Jack Eckerd's friends and relatives remember a giant of industry and a man of integrity.
By STEPHEN NOHLGREN
Published May 25, 2004
CLEARWATER - For a man who built a drug-store empire and ran three times for public office, Jack Marion Eckerd was in many ways a private man.
He took delight in an Eckerd Drugs' cashier who once refused him an employee discount because she didn't recognize him.
He liked to slip away to O'Keefe's restaurant on S Fort Harrison Avenue to quaff beer with neighborhood regulars, including one patron who raised his head off the bar to tell him he looked just like Jack Eckerd.
So Mr. Eckerd may have squirmed to hear friends and family honor his life and mark his death Monday at Peace Memorial Presbyterian Church. Mr. Eckerd died Wednesday at age 91.
"I've met kings, presidents and businessmen," said Charles Colson, former adviser to President Richard Nixon, "but I never met a man of greater integrity and passion than Jack Eckerd. He gave everything he had to whatever he took on in life."
"His life touched 60,000 kids in need of challenge, reassurance and love," said former Florida Gov. Reubin Askew, referring to wilderness camps and other rehabilitation programs Mr. Eckerd began 36 years ago. "What an accomplishment, what a man, what a legacy."
"Dad's life on Earth has ended. We must not let the spirit that guided his life end," said stepson Jim Swann. "We must lend a hand up to people in need."
Mr. Eckerd's cremated remains will be interred in a memorial at Camp E-How-Kee in Brooksville, the first camp he started for troubled youths in the 1960s.
A Delaware transplant, Mr. Eckerd parlayed three failing Tampa Bay area drug stores into a national chain. His memorial service was attended by hundreds Monday and reflected the unvarnished directness that marked his life.
Only two white bouquets, two white candles, an American flag and a Bible were at the altar. It took just over an hour for friends to read a little Scripture, sing two hymns, tell a few stories and go on their way.
Swann talked of his father's love of gin rummy, cigars and pets, including a box turtle named Henry that would nibble Mr. Eckerd's toes until he shared a piece of food.
Swann drew the morning's biggest laugh by using a drug-store analogy to explain his blended family, which filled up three pews with children and grandchildren. Mr. Eckerd had two children from a previous marriage in 1957 when he married Ruth Swann, a Tampa widow with three children. "Then they collaborated on an expansion" for two more children, Swann said.
Askew recalled playing tennis as a doubles partner with Mr. Eckerd, who, true to his competitive nature, chased a high lob smack into a chain-link fence, wedging his feet underneath. Askew kneeled on the ground, yanking on the fence to free Mr. Eckerd as their opponents started laughing.
"One of (the opponents) said Florida's political history missed one of its greatest photo opportunities," Askew said. "If this hit the newspapers, what would the caption be?"
The two men first crossed paths in 1970, when Mr. Eckerd jumped from business to politics, losing a hard-fought Republican primary to then-incumbent Gov. Claude Kirk. Askew was a little-known Panhandle Democrat who beat Kirk after Eckerd had weakened him.
Mr. Eckerd really wanted to be governor, Askew said. "He was different," he said. "I really started liking the guy."
Askew later appointed Mr. Eckerd to lead a government efficiency commission that saved taxpayers millions of dollars. Mr. Eckerd also ran the U.S. General Services Administration under President Gerald Ford, created a prison industries program and spearheaded three nonpartisan campaigns to defeat casino gambling in Florida.
"He never won an election," Askew said, "but he spent most of his life in public service."
Colson, who went to prison for his role the 1970s Watergate scandal, joined with Mr. Eckerd on a campaign for Christian-based prison reform. In one Bogota prison, Colson said, water had been shut off for two weeks.
"Jack hugged every kid in that rotten, rotten place," Colson said. After visiting a spartan prison hospital in Manila, "Jack asked me, did I think a day will ever come when we don't treat human beings like this."
Stewart Turley, who took over Jack Eckerd Corp. in 1974, talked about his introductory lunch in 1966 with Mr. Eckerd, who was wooing Turley to join the fast-growing chain. Turley said they ended up at a Eckerd Drugs coffee shop because that's where Eckerd liked to eat.
"He love the stores and visiting with the customers and employees," Turley said.
Mr. Eckerd sold his stock and severed all ties with the company in 1986. He and Ruth Eckerd then proceeded to give away much of their wealth. Some causes, like Eckerd College and Ruth Eckerd Hall, are well-known. The Eckerds have also given dozens of smaller bequests, particularly in their hometown of Clearwater.
Two months ago, Turley ran into his old mentor at an Eckerd Drugs on Clearwater Beach, passing time at the pharmacy. Mr. Eckerd, who suffered a stroke five years ago, had limited ability to speak and was sitting in a wheelchair.
"He still had that twinkle in his eyes," Turley said, "a bright smile, and he was doing the thing he always loved and loving every minute of it."
