The man simply known as Gibby: Gilbert Lewis, 1949-2020

The phone call, which was more of a rarity in recent years compared to general phone texts and Facebook messages, lasted for more than two hours two weeks ago.

In typical fashion, the range of topics during the conversation roamed all over the place, from past experiences together to local sports figures to politics to his baby brother’s untimely passing just a week prior to the call.

And when the call ended, much like every other phone call in our nearly 40 years of friendship did, two simple phrases were uttered.

“I love you, Gilbert,” I said.

“I love you too, James,” my friend said.

But in the middle of the conversation, my beloved friend and former colleague Gilbert Lewis, known better by thousands as simply by his nickname “Gibby,” cracked a joke about three calls he received that day, the other two being Jersey City basketball legends Mike O’Koren and Mike Rooney.

“Rooney, Hague and O’Koren, that’s like a Jersey City backdoor trifecta,” Gibby laughed, referring to hitting a trifecta with a horse that you didn’t handicap to be part of the ticket and still got lucky to win.

Unfortunately, that was the last time I got the chance to speak with my long-time friend, because we lost Gibby last week to cancer. He was 70.

The late Gibby Lewis (right) with fellow referee Buck Dabydeen

Gibby is a one-name moniker in Hudson County sports circles. There was never a need to utter the Lewis part. Gibby needed just one name, like Cher, Madonna and Elvis. You said the name Gibby and everyone knew who you were talking about. It seemed like everybody knew Gibby and most everyone loved him -- well, considering what day of the week it was.

And everyone who knew Gibby had a Gibby story. Or two. Maybe even three. I had several, but most of them are not for print.

And when Gibby told a story, it became an instant classic, an epic like “Gone with the Wind.” There might not have ever been a better story teller alive. That’s not saying he was telling untrue tales, because as a proud member of the United States Marine Corps (Semper Fi, do or die), Gibby only spoke the truth, even if you didn’t want to hear it. Much like Jack Nicholson in “A Few Good Men” with his famous line, “you can’t handle the truth.”

But Gibby telling a story was incredibly entertaining and without a doubt hysterical.

“He could embellish a story and make that story last 20 minutes,” said O’Koren, who became friendly with Gibby when O’Koren was playing basketball at Hudson Catholic and became closer when O’Koren headed to Gibby’s beloved North Carolina to play for the legendary Dean Smith in 1977. “When Gibby told a story, all you could do was laugh your ass off. He had an incredible sense of humor.”

When O’Koren was playing for the Tar Heels, Gibby made several sojourns to Chapel Hill to watch O’Koren play.

“He brought a whole bunch of people with him over the years,” said O’Koren, who became an All-American for the Tar Heels and led Carolina to the 1977 NCAA Tournament championship game against Marquette and Jimmy Boylan, another long-time friend of Gibby’s.

“Gibby got to know all the other players, the coaches,” O’Koren said. “And they all liked him.”

Before Gibby even met O’Koren, he established himself as an outstanding athlete in three sports. He played baseball, but he truly made his mark in basketball and football at St. Joseph’s of the Palisades in West New York.

“He was a great athlete,” said O’Koren, who played many a summer league basketball game at St. Joseph’s School courts, a place known for its metal backboards and metal nets. “He really could play basketball.”

Ed Finn knew Gibby even longer than O’Koren.

“I knew him from growing up in St. Aedan’s,” said Finn, who said that he knew Gibby for about 55 years. “I knew him forever.”

Finn, who runs the Dan Finn Classic, the top-level high school basketball tournament held every January at the Jersey City Armory in memory of his late son, who was tragically killed when he was struck by a car in Myrtle Beach, S.C. in 2004, called Gibby “my wild and crazy friend.”

“He was as loose as a goose,” Finn said. “I never had a problem with Gibby. There are people who you can call friends and then there are those who would go through a wall for you. If I needed him, I guarantee he would come to my aid right away. When Dan died, we asked Gibby to do the Prayer of the Faithful at Dan’s funeral and he told me that it was the most difficult thing he ever did.”

Both Gibby and Finn were respected basketball officials, as well as organizing the Jersey City Recreation High School Basketball League for 20-plus years.

“I figured I must have officiated about 100 or so high school games together,” said Finn, who worked with Gibby at several of my games when I was the head girls’ basketball coach at both the Academy of St. Aloysius and St. Aloysius High. “When you put the summer league in, we must have worked over 1,000 together. Most nights in the summer, we worked four or five games together every night.”

Finn has fond memories of Gibby with the whistle in his mouth.

“I think Gibby had a passion for literally everything he did,” Finn said. “And he was in charge. He had that drive and energy in everything he did. Gibby was one of the best and if I was refereeing a top game, there was no one else I’d rather work with.”

Steve Rubbinaccio, the Union City native and another highly respected basketball official, agrees about Gibby’s talents as an official.

“Gibby was the toughest on the outside and softest on the inside,” Rubbinaccio said. “If you were his friend, you were a friend for life. If you were lucky enough to be inside the circle with him as a basketball official, there was no one else you wanted to work with. No one else you wanted to be in a war with.”

Gibby was such a highly respected official that he was assigned to work the Prime-Time Shootout game in Trenton in 2003 that featured both LeBron James and Carmelo Anthony in high school. Gibby also worked several high profile NJSIAA state playoff games, as well as several Hudson County Tournament championship games.

The late Gibby Lewis (far left corner) officiating a game in Trenton that featured Lebron James in 2003.

Gibby was also the underclass (freshman and JV) assignor in Hudson County for several years.

For a good portion of his life, Gibby worked for the City of Jersey City, as a supervisor in the Jersey City Department of Recreation and later the Department of Parks.

On a personal note, Gibby was assigned to work with me at P.S. 40 when I was in charge of Jersey City Recreation’s Biddy Basketball program, coaching and working with kids ages seven through 13. I never once had to ask Gibby for a single thing in terms of assistance in coordinating as many as 600 kids in that gym on a daily basis. He took the initiative almost daily offering instruction and positive guidance. Never once did I have to instruct him what to do.

Legendary Naismith Hall of Fame coach Bob Hurley, who was once the Department of Recreation director for a stint, also had a long-time relationship with Gibby.

“We were life-long friends, going back to since we were teenagers,” Hurley said. “We were contemporaries growing up. He was just a tremendous guy, a man’s man. He was a terrific athlete, a guy who could play with anyone. He was a loyal friend if you ever needed one. He loved my kids and was respectful to my wife. He was always a complete gentleman to them.”

If there was problem that Gibby had over the years, it is that he had struggles with drugs and alcohol. Part of Gibby’s demons came from having to serve in the Marines during the Vietnam War. It definitely played a major role in his demise over the years, but he was clean and sober over the last nine years of his life, something he was very proud of – much like the pride he had in being a Marine.

“His course, his route to becoming a college official was impacted,” Hurley said. “I think the demons took away from his potential. He battled it. He was never going to be a ‘Yes’ man. But he was always true to who he was.”

St. Peter’s Prep head football coach and athletic director Rich Hansen also enjoyed a close relationship with Gibby.

“Gibby marched to his own beat,” Hansen said. “But if you were his friend, he had your back for life. He was a fellow Blue Jay (both being St. Joseph athletes), so he was close to my heart there. Professionally, he was always someone I could turn to. If I asked him for something, he’d figure it out. There aren’t a lot of people like that. If you were his friend, he had you covered for life.”

Hansen said that Gibby had a unique approach in everything he did.

“He had a doctorate in street smarts,” Hansen said. “He knew how to handle people, how to talk to people. He found a way to get things done. He once said, ‘If you want things done, Coach Hansen, you call a Marine.’ We had an honest, genuine friendship. He took care of the people who he considered his friend.”

Of which I considered myself to be one of thousands.

“One of the best things about Gibby is that you could not see him for a year or so, but he’d pick things up like you were hanging out with him last night,” O’Koren said.

Gilbert “Gibby” Lewis, USMC, leaves a wife, Paula, a son, Evan, and two daughters, Olivia and Charlotte. There was no funeral service. He was already cremated. There is talk of a Memorial Mass later this year.

For now, we’re left to grieve, reflect, remember and pay tribute to truly one of a kind, the one who put the “U” in unique, the one and only Gibby. Rest in peace, my brother.