Beloved husband and father
Morris John Lurie
June 12, 1917-April 14, 1961
It is here, under the tree, that Jeffrey Lurie comes to kneel and to whisper and to cry. Nearly 50 years have passed since his father died of cancer, and Lurie's grief remains as raw and as overpowering as it was when he was a boy of 9.
To most, it seems as if Lurie has it all. A successful, beautiful wife. Two healthy teenage children. More money than he could possibly spend. A Main Line estate. And the keys to Philadelphia's most beloved professional sports franchise.
But there is one thing Lurie longs for, one thing neither his wealth nor his fame can provide. It is why he's the upbeat, live-for-the-moment man he is today, why he embraces adventure and encourages free thought, why he indulged his dream and bought the Eagles in 1994, and why he gives his head coach and team president the freedom to make tough, sometimes unpopular, decisions. He is chasing a void he can never fill.
Jeffrey Lurie just wants his dad.
Not afraid of risk
Lurie breezes into 333 Belrose Bar and Grill in Radnor just a touch late on one of those sun-kissed May days that eases the memory of a rigorous winter. There's not a hint of humidity nor a cloud in the sky, and the fashionable eatery - with its colorful walls, expensive flower arrangements, gourmet chic menu and well-dressed patrons - is jumping during the lunch-time rush.
In the morning, Lurie had been at his stadium, Lincoln Financial Field, entertaining sponsors with an event held in the Eagles locker room. Now, with the afternoon free, he is fulfilling a promise made in March, before he signed off on trading his franchise quarterback to a division rival.
