Chick Tucker died on June 25, 1999
Here is a reminiscence from Chick’s son Lindsay, Williams Class of 1998:
My first awareness of Williams must have been when I was 5 or 6 years old, taking a tour of the USS Eisenhower in Naples, Italy. I happened to be wearing a Williams ’67 t-shirt that day. As I wandered from the tour to one of the elevators used to lift F-14’s to the main deck, I leaned on a grease-covered post at the corner of the elevator and got a big grease stain on the t-shirt. The grease never came out and the shirt got plenty more use by me and my two younger brothers.
As a student at Williams, I remember Dad driving me up to the Purple Valley. He had perfected the route to minimize tolls, traffic and the Garden State Parkway. He never missed the Queechy Lake or Provost Road cutoffs.
He always got a gleam in his eye after we crossed the Newburgh bridge and got close to the Taconic State Parkway. At this point, he would often comment that “For me, Williams is a time machine. You come back here and it’s like you never left.” And then he would tell stories about getting to see the “Mag Seven” every night during exams, his roommate’s chopping down a tree in the middle of the night, “his” dog Yoyo, or a not-quite-glorious come-from-behind victory in a tricycle race around the Freshmen Quad. After letting his enthusiasm boil over, he’d collect himself, remind me to be safe, and not forget to study a little too.
It’s been 18 years since my dad passed away. The empty space in my heart still hurts. He taught me to walk fast, work hard, and do the right thing, but not take anything too seriously. As painful as it was to lose him at a young age, my biggest regret is the joy he’s missed out on. How he would have enjoyed encouraging mischief in his grandchildren.