We welcome friends and family to submit your fondest thoughts and memories of Ernest, or your condolences to his family, so that we might add them to a list of tributes to share with all who visit our web site. To do so, simply complete a Memorial Tribute form and submit it to us. We will post your tribute as soon as possible.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Ernest was my best friend. He was always there when I needed him. When I started doing eBay, he would always help me. For a while when I was going through a hard time he wrote "Why aren't you listing anything and are you O.K."He wrote me every day and told me things will get better and don't worry. Always checking up on me although he was sick. There was no one like him. I will always remember his kind spirit and gentle soul. I wish you did not leave me but I know you will find that Library in the sky and your great wisdom will live on in my heart.

Karen Horvath
honey9440@aol.com

Friday, January 27, 2006

What can anyone say about Ernie except he was a really good man. He was kind, gentle and caring, and full of love for other people. I will never forget the first time I brought Emily to the studio, he just welcomed her will open arms. He scooped her up and gave her a huge hug, that image will be in my heart forever. I will cherish all the silly moments we had in the studio and of course the wonderful postcards he handed out for every holiday. You touched so many people everyday and will be missed by all of us.

We love you.
JoAnn Reid and Emily
Postman.63@verizon.net

Sunday, January 29, 2006

What can be said of such a gentle soul? A true friend... A man with such a sincere smile and warm greeting...Genuine.

His unique, quirky habits and mannerisms are remembered fondly and with much happiness by all who knew him. His unwavering loyalty to a company that let him down at a time when he needed them most. He deserved better, but he still remained positive and said he was never happier.

His life's breath was his job and collecting antique leaves of paper - ephemera. Exceptionally beautiful printed bits and pieces from someone's long-passed life. A snapshot into history. He possessed a sensibility for knowledge of craft in this area and was known for his collection, which overtook his home a long time ago.

Ernie never forgot a friend's birthday and always took the time to find an antique card, magazine, or calender that he knew his friend would truly appreciate. When he was given a gift, his appreciation and happiness was truly sincere. He would tell you at least a half a dozen times, with much joy, how he loved it! And he would express many thanks that you remembered him. A simple phone call was welcomed with the same sincere appreciation.

Ernie loved to travel out to Adamstown, PA to add to his collection and he loved to stop and enjoy some German food and beer, a specialty of the area, during these jaunts. He couldn't say enough about how delicious the food was at the Black Angus! He loved good, hearty food. For many months driving over an hour back to Popular Club not only to visit former co-workers, but to stop across the street to pick up some food at Mela's.

Strong coffee was another favorite. His normally quiet personality would surprisingly disappear while tasting something he really liked and he would suddenly and happily express, "I LOVE that stuff! I LOVE that stuff!" Chocolate, coffee-spiked foods, smoked gouda cheese, and the mere mention of shlivowitz would always be greeted with great enthusiasm. Who could ever forget his shlivowitz cure-alls? Have a cold? "Just take a few shots of shlivowitz! It burns it out!"

Ernie had some great sayings and ways of saying things and everyone he knew was a fan! Unique pronunciations and statements special to him. My particular favorite was, "It doesn't snow in the valley!" Every winter brought this perennial favorite - "Ernie, it's supposed to snow tonight." Ernie's response? "It doesn't snow in the valley!

The day I visited Ernie in the hospital, he gave me hope that he could somehow recover. As weakened and ill as he was, he struggled to try and sit up and speak to me. As much as he had been through, his spirit had not been dampened. Despite his outwardly gentle nature he possessed great inner strength and determination.

It had been a while since I had spoken to Ernie. It was next to impossible to reach him by phone since he was happily on eBay all the time with his collection. Putting on a happy face and fighting off tears, I told him that everyone was concerned for him and wanted him to get better. That I knew he could do it- plus, think of all the eBay bargains he was missing! He heartily nodded and shrugged his shoulders. He fell asleep and I left the hospital encouraged by his alertness and determination.

The night Ernie passed away, a line of storms, a somewhat rare situation with thunder, snow, and high damaging winds crossed the area about the time he left us. With warnings all over the TV, I worried about his grave condition and thought about the snow reaching valley...But I guess it was the wind that took him away.

With you a part of me hath passed away,
For in the peopled forest of my mind
A tree made leafless by this wintry wind
Shall never don again its green array.
Santayana

The meaning of ephemera is that which is short lived.
Like that which he loved so much, so was he.

Goodbye Ernie.
You will be greatly missed.

Laura Hamblen
lhamblen@webtv.net

Wednesday, February 1, 2006

I met Ernie in the late '60s, maybe 1967, through our mutual interest in comic books I drew them and he collected them a common ground that expanded to wide cultural horizons over the years. When I authored and published a series of books under the title THE HISTORY OF COMICS, Ernie supplied a stack of images he had photographed for me of noteworthy covers, which edged into another area of popular American literature: the Pulps. We never tired of talking about our pulp discoveries and comparing notes.

I can testify that the youthful enthusiasm he exhibited in his early 20s never diminished a measurable degree throughout his life. The terms blase and mundane were never applicable to his demeanor, especially when the subject was old paper. His hunting forays into the soot-layered canyons of yard sales and flea markets within a 100-mile radius were driven by dedication (often up at dawn and walking and driving for hours) and compulsion (he hated returning home empty handed and, when the danger threatened, would make a deal for a stack of magazines that would go directly in a box, perhaps to be rediscovered in some future decade).

His presence was de rigueur at even the most trivial junk soirees and he became a regular in the old-paper circuit. Of course buyers and sellers have varying degrees of stalking skills, but Ernie's was positively uncanny. His cerebral radar for old paper was nothing less than phenomenal. Numerous times, I'd walked an aisle without discovering a worthwhile scrap; Ernie would be a few yards behind me, sniffing out boxes of crumbling pulp hidden beneath tables that even their owners had forgotten!

No one loved old paper more. But Ernie's insight developed far beyond that point: he knew the material and generated an expertise few collectors could trumpet. And that expertise eventually ranged to vintage newspapers, obscure foreign magazines, and even movie posters. Matchbooks, valentines, maps. There was no end to his curiosity and appreciation for kitsch or quality.

When his mother died about a decade ago, his paper collection brought him solace and stability. In a certain way, it was his life. Unlike many, however, who become lost in their obsessions, Ernie always had his under control. Of course, exactly where things were physically may have been another matter. When he told me about running out of floor space, I insisted he visit me and we filled his station wagon to its limits with steel shelving I no longer needed. Space, the final frontier.

Through all his trials, hours of driving to and from work, car accidents, laboring on photographic deadlines through holiday weekends, and frequent blood transfusions, he always seemed to maintain his emotional equilibrium and sense of humor. Whatever he didn't have in his life, he seemed to balance by what he did have, a psychological trick that eludes far too many of us.

He lived his life in a positive, productive, thoughtful, and helpful manner, a constant Gibraltar for all those who took the time and effort to pay attention.

We miss you, old friend.

Jim Steranko
steranko@nnni.com

Saturday, February 4, 2006

In the brief two years I was Ernest's neighbor, he always had a smile and something to say. Though he seemed to be a private person, I always got the impression that Ernie had another side to him. One of great enthusiasm and lively expression. In my busy life, always running to and froe, it was always nice to catch him coming or going and have a short chat out in the back yard. Sometimes I felt like he could tell so many interesting facts and stories, but our schedules would not allow enough time. I always wondered what nationality he was, so on a whim I purchased CDs to learn Polish. Sadly, he passed away before I could surprize him with what I have learned...rozumiem, rozumiem...It means "I understand". To all who knew Ernie I say "rozumiem, rozumiem". I feel as though I lost an opportunity to get to know a great person better. He will be missed

Roger Fleming
rgft@yahoo.com

Thursday, February 9, 2006

What can one say when he looses his best friend? Their isn't enough room on the page to express how one feels. I had the pleasure and honor of knowing Ernest for the past 10 years. We talked on the phone almost everyday. He was always upbeat and positive no matter what life threw in his direction. Always capable of seeing the good in everything and everyone.a true inspiration!!! Ernest was my Collecting Buddy. We would always get together and devise a plan, then set out on the weekend looking for buried treasure. At the end of the long day we would break for dinner discussing and celebrating the days conquest like two old pirates (memories will last a lifetime). Treasure hunting will never be the same.

I miss you my friend,
Franz Kraljic
Fkraljic@aol.com

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

I worked with Ernie for 13 years, as a freelance photographer and later as a staff photographer. I never met a person who was as kind and genteel as he was. If you needed something he was always there to give you a hand or advice. He was a quiet man and kept to himself, but every now and then, he would say something and it would hit you as though it came from left field and you would say to yourself "were did that come from?" He was always fair to me, if I had to come in late or leave early because one of my girls was sick it would be ok. He would always looked for ways to improve the moral of the studio; he and I would meet in the morning to discuss what would work best. He will be missed my all who knew him.

Gary Mason
gjmason@bwwonline.com

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

I can still picture Ernest prowling the flea market wearing his old blue denim jacket, beat up hat and carrying his worn out bag. It was an absolute pleasure visiting Ernest at his home where he would show me some obscure collectible that he found in a box accidentally on a shelf somewhere. I would enjoy sharing a coffee with him while picking his brain about comic books, pulps and other related paper. I tried to make a point to visit him once a month and last saw him on DEC 10th.

Ernest was a kind, gentle trusting man who I was proud to call my friend. I will miss him very much.

Anthony Pfau
FTComics@ptd.net

Saturday, February 18, 2006

I don't know how to say just how much I miss Ernie. He was a true friend to me. There will never be a day that goes by where he will not be thought of. We first met when I had my antique shop. Ernie was one of my first customers. We both shared a love for old books and memorabilia. We became friends very fast and talked every day about books. We both loved to talk about the journey books could take you on. Ernie taught me so much about old books. I will never see a beautiful book or a piece of old artwork without thinking about my dear friend. After my antique shop closed, Ernie got me a job at Popular Club. We rode to work everyday together for fourteen years.We talked about everything together. He became so much a part of my life, that I don't know how I will be able to have the rest of my life without him. Birthdays will never be the same again. He always made my birthday so special. He always knew just what I would love. Of course he knew me better than I knew myself. The last couple of months have been terribly sad. Watching my dear friend suffer due to this terrible illness. Which first hit him about ten years ago. He would get so weak but somehow he always bounced back. This last time he had nothing left to fight with. Although he never lost his spirit . Even up to the end he thought he would be coming home and I never had the heart to tell him he wouldn't. He said Debbie stop worrying so much, I have everything under control. Except this time he didn't. I guess God just needed him more than I did. I really don't know how that can be possible because I will always need him. I miss him terribly. I think he was an angel who came to visit for a short while. He touched the lives of all that knew him. Ernie was loved by us all. A true friend who always knew how to make you smile. I truly miss you dear friend

Debra Cullen
CULLEN@ENTER.NET

February 23, 2006

My Uncle Ernie was the greatest man that ever lived. He was so unique and very giving. I loved his stories. Oh, his stories was what I looked forward to every time he visited. When he told his stories (and he had many) he would tell them with passion. I can still see him in my mind as he tells them. There was one that I still vaguely remember but it sticks in my mind because it contained the words "loping and grinning". Now I don't recall what this story was about but someone in it was "loping and grinning" and at the time (I think I was 10 ish) I didn't know what loping meant but I do recall Uncle Ernie laughing hysterically and thrashing his arms around while telling it.
In the past few years I always looked forward to his visits for Thanksgiving. He seemed to arrive just minutes before the turkey was ready...he said he smelled it miles down the road. He always came with a turkey and yes, more stories. His life was unending adventures. I will miss my Uncle Ernie and am extremely saddened by his passing. It was years too soon. I do expect that he is still telling those stories to other lucky souls who I'm sure are just as fascinated as we all were with hearing them. When it's my turn to go to heaven, let me assure you, the first story I will ask Uncle Ernie to tell me is the one where someone was "loping and grinning". Good bye Uncle Ernie, I will miss you greatly.

Katarina Lafuente
mattsmom006@yahoo.com

Friday, May 26, 2006

The last time I saw Ernest was at the Allentown Paper Show. As usual, he was very upbeat and happy. I was saddened to hear last week that he had passed away. Ernest graciously took me on several trips to the flea markets with him several years ago. I had never been to the one he took me to before (Lambertville), and as we drove, he explained the fine art of finding old books and magazines at the places we visited. One bit of advice sticks with me to this day. "Jack," he said,"You must look for MANY items when you go to these sales. If you look only for pulps, you will most likely be disappointed. If you look for pulps, and comics, and magazines, and hard cover books and newspapers, you will ALWAYS find SOMETHING to buy and have something to take home." I often repeat this statement to my wife when explaining my own passion for collecting. Needless to say, she is not impressed with the philosophy. We visited many times and I always found Ernest very upbeat and positive. You would never know he had a serious illness. The Allentown Paper Show will not be the same without you my friend.

God Bless You.
Jack Juka
multicynic@aol.com

Wednesday, December 6, 2006

Ernie was a close friend of mine with an even greater passion for collecting than my own. I first met him at my yard sale when he snapped up a whole box of paperback books from the 1950s. I visited him many times after that day and we would often bump into each other at paper shows where he would show me the rare treats he had acquired. His vast wealth of knowledge and artistic temperament were a rare and unique combination which endeared him to everyone he met. We became close friends and I will miss his warm, friendly smile.

Mark Lee Rotenberg
marklee@eclipse.net