Peter G. Decker Jr., a changed man

He grew up poor, the youngest of seven kids, in a run-down home with three bedrooms in Norfolk's Lamberts Point. But Peter G. Decker Jr. will tell you he's had a wonderful life.

His father, an immigrant from Lebanon, was a junkman. His mother, whose parents were born in the same Lebanese village as his father, worked in a school cafeteria.

On Saturday nights, his father would bring home a paper cup of ice cream, and the kids would each get one spoonful. Two, if the vendor was generous.

"We thought that was just heaven," Decker said. "We didn't know we were poor. We just knew we were loved, and we were happy."

The material deprivations of his youth instilled a manic passion to succeed in Decker. He excelled in academics, went to law school and became a powerful attorney and judge.

He married a former beauty queen, Bess Kolantis, and they have three successful sons and seven grandchildren.

At age 75, he has a financial empire, a law office on the downtown Norfolk waterfront, half a dozen philanthropic concerns and an ego to match. He's one of the region's most powerful movers and shakers.

Yes, he's lived a wonderful life.

Even after he was told he had cancer.

Rumors had long circulated that Decker, known as "Uncle Pete" by those close to him, had been sick.

The rumors were true. He had been terribly sick.

"We all knew he was hurting, but he never let it show," said Charles Cloud, a retired Norfolk judge who grew up with Decker. "He's very private with his private life."

Decker said he now feels compelled to share his story.

"Cancer is a miserable thing," Decker said. "It changes your life forever. Perhaps by telling my story, it will help others."

The story isn't pretty. Decker has had cancer surgery three times since 2007. The latest, last November at Duke University, nearly killed him. He was bedridden for three months as an open wound healed on his hip.

Twice he was rushed to the emergency room after the wound began bleeding. Once, he nearly bled to death, requiring emergency surgery. His sons, Peter III, Phil and Paul, were told he might not survive the night.

The experience changed him. He's more religious and has slowed down to appreciate life. Most of all, he said, cancer has deepened his relationship with his wife of 49 years.

Bess Decker has been his caretaker. While he was bedridden, she remained by his side. She changed his bandages daily or was always there when home health workers from Bon Secours changed the bandages.

"She was my guardian angel," he said. "I got so low at times that I didn't know if I was praying to get better, or just to be allowed to rest. She was the difference, she was the reason I survived. I don't think I would have made it without her.

"I've always loved my wife, but I don't know that I ever felt like I couldn't live without her or without anyone. Now I idolize her."

Decker never thought much about death before cancer. The gym at his law office was his fountain of youth, and he worked out there daily.

"I always felt immortal," he said. "I felt invincible, like nothing would ever happen to me."

Cancer humbled him. Within hours of being told he was sick, Decker drove to Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church.

"I sat down in the front row, by myself, in the sanctuary and said, 'we haven't spoken for a while, and that's my fault,' " he said. "I prayed for quite a while, and I felt a warmth there I hadn't felt in decades.

"Since that day, I haven't been far from God."

Decker may not have gone to mass regularly, but he has always been generous to charities, from those supporting diabetes and heart disease research to local arts programs. He is a fundraising legend at the St. Jude Children's Research Hospital in Memphis, Tenn., which does research on childhood cancer.

Fifty years ago, actor and singer Danny Thomas, who like Decker was of Lebanese descent, asked Decker to head fundraising in Tidewater for St. Jude. Decker has done so ever since.

Decker is an entertainer who sang in nightclubs to help pay for law school. He performed with Thomas onstage and hosted dozens of telethons on local TV. He's organized golf tournaments, luncheons and a yearly raffle of a local house, donated by developers. He's cut records, with all proceeds going to St. Jude.

The Norfolk Coffee and Tea company sells Uncle Pete's Gourmet Coffee, with proceeds going to St. Jude.

Richard C. Shadyac Jr., the CEO for St. Jude, said he doesn't know how much money Decker has raised but said it's at least $50 million and may be more than $100 million.

Decker, a member of the St. Jude board of directors since 1971, raised $1.74 million last year, he said.

"He's an icon at St. Jude," Shadyac said. "He's a prolific fundraiser. What he's done for St. Jude has been truly remarkable."

Now the American Cancer Society is on Decker's radar.

"Somewhere, someone did some cancer research that allowed me to live," Decker said. "I owe them for that."

He called former Norfolk City Councilman W. Randy Wright, the event chair the Relay for Life cancer benefit race, to be held today and Sunday at Harbor Park. "How can I help?" Decker asked.

You can recruit teams and volunteers for the relay, he was told. But most of all, Uncle Pete, if you tell people about your experience, it will raise awareness of cancer, Wright said.

Decker hosted a breakfast to benefit the relay at his law office last month. In front of about 40 people, including some of the city's most influential business leaders, he spoke for the first time publicly about his disease.

He choked up, momentarily, as he talked about Bess, his caretaker.

Outgoing, immaculately dressed and well-groomed, ready with a kiss for the women and a hug for men, Decker has always been one-half Las Vegas, one-half old Norfolk. He commands attention whenever he enters a room and especially when he walks into the d'egg restaurant, owned by his son, Phil.

"How are you, baby," he says to a judge, who rises and gives him a kiss on the cheek. One by one, most people in the restaurant, the powerful and blue collar alike, rise up and clasp his hand. It's a daily lunchtime routine.

People are drawn to him. And he loves it.

Friends will say his thirst for attention comes from his hardscrabble youth. "He came from nowhere, and just look at what he's done," said Robert G. Doumar, a lifelong friend and a federal judge.

"He's made a great deal of money, but he managed to do so without hurting anyone. There are not many people who've made a great deal of money without hurting people."

Decker won't say how much property he owns or talk about the many business deals he's concluded. But he owns property all over the region, and his law practice is prolific. It's safe to say he's a millionaire several times over.

All of that money meant nothing when he visited his doctor in 2007.

"Peter, you have cancer," he was told.

Decker said he did not accept the diagnosis for days. "I wanted to say, why would you lie to me?" Decker said. "I was in total denial."

Doctors recommended surgery to remove a small growth in an internal gland. He had it done quietly in a local hospital.

He was declared cancer-free and within a few weeks was back at work. A year or so later, during a routine physical, his doctor suggested that he get a chest X-ray.

"Why do I need that? I ran 10 miles this morning," he said.

Just get the X-ray, his doctor said.

It showed a spot on his lungs. Tests revealed that it was lung cancer unrelated to his previous cancer.

He had surgery in early 2009 at Duke University to remove part of a lung. Then came radiation and chemotherapy treatments.

"He took his last radiation treatment on a Thursday, and on Friday he left for Europe with my mom for 30 days," Paul Decker said. "Do you know anyone with the stamina to do something like that?"

His prognosis was upbeat. Decker began working out again and was soon back to running 10 miles a day. Then, in mid-2010, he felt a bump on his hip. Eventually, it made sitting uncomfortable.

His doctor said it's probably a cyst. Go get it drained, Peter, he was told.

He went to Bon Secours DePaul Medical Center, but doctors there could not find any fluid. Their eyes were downcast when the procedure ended.

"Don't tell me it's cancer?" he said.

It was.

Two nights later, he and his son Paul were singing at the Harrison Opera House with the Tidewater Winds show band, a concert they host every July.

Between songs, he began to pay tribute to his wife. He choked up and his voice trailed off before he regained his composure.

It was 1962, and Decker was at a dance at Norfolk's Greek Orthodox Church with a longtime girlfriend. He was a young attorney, recently out of the College of William and Mary law school, and a rising star.

He danced with his girl and then walked around the room, greeting people.

Then he saw Bess from across the room. "I could not believe any human being could be that beautiful," he said.

He asked Bess to dance. Reluctantly, she agreed. She knew all about Peter Decker, grand man about town.

After a few minutes, Decker's girlfriend cut in. "She said to Bess, 'Excuse me, I'm with him,' " Peter Decker said. "Bess replied, 'that's fine, you can have him.' "

That did not deter Decker, who got her phone number from a friend and called her. Nine months later, on Dec. 1, 1962, they were married.

Life has been good in the 49 years since. They have a house on the Lafayette River, a luxury suite at Old Dominion University home football games, condos in Florida, downtown and Ocean View and take frequent vacations in Greece, Lebanon and the tropics.

But his career also has been trying for Bess. Her husband works long hours. He's been chairman of the Norfolk airport authority, Nauticus and the Virginia Board of Corrections. He's currently on the Norfolk State University Board of Visitors. Late-night phone calls remain the norm.

He's spent much time trying to help revive downtown. He pushed the City Council to build a cruise-ship terminal and led efforts to convince downtown businesses to pay additional taxes to provide increased security and other city services.

The Downtown Improvement District he helped found has been credited with sparking the restaurant revival along Granby Street. The Downtown Norfolk Council honored him with a lifetime achievement award earlier this week.

Over the years, Decker has met with thousands of local residents - people seeking legal advice, help in getting a loan, advice on running for office or help with finding a job.

"He will see anyone," Phil Decker said. "He does his best to help anyone. Maybe 80 or 90 percent don't deserve his help, but he helps anyway."

Mayor Paul Fraim said that "Pete plays a role that nobody else can play. He's the person you go to when you need help. He's irreplaceable."

Doumar said, "you can't ask him for anything he won't give you. He is the most generous person I've ever known."

But there are only 24 hours in a day.

"He's never home," Bess said. "When the boys were little, he would save the weekends for them."

Bess and Pete remained close by traveling together, having "date" nights and working together on charity and other issues. Bess does the interior decorating on most of Decker's office buildings.

They also pushed the city to make the mermaid an icon for the city.

While they were on vacation in Chicago, Bess saw a parade of cows. Norfolk should adopt the mermaid as a symbol, she said, and her husband ran with the idea. Mermaids are now all over the city.

Of his emotional speech at the Tidewater Winds concert last summer, Bess said: "No one in the audience knew that he was sick. No one knew why he was so emotional. Peter tries to keep his emotions to himself."

Days later, he and Bess traveled back to Duke for more tests. They learned that the cancer on his hip had traveled from his lung.

In November, surgeons sliced 3-1/2 inches into his hip, leaving a hole about 2-1/2 inches wide that had to heal from within. They cut precariously close to vital organs.

With his body worn out by the procedure, Decker returned to Norfolk and did not emerge from his Lakewood home for months.

Pete III said his father rarely talked about his illness during that time.

"He just talked about Mom. He would say, 'God bless your mother. She means everything to me. She's the one taking care of me. She's never left my side.' "

Decker's cancer is called squamous cell carcinoma. Doctors told him the cancer is nearly always caused by smoking.

He said his message to people at today's Relay for Life will be simple.

"I quit smoking 38 years ago," he said. "If someone smoked, the fact that they stopped for 50 years is not going to prevent them from getting cancer.

"Every time I see someone smoking, I want to go over and snatch the cigarettes out of their hands."

Cancer has changed his life forever, he will tell the crowd.

"You can never get comfortable," he said. "It keeps you off balance. Every three months I have to have a PET scan. I have blood work done. You never know what it's going to show."

Recently, a scan showed a red spot. Doctors were convinced that his cancer had returned. Decker had another series of biopsies.

"I'd gone three years never having a test that wasn't positive," he said. "I was very nervous. I crossed myself before I went in for the tests and left it in God's hands."

The tests were negative. So far, there is no sign the cancer has spread, doctors told him.

Last week he returned to a full-time schedule as a substitute judge, working in Norfolk, Virginia Beach and Chesapeake. He recently began working out again.

"You can see the bounce back in his step," Peter III said.

Decker said he feels better but adds that he isn't afraid to die.

"All of us will die someday," he said. "But I do want to live. I want to continue to contribute to my family, to the city I love. I still have things I want to do."

Wednesday afternoon, as he was honored by the Downtown Norfolk Council, Decker worked the crowd as usual, walking from table to table shaking hands with business and political leaders.

After accepting the award, Decker told some jokes, paid homage to Bess and then said: "Peter Decker is cancer free."

The crowd of more than 600 people burst into cheers and gave him a standing ovation.

Harry Minium, (757) 446-2371, harry.minium@pilotonline.com