Dennis Stackhouse

Animals loved him, bankers feared him, and his friends admired him for his loyalty.  Sadly, after a brief
but devastating bout with dementia, Dennis Stackhouse passed over to the big greenfield development
in the sky on May 22 nd .  Born in Maine, and raised by his beloved parents Dorothy and Clayton
Stackhouse primarily on the north shore of Boston, he attended Danvers High School and went onto the
University of Massachusetts in Amherst. There he excelled at writing friends’ papers and succumbing to
the mischief of the Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity that earned him the nickname “Bobcat.”

Those who met him saw that he was friendly and smart, but those who knew him well understood his
creativity and fearlessness. After a brief but distinguished career at Brigham’s Ice Cream, he spent
several years at John Hancock, before starting Boston Realty Advisors.  Specializing in commercial real
estate, he adopted a focus on overlooked and underserved communities. Dennis redeveloped the Old
Mr. Boston Distillery in Roxbury, navigated the cultural and legal eccentricities of the North End, became
one of the first American real estate developers in China in 1985, and remediated and redeveloped
several contaminated properties in the Liberty City and Opa-Locka communities of Miami into elderly
housing, retail, and offices.

Dennis loved dogs, especially the late-model Basset Hound his son raised, and he particularly loved the
underdog. His tenants were a potpourri of non-profit charities, dreamers, schemers, entrepreneurs, and
organizations focused on women, children, and workforce development.  Dennis saw the best in people,
and he saw the best of the disregarded communities in which he built first class buildings. He spared no
expense: “Brass & Glass”, as he called it, where granite and marble, crown moldings, inlaid wood, and
mahogany paneling were featured in neighborhoods that others drove quickly past.  He donated
generously, forgave rent all too frequently, and let any number of shysters pray upon his gentle
heartstrings. In the end he had more pride in his projects than their returns, leaving his lenders begging
for mercy.

Miraculously he survived several downturns in his career, including a devastatingly unfounded allegation
of fraud that was eventually dropped by the courts, and managed to recover, thrive, and grow.  Dennis
was resilient above all else, and in his own quiet way, a fighter.  It seemed he never lost a night of sleep,
no matter how stressful the situation or overwhelming the odds. He loved his work, but spent his
downtime voraciously reading, bombing down the slopes of Killington well into his 70s, and drowning
the flowers in the garden to the chagrin of every landscaper and neighborhood green thumb who
begged him ‘to stop with the hose.’

As in horticulture, he was overly generous in philanthropy:  He proudly supported the YWCA, Youth Co-
op in Miami, and local youth football in Roxbury. He quietly gave money to people hard on their luck. 
He helped both the formerly incarcerated and people struggling with addiction to find jobs and make
their rent; supported numerous day care, nursery, and elementary schools in the neighborhoods where
he worked, and tirelessly helped the sick find treatment, pulling strings to get people care with the best
doctors in the nation.  He once helped pay for a 7-year-old Miami girl with bone cancer to receive an
experimental expandable implant, ensuring that her leg would continue to grow. She went on to
compete on her high school cheerleading team. 

While his counterparts in business flaunted their charity, Dennis told no one because his motivation was
not recognition, but an innate sense of right and wrong. Sadly this generosity was often exploited, and
when his reputation was besmirched late in his career, he chose to fight quietly in the court system
rather than publicly defend himself and set the record straight. 

He leaves behind his passion for literature in both his sons, Andrew and Brent, to whom he
enthusiastically read Treasure Island at bedtime in a number of terrible pirate impressions and
variations of a Scottish accent. Dennis also leaves behind his bride of nearly 50 years, whom he
endearingly referred to as “Lynda with a ‘Y’”.  But Dennis will be missed mostly in this world by the
countless number of friends and colleagues who were touched by his kindness, generosity, and
mischievous humor.

A celebration of his life will be held in September. To RSVP, email stackhousememorial@gmail.com. In
lieu of flowers, donations may be made in Dennis’ honor for community dementia services at
https://give.caringkindnyc.org/Stackhouse