Ellen Braunstein
At every bend of the cross-country course, Nathaniel Twer would look up and see his father again. Somehow, Doran Jay Twer had made it from the starting line to another stretch of trail, then to the finish, cheering all the way. Even during years of serious illness, family members said, he rarely missed his sons’ games, meets or milestones.
Twer, a longtime management consultant, gifted storyteller and devoted family man, died on March 26 at Abington Memorial Hospital following a respiratory illness. He was 78.
Relatives said that his persistence reflected a man shaped by a close Jewish upbringing that emphasized family responsibility, humility and reliability.
Born on Nov. 19, 1947, in Wilmington, Delaware, he was the younger of two sons of Charles and Beatrice Twer. His father, a mathematician and scientist at DuPont, ran one of the first nylon testing labs in the country. His mother worked for years as a rabbi’s secretary at Congregation Beth Shalom.
The family was deeply rooted in Jewish life in Wilmington. Twer attended Hebrew school, celebrated his bar mitzvah and confirmation, and grew up immersed in synagogue life.
Though not formally observant as an adult, his brother, Daniel Twer, said he carried Jewish values throughout his life: “Doing good and not ill, treating people kindly, being warm and friendly.”
Even as a boy, he stood out for intelligence and competitiveness. Relatives said he had a sharp mind, quick wit and natural curiosity. He grew into a standout basketball player at Mount Pleasant High School, where he became one of the team’s stars and scored 29 points in one game, a total long remembered in family lore.
He attended Columbia College, majoring in history during the turbulent 1960s. He later earned a master’s degree in education from Teachers College, Columbia University and taught at the progressive private school, Ethical Culture Fieldston School in Manhattan. He coached sports teams and brought the same energy to teaching that he brought to athletics.
His knowledge and curiosity were legendary. His wife, Marguerite Del Giudice, recalled a long car ride during which he delivered an impromptu lecture that began with “the Visigoths and the fall of Rome” and ended with Vietnam.
Basketball remained a constant. A knee injury ended his varsity college career after freshman year, but not his love for the game. Later, while working in Philadelphia, he helped form a company team known as the Hay Chargers that played in the Philadelphia Industrial league. He was selected for the league’s All-Star game at the Spectrum and continued playing pickup ball into his mid-60s.
When basketball finally receded, golf took its place. He described his approach to the game this way: “I set my expectations low, and then I meet them.” Family members said he played for years and valued the companionship as much as the score.
Away from the court and course, Twer’s professional life was equally varied. After earning another graduate degree from Penn’s Annenberg School for Communication in the mid-1970s, he explored several careers. He did freelance writing, political polling and communications work, and served as the Philadelphia-area media coordinator for Arizona Rep. Mo Udall’s 1976 presidential campaign.
He joined The Hay Group in 1982, where he spent many years as vice president for marketing and communications and later as a senior consultant. Clients included General Dynamics, Bucknell University and Major League Baseball. Later, he launched his own consultancy, Doran Twer Communications, focusing on charter school development in Philadelphia.
Those who knew him said his real gift was human connection. Del Giudice said he could read a room instantly and make people comfortable. Quiet by nature, he became magnetic when speaking publicly. At company parties, retirement dinners, anniversaries and family events, he was repeatedly asked to emcee. “If you put a microphone in his hand, he turned into Billy Crystal,” she said.
Daniel Twer said his brother became the family’s great convener after their parents died, bringing relatives together “for occasions both big and small, both sad and joyous.”
He met Del Giudice at a Fourth of July picnic. She was a reporter for The Philadelphia Inquirer; he was then an executive at The Hay Group. She later recalled meeting him felt like “old friends reconnecting after a long absence.”
They married in 1988 and moved to Jenkintown in 1993. The couple had two sons, Nathaniel and Aden.
As a father, relatives said he emphasized character more than achievement. He urged his sons to stay humble, care about others and “do the right thing.” He coached their early teams and followed their later achievements with pride.
About 13 years before his death, Twer was diagnosed with mantle cell lymphoma, a rare and incurable form of the cancer of the lymphatic system. He endured repeated rounds of treatment, including chemotherapy, immunotherapy and later CAR-T therapy, which is genetically engineered immune cell treatment. Del Giudice said that through it all, “the man never complained.”
His final years also brought a quieter joy: becoming grandfather to Malakai, known as Kai. Though illness limited his energy, relatives said he adored visits from the child and treasured watching him grow.
Those close to him said the qualities that had long defined him remained evident to the end.
He spent a lifetime appearing where he was needed — at the finish line, around the family table, or beside someone who needed encouragement.
“He was incredibly patient and wise,” Del Giudice said. And he never stopped trying to make life easier for the people around him.”
Ellen Braunstein is a freelance writer.