REMEMBERING MY FRIEND – SEPTEMBER 2025

Harvey Castro

This is a painful and challenging blog to write because my close friend Harvey Castro passed away recently from a rare blood cancer. I will miss him, as will his many friends and relatives. I want to share some of my memories and the fun times we've had together.

I met Harvey at a New Year’s Eve Gala in Crested Butte, Colorado, in 1999. If you remember the Y2K scare—that was the year we met. His wife, Margot Levy, and I worked as concierges at the Sheraton Hotel at the time. She introduced us. Anita and I were new to this mountain town, having recently moved there from Los Angeles. Harvey and Margot had already been there for several years.

Harvey and I became fast friends. We had many things in common. We were both from New York. Harvey from the Bronx and me from Queens. Both of us came from ethnic backgrounds: Harvey is Jewish, and I’m Italian. We worked in the IT industry in highly technical positions. We were the same age, growing into adulthood during the turbulent 1960s, and we also served in the U.S. Army during that decade. Harvey spent his drafted years in Germany, mine were in Texas. We were fortunate to avoid combat in Vietnam. Our families, neighborhoods, favorite foods, and traditions were similar. Harvey had been a Boy Scout, and so had I. That instilled in us a love for the outdoors, hiking, camping, and nature.

We shared our love for downhill skiing in the winter. At the beginning of our relationship, we would bump into each other on the mountain and ski until we got tired. As we got to know each other better, our day began with a morning telephone call about the current weather, what kind of day was expected, and the time we would meet. He didn’t like days that were below freezing, nor did I. There were so many lovely sunny days (bluebird days they are called) that we didn’t feel any urgency to get out there on cold winter mornings. We usually met around noon. We were “nooners.”

On a usual day on the mountain, we would run into friends who would join us for one or more runs down the hill. Harvey introduced me to his many friends. We usually skied for about two hours. That resulted in a lot of runs because we skied mid-week when lift lines were nonexistent, and you could ski right onto the chairlift. We felt blessed. We usually never stopped skiing until we finished. Immediately, following the completion of our ski day, we would head to the Avalanche Bar and Grill at the base area for lunch and libations. 

In the summer, Crested Butte transforms into a beautiful wildflower spectacle shortly after the snow melts. We took long hikes to places Harvey knew and wanted to show me. Or we rode mountain bikes to remote locations.

On one particular ride up a steep incline, I lagged way behind Harvey. I caught up with him when he stopped at the top, and I questioned him, “How come you get up these steep climbs easier and faster than I?”

He looked at my bike's rear gears and said, in his usual booming voice, “Oh!... You don’t have a granny gear!”

“A what?”

“It’s a big low gear that helps you on the hills.”

We got back to town and went to the bike shop to get a granny gear installed. And it made a big difference.

Harvey’s birthday is at the end of April, and mine is at the beginning of June. The year before we turned 60, we planned to celebrate this momentous milestone in Amsterdam, visiting coffee shops, museums, and enjoying that unique city. Every day that winter, while riding ski lifts, all we could talk about was plans for our vacation.

On our first night, we met in Dam Square, the city's central square. We were jubilant that we had managed to pull the trip off. Anita and I had to laugh because Harvey had a backpack that contained almost everything he travelled with. Just off the square, we ate delicious steaks at a Brazilian steakhouse. Following that, we went to a bar and were introduced to different-aged Genevers, an ancestor of gin. And that was our 60^th birthday celebration.

That was the only time we travelled together, except for trips to local hot springs near Crested Butte. Harvey had travelled worldwide for business and pleasure. When Anita and I were planning a trip to Spain. Harvey asked if the Alhambra was in our itinerary. When I asked, “What’s the Alhambra?”

“It’s a historic palace and fortress.”

We took his advice and enjoyed the Islamic architecture, with its stunning mosaic tilework and beautiful gardens. We weren’t disappointed. On another occasion, we were heading to Greece and staying on the Island of Crete. Harvey insisted that we had to spend a few days in Athens. “You gotta see the Parthenon!” Once again, we weren’t disappointed.

When I started publishing the books I have written, I always asked him to read them first because he was an ardent reader. He always gave good suggestions and bestowed his blessings upon each one. You will see his name mentioned in the Acknowledgments in all of them.

Harvey supported numerous non-profits in Crested Butte, both financially and through volunteer work. If there was a Crested Butte Town Council meeting, Harvey was there. He was such a presence that Mark Reaman of the local newspaper referred to him as “longtime council watcher, Harvey Castro,” and would quote some statement that Harvey made at the meeting.

Another memory I have is of Harvey joining us at the Santa Fe Opera to see Ringo Starr and his all-star band. We were living in Santa Fe. Harvey always tried to stop there on his road trips to spend some time with us.

Harvey’s life took a turn when he and Margot split. I remember he went through a series of medical problems. I suspect they were stress-related. Nevertheless, he and Margot remained close friends until the very end.

Eventually, he met Robbin Ryan. They became travel partners, enjoying many different trips together. Their relationship grew serious, and just a few years ago, they bought a house together in Denver. I never thought Harvey would ever move out of Crested Butte, but love did it. He was happy and enthusiastic about his new life with Robbin and their home. Then, I received a call from him around Valentine's Day two years ago, stating that he and Robbin had gotten married in Denver. Anita and I were happy for them. We last saw Harvey about a year ago, when he and Robbin stopped by to visit us.

Harvey & Robbin's Wedding Day

I missed hanging out with him when Anita and I moved to Santa Fe, but we called each other regularly. When we recently moved back to the New York area, Harvey was beginning to become ill. I never imagined it would end his life. I know he had bought a plot in the Crested Butte cemetery. So, he will be returning there. To the place he loved so much.

Rest in peace, my friend, in the shadow of the mountain that gave us so much happiness.