Jerry H. Loyd

Hampton- It is with our hearts full of sorrow and enduring gratitude to him that we announce the passing of Jerry H. Loyd—ready friend, proud and devoted father and grandfather, and, above all, deeply loving and dedicated husband to his partner of sixty-three years, Suzanne. In keeping with their long love story, she was there by his side on Sunday, June 28, when, at age 96, he left this earth. Born in 1929 in Bellows Falls, Vermont, Jerry understood the importance of hard work and especially of humor, which he applied unfailingly and liberally. Son of a tree surgeon, he spent his childhood in Bennington, Vermont, climbing trees, outwitting his teachers, and playing sports, particularly football, where he distinguished himself as a running back, helping his team to win the state championship. When he arrived at the University of Vermont with a football scholarship and reported to practice, the coach looked at all 5’8” of him and said, “Get out of here, kid, you’ll get killed.” Jerry loved to tell this story, how relieved he was not to get knocked around by “grown men,” and how eager to apply all his ingenuity to earning his tuition. In addition to ROTC, he worked a half dozen jobs throughout his time at the university, including founding a ski school, running a coffee and donuts operation, and fixing up old cars with his brother Jim to resell to students. He even did a stint as an ice sculptor. He told his family often that he went to school with fifty bucks in his pocket and came out, in 1953, with his B.S. in economics and five thousand in the bank. He was an officer in the army from 1953 to 1955, at Fort Carson, in Colorado, as part of the Mountain and Cold Weather Training command, which trained specialists and infantry replacements in military rock climbing, skiing, and winter survival. He was tapped to equip soldiers who parachuted into mountainous terrain with enough skiing know-how to make their way through the snow and cold. He remembered he was surprised at how adept he was at rock-climbing, part of the training. “All those years in the trees with my dad made me strong.” But he didn’t keep at it. Why? “Because I was scared to death,” he quipped. “With nothing but raw strength, luck, and God on my side.” He had no fear of relocating to New York City where he pursued a career as an investment analyst and management consultant. While working at Moody’s Investor Services, in the treasury department at Standard Oil, and then as manager of the Financial Planning and Analysis Department at Esso, he attended night school and earned his M.B.A. from New York University in 1960. He joined the accounting firm Arthur Young in 1963. In 1969 he was made a Partner and in 1974 was placed in charge of the management services in the metro region. In 1978, without ivy-league pedigree or family connection, solely based on his skill and force of personality and the luck he always believed in, he was asked to join the investment bank Morgan Stanley as Chief Financial Officer and Managing Director. There he thrived, expanding his role to Director of Finance, Administration, and Operations, leading the bank with brio and infectious passion, into, as he put it, “the real world of business planning and management.” He frequently referred to these years as the best — and most thrilling — of his life. A man with enormous stores of energy and affection, he balanced the demands of office and family with grace; no matter the hour he made sure he was available to help with homework, to listen and provide perspective. But after decades of rising before the sun and returning home well after dark, Jerry decided it was time for a change. In a letter written in reply to a business school president, inquiring after Jerry’s interest in becoming the school’s next dean, he confessed he was growing less enamored of “the somewhat abstract life away from real people and real things.” He had had his fill of the city, too, the commute he once so enjoyed, and, for his next chapter, looked to the coast of New Hampshire, where he’d vacationed as a boy with his family, his own father commuting back and forth from Vermont on weekends. Moving to Rye Beach, he was involved with several different businesses and investment endeavors. With his wife Suzanne and local partners who together formed the Great Island Trust, he embarked on developing the Wentworth-by-the-Sea property, returning the then derelict hotel to its original structure to facilitate its preservation, dredging the marina to accommodate larger vessels, and beginning a redesign of the golf course. He was an active member of men’s clubs the Green House and the Red House and for a time the Lion’s Club. Among his great joys was golfing. He traveled around the world to play with cherished local friends, to Ireland and Scotland, and as a former scratch golfer, carrying a 6 handicap well into his 60s, he competed with vigor — winning the Summer Classic and the Senior Men’s Net Championship, among other tournaments — at Abenaqui, his golf club in Rye, one of his happy places. He started his day with The New York Times and finished it with a book, and later in life he decided to learn to read music, enriching the repertoire his father taught him — old standards on the ukulele and boogie woogie numbers on the piano. He had a mean left hand, a fine, reedy baritone voice, and was a natural and enthusiastic harmonizer. He is survived by his wife, best friend, and other half and home in every sense, Suzanne M. Loyd, his sister Meredith Ellen Quinn, and his daughters Meredith Loyd-Marshall, Ellen Loyd De Benedittis, and Amy Grace Loyd and their husbands and partners—Tom Marshall, Andrea De Benedittis, and Cody Melville; as well as his grandchildren—Fiona Loyd Marshall, Eveline Heartfield Marshall, Luca Loyd De Benedittis, and Matteo Loyd De Benedittis. He has also left a long legacy of wisdom delivered via witticisms, one-liners, linguistic reversals, and gleeful ribbings (of himself and others), as when he confided at a recent family gathering: “I am not all that smart” — untrue, of course — “I am, however, spectacularly good looking.” He waited a beat and then added, “In life the best laugh you have is at yourself. Don’t miss it.” With Jerry, those who knew and loved him missed out on very little and his memory is not only an enormous comfort and blessing, but an invitation to let go and laugh a lot, to find your joy and your people and hold on to them for as long as life will allow. He held on for as long as he could, and we are eternally grateful. A mass will be held in Jerry’s honor on Monday, July 13th, at 11 a.m. at St. Theresa’s Church (820 Central Rd) in Rye, New Hampshire. Graveside service will follow for immediate family at Rye Central Cemetery. In lieu of flowers donations can be made by mail in support of Vermont Veterans’ Home, 325 North Street, Bennington, VT 05201, 802-447-6510.

Jerry H. Loyd

November 9, 1929 - June 28, 2026