Paul Hammer, on a mission.
Paul Hammer jumped to his death from the Air Rights Garage. I think he’d be comfortable with that fact leading his obituary.
Police responded to the scene Sunday at 12:25 p.m.
Paul was 64 — and touched the lives of innumerable New Haveners the last 40-plus years. He was much loved, and his death has sparked an outpouring of loving tributes.
Paul wanted people to know he struggled with mental illness so that others in similar straits could find support and help. He spoke about a previous suicide attempt off East Rock to the Register’s Randall Beach with that hope in mind. Randall wrote a column about it, then recorded this interview with Paul on the subject for Storycorps. (You can hear Paul tell his story in the interview.)
Paul always showed up; he never hid.
Paul also wanted kids to ride bikes safely. He wanted immigrants to find a welcoming new home in New Haven. He wanted community theater to thrive. He wanted to see an end to violence in wars abroad and violence in the street wars at home. He wanted to help people stay out of prison. He dedicated his life to working with others to help make that happen, and found daily joy in doing so.
I first got to know Paul in 1980 when we volunteered together on New Haven’s chapter of an environmentalist’s third-party U.S. presidential campaign. It was the first of a history of idealistic longshot endeavors in which I would see Paul throw himself. Paul endeared himself to all of us with his warmth, openness, energy, and enthusiasm; with his love of music, politics, community, all wrapped in a smile. (Later in the 1980s Paul had a fun romantic fling with my sister. They remained friends, sharing a love of singing Broadway tunes.)
Over the years Paul has continually approached me — and probably hundreds if not thousands of others around town — with his latest urgent idea for a special project. His advocacy never involved promoting himself. It never involved competing with others for attention or power. It was always about spreading caring and love, sprinkled with humor and melody, envisioning a better world. I can’t remember Paul ever insulting or getting angry at anyone. It was people like Paul, I came to realize, who rather than making headlines, make cities like New Haven warm, lively, caring communities.
“Civic density” was coined by a Yale professor, Douglas Rae. He devoted a chapter to defining it in his book about New Haven, City: Urbanism and Its End. There’s also a two-word layperson’s definition of the term: “Paul Hammer.”
Paul traveled the world, staying at youth hostels — then of course brought home with him the idea of creating a hostel in Wooster Square.
We most recently had lunch at the Book Trader Cafe just as the pandemic was hitting in March 2020; he brought along someone from the Connecticut Freedom Trail to push a plan to include stops in New Haven to commemorate the Black Panther trials 50 years ago.
Back in 1980 Paul was riding his bike around town and promoting bike safety and access before that was cool. A League of American Bicyclists instructor, he never stopped promoting biking. He served as the president of the Connecticut Bicycle Coalition, and he has volunteered with the Bradley Street Bicycle Co-op.
In 2009 he tried to convince New Haven to legalize pedicab bike service, and briefly put his own steed to work ferrying customers.
Courtney Luciana Photo
Paul Hammer, second from right, with Johnny Brehon, Olivia Martson, and Joel LaChance at April kids’ bike event at Kensington Playground.
This past April he helped the Friends of Kensington Playground with a bicycle event for kids. As usual, he was pitching in with ideas and hustle. He connected organizers with a donor to get all the kids free bikes. Then he conducted bike safety training for the kids at the event.
“He was in his element,” recalled one of the event’s organizers, Paul’s lifelong friend Patricia Wallace. “Nobody had a better time that day.”
Paul convinced the organizers to hold the event a week before the annual citywide Rock to Rock event, so the kids could bring their new bikes and skills to the family ride. Which they did.
Chris Peak Photo
Hammer, left, and Banking Commissioner Jorge Perez at Yale Law School event.
Paul found novel ways to use his own struggles to help others in need with an eye to influencing broader public policy. Seated beside Connecticut’s banking commissioner, he spoke about his bipolar disorder and how a conservator cheated him out of money at this Yale Law School event to help promote government financial protection for people diagnosed with mental illness.
The list of groups Paul supported, usually in the background, seeking connection and results rather than glory, would take too long to compile and would still never be complete.
One of those groups was Integrated Refugee & Immigrant Services (IRIS). IRIS Executive Director Chris George Wednesday recalled Hammer telling him, “Now that you have a Run for Refugees, I’ll help you organize a RIDE for Refugees.” Which he did.
(Note: The suicide prevention hotline number is 800 – 273-8255.)
Paul’s death hit members of the New Haven Friends Quaker community particularly hard. Paul was an active member in the group. The Friends held an informal gathering after his death to share memories of Paul, some via Zoom, some in person at their East Grand Avenue meeting space; an as-yet unscheduled larger community memorial event is planned.
On A Mission To The End
Thomas Breen Photo
Paul, at right, at a 2018 a “bikes on board” event promoting new spaces for two-wheelers aboard trains to Hartford.
Following are some closing thoughts submitted by Kim Stoner of the New Haven Friends meeting:
In our Quaker Meeting, Paul was very much a spokesman for peace and social justice, most recently involving himself deeply in the Stop Solitary campaign — which was successful!
Most recently, he and I worked together to set up a Zoom forum for New Haven Friends Meeting, other Quaker meetings, and the interfaith group CONECT on the prevention of gun violence. Stacy Spell of Project Longevity, Leonard Jahad of the CT Violence Intervention Project, and Chaz Carmon of Ice the Beef spoke to us about their work in the community, particularly with young people at risk, to provide alternatives to violence.
But, to speak more personally, Paul and I bonded over our love of musical theater. We created our own musicals that were compilations of songs, mostly from musical theater (dragging in my voice teacher, Ingeborg Schimmer to accompany us and help arrange the music, and several of our Quaker friends to sing along). The first, and biggest was “A Disagreeable Evening of Song,” presenting pairs of songs with diametrically opposed points of view — like “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” paired with “Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning” and “New York, New York, It’s a Wonderful Town” paired with “Why Did I Leave Ohio?”
Paul continued to involve me in his theatrical/musical projects, and I brought him in as my acting coach when I got the part of Dame Carruthers in the Gilbert & Sullivan opera “The Yeoman of the Guard.” (I got the part based on my singing, but the last time I had acted on a stage was in my 5th grade school play.)
Sadly, the last project Paul proposed to me was to put together a musical of anti-suicide songs. He brought in “Gracias a la Vida” — a song very close to his heart, written by Violeta Parra, who later committed suicide. At the time, I was obsessed with the band Queen, and suggested “Keep Yourself Alive,” “Don’t Try Suicide,” “Save Me,” and perhaps most sadly, “Keep Passing the Open Windows.”
He fought so hard himself to stay alive. He was deeply involved in peer support with, as he called them “Bipolar Bears.” He was such a strong advocate for mental health services and for people with mental illness. It is just so sad that his own biochemistry betrayed him in the end.
I wouldn't say I was more than an acquaintance if that, but I met Paul a few times when Hotel Duncan was still Hotel Duncan (before the company that reneged on it's promise to rehire the staff bought it). Way before the property was for sale he came in periodically trying to put a hostel in it. While he was usually reeking and dripping with sweat stopping in while on a bike ride and the idea wasn't taken too seriously, he talked passionately about it enough that I knew some specifics that would be required (e.g. a separate entrance from the hotel, a common space for the guests). Like a lot of characters in New Haven, he was hard to take sometimes, but definitely will be missed. I hope he is in peace now.