JEREMY CARRINGTON: Larger Than Life
(or Death)
There
is no single great story about Jeremy Carrington,
34, a man universally known as Caz. Instead there are
hundreds of them, left like glittering stones along
his trail.
"He did not waste a moment of his life, and he enjoyed
everything about it," said his wife, Patricia Rosch
Carrington, trying to sum it all up.
While they were dating, he decided to pour his
considerable energy into her family's backyard football
game, and ended up breaking her father's nose. When
he proposed to her last year, he roped her boss
into the conspiracy and popped the question in the
Sistine Chapel.
A British-born swaps trader for Cantor
Fitzgerald, Mr. Carrington hosted a BBC program,
"Manhattan on the Beach," in which he documented the
daily activities of English people summering in the
Hamptons. He charmed the conductor on his subway with the
greeting, "Thank you, sir, for saving my seat."
One night in early September, he hailed a cab with a
group of colleagues. When the driver refused to
take all five of them, Mr. Carrington asked him to open
the trunk so they could put their briefcases in it.
The other four people settled into the cab. A few
hundred yards up the street, the driver asked what that
banging noise was, coming from the back.
"Oh, it's a Cazo," they answered. The driver pulled
over, popped the trunk and discovered Mr.
Carrington sitting cross- legged inside it, surrounded by
the briefcases, waving his long arms and
calling, "Helllooooo."
"A lot of people say that so many of these men and
women were larger than life," Mrs. Carrington said.
"I quite frankly think this man was larger than
death."
.
