Remembering Mark

I remember we had joined Scient at about the same time in late 1998 and we were in our orientation when he showed me one of his thumbs which had severed when he was a kid. His family had just attached the severed half of the thumb and wrapped it up. Lo and behold, it attached itself and grew right back on, albeit, slightly disfigured.

Even though it has been many years since I last was in touch with Mark, he was one of the people who leave behind so many happy memories that every once in a while you think about them a smile breaks out.  

I just re-read his Scient farewell message from December 2000 and it brought tears to my eyes to think that one day I would be writing this note.

— Sanjeev Mohan

Here, is his final note to Scient:

 —–Original Message—–

From:             Mark Dienstag

Sent:               Friday, December 08, 2000 8:29 PM

To:                  All Scient Global

Subject:         What a long strange trip… 

There is very little I can add to the 350-odd “seeya!” emails that have crossed the global wire, but I felt I would be remiss if I didn’t issue at least one last peep… The past two years have been an incredible experience for me, and I feel priveleged to have had such a ringside seat on what will surely be remembered as a remarkable chapter in the annals of American business. I made friends for life, laughed, cried: in so many ways Scient was much more than just a job. I will miss it, and all the wonderful people I had occasion to meet and torment, but am confident that those who remain will soldier on and maintain the spirit that so sets Scient apart. Apologies to all the close friends for the impersonal nature of this goodbye (you know I’ll be in touch), and to those I never met for the spam- I figured it was better to mystify 300 than miss 1. You are all on a grand adventure, and it has far from played itself out: remember why you came to Scient, never take your role or each other for granted, and make all of us who’ve parted proud. Peace. Now, as a shareholder and not a colleague: get back to work! 

-m. 

Mark Dienstag20 Joice St #5San Francisco, CA 94108(415)837-1617 mdienstag@pacbell.net 

or, even better in the short term: signal_event@hotmail.com

Terrible taste in toppings

Whenever I think of Mark, this image just pops into my mind, right alongside the “you really have to track that guy down” thought. I’m in the backyard of Chris Nielson’s lower-Haight party-palace. This was in the period when Mark was ordering fancy suits off eBay. (“C’mon man — An Armani suit for seventy-five bucks!”) He strolled in wearing this you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me head to toe white number, complete with matching cane. He was in peak form too. Seeing the expressions on our faces, he launched into this fifteen minute neo-vaudevillian monologue. The whole perfect Mark-moment is burned into my brain, down to his ridiculous inside-joking half smile, and the way he punctuated his one-liners with well timed flicks of his cigarette.

Yesterday I told this story to my girlfriend. I figured she had never met Mark, (we’ve been dating for a little over three years and this must have happened eight or nine years ago) but her eyes lit up. “I totally remember that! He said it was actually an Armandi suit, but he’d whited out the “D”. There were some awful black stains when he got it but he whited those out too.” It’s testament to his unforgetability — those fifteen minutes are as indelible to her as they are to me.

Mark was the first friend I made at Scient, and I like to think I was his. We had sequential hire numbers — his 165 to my 166 — so we were in the same orientation class. I forget what it was called — something about our imminent combustion, I’m sure. By the Monday morning break we were yammering away at the first of our soon to be ritual smoke breaks. As far as I was concerned, the office phones were there only for the scheduling of smoke-escapes.

A truer character there never was. It was an honor to have him wander through my life.

Oh, almost forgot. I once watched him order a burger topped only with onions and extra mayo.

Sick.

-  Adam Cunha

Raconteur

Thank you Jo for a perfect tribute to Mark, you captured so much of what I remember – though no one should be, he’s not an easy person to sum.  I so much loved hearing Mark tell stories and talk, his presentation and the content usually laced with a contrasting mix of impulse, adrenalin, and smart precision.  Mark could take pleasure in skewering your pretenses and hypocrisies, but unlike most he could make you enjoy it just as much or more – beyond that he simply could be a hell of a lot of fun.  I’m struggling to remember the details of an exciting outrageous story he once told me, involving the impulsive theft of valuable works from the museum of modern art – it was at once harrowing, hilarious, and crazed.  I’d love to hear it again, and would have listened more soberly if I’d thought I’d never have another chance.  Thank you Mark for all you shared.

 -Brian Holm

Bon soir, mon cher ami

I went to Mark’s funeral today out in Queens. The weather rather perfectly matched our moods: gray, somber, despondent. I had never met his family before—all 3 women, his mother Kay and his sisters Sharon and especially Gina, looked exactly like Mark, so much so that I actually flinched when Gina first walked up to me to introduce herself, looking at me with those same big blue eyes of Mark’s. As a group, we didn’t all previously know each other—his family; Catriona, Marty, me and Brandon from the Scient crew; Alison + Joe, Sandra, Mae, and Benny, all good friends—but we parted ways today as a group all inextricably connected by our love–and grief–for Mark.

It was a sad day, yes. No lyin’. But, as we all ate together and relaxed at a Flushing kosher steakhouse after the services, it was also a day for celebration and sharing memories and photos—our tears mixed with laughter as we recounted story after story about what a hilarious, strong-willed, obscenely intelligent and just all around kind guy he was, and how he was able to fit 5 lifetimes of living and reading and writing and singing and dreaming into his relatively short one.

It was a terrible day. It was a beautiful day. It was a day that I think made us each, in our own way, remember what it is to really live and vow to do it bigger, better, more, from now on. Just like Mark did.

I kept procrastinating last night, not wanting to write a eulogy because that would mean admitting he’s gone. *And*, he was also the best damned writer I’ve ever had the good fortune to call a friend, and I wanted to do him justice with my final goodbye, as well as honor his family, too, and let them know how much he meant to me…and to everyone whose life he touched. So I sat in front of my computer, cursing the cursor, not liking what I had jotted down…and then it came to me. Mark was a poet. He would want a poem. So I wrote him one. I shared it at his gravesite today, and I’ll share it with you now.

“He always called me dollface
Off his tongue, it worked
Cigarette held between 2nd and 3rd fingers in a romantic nostalgic fashion
Cutting a figure not unlike Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin
He’d use his hand as a vehicle of inspiration, speaking as much through it as his mouth, punctuating his stories with clever wit and abandon

His mind was a juggernaut of information, fact, figures, references, songs
The way he laced them together was sheer artistry
Words loved him and he, them
Far be it for him to waste them on simple rote communication
No
He danced with them
Cutting a rug not unlike Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers
Delighting everyone with their dips and sways

He always called on me to speak my Truth
He always spoke his
And so doing, galvanized others to do the same
His eyes, piercing blue and ever-twinkling
Never looked above or below yours
But right at yours
No; scratch that:
*Through* yours
Right through to the kernel of truth behind them that maybe you yourself didn’t know was there until he looked at you just in that way
And dammit, it felt good to say
You might have thanked him for that.

He always called on us to be anything but indifferent
His passions ran deep
You could feel many things for him at the same time
Because he was many kinds of men at the same time
His rattle and hum fury belied the soul of a sensitive poet with tender heart
An egalitarian student of human nature in all its forms, ugly or pristine
An unabashed dreamer, spiritual adventurer, diving headfirst into the depths of the mind
A sometimes maddeningly stubborn ox
Playful scribe, poet, minstrel
A verbal sparring partner: I was the Allen to his Burns and we were taking it on the road, hey!
Friend, and a loyal one at that

Whatever he was and in whatever fashion
He was loved
Always loved
And he will always be”

Goodbye Mark. I love you man.
p.s. I have decided to dedicate St. Mark’s Street out here in honor of you and I will think of it as your street now. Hell, you’ve already got the name down pat. Basic criteria, fulfilled. And you’ve got the chutzpah to embody it beautifully. It’s a place befitting of you—full of rascaly characters, iconoclasts, rebellious youth (which you were a member of not so long ago), and lots and LOTS of verve. heaps of it.
xoxo
Jojo

Mark liked Oyster Stew

During the Scient days, we would head over to Taditch’s Grill for lunch every couple of weeks for their oyster stew, which Mark loved. I remember him saying he enjoyed it because it was simple. Oysters, cream, paprika, salt and pepper. He’d soak up the broth with sourdough bread smiling the whole time. I plan to go and have a bowl soon. I think he also liked Taditch’s because it was classic San Francisco, as was Mark.  Mark was classy, profane and hilarious, often in the same moment. I’m sad he’s gone.

Charles Warren

Mark the Brawler

Mark will always be remembered as a bar fighter. Whether he actually brawled in bars I can’t say from firsthand experience; but he could tell the story and you felt later like you must have been there. Mark took me to one of Adam and Blake’s powerpop shows (and introduced me to the word ‘powerpop’)–now I don’t remember the name of the band (sorry guys), but I remember Mark standing outside, signature cigarette in hand, saying “These guys would quit their day jobs if they weren’t making so much goddam money. This city is going to hell.” After we all quit our day jobs, Mark must have gone right on preaching his alternative vision: you can almost hear him prattling by the elevator on 27 when you read his book review.

Dave Hunkins

A modern classic

What sad news to hear of Mark Dienstag’s passing…

Mark was a truly phenomenal guy. I always thought of him as a true rennaissance man and a singular comedian of great wit and warmth. Talking to him was like talking to a modern W.C. Fields – he would quote films from the 20’s, and jokes from the 50’s. He was a throwback to a bygone era, and was never without his trademark smoking jacket (and a smoke).

We were buddies at Scient, but I lost contact with him over the last few years. I last saw Mark in November of 2006, at a night of karaoke in San Francisco with Joanne Weaver and Alyssa Hamel. He was in typical rare form that night. Photo is from that night.

I’ll miss Mark’s witty quips and lopsided grin, as well as his energy and sarcastic approach to life. The Scient community, and the ranks of the CMO’s (Chief Morale Officers) are sorely diminished.

Dan Bree

Funny fella

I met Mark at Scient, my first job out of college. There was a lot of bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo that went on during our time in the internet boom, and Mark was the antithesis that. Irreverent and funny, he was the kind of guy who could walk into a roomful of CEO’s with a big “Hey how are ya!” grin, rip a couple knock-knock jokes to warm things up. Didn’t matter if he was invited either.

I got to work with Mark pretty closely when we were co-Chief Morale Officers for our company. He had gotten in closer to the ground floor so in those days he was (virtually) laoded. I asked him how his life had changed since his stock soared. I’ll never forget that wry grin as he said, “Well, I take more cabs.”

Mark just believed that you don’t need to take it all so seriously, and you’re not really living if you’re not having a good time doing it. He was right, and I am sorry to see him go.

-Marc Scheff

In memoriam

Please remember our dear friend Mark with a few kind words.

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