David Baker's defining characteristic was determination. Whether as a husband, dad, grandfather, golfer, volunteer, collector or lawyer, David was determined to do well while also doing good.

I don't mean to overlook or belittle David's other traits. He was a great athlete—and a competitive one. He was brilliant, having graduated from the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania and from Harvard Law School. He was a good-looking guy—as Rabbi Alvin Sugarman of The Temple said at David's memorial service, he had an ever-present golf tan. He was giving, serving as the president of the Standard Club, the chairman of the board of The Howard School and leading sections and committees of the ABA. But the trait we will all remember him by, his determination, was one that didn't require natural ability or intellect—it simply demanded his endless effort.

I met David when I joined Powell Goldstein in 1989. David was a leader in the corporate department, highly regarded for his skill as an attorney and equally regarded for his talent in making friends of clients and clients of friends. David was a constant-motion marketer, with little spare time in his day. Yet, he found or made time to serve on the firm's management committee and associates' committee, to mentor a slew of younger lawyers and to excel at what he considered his greatest calling: raising (with leadership from Betsy) three wonderful children (Curtis, Stuart and Trudy). We (then) young lawyers marveled at his stamina, drive and desire to be of service at every opportunity. But David brushed aside our praise. As he often pointed out, all it took was effort. He made it look easy.

In later years, David reconnected with many PoGo alums, including me, at Taylor English. Many of his passions—golf, law, leadership, service—remained. Others had evolved. He always remained devoted to Betsy and their children, but the grandkids had become his obsession. We followed the daily exploits of Morgan, Barrett, Sloan, Max and Elias, noting David's enthusiasm and his "never miss an event" grandparenting style. We remained in awe of his stamina, just as we had 30 years earlier. He still made it look easy, but with our own experiences to compare, we now knew how difficult it was to excel in as many areas as David did.

The week before he passed away, David finally made a tacit admission that his battle with multiple myeloma was becoming difficult. He sent me in his place to a board dinner and meeting in California. He called Sunday afternoon with some last-minute instructions before my flight. When I returned to the office on Tuesday, he had Curtis text to let me know that he was in the hospital but would be in touch when he got out. The next day I received a call from Betsy who handed the phone to David, who asked for a summary of the meeting and wanted to make sure the client was happy.

David passed away four days later. To the very end, he remained concerned about his family, his friends and his clients. My lasting memory of David, who had now become my friend as well as my colleague, will be the same as my first: He was determined. He remained focused outward, on others, determined to serve to the best of his ability—and his best was more than good enough.

Al Hill is a corporate attorney with Taylor English Duma.