringing down the house.
That was SO Mercer. Perfect.
David really did understand Washington, and how to help people help themselves as well as each other.
I sincerely hope anyone who reads this post and knew David (or even if they did not) will make a contribution to Milton Academy in his name at the above link. Or, just say a prayer in hope that good human beings and role models like David Mercer will continue to come to Washington and succeed here as he did on so many human and professional levels.
