Lisa Brown admired John Gfroerer for his unselfish, unassuming and unflappable demeanor.

Something, however, bothered Brown about her partner of more than three decades during his long career as a filmmaker: Gfroerer was too unselfish and too unassuming. The unflappable part was fine.

“He never marketed himself,” Brown said this week. “He did not put himself out there and he was a fine documentarian. I would say, ‘John, you have so much talent. Please charge more.”

Gfroerer was 73 when he died on July 7 at Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston. He was diagnosed with cancer three years ago and for the most part, kept the news to himself. Gfroerer never wanted to bother friends with his own problems.

His prognosis went from encouraging to dire and back again, more than once. Then, in what remains a mystery, Gfroerer fell on Green Street, directly in front of the police station, and hit his head while walking in the Rock ‘N Race 5k event in May.

There were no witnesses to the incident. Maybe Gfroerer had a seizure, his family speculated. There was even confusion over his exact cause of death: was it his three-year battle against cancer, which was first detected in his small intestines, liver and stomach? Or the violent manner in which he hit his head on the street?

Brinkley Brown, Lisa Brown and Gfroerer’s daughter, wrote in her father’s obit that he died from complications from the brain injury he suffered that day two months ago and his three-year battle with cancer.

“We’re still not sure,” Brinkley said.

Light, cameras, action

What’s clear is that Gfroerer dedicated his life here to documenting the Granite State’s place in history, covering such weighty subjects as the Presidential Primary and World War II.

Now, perhaps in an afterlife somewhere, Gfroerer is doing something nice for himself. Here, in this world, he did everything for someone else.

“John kept to himself,” Lisa said, “and was a humble man who never sought attention. He thought others were more important.”

He protested against the Vietnam War and got thrown into the slammer for his trouble. He sold his services as a writer and documentarian at absurdly low costs, much to the chagrin of Lisa. He held an umbrella above Brinkley while she hobbled on crutches for a good cause, and he ran alongside her for a mile when her body began to break down during her 70-mile trip, on foot, from Concord to Harvard University in Cambridge, Mass., her alma mater.

To Gfroerer, everyone had a story to tell, rich with history, tragedy and triumph. Everyone was a star in some way, and that included the old couple rocking in chairs on their porch in a dusty and desolated part of Maine, along U.S. 1. They became part of a documentary, showing the appreciation the couple had for one another.

“We pulled over and said they looked like they were having fun, and they said, ‘This is what we do,’ ” Lisa said. “They said the doctor told them it was good for them. They finished each other sentences. This was not degrading, but celebrating them and the beauty of living simple. That whole day rocking on their porch looking at the U.S. could be a really great day.”

No formal training

Gfroerer emerged from simple beginnings himself. He grew up in North Tonawanda, a blue-collar town just outside of Buffalo. His father worked for a company that built chains. And while his brother, Mike, attended Dartmouth College, Gfroerer never went to college. Too structured for this calm, free spirit.

“It didn’t matter to him about college,” Ned Lightner, who co-produced some of Gfroerer’s work, said from his home in Maine. “But he was one of the most intellectual people I’ve known. He was well read. He could become educated simply by going to the library.”

Education flowed through the family like a great documentary. Gfroerer and Lisa named their daughter after David Brinkley, who teamed with Chet Huntley in the 1960s to form the well-known TV news team. Gfroerer liked David Brinkley.

But he loved his daughter Brinkley. She called her father a hippie. He certainly immersed himself in the counterculture, attending Woodstock, of course. He joined anti-war rallies in Washington, D.C., where he was arrested.

He was a conscientious objector during the Vietnam War, instead turning to the National Welfare Rights Organization, an advocate for the safety of women and children.

He moved to Concord in the 1970s and planted his first roots at the Open Kitchen Restaurant on Main Street, above Diversi’s Market. He featured natural foods and folksy entertainment.

Then he moved to Channel 12 and later started Accompany Video Production. He ran the business from an office in the Capitol Center for the Arts. He fine tuned his craft, producing historical documentaries. He gave and gave and gave some more when it came to charging for his work for local dance recitals and theater productions.

“There are hundreds of people you could talk to about him,” said his old friend, Jim Milliken, a financial planner in Concord. “John had an impact on family and community. This is tragic, devastating. I spoke to him last week and thought he was on the mend.”

Unclear diagnosis

Brinkley did as well. Her work continues in the Peace Corps in Rwanda. Three years ago, she flew home to Concord after Gfroerer’s first cancer diagnosis. He responded to treatment but slipped back now and then, as he did recently with his head injury.

“After his fall I came back for two weeks to help,” Brinkley said. “Then I went back to Rwanda at the start of June. I thought he was better.”

But head injuries and cancer rarely follow scripts. Gfroerer died on July 7. Family gathered around his bed, including his other daughter, Julia Gfroerer, Brinkley’s half sister.

At the end, Lisa and Brinkley were alone with him, at his bedside.

A memorial service will be held July 16 at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Hopkinton. A reception will follow at the Snowshoe Club in Concord at 3 p.m.

Later, at some unknown date, Gfroerer’s ashes will be spread in Chautauqua, in Western New York. The town is home to the Chautauqua Institution, which teaches adult education and social movement in the United States, popular in the 19th century.

The institution features music and art and speeches by teachers, preachers and speakers. Views, feelings and visions are shared, revolving around the concepts of love, kindness, and acceptance.

Brinkley will come home again to help spread her dad’s ashes. The dad who taught her about working for the common good, about compromise, about gentleness and an appreciation for what the world has to offer.

She was adopted from China as a baby and has since evolved into a woman who challenges herself, holds her values close to her heart and, of course, thinks of others.

She recalled years ago when as a little girl Gfroerer hoisted her onto his shoulders and walked the course during the Rock and Race event. In later years, they walked together and then they ran together until Brinkley “left him in the dust.”

Gfroerer documented Brinkley’s 70-mile run back to Harvard four years ago. She tired near Mile 50. Gfroerer offered her a ride, told her to rest, but she refused. So he put the camera down and, once more, hoisted her onto his really broad shoulders.

“He would drive by me and he knew how I was feeling,” Brinkley said. “He pulled over and ran with me, and I was not surprised. I knew exactly what he was going to do.”

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