Legendary advocate, trusted advisor, and valued mentor, colleague, and friend, firm founder John P. Jacobs was widely regarded as Michigan’s finest appellate attorney, briefing, arguing, or supervising over 1000 civil cases on appeal. Few lawyers in the country amassed an appellate record as lengthy and impressive as John’s, and his legacy of exceptional advocacy, professionalism, and absolute commitment to his clients and their cases continue to inspire and guide the work we do at Jacobs & Diemer.

We could honor John with a recitation of the plethora of awards and accolades he received from his peers, a long list of his victories and triumphs, or a discussion of the profound impact he had on the legal profession, the City of Detroit, and the countless clients who reaped the benefits of his talents and dedication. But shortly after John’s passing in September 2023, Timothy Diemer, his law partner and the beneficiary of his wisdom, guidance, kindness, and example, gave the following eulogy that paints a vibrant picture of the man and the qualities that made him so beloved and respected by so many inside and outside of the law.

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John Patrick Jacobs was a great lawyer, a great mentor, a great friend, a great husband, father, and grandfather. He was an especially great law partner. John was great at many things, and I’ll get back to these great qualities about John a little later, but I want to start with something John was not great at. And actually, the opposite of great, something John was really, really bad at. Without any sense of exaggeration, John was the worst, and I mean the absolute worst driver known to man. Many of you here know exactly what I am talking about. Many of us shared the same terror of being a passenger while John was driving. It was a stressful experience no matter how long the commute, a five-hour drive to court in northern Michigan or five minutes from the office to the Detroit Athletic Club for lunch.

Granted, this is an odd way to start a eulogy of a man I loved and considered a second father but trust me, it will make sense. John knew he was terrible at driving but would never admit it publicly. When someone would beg to let them drive instead of him, John would say no with fake umbrage, but would later admit to me in private that he knew he was a menace behind the wheel, an early sign he trusted me enough to share his weaknesses. “Lane lines are an abstraction” is what he would tell me. And he certainly drove accordingly.

A trip with John featured the car swerving back and forth, crossing the fog line on the right, an over-correction to the left to cross over the center line, an over-correction back to the right across the fog line, back and forth over and over again. The car traveled sideways just as much as it moved forward. John observed stop signs and red lights at a 50% clip. You had to be a backseat driver if you were going to make it out of there alive.

As much as I enjoyed talking with John and learning from him, I was terrified of these learning lessons while he was behind the wheel. Now what does this have to do with why we are here today?

Quite simply, it is a miracle that John never seriously injured himself, his passengers, or other motorists. There is no logical explanation for how John could drive this dangerously for more than 50 years and come away completely unscathed, aside from the occasional mirror being knocked off the side of his car by a bright orange construction barrel with flashing lights that John somehow did not see.

No earthly force can explain it.

The only explanation is that John was such a great and charitable humanitarian that someone or something was watching over and protecting him. There’s simply no other way.

As proud as John was of his accomplishments in the courtroom (and there were many), he was more proud of his service to the poor and those in need. And it was not even close. John used his professional successes to give to charity rather than serve his own vanity. John’s favorite book, after all, was “The Holy Use of Money.”

John wrote large checks and leaned on his friends and colleagues to raise even more money for countless charitable organizations. This is commendable in its own right but where his compassion for humanity, all of humanity, was most evident was the dignity and respect he showed for the less fortunate. John never walked past a panhandler on the street in downtown Detroit. Not once.

One time a beggar asked John for money but he did not have cash on him, so he wrote “good for $5 at Lafayette Coney Island” on the back of a business card and handed it to him. John knew the owner at Lafayette and called to tell him to provide the guy $5 worth of food on credit that John would later pay once the business card had been redeemed.

John then started to prefer this method of giving and gave $5 business cards to anyone who asked. It helped the people in need and Lafayette was happy for the business. At the end of each month, John would walk over to Lafayette, count up the number of redeemed cards, and make good on his promise to pay for their meals.

After a while, however, and hundreds of dollars of food vouchers had been given out, the owner of Lafayette called to apologize that he could no longer accept the business cards good for 5 bucks. It turned out that the homeless recipients enjoyed their meals so much they were saving up John’s $5 vouchers and having banquets. John then switched to handing out coupons for free sandwiches at Subway, a restaurant too small for large gatherings.

John brought me and other young lawyers at the firm with him to work at soup kitchens. And in true John fashion, rather than serve prepackaged food that had been donated, John would cater the event. Why would they deserve anything less than what John would want for himself?

I’ll also never forget one night during my first week on the job in the summer of 2005. John and I were walking to the parking garage in the hot August air when a despondent homeless woman in a wheelchair said she needed help getting up the hill on Shelby Street, a steep incline given her predicament. John was in a three-piece suit, and it was 90 degrees out, but without hesitation, John immediately agreed, and he proceeded to push her up the hill. The thought of not helping her (like so many other men in suits had undoubtedly done) never even crossed his mind. Of course, he would push her up the hill.

John was this way with everybody. He did not differentiate the dignity or value of a supreme court justice from a cleaning lady. When the janitorial staff would clean out offices at 8:00 at night, John was always willing to hear whatever story of woe they might have. And in addition to listening, John would help them. There is a file at the office called “Cleaning Ladies” which catalogs all of the pro bono projects he had done for them.

John was always friendly with the security guards who worked at our office buildings. He was on a first-name basis with each of them. John’s kindness was due to his compassionate nature but he also stood to personally benefit from treating the security guards so well. John later explained to me that if any client or insurance carrier ever doubted the amount of hours he had worked on a file, the security guards would be his star witnesses and swear that he did really work until 10:00 most nights.

When John stopped coming to the office every day, one such security guard named Karen would always ask me “How’s Mr. Jacobs doing?” The last time I saw her, I let her know the sad news that John had passed away. She paused to process her grief and recounted his kindness to her. She then remarked that for the longest time she thought John and I were father and son. We might as well have been.

John certainly treated me more like a son than a business partner, and he would often tell me, “I love you like a son.” The expressions of affection between us picked up as John became aware that his health was starting to fail him.

John was so kind to me and to my wife, Molly, long before I joined him as an associate. I did him a small, ultimately inconsequential favor of drafting a friend of the court brief in one of the big cases he was working on. After the brief was on file, John called to tell me that he was sending me and Molly away on an all-expenses paid trip to one of his favorite resorts in Canada. That was the first trip we had taken in years because we were young, broke, and saddled with debt.

When Molly and I had our first son, Henry, John gave us a “baby bonus” a substantial first payment into a college savings account. He did the same when our second son, Oliver, was born. John sent me, Molly, and Henry to Disney World. Whenever John and I went to a Tigers game he would always buy my two boys a baseball hat or a jersey for me to bring home for them. John referred to Henry and Oliver as his “honorary grandsons” and spoiled them accordingly.

When Henry was in kindergarten, his class studied homelessness and solicited donations for a local shelter. Henry came home from school that day appalled and saddened and said, “Daddy, did you know that there are people who can’t afford a house? Or food to eat? And that some of them sleep on the street or under bridges?”

I told John this story. It warmed his heart to see a young child share his empathy for the less fortunate. John wanted to further nurture his concern for others with a donation, but

John wanted to do it in his own memorable way. Rather than sending the kindergartner to school with a check, John went to the bank and withdrew the donation in cash, all in singles, so five-year-old Henry could walk into school with a stack of dollar bills as big as his head.

John also welcomed me into his family, and I got to know his wife, Linda, and his daughter, Christine, as well.

John and Linda had a long loving marriage and were set to celebrate their 50th anniversary next week. John and Linda were yin and yang, and complimented each other perfectly. John’s frenetic personality and energy were balanced by Linda’s calm and cool demeanor. Linda brought order to John’s chaos, no easy task and one that can only be accomplished out of love because John was a handful.

John’s daughter Christine was his travel partner. He told me about their trips to Alaska, Spain, Puerto Rico, London among other places the two would visit. He worked hard all of those years to treat his family well and pictures of John and Christine’s trips adorned his office.

John was proud of Christine for her professional endeavors, especially when she left a great job in the corporate sector and switched to public interest work, first at a think tank and then at a charitable foundation. John quickly connected with Christine’s husband, Neil, and was proud of his public interest work, as well. Even better, the political causes Neil lobbied on behalf of were in line with John’s strongly held beliefs.

Christine’s latest career move brought her and Neil back to Michigan after living out of state. John was so happy when Christine and Neil moved close to home. The timing of their move coincided with John’s decision to scale back at the office, and he got to spend his final years with Linda, Christine, Neil, and ultimately his granddaughter, Frances. When John and I did not talk about work or politics, he relished telling me about the latest funny thing Frankie said or did.

His favorite was when Frankie was three or four years old, and her response when John denied her request for a second bowl of ice cream was, “You know I do have another grandpa.” Recounting that story always made John belly laugh because her response showed she knew how to wield leverage like a skilled litigator, delivered with the cuteness only a three-yearold grandchild could pull off.

As difficult as it was to hear John had passed, there was one light moment when Linda and Christine told me the sad news and they began making funeral arrangements. Christine and Linda asked me if I thought many lawyers would attend the service. I smiled because I knew just how many hundreds of lawyers John had mentored over his 50-year career and that the legal community would come out in droves.

Each of the lawyers here owes Linda and Christine a debt of gratitude. John had his own busy docket but was so generous with his time for others. Linda and Christine made their own sacrifices to allow all of us to get to know and benefit from John’s guidance and goodwill.

John was the center of attention at every lawyer’s event I ever attended. Everyone sought him out and had to wait their turn at cocktail parties. John was always willing to give advice and offer help to other attorneys. If all you wanted was a laugh, there was no one better for that than John either.

John was the funniest person I had ever met. And John kept his quick wit and sense of humor to the very end. Last year the law firm added a new associate, Samantha McLeod, at a time when John had stopped coming into the office. Sam knew who

John was and what he looked like, but she had never met him, spoken to him, or knew his voice. One afternoon, John called the office looking for me.

Sam answered, “Good afternoon Jacobs and Diemer.”

John: “Can I speak with Tim please?”

Sam, “Tim is not available can I take a message.”

John, “Sure let him know John called.”

Sam, “John can I get your last name?”

John: “My last name is Jacobs and I can see how little esteem I am now held in at my law firm.”

That comment was quintessential John—absolutely hilarious, quick-witted, and, at the same time, full of humility. It is not hard to imagine how most people, especially lawyers, would respond to a young attorney not knowing who he was. John’s response was self-deprecating and the opposite of pompous.

Even though John’s health had been declining, it is still hard to believe he is gone. The fullness of this room is a testament to just how meaningful and impactful of a life he led. John’s impact will be felt long after he is gone. His contributions to the law can be found in the dozens of case law precedents he created, many of them unheard of legal concepts until John came up with them. His most proud accomplishment is a Supreme Court decision that set new and stricter standards for a lawyer’s ethical obligations.

More impactful, however, is how he treated other people, most notably young lawyers. Since news of his death spread, the outpouring of condolences and John stories by email, text messages and phone calls has been enormous. So many of them begin with a common refrain: “When I was a young lawyer, John was kind enough to” [fill in the blank]. The tutelage John provided to so many lawyers will continue to be passed down as those young lawyers become old lawyers

John’s legacy will be felt in charitable causes well long after he is gone. He told me that when he died, he wanted to hire a Brink’s truck to lead the funeral procession with a sign that said, “Yes, I’m taking it with me.” While a hilarious thought, John is not taking it with him and is continuing his charitable efforts through trusts and donations after his death.

Christine, Linda, and the rest of John’s family: I am so sorry he is gone, and I am so honored to have the opportunity to know John and for the time today to speak to his greatness.