James A. Gimbel, a broadcasting pioneer who turned his service as a radioman during World War II into a career as a top sales executive for RCA, died May 10th, 2015 in Delray Beach, FL. Jim was born April 7th, 1925 in Philadelphia, the fifth son of Elizabeth and Francis Gimbel. Jim was 90.

He was 18 and had just graduated from Northeast Catholic High School in Philadelphia in 1943 when the Army called and sent him to Fort Riley, Kansas for training.

Following a pattern that would serve him well throughout his life, he seized the opportunity and, through hard work, courage and a knack for quiet diplomacy, made the most of it.

A private first class when he left Kansas, he was a master sergeant by the time he and his unit helped Gen. Douglas MacArthur return to the Philippines, less than two years later.

On his return from the war he married his high school sweetheart, Doris Regina Pfeiffer, at St. Martin's of Tours Catholic Church in Philadelphia. He also began the first of his many jobs in broadcasting, as studio engineer for a radio station WFIL in Philadelphia. He would go on to hold similar jobs at radio and television stations in Philadelphia and later Flint, Michigan. In 1957, RCA offered him the job that would bring him back to the Philadelphia area.

Doris and Jim settled in Moorestown, NJ, where they would raise their four daughters. Last July, the couple celebrated their 67th wedding anniversary.

Jim started at RCA in Camden, NJ as a broadcast equipment salesman in the Middle Atlantic States. He rose to become director of marketing for broadcast equipment throughout the United States. Among the positions he held prior to assuming that position was sales manager for broadcast equipment in Europe, Africa and the Middle East, an assignment for which he and Doris were stationed in London.
Following his retirement in 1986, Jim and Doris moved to Waretown, NJ, on Barnegat Bay, and then to Florida.

He liked to play tennis and golf. He loved to sail.

Jim was as tireless a worker outside the office as he was in and always had a project going in or around the house or boat. He was known to break out the floodlights on a summer night when even daylight savings time was not enough to wear him out or finish one of the projects that "Dorie" needed done. She called him "Jimmy". They were an indomitable team.

He didn't know the meaning of half-way. When his passion for sailing led him to an interest in the stars, a large telescope appeared at the back of the house in Moorestown. No matter that it was late December, his sons-in-law marveled, there were stars ——— lots of stars — —— to be located, identified, observed.

Growing up, his daughters never heard him talk about the war. He was a patient listener, a good questioner and a wise counselor. But it wasn't until he was 81, and granted an interview to a Florida newspaper, that any of his daughters or their husbands knew what he had done in the war. He talked about how his division, a mechanized unit traveling in jeeps and troop trucks, took three days to cover the 100 miles between them and their objective, Manila. It was because of the numerous "two- and three-hour skirmishes against Japanese troops." Jim told the newspaper.

"The vision of war that most readily comes to mind is the big beach invasion," he said "Yes, this is war, but the real war of my memory is two, three, five or 10 men at a time facing an unknown number of enemy and shooting it out until one or the other stops shooting. Such men press on to claim a small piece of geography against a tenacious enemy who has bet their lives on keeping it."

No doubt the young American sergeant riding in the jeep, in charge of communications, was tenacious too as his "flying column" of 700 men made their way across the Philippines to the capital city. Whether at work or play; in London negotiating a multi-million dollar deal or at home remodeling a kitchen; re-rigging a broken halyard to get his boat underway or granting a daughter's hand in marriage; Jim applied his keen and kind intelligence, his imperturbable manner and his implacable will ——— never so much as raising his voice, let alone cursing ———to get the job done and done right.

In addition to his wife, Doris, Jim is survived by four daughters, Carol McLarney (and husband, Tom) of Delran, N.J.; Jeanette Shultz (and husband, Rich) of Lawrence, Kan.; Gwenn O'Neill (and husband, Ed) of Delray Beach, FL; and Nancy Gimbel, of Copenhagen, Denmark; six grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren.

A funeral mass will be celebrated on Tuesday May 12, 2015 12:30PM at St. Lucy Catholic Church, 3510 S. Ocean Blvd Highland Beach, FL. Burial with military honors will follow at the South Florida National Cemetery, Lake Worth, FL. In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs at http://www.volunteer.va.gov/apps/VolunteerNow/

Lorne & Sons Funeral Home, Delray Beach in charge of arrangements.