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Memorial Keepers(1)
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Tiffany Lin
Sam Richards
November 16th, 1962
November 16th, 1962
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Tributes
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George Seminara
It was lovely to hear your reflections of Sam I was overjoyed that he retained his sense of humor and his unique style of pain-in-the-ass-ness. Perhaps, I am his oldest friend to post here. We were downtown kids in New York City. It was the summer before we would go to the High School of Art and Design together. We spent many summer days riding our bikes on the condemned elevated upper level of the westside highway. In the mid-1970s New York was a ghost town. We would climb over the fences at construction sites and see what we could see. Find cool things to liberate or take apart and combine to build other things that were, "you know, cool." We would Explore condemned buildings. we would bring back all kinds of old rusted bits of metal, machine parts, good garbage, or hunks of old buildings. We would stuff our knapsacks to beyond bursting, to the point where the straps would cut into our shoulders. Neither of our bags made it to the first day of school. After scavenging, or as we thought about it, exploring, we would then cram into his tiny bedroom on Charlton Street and try to make something out of it. Of all the things we found most have been lost to time. But I still have one bit. A part of a Terra cotta facade. It weighs more than 20 pounds, and I've been carrying it since i was twelve. it came from a building we were both horrified that it was coming down. How do I still have it? I gave it to my mother as a gift. When she left this earth I couldn't leave it behind. Those adventures are very dear to me and "exploring" is something I continue to do, as a grumpy old guy. I have included a picture. I'm currently using it to keep this lamp level. I put in a floor of re-claimed, planks and nothing sits level on it. It seemed like a good idea at the time. It was more years than I can accurately remember since Sam and I last spoke. But I can share with you one of the things we discussed. It was in the fall and I mentioned that I only celebrate Thanksgiving. It was in the news that deep-frying a turkey was the best way to cook your holiday meal. I had no idea how one could create, 1. A Fry-O-Later large enough for a turkey and 2. An apparatus to lower the turkey into the boiling oil and remove it safely? As I'm sure you all know, Sam had a few ideas.
Emile LeJeune
Leia Leia
Gaby Vega
I first met Sam my first semester of my first year. I answered his "Help Wanted" flyers printed in Calibri (as he does with all his emails) and nailed onto the pin-up walls around the school asking for Shop Workers. I applied thinking I wouldn't even get an interview but he called me in the next Monday and I got the job - with no experience in wood working whatsoever. One of my favorite memories of him was when I came in on a cold morning, around 50 degrees - significantly colder than it gets in the dead of winter in Miami - he made fun of me for not wearing "cold" weather clothing. I said I didn't have any because I never needed it and he just laughed and went back into his office. A few minutes later he brought out his radiator and left it on the floor by the desk so I could stay warm. He was kind and caring person, even if he did put fake rats and faux cameras around the building; he loved the students, the building and his shop, and I know we all felt the same way about him. I already miss coming into the shop with the radio on way too loud and seeing Sam drinking his cup of coffee and a water in a plastic cup covered in the saw dust that he never seemed to mind.
Emile LeJeune
Leia Leia
Sam was our dear friend. We loved him. He had a twinkle in his eye though he called himself a curmudgeon. Nothing escaped his scrutiny, his critical eye, but he also loved a good laugh. He once put a Toblerone box over one of our similarly-shaped chandelier crystals and Brian didn't notice it for months. When he did, Sam's expression of triumph and mischief made him look about fifteen years old. A few years before Brian unthinkingly draped a coat over one of his sculptures. Sam immediately chastised him (with good nature and some legitimate horror.) Perhaps the Toblerone was revenge for that. Sam was like no one we had met before-warm and gruff at the same time - given to flights of intense philosophy on art, literature, craft, music. Sam was a maker with a capital M. He made objects, spaces, buildings, chairs, tables, tools, songs, books, ideas... His workshop was a sacred space, though he certainly didn't try to make you feel that way. It just was. Sam could make anything. He poured his respect and integrity into things he made, but also into the things he used: He revered old, well-used knives, guarded a dough-starter that was hundreds of years old, turned carefully the dog-eared pages of beloved books. He treasured things that had both use and broader meaning in life. An aged tool had particular beauty to him. We will remember Sam's integrity. He formed his ideas as carefully and lovingly as he did his furniture and sculptures. He loved his children, and spoke of them with admiration and fondness. He loved Neville, and Goya, and probably other pets we never knew of. He saw them as an integral part of the family circle, and we thought that was the most beautiful things we'd ever heard. He loved Norine with all of his heart, which was convenient, as we love her too. He made a mean Old Fashioned and a meaner pun. He had an inordinate number of tapir paraphernalia. (Having once years back mentioned that he liked them, he was deluged with tapir gifts for years. He loved good food and he loved good drinks, and made them well enough that we have hazy recollections of some of our evenings together. But we won't ever forget.
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