Por Doug Curlee | Editor en general

Friends and neighbors mourn a ‘very special guy’

Tuxedo Park, just off Golfcrest in San Carlos, has the things many neighborhood parks in San Diego have.

There’s a large grass play field. There’s a nice childrens’ play area. It has plenty of space for people to walk their dogs.

It also had something else many parks don’t have — a genuinely good man who was loved by all.

Jim Brannick was everybody’s friend — beloved of two-legged and four-legged park users alike.

His kindness earned him the nickname “Mayor of Tuxedo Park.”

Now, he’ll be remembered that way.

He was the kind of person everyone wanted to talk with, and Jim talked with everyone.

Jim would walk several blocks from his home to the park at least once a day, and often twice a day.

People knew Jim was always up for a chat.

Dogs knew the pockets of his pants were always loaded up with dog treats. Those pockets were usually empty when Jim walked back home.

“We moved here from Texas several months ago,” said Ulla Gonzalez. “Jim is probably the nicest person I’ve met since we’ve been here.”

“Jim did more than just walk around the park,” according to Veronica Bestwood. “He kept an eagle eye out for everyone and everything. If you needed help, Jim was always there for you.”

Dave Dorfman says he was the most outgoing guy you could ever imagine. “I can’t tell you how badly he’ll be missed around here.”

His widow more than agrees. Monika Brannick is a professor of mathematics at Palomar College.

They met and married during the 16 years Jim ran an advertising agency in Germany.

“He was always outgoing and friendly. He just loved people. He was a very good man, and everyone will miss him.”

According to friends, Jim had a varied background, and was extremely smart and very well read. He talked about time spent in advertising and sales around the Broadway theater district in New York City.

Born in Brooklyn, New York in 1933, he did like many Brooklynites did and went to Fordham University.

When younger, Jim entertained thoughts of entering the seminary, but decided it wasn’t for him. Being that listening and talking is much of what priests are meant to do, he might have made a good one.

Jim and Monika came back to the U.S. from Germany in 1977, and Jim was ready to retire.

Monika says he’d had enough of European winters, and said he wanted to be in a place where there was sunshine and warmth.

“It didn’t take us long to decide that San Diego offered everything we wanted, and that’s how we got here. Jim just wanted to retire, and he did so. He was very happy here.”

Brannick spent his days walking around Tuxedo Park, often with a 5-pound dumbbell in his hand, trying to get the exercise his doctor recommended for his heart’s health.

Of course, carrying all those dog treats probably helped, too.

Until one day at the end of August, they didn’t help.

It was so very rare for a day to pass in the neighborhood without seeing Jim that people worried when it happened.

Neighbors went to check on Jim, and found the door to the house unlocked. They went in to check, but no Jim, until they got to the backyard.

Jim had apparently been raking in his back yard garden area when that heart gave out.

The “Mayor of Tuxedo Park” was gone.

Lee Hilbert has been heading up an effort to create some sort of memorial at the park for Jim.

“We tried to get a park bench with his name on it, but the city tells us no one can do that anymore. Now, we’re trying to get some help from Councilman Scott Sherman to rename the park after Jim.”

You’d like to think Jim would be happy about that — so long as someone brings along lots of dog treats for his four-legged pals.

They still look for him every day.

—Reach Doug Curlee at [email protected].