Harlan Kettler Schlicher, Jr., 80, of Mountain Lakes, NJ, passed away on Thursday, August 20, 2026, surrounded by his loving family.

He was a man of many names. To his siblings, he was “H.” To some, Mr. Harlan. In his acts of generosity, Mr. Anonymous. To his granddaughter, Vera, Papa Harlan, though he repeatedly told her, “Just Harlan is fine.” And to his “darling daughter,” Elizabeth, he was Raoul, her longtime “secret admirer,” and, most importantly, Dear Old Dad.

Harlan was born in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and proudly raised in Topeka, Kansas, the eldest son of Harlan and Vera (Eshleman) Schlicher. Along with his three siblings, he was raised with a strong Christian faith and was charged to go out into the world and do good for others. He carried that faith, his Midwestern sensibilities, fierce loyalty, and his unmistakably individual way of looking at the world throughout his life.

A gifted analyzer, Harlan loved numbers, preferably odd ones, and believed almost anything could be understood if you studied it closely enough. He famously taught his own professors at Northwestern a more efficient way to grade their papers and later broke a record on the examination to become a stockbroker.  

Harlan also had an unmistakable way with words. Subtlety was not generally his preferred form of communication.  He could be blunt.  What he said wasn't always what you wanted to hear. The frustrating part was that, more often than not, he was right. Harlan was equally distinctive on paper. He believed in the power of a well-written letter and wasn't shy about sending one when something needed to be said. He loved the post office, though eventually he also embraced the ability to “fire off” an email or two.

He often seemed to speak his own language, filled with shorthand, nicknames, and expressions known simply as “Harlan-isms.” At times, understanding him required a translator, but those who loved him eventually became fluent. His words could make you think, laugh, and occasionally make you crazy. He was not one for small talk, and many phone calls ended abruptly by being “terminated” at the time of his choosing.

Stocks and Politics were passions. Harlan raised money for Ronald Reagan in New Jersey and was deeply proud to serve as one of Reagan's delegates. Elizabeth's mother, Barbara, also served in the Reagan administration. His political and Wall Street careers brought him into the orbit of many prominent figures, who loved him for who he was. Harlan was fundamentally the same person no matter who he was with.  He didn't care about titles or status. President, billionaire, doctor, scheduler, neighbor, mailman, garbage man, or stranger, it made no difference to him. If he liked you, trusted you, or simply saw an opportunity to help, he did. 

Harlan loved the markets, basketball, horse racing, contests, and, of course, a good bet. He was a brilliant risk-taker. But for Harlan, gambling was rarely about the money, except for the good that money could do for someone else. It was about the challenge of figuring something out. Horse racing, he liked to say, “gave me a chance every 30 minutes to find out whether I am smart or not.” Another philosophy was simpler: “Get a hunch, bet a bunch.”

He loyally followed the Kansas Jayhawks, St. Anthony's basketball, and the Hoxie Lady Indians. He believed in being silly and never taking himself too seriously. Harlan could turn almost anything into a game: contests involving mints, holding a hand in ice water, or stopping a stopwatch at precisely :00. Even his first, and ONLY, new car, “Blue Thunder”, came from correctly picking the NCAA basketball tournament. He proudly drove it until it quite literally fell apart.

Beneath the success, stories, bets, brilliant mind, and Harlan-isms, was the thing that perhaps best explains Harlan. He got it. His core mantra was simple: Invest in People NOT Things. Be a Blessing.

Harlan understood that success, knowledge, connections, and resources weren't particularly meaningful unless they could be used to help someone else. Giving back wasn't an accessory to his life; it was at its core.  He gave quietly and anonymously. Recognition wasn't the point. The point was that something good “got done.” 

And that instinct operated on every scale. Harlan could help make a major project possible and be equally passionate about thanking the person behind a scheduling desk who had helped him. There was McDonald's for the people scheduling his MRIs, orchids for people at his doctors' offices, and, while deep in his own medical struggle, determined efforts to help his dearest friend, Theresa, get the care she needed.

And there were mints. So many mints. Handed to everyone who crossed his path.

He even turned his own birthdays into opportunities to give, surprising others with “reverse birthday gifts,” corresponding to his own age rather than expecting anything for himself.

Harlan always insisted he wasn't a people person. He described himself as a hermit or loner and said books and numbers were his best friends, yet he never seemed to meet a stranger. He noticed people. Once he noticed someone, his mind moved automatically to one question: What can I do for them?

He believed first in trusting God and second in trusting the “advisers and gurus” he was blessed with throughout his life. Harlan’s faith was woven through everything he did.  It was the foundation and compass of his life. It wasn't reserved for Sunday mornings or difficult times. It was something he practiced every day. He began each morning with at least four daily devotionals and time reading and studying his Bible. Worship was a priority. He rarely, if ever, missed a service and was known to attend more than one church, finding community and growing in faith wherever he could. His Lutheran roots remained an important part of him throughout his life, but his faith reached beyond the walls or denomination of any one church.

Harlan didn't simply read about faith; he lived it. 

He kept long, organized prayer lists, always praying for others before himself.  He believed in routines and no routine was stronger than prayer. 

Harlan also possessed an impressive collection of quirks. He saw absolutely no reason to “keep up with the Joneses.”  New possessions and outward appearances held zero appeal, although he always “duded up” for church. 

There were, however, two new things that Harlan absolutely adored.  The first, a gift from his guardian angel, Theresa. A blanket for his 80th that included the phrase “weird being the same age as OLD people.” And second, a digital picture frame, filled and updated with photographs of his granddaughter, Vera. After waiting his whole life to become “grand,” Vera changed everything.  

For a man who could analyze markets, elections, basketball games, and horse races, there wasn't much analysis necessary when it came to her. He simply adored her. The digital frame became one of the rare new things he genuinely treasured because it gave him an ever-changing window into the little girl he had waited so long to love.

Harlan lived a life filled with extraordinary stories and success, yet he had remarkably little interest in using any of it for his own gain. What mattered was helping people, faith, curiosity, loyalty, independence, humor, and using whatever you had to leave things better than you found them. He understood that a blessed life wasn't measured simply by what you accomplished, earned, or acquired, but by what you did for other people, especially those who needed a cheerleader in their corner.

People will no doubt remember the mints, the contests, the letters, random newspaper clippings, the Harlan-isms, and superstitions.  The blunt advice you didn't particularly want to hear, but the realization, sometime later, that he had been right.

Most of all, Harlan would want to be remembered for his faith, loyalty, curiosity, extraordinary generosity, and instinct to take care of people.

Behind all the names, stories, success, connections, and quirks, was a man who understood something very simple and very important:

Be a Blessing. All Will Be Well.

Harlan is survived by his daughter, Elizabeth Schlicher, and her husband, Brian Tabor; his adored granddaughter, Vera; his sister, Jane Schlicher, and her husband, Patrick Dickey; his brothers, John and his wife, Susan, and Richard and his wife, Jill; his best friend and “Guardian Angel,” Theresa; and many beloved nieces, nephews, cousins, extended family members and friends.

Please join Harlan's family for visitation on Tuesday, September 1, from 5:00–8:00 p.m. at Codey & Mackey Funeral Home in Boonton. A funeral service will be held Wednesday, September 2, at 11:00 a.m. in King of Kings Lutheran Church in Mountain Lakes, followed by burial at Our Lady of the Magnificat Cemetery in Kinnelon.