Death
Sherman Fairchild died on March 28, 1971 at the Roosevelt Hospital in New York after a long illness. Fairchild was buried in Greenwood Cemetery in Oneonta, Otsego County, New York. He is buried within walking distance of the home he grew up in, now the Oneonta Masonic Lodge.
He left bequests to more than 50 relatives, friends and former employees. Most of the $200+ million estate went to two charitable foundations he formed during his lifetime, the Fairchild Foundation and the Sherman Fairchild Foundation. Bequestees included Walter Burke of Winding Lane, Greenwich, Conn. Mr. Burke, the executor, was a longtime friend and business advisor. Other bequests included were to Ann Diahn Williams of Beverley Hills, California, $2 million, or 1% of the net estate, whichever is greater; Cornelia Lynn Sharpe of 111 East 75th Street, $200,000, and Roswell Gilpatric of 79 East 79th Street, $100,000. Specific bequests to organizations were Roosevelt Hospital, $300,000; the Salvation Army, $200,000 and the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, in memory of his late aunt, May Fairchild; $100,000. His will was offered for probate in Manhattan Surrogate's Court by the law firm of Cleary, Gottlieb, Steen & Hamiltion of New York. The assets of the Sherman Fairchild Foundation, headquartered in Chevy Chase, Maryland, have grown to over $500 million in recent years. The Walter Burke family continue to run the Sherman Fairchild Foundation. Bonnie Burke Himmelman is the current president.
As a result of his lifetime achievements, he was awarded fellowships in the Institute of Aeronautical Sciences and in the Royal Aeronautical Society, as well as accolades by the Smithsonian Institution. In 1979, Fairchild was inducted into the National Aviation Hall of Fame.
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Famous quotes containing the word death:
“It is difficult to accept death in this society because it is unfamiliar. In spite of the fact that it happens all the time, we never see it.”
—Elisabeth Kübler-Ross (b. 1926)
“Yet the wound, O see the wound
This petrified heart has taken,
Because, created deathless,
Nothing but death remained
To scatter magnificence....”
—Philip Larkin (1922–1986)
“Do but consider this small dust, here running in the glass,
By atoms moved.
Could you believe that this the body was
Of one that loved?
And in his mistress’ flame playing like a fly,
Turned to cinders by her eye?
Yes, and in death as life unblest,
To have’t expressed,
Even ashes of lovers find no rest.”
—Ben Jonson (1572–1637)