For a full century, Sidney Snyder lived with a steady mix of independence, humor and devotion to the people closest to him. A World War II veteran who built his life around family bonds and a genuine interest in others, he died on Nov. 12 at 100.
His children and grandchildren said his age was never the most notable thing about him. What stood out, they said, was the way he stayed present. “He was always checking in,” his grandson Matt Gorski said. “He never missed a birthday, he never missed an event. His best gift was just being there.”
Born on Sept. 4, 1925, he grew up on Washington Avenue in South Philadelphia in a working-class Jewish family. His parents, Benjamin and Sarah Snyder, came from immigrant roots that emphasized self-reliance and education. His daughter, Ellyn Downes, said her grandmother insisted on learning English and finishing school before marriage. “My father always said, ‘Get an education,’” she recalled.
The youngest of three children, Snyder spent his childhood outdoors with neighborhood friends in a close-knit community. “He said they never went inside,” Downes said. “Everybody knew everybody.”
He graduated from Bok Vocational School in 1943 and entered the Army that same year. After training in Mississippi, he was deployed to Belgium as a rifleman in the 394th Infantry. He served in the Ardennes, Central Europe and Rhineland campaigns, including the grueling Battle of the Bulge. For most of his life, he said little about combat. In his later years, he spoke more openly, especially about the brutal cold, Downes said.
Returning to Philadelphia, Snyder began a long civil-service career at the Defense Personnel Support Center, where he worked for roughly 40 years as a cutter who produced military uniforms. “I don’t ever remember him missing a day,” his son, Marc Snyder, said. “He would leave before sunrise, work overtime and get home at 7 or 7:30.”
In 1957, he married Shirley Dorfman. They settled in Oxford Circle and raised two children, Ellyn and Marc. Those years included significant difficulty. Downes became seriously ill as a child and spent nearly a year in the hospital while her mother battled her own illness.
Snyder visited both hospitals several times a week while caring for his young son at home. “He would do anything for us,” Downes said. Shirley died in 1967, leaving him to raise the children alone.
He remarried twice — first to Phyllis, who had two sons close in age to his children, and later to Lenora, with whom he shared more than a decade until her death in 1994. In later years, he had a longtime companion named Essie. Through each chapter, his focus on family never wavered.
Judaism shaped his household culturally, and the family observed Passover, Rosh Hashanah and other holidays with relatives and friends. He remembered birthdays, anniversaries and milestones, mailing cards and gifts even when family members lived far away. “Up to this year, he never forgot anything,” Downes said.
After retiring in the late 1980s, Snyder devoted more time to photography, a hobby that began during the war. He kept thousands of slides, negatives and prints documenting family life and Philadelphia scenes. He joined a photography club, entered competitions and worked with cameras and equipment for hours at a time. “He loved taking pictures,” Marc Snyder said.
He was also known for bringing bags of sale items from ShopRite — paper towels, tuna fish, batteries, toys or anything he believed someone might need. “He brought bags and bags of things,” Gorski said. “It wasn’t about the stuff. It was his way of showing love.”
Food was one of his enduring pleasures. Downes said she had never met anyone who enjoyed eating more, especially at Northeast Philadelphia’s Chinese buffets. His son recalled long meals with multiple trips for more. “He loved to eat,” Marc Snyder said.
A lifelong Philadelphia sports fan, he followed every major team. He often talked about seeing Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig play the Philadelphia A’s at Shibe Park and attending the Eagles’ blizzard-marred 1948 championship game, when fans were admitted free if they helped clear snow from the field.
His enthusiasm for sports never waned. Two nights before he died, he discussed the Eagles-Packers game in detail with his son, analyzing how the team would need to play in the cold, windy weather. “He was incredibly sharp till the day before he passed,” Marc Snyder said.
Snyder moved to Wesley Enhanced Living Pennypack Park in 2019. Though reluctant at first, he adjusted well, maintaining friendships, reading The Philadelphia Inquirer daily and staying in close touch with family. He continued taking photographs whenever he could.
Gorski said his grandfather preferred staying out of the spotlight. “He was caring and honest,” he said. “He didn’t want attention. He just wanted to be a good guy.”
Snyder often joked about the secret to a long life: “Don’t go to the doctor, and if they give you pills, throw them out.” More seriously, he believed in staying active, walking, reading and keeping his mind engaged.
What mattered most, his family said, were the people he loved. “He was a loving father, grandfather and great-grandfather,” Downes said. “He got to be with everyone.”
“He was always there,” Gorski said. “We’ll carry that with us.”
Ellen Braunstein is a freelance writer.