Deceased June 30, 2006
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25th Reunion Book Entry
In Memory
Donald Cooper died on June 30 in Silver Spring, Md., from what appears to have been a cardiac accident, possibly complicated by the brain’s response to the stress, while he was swimming at a local pool where he went regularly for exercise. He remained technically alive for a few hours, but he never regained consciousness.
Don was an amazing person, and I have always wished that many more classmates at Amherst knew him. He was warm, talkative and outgoing, yet he had a relatively small, close circle of friends at Amherst, most of them in the Class of ’67. We were roommates our senior year, and we kept in close touch ever since.
An only child growing up and going to high school in Allentown, Pa., Don then went to college at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute for one year. What he later referred to as the sight of too many slide rules slung on people’s belts made him decide to abandon engineering in favor of liberal arts, and he transferred to Amherst as a sophomore. He majored in English, graduated in the top 15 in our Class, and went on to earn a Ph.D. at the University of Virginia. He briefly hit the academic job market, was startled (and disgusted) by the lack of college teaching positions available in the early ’70s, went instead to Washington and started knocking on doors.
Within a year, he was on the staff of the National Geographic’s department of educational films and videos, and for more than two decades, he worked as scriptwriter, director and producer. His work took him to what was then East Germany, to Nicaragua during its revolution, to the southwest American deserts and many other places. At our 25th Reunion, he was part of a panel discussion, along with Dan Goleman, Jon Solins and Nils Bruzelius, about the future of non-glossy media in the age of modern communication and entertainment.
Ironically, after his division split off from National Geographic and then reduced its senior staff, Don got a job teaching English, especially composition, at Howard University. In a short time there, he made a lasting impression. The university held a memorial service for him on Sept. 22.
Donald’s verbal abilities and unbelievably quick wit were unmatched. A keen-eyed scholar who presented thoughtful analyses of Fitzgerald and Thackeray, he was also capable of outrageously lewd puns delivered impromptu either in English or in German, a language he learned rapidly in college. In Professor Cameron’s seminar on Joyce, when it was his turn to give the seminar presentation, Don delivered a commentary on Molly Bloom’s soliloquy that was riddled with carefully calculated double-entendres—and completely on target in a strict academic sense. Living most of the time at Amherst in a quiet room in the social dorms, Don joined DU because, as a sophomore going through rush, he was delighted by a crude stunt someone pulled there in an attempt to fluster him. When, once or twice later in life, he encountered serious personal troubles, his extraordinary sense of humor and his great personal strength kept him upbeat.
Don lived for 30 years in a lovely brick house in Silver Spring, just over the District line. After his two bright daughters, Katie and Chloe, went off to college, he and his wife, Mari, spent spare time exploring the hills and woods of Virginia and Maryland, often finding arrowheads on old Native American sites.
Donald is survived by his parents, to whom he was devoted all his life; by Mari, by Katie and Chloe; and by the girls’ mother, Don’s first wife, Gloria Weissman, who shares considerably in the loss. Chloe, the one who looks more like her father, will be married next year, and it is hard to think that Don won’t be there cracking jokes.
It was a blessing to know him. All of us who did are thankful for his years in our lives.
John Stifler ’68
