Dean Speir of Westhampton beach died on October 26. He was 83.
Born in Brooklyn on September 12, 1940, to Marianna (nee Downing) and Frank Speir, he spent much of his childhood as a military brat crisscrossing North America in the family plane, often taking the yoke from his father. He developed an enduring affection for sailing while navigating the waterways of Long Island.
After attending Choate preparatory school, Speir enrolled in Adelphi University as an English major, where he discovered his profound love of theater, music, and writing. Following graduation in 1963, he took the road less traveled and left a trail of provocation and inspiration in his wake, his family said.
His career choices were as wild and unpredictable as his spirit, they said. Alternatively and sometime concurrently, he was a writer for the local paper, a graphic arts designer who operated his own studio, a movie reviewer for multiple East End radio stations under the pseudonym Waldo Lydecker, a cook on a sailboat in the Caribbean, a federally licensed firearms dealer, an expert witness for the courts and even a kitchen knife salesman.
Though fond of travel, Speir’s heart never strayed far from his beloved hometown of Westhampton Beach. A haven of solace, it was the backdrop of his most treasured moments, according to his family. Despite his involvement in local politics since the tumultuous 1960s, he was no politician. He was, in his own words, a lover of the village, a sixth-generation child of its embrace. A fixture at village meetings for many years, he served on the Zoning Board, the Ethics Board, and even threw his hat into the ring as a candidate for village trustee.
A man unapologetically strong-willed, Speir charged headfirst into life, never second-guessing his decisions or bending to anyone’s will, his family noted. He was an iconoclast, a true non-conformist who refused to bow to the whims of a mundane world.
“As Dean Speir sailed towards the sunset, he did so with an infectious laugh that echoed through the years, a razor-sharp intellect that cut the darkness, and a spirit that defied definition,” his son, Colin, wrote. “He raged against the dying of the light until the moment of his choosing, embracing that final adventure with courage and grace. On October 26, he slipped peacefully into the embrace of sleep. Rest easy, Dean, for your journey continues on a different horizon, where the words flow like the sea, the music never stops, and the stage is forever yours.”
Speir leaves behind a legacy that matches the intensity of his life, his family said.
He is survived by his wife, Jeanne; his children, Peggy and Colin; his grandchild, Elanora; his stepchildren, Katrina, Baier, and Sharron; and his sister Gail.