Victor Leon Befera
April 1, 1926-March 1, 2025
Palo Alto, California
Vic Befera was a man who scorned traditional obituaries, eschewing what he felt were overused expressions such as “passed peacefully,” and “surrounded by loving family.” Yet we cannot lie, he slipped away gently with a sigh, as a beloved daughter held his hand fast. He was sent off with love from all three adored daughters at his side, as he entered into final rest, a turn of phrase he preferred, on March 1, 2025, exactly a month shy of his 99th birthday.
“Please remember me more for who I was, rather than what I did” were among his instructions. Throughout his well-lived life, Vic proudly admitted he was indeed an April Fool, as well as a self-proclaimed invincible romantic and dreamy idealist. To his final days, he was easily moved to tears by favorite poems and phrases of favorite music.
Vic asked that he be remembered for the letters he had written, an easy request for anyone who has ever received one. He spent a lifetime crafting gorgeous, loving missives, many typed on his loyal Royal typewriter, begrudgingly replaced in the 70s by an IBM Selectric, which was as far into the modern age as he was ever willing to tread. His letters gave lavish thanks for a kind and thoughtful gift, shared a cherished memory, and enumerated in specifics why he loved the recipient: daughter, sweetheart, grandchild, or dear friend. Newspaper editors far and wide received more scorching notes, as Vic took on public causes such as keeping branch libraries open, banishing ugly public art, and decrying an encroaching, overly entitled private school, as well as scoldings for overlooking an important date or printing an egregious typo. University admissions clerks were startled to receive courtly prose enumerating the talents of applicants fortunate enough to earn Vic’s friendship and support. And when so moved, he penned deeply affecting poems, treasures that wistfully described his three daughters’ transition to adulthood, the all-encompassing love of his first grandson, the loss of his father, and the Venetian wedding of his middle child.
He also asked to be remembered by the art forms he loved, noting that in typical Italian fashion they were his first loves (“Il primo amore no si scorda mai.”) Words defined him; as a boy he read dictionaries and throughout his life Vic never used a garden variety word when a more eloquent option was at hand. While serving in the Navy during WWII, a dreamy teenager with brilliantined hair, he hauled an enormous duffle bag of books, including a massive edition of “Greatest Poems of the English Language” in which he penciled a list of his favorites on the inside cover. He also learned to adore opera from his Italian immigrant parents, Delmo and Rose, and went on to cherish music in many forms, including classic stage musicals, and the Great American Songbook.
While we celebrate Vic’s loves, we should mention a few specifics of his life. He was born in Hibbing MN – actually an early hamlet called Brooklyn, which was later absorbed by the larger Hibbing - and enjoyed an idyllic childhood as the youngest son. His chronicles of those years were published as a series in his hometown paper, recounting warm tales of his beloved community - as well as a hair-raising story in which his devoted mother stashed in his infant crib the copper coil from his father’s illegal prohibition-era still, to elude the revenuers (federal agents) who couldn’t cite or make an arrest without that crucial piece of paraphernalia.
In 1943, at the age of 17 he enlisted in the war effort, serving a stint in San Francisco before shipping off to the Philippines. He fell in love with California, and after returning from the service and earning a degree in Journalism from Michigan State, he moved to Palo Alto to start his newspaper career at the Palo Alto Times. There he met Bea Morton, a feisty young widow with three small boys, who left him positively thunderstruck. Defying his protective Italian mother’s disapproval of the match, the pair married in 1952 and Vic became parent to Bea’s three boys: Skip, Rex, and Dennis. Together they added three girls to the family: Lynn, Carla, and Lisa, all of whom he cherished.
In 1953, Vic joined the San Francisco Chronicle, where he launched a Sunday Datebook column highlighting the explosion of celebrity performers coming to Las Vegas/Reno/Lake Tahoe. During those years he met and covered a starry roster including Duke Ellington, Nat King Cole, Jack Benny, Marlene Dietrich, and Tony Bennett, among many others. Indeed, Vic filled in for a colleague to cover Bennett’s regular appearance at the Fairmont’s Venetian Room in 1961, on the night the singer unveiled a new song about little cable cars climbing halfway to the stars. In a post-show backstage visit, Vic asked about that new tune, to which Bennett responded “That’s something new we thought we’d try tonight for the first time. Did you like it?” Vic agreed the soulful anthem was a wonderful addition to Bennett’s repertoire - and for decades to come, he and the rest of the world enjoyed “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.”
Vic’s marriage to Bea lasted 48 years, a partnership that expanded to work when she helped him found a thriving PR firm, until her death in 2000. At that time, Vic was convinced he had bid adieu to his greatest, only amor. But life had more in store, and a few years later he discovered a second all-encompassing love with a sparkling blue-eyed Irish lass, Joan Meyn, whom he met at a local church’s Widow & Widowers Club. Her warmth, charm, and effervescence brought him new life, and together they started a joyous second chapter, traveling around the state, across the country, and every year to Hawaii, where they held hands and watched sunsets in bliss. Joan lit up his life and was warmly embraced by Vic’s children. Her presence was a true blessing and Vic, along with his entire family, was devastated to lose her in 2023.
One of Vic’s favorite phrases comes from a prayer by Cardinal John Henry Newman, which describes when “the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over.” Vic’s long and happy life has come to a close and he will be deeply missed by his children and their spouses, Lynn Befera (Stephen Gold), Carla Befera (Bruce McLeod), Lisa Farfan (Marty Farfan), and Rex Morton (Peggy Morton). He also leaves adoring grandchildren Ryan McLeod (Gina Caputo), Lily McLeod (Angelo Domitri), Kyle Morton (Shannon Morton), Kyle Morton (Shannon Morton), Lyndi Morton, Dan Morton, great-grandchildren Avery and Carter Morton, Chance and Drake Fullmer, Alaya Eveland, and many cherished nieces and nephews across the country. He will also be mourned by the entire Meyn family, and his hundreds of dear friends, near and far.
He asked to sign off, not with “Sincerely” but with the words his mother taught him, “baci cari” (dear kisses).
Tags: veteran
