Deceased July 3, 2006

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In Memory

I am sorry to report the death of our classmate Ron Sampson. Ron died on July 3, 2006, after an extended illness. Ron came to Amherst after graduating from Thomas Jefferson High School in  Elizabeth, N.J. He was a political science major and played football. Stu Dunnings ’74 remembers well the good times that he and Ron had when they spent their sophomore year at Wellesley on Twelve College exchange.

After Amherst, Ron graduated from law school and practiced law in Northern New Jersey. Ron leaves a widow, Lea, and three children.

One of the most common sights around campus during our freshman year was the dynamic duo of Sampson and Reese “Cups” Couch ’74. Reese, whose name is now Gurujodha S. Khalsa, remembers this story about Ron.

It was the fall of 1970, and I was hanging out with my new best friend, Ron Sampson, from Elizabeth, N.J. A fellow resident of James Hall, a lover of jazz (particularly Miles Davis), and a Charles Barkley-style basketball player before the invention of Sir Charles, Ron and I established instant rapport. It was freshman year, and Ron and I decided to go to Smith for a party at Ziskind House. Neither of us possessed an automobile, and so we rushed to catch the Smith-Amherst bus. As luck would have it, we missed the last bus to Smith and decided to hitchhike.

At the time, I stood 6 ft., 3 in. and weighed 185 lbs. Ron was 6 ft., 2 in. and weighed about 210. Needless to say, the cars were not even slowing down to pick up two, large African-American "brothers" on their way to Northampton.

Finally, a yellow beat-up Volkswagen "bug" slowed to pick us up. Ron got into the back, and I squeezed into the front passenger seat. As soon as I shut the door, the driver let out a loud “yeeehaaw” and threw the car into first gear. I glanced over my shoulder at Ron, and we both looked at the driver who was a white male, with a rather scruffy beard, wearing a fringe leather vest with no shirt and a frayed orange and red headband and sunglasses at 11:00 at night. Without being telepathic, we both thought, "This can’t be good."

The driver proceeded to weave in and out of traffic at a fairly excessive rate of speed until finally I said, "Yo, my man, could you slow down?" To which he replied, "I know you guys hate me. I’m just no good, you should just kill me. I’m white, you’re black, I deserve it." I pondered the situation, wondering if my last moments on earth were going to be spent squeezed into a yellow Volkswagen beetle. Without hesitation Ron replied, "We don’t hate anybody, and nobody has to die. It’s not about your color, man, it’s about who you are and what you believe. That’s what this whole revolution is about. It’s not about what’s outside; it’s about what’s inside—and we’re inside your car, and we want to get out in one piece."

At this point everybody laughed, and our driver slowed down. We made it to Northampton safely and had a great time at the party. I recall this incident often when I think of my best friend who has now left the earth plane because it encapsulates his personal philosophy and way of relating to others. For Ron, it was never about race, status or money but always about what was on the inside, what was in your heart that counted. I will miss my brother.

Gurujodha S. Khalsa (Reese F. Couch) ’74
Richard Ammons ’74