The Middletown Press (Middletown, CT)
Tom Ullmann was an easy man to know
The sanctuary at Congregation Mishkan Israel in Hamden was filled with hundreds last Sunday to honor the memory of Thomas Ullmann, a career state employee who defended poor people in criminal cases.
Let that sink in.
This man defended the forgotten and the damned for 32 years. You’d have expected him to toil in obscurity for his entire career, yet somehow his sudden death in a hiking accident only seven months into his retirement had drawn together a huge portion of the Connecticut legal community, and a vast number of friends and admirers. The flag at the courthouse in New Haven, where Tom had long served as head of the Public Defender’s Office, was lowered in his honor. As I listened to the tributes from the pulpit, my thoughts about how this had come to pass took shape.
The speakers, from esteemed members of the judiciary to his closest loved ones, all described Tom in strikingly similar terms. He was a man of principle, who did not shirk his responsibility to take on some of society’s most difficult tasks, as he did in defending Stephen Hayes in the Cheshire murder case. He was a humble man of tremendous strength. He was unapologetic about his clear-headed views on what he saw in the world, and his thoughts about how it could and must be made more fair for all of us. He was passionate about everything that mattered to him, especially his family and friends, the peacefulness of the woods, the smells of the kitchen, cheering in sports stadiums, and countless areas still and yet for him to discover.
Through it all, Tom extended warmth, interest, and humor to all he encountered … a manner that could not be overwhelmed by any challenge or sadness he might experience along the way. What might appear to be simple decency, was in fact evidence of Tom’s deep ability to connect with all human beings. His beauty and strength ran straight to his core.
Everyone in the sanctuary knew these things. That’s what made Tom so rare. Unlike so many in public life who worry that their own humanity will be seen as a weakness, Tom knew better. His unique gift was his understanding that our humanity is actually our greatest strength, and he called upon all of us to share and pursue that understanding.
Tom and I were colleagues for 25 years, but I was never a member of his office, or socialized with him outside of work. His family will have no idea who I am. Yet perhaps that makes me an appropriate person to say these things. You see, Tom’s pebble was cast into the vast pond of our collective existence. It rippled to me, and far beyond, further than his closest loved ones will ever know. He touched me and so many of us with the same warmth, humor, brilliance, wisdom, humanity and passion that he touched those who knew him the best. He did not hide who he was.
He was an easy man to know.