We created this memorial to celebrate the life of Sam Richards. Please share your memories and stories of Sam, for our school community and his loved ones. As we plan virtual gatherings, we will post invitations here. Thank you for contributing to this lasting memorial.
The Tulane School of Architecture... see moreWe created this memorial to celebrate the life of Sam Richards. Please share your memories and stories of Sam, for our school community and his loved ones. As we plan virtual gatherings, we will post invitations here. Thank you for contributing to this lasting memorial.
The Tulane School of Architecture has created a Memorial Fund in Sam's honor:
Sam Richards served for 26 years as the Shop Director and Building Manager for the Tulane School of Architecture. Sam was committed to the care of our beautiful and delicate building and of the Wood Shop, the place in which he taught craft to thousands of Tulane students. Sam was one of the most excited and dedicated people working in the design of a potential renovation, dreaming of a healthy beautiful building and of a wonderful and safe shop. In that regard, we have decided to name the Wood Shop office in Richardson Memorial Hall in his name. To make a donation to the Sam Richards Memorial Fund, visit http://giving.tulane.edu/arch
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... moreIt 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. less
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... moreI 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. less
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... moreSam 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. less
Thank you Sam, for sharing your love of pirates, wooden boats, humor and wit; for lending me your truck when i needed supplies; for teaching me shop logic; for your love of materials, craft and making; for being a friend. Wish we had had more time.
I started working on staff at Cooper Union Sculpture Shop at time Sam attended as a student. There was an immediate mutual attraction. After graduation he worked on staff. He was a good friend although we did not keep in touch I retain great affection... moreI started working on staff at Cooper Union Sculpture Shop at time Sam attended as a student. There was an immediate mutual attraction. After graduation he worked on staff. He was a good friend although we did not keep in touch I retain great affection for him. Very sorry and sad he's gone. less
I met sam at Cooper Union, as many others had- It was in 1983 - 1988. Ruben Kadish was my professor as well. Sam taught me so much. I remember one night of late-night partying I had to crash at his place, he was such an amazing gentleman. I hadn't seen... moreI met sam at Cooper Union, as many others had- It was in 1983 - 1988. Ruben Kadish was my professor as well. Sam taught me so much. I remember one night of late-night partying I had to crash at his place, he was such an amazing gentleman. I hadn't seen him in years, but I don't have a Cooper memory without him. Godspeed, Sam. less
Sam made my first kiddo this wooden iPhone/rattle 6 years ago and now her little brother plays with it! He seriously just picked it up yesterday and started making calls. Sam must know we are thinking of him.
Sam and I met at Cooper Union in 1979, and I have no memory of art school without him. We shared a sculpture studio and a deep attachment to our beloved professor, Ruben Kadish. Ruben introduced us to the art of ancient cultures- and many other of... moreSam and I met at Cooper Union in 1979, and I have no memory of art school without him. We shared a sculpture studio and a deep attachment to our beloved professor, Ruben Kadish. Ruben introduced us to the art of ancient cultures- and many other of life’s treasures- and Sam’s mom, Rosalie, introduced us to Joseph Campbell. Our relationship at Cooper was so steeped in visuals and visual communication. Mythology, particularly Ovid’s Metamporphoses, was ever-present. We didn’t talk about it, it just permeated everything. We didn’t see each other for 25 yrs or so, but we spoke once or twice a year and exchanged news. I finally got to New Orleans for Jazz Fest in 2016 and visited with Sam and Norine. It was so great to see his beautifully hand made world and finally meet Norine. He showed me every inch of his shop, and then a stack of ink drawings he’d been working on, illustrations of Ovid’s Metamoprhoses. It was such a curious fold of time, and suddenly we were circled right back into the river of stories that we swam in as kids…. Sam called a few weeks before he died, and we had a long conversation and exchanged photos of projects. He was very proud of that fact that he could still make me laugh. Can’t you just hear the little chirps of delight that always preceded his sly musings?! One summer we collected an uncanny number of lost shoes, found on the beach. We had a BIG sandy cardboard box full of them- and, as we went our separate ways, without any discussion, we started mailing them back and forth to each other. An absurd, interstate volley. Out of the blue. In different states. Gaps of months and years in between. When they were almost forgotten, poof! they’d arrive. It went on for years and years and years. The last great laugh he shared with me was a Victorian illustration of women in hoop skirts, his face photoshopped in: Sam's solution for social distancing at Tulane. I am so so sad that our clever, creative, devoted friend is gone. Godspeed, dear Sam! Godspeed, Samuel Emory Richards! I treasure the time we had, and hope to meet again, next time around.
Photos of me and Sam in 1980 and 2016; and Sam leafing through his Metamorphoses ink drawings. less
Tiffany Lin
thanks for posting this, Tracey! "chirps of delight" and "sly musings" definitely describe Sam! He shared those hoop skirt collages with me too this summer and I remember that visit fondly...
It are days of sadness in death that are so innate to us that we recognize and reflect on time and relationships, as one in the same.
Sam Richards was a friend and mentor who I came to know better in the Summer of ’19, nearly a year after I came to... moreIt are days of sadness in death that are so innate to us that we recognize and reflect on time and relationships, as one in the same.
Sam Richards was a friend and mentor who I came to know better in the Summer of ’19, nearly a year after I came to the school of architecture at Tulane. I chose to stay in New Orleans for most of that summer, working mostly odd jobs. It was Sam that helped procure work for me through the school and even beyond. He always took a personal interest in supporting the students’ betterment at the school of architecture. A truly special person, whose driven mind, unique perspective, and kind heart warmed the school.
Sam’s prompt and timely mornings often made him the first face you could chance greeting in the early morning hours. He made a point to survey students’ workspaces every day. An early riser may have caught Sam in one his famous statue like poses as he often stopped to contemplate work that riddled the workspaces. He was a wonderful teacher too; although I never formally had him as professor, I learned proper safety, wood shop techniques, and even helpful craftsman skills and tips that he shared with any novice intending to listen and advance themselves.
A truly great mentor and friend, Sam helped me smile in times of hardship, support my better interests, actions, and work at the school. A man who wore his heart on his sleeve and shared it warmly with others. An inspirational man, often showing contraptions and techniques in a built manner that might mimic only what we have come to explore in the digital realm. He was special, a person I’m grateful I came to know, interact with, and work alongside. You will be both missed and remembered, living in spirit with all of us who came to know you throughout our time shared. R.I.P Sam
I met Sam at The Cooper Union in 1980 where we both studied Fine Art. I liked his sly sense of humor and thoughtful perspective. This portrait was taken at the New York Botanic Garden. Its lovely to hear all of your memories of Sam at TSA.
Sam was my brother and a remarkable man; a cut from an obscure piece of tapestry. Not only did he have that lust for life that was infectious, but he had that passion for everything thing along the way that slips by most, while never at a loss to share... moreSam was my brother and a remarkable man; a cut from an obscure piece of tapestry. Not only did he have that lust for life that was infectious, but he had that passion for everything thing along the way that slips by most, while never at a loss to share and involve those around him.
I would like to thank Tiffany Lin for organizing this and everyone else for their thoughts and photos of him in his element. I am truly sorry for the loss to you all. He will be sorely missed...
Sam was so much to the student body at TSA. He was a mentor, a boss, and a friend. He taught me so much during my time at Tulane and I will be forever grateful for those lessons and memories. Words cannot begin to describe the heart break I have felt... moreSam was so much to the student body at TSA. He was a mentor, a boss, and a friend. He taught me so much during my time at Tulane and I will be forever grateful for those lessons and memories. Words cannot begin to describe the heart break I have felt since learning about his passing and I simply wish it was just not true. Sam, thank you for challenging me and always listening. You were truly one of the best members of the faculty and always one of my favorites! less
Sam left this gift in my office after hearing about a stupid paper I wrote called "Level and Plumb Without Rhino"-- This is his level WITH Rhino (an Albrecht Dürer rhino, he was quick to point out.) No one has ever exerted such elaborate efforts of... moreSam left this gift in my office after hearing about a stupid paper I wrote called "Level and Plumb Without Rhino"-- This is his level WITH Rhino (an Albrecht Dürer rhino, he was quick to point out.) No one has ever exerted such elaborate efforts of humor and intellect to lighten the mood in the architecture school. I am still in denial that he is gone and will miss my dear friend and irreverent confidant... less
I met Sam by applying to work in the shop. He told me that the only reason he’d agreed to the interview was because I’d filled out the application on a typewriter.
I found these photos in the collected album for this review.
I met Sam 27 years ago; we were immediately buds. But, during the last 20 years we grew to be so much more than that. Many students and faculty colleagues have been fortunate to be part of an ever-expanding design build agenda at TSA. However, no one... moreI met Sam 27 years ago; we were immediately buds. But, during the last 20 years we grew to be so much more than that. Many students and faculty colleagues have been fortunate to be part of an ever-expanding design build agenda at TSA. However, no one should be mistaken, Sam was the glue. We are so privileged to have had opportunities to both envision and realize so many wonderfully constructed elements with Sam. He was sincerely interested in assembly, both cultural and physical. He knew how to bring people together, foster confidence, offer support and tell a good story. He could build anything and mastered the control of many materials. He always offered an opinion, but also entertained options. We laughed, argued, hugged and appreciated each other. I am sad; I have lost a brother. Sam, thank you for so much. You are irreplaceable. less
Emilie Taylor Welty
So many great memories of Sam that it's hard to choose one. This guy! An artist, a craftsman, a teacher, and a friend. I love that twinkle he got in his eye when he got an idea and started to figure out how to make it happen.