Alan Symonds
I ran the Agassiz with Alan Symonds for some 15 years. In June of this year, on the steps of the Agassiz, he died unexpectedly of a heart attack at 59, and on Monday the 13th (which should sound more ominous than Friday the 13th, if you think about it … ), Harvard held a memorial for Alan at the Agassiz Theatre. 400 people crowded into the 350-person house, with over 100 more watching on closed-circuit in the neighboring dance center. For a bit on who Alan was, this “in-house” obit’s good; and this one is also pretty thorough (and took a full-page column…!).
I was asked to speak, along with Alan’s brother (who narrated a fabulous slideshow of Alan’s youth) and his old friend Joe Mobilia (who met Alan in highschool and was working on the Hasty Pudding renovation with him when he died). Alan’s role at Harvard was borderline ineffable and immeasurable, and the legacy-worthiness of what I’d written (most of it just after he died, with no memorial in mind) kept me up at night. And as I said to Michael a day or so before, I didn’t know if I was more terrified of losing it and being unable to speak, or going into a zone without getting emotional at all…
I got pretty choked up but nevertheless essentially sailed through and was told by many I done mighty good. I sort of don’t remember my bit, really, standing in the spotlight only dimly able to sense the assembled multitude with whom I was attempting to project contact, doing what had been imagined for weeks, but with details and sensations that had somehow never been even vaguely imagined. Pretty much an out-of-body experience.
The rest was better than good, tears mixing easily with gales of laughter, lots of talent pouring out of true devotion, the energy given back manyfold by a rapt audience of truest friends spanning over half a century. So many familiar (and half-familiar) faces! Lots of talk and hugs and catching up at the reception afterwards with people not seen for decades. Hard to say something about an unexpected death could be perfect, but this was.
For those with time on their hands, here’s my bit (minus the ad-libs, alas). Flights of angels Alan. You da bomb!
What a tragedy to die in mid-career and such a relatively young age, and for his many friends to lose him early. My condolences, Adam.
Comment by rakkity — November 16, 2006 @ 10:56 am
Adam, your words about your friend are lovely and heartfelt. I read both of the obits you listed. Sounds like his job was such a huge part of his life. Too young to die for sure.
Comment by LaRad — November 16, 2006 @ 6:35 pm
So nice, Adam, very touching entry.
Comment by anon — November 16, 2006 @ 7:31 pm
Very, very, nicely done, Adam! I’m glad to hear you were able to be more than somewhat present emotionally (without losing it completely).
So, what happens to the Agassiz now? And why did the second obit say “A.K., who once worked with …”?
Comment by Jennifer — November 16, 2006 @ 9:24 pm
I remember meeting Alan, introduced by Adam, at his house in Needham, where we went to discuss the merits of early Apple computers that Ripman Lighting was considering installing (I being the would-be installer).
A brief visit that was…but inspiring enough to seek him out and congratulate him numerous times hence, when he appeared at G&S performances that Greg and I (and more recently Q) have attended over the past de-kayed. We’ve always admired the incredible scenes he helped stage for each play.
Lovely eulogy, Adam; and thank you for elaborating further on your frequent oral anecdotes of a great co-worker, teacher, and friend.
Comment by smiling Dan — November 18, 2006 @ 5:50 pm