By Marty Snapp
Was there ever a sweeter person than Don Wiest (rhymes with east), who died on August 30, 2023? “My memories of him are warm and vivid,” says Bob Silberman, “not the least for his endearing habit of leaving chocolate eggs outside the door of our suite on his holiday, hence his nickname: the Wiester Bunny. He was kind and funny and smart, and he will be remembered very fondly.”
“I think Alan London originated the nickname,” adds Mike Leahy. “Don was a gentle soul with a dry sense of humor.”
“Don was my roommate in junior year, along with Mike Orlansky,” says Peter Sheckman “We had independent interests but found plenty of together time. He was a very quiet, gentle person who was intelligent and deeply interested in his studies. I remember how the living room looked as Don prepared one paper or another: books on art or architecture spread about the floor in what appeared to be a haphazard manner. I don’t recall copious notes ever being taken, but the end result was always a well thought out paper.”
Mike adds, “Since I hadn’t heard from Don for a while, I wrote him and put my contact information on the envelope, asking that if Don was no longer residing there, could the recipient please forward the card to Don or return it to me. A few days later I got a phone call from a very kind Bhutanese man, telling me that Don died in Louisville, Kentucky. I was aware that he had been living with this family for several years after the death of his wife Gwendolyn, first in Massachusetts and for the past six-plus years with the same family in Louisville, where they had relocated.
“Don had told me that he felt very happy living with this family, and loved having children around the house. They helped him deal with his increasingly complex medical issues and, after he died, held a memorial service, drawing on the host family’s Hindu traditions and Don’s own Presbyterian background. Apparently, Don had requested that his and Gwendolyn’s ashes be scattered at sea, so they carried out this wish in the Pacific Ocean near San Diego.”
“He was one of the truly nice guys of the world, in every sense of the phrase,” says Bob Van Valkenburgh. “Even though I hadn’t seen or heard from him in years, I’ll miss him. The old gang is dwindling by the year.”
More sad news: Andy Beveridge, who used his brilliant mind in service to the underdogs of this world, died suddenly on April 10 at a conference in Washington, DC. If you were a victim of discrimination or otherwise cheated by the system, he was the guy who provided the numbers that proved your case.
“Dr. Beveridge was a highly regarded professor at Queens College since 1981 and chair of the Sociology Department from 2016 to 2018,” said college president Frank H. Wu. “He was one of the most trusted voices on demographics and redistricting and was a nationally recognized expert on the US Census. A consultant for The New York Times since 1993, his analysis of Census data has informed numerous news reports and maps.
“He was the co-founder and president of Social Explorer, Inc, a website that allows users access to demographic data through interactive maps and reports. The platform has been used by more than 100 million students, educators, and citizens worldwide. He was an expert witness in over 100 court cases and contributed to countless publications and research, including three books. Andy was very much loved by his many colleagues and students, and he will be sorely missed.”
Jorge Dominguez observes, “Andy was a towering academic whose insights and scholarly range advanced many areas in research and practice.”
Charlie Carter adds, “Even if we are civilized enough to not brag about ourselves or even more civilized not to brag about our friends, I have to say I feel proud for knowing the contribution to society that Andy made through establishing Social Explorer, and that is of course just the most accessible part of his many contributions to all of us.”
“I will never forget a kindness he extended me when I was tending to my mother in Riverdale, NY in her last months,” says Tom Devine. “Out of the blue, Andy, whom I had not known at Yale, invited me to dinner. It was a welcome break from my caretaking duties, but even more, a pleasure just to connect and converse with this good man.”
“His work will live on,” says Don Pierce, and Alan Burdick agrees. “I regret I didn’t know Andy except through the Class Discussion Group, but I enjoyed his commentary very much. Another lost opportunity for a better connection. We’re running low on them.”
Andy didn’t join our class until Sophomore year, having spent his first year at Cal Tech. On his first day there, an upperclassman warned him, “Transfer from here. It’s not for you. You will find it completely unbalanced. I wish I had left.”
Andy took his advice. “In early June 1964 I traveled by train to my hometown, Galesburg, Illinois, collapsed from exhaustion in my bedroom, and slept for over twelve hours,” he wrote in our 50th reunion class book. “When I awoke, my mother brought me a letter from Yale announcing that I had been admitted and would receive financial aid. I jumped out of bed and started yelling, ‘I am out of the hole!’
“My ability to write reasonably well developed at Yale. My interest in law and civil rights, in journalism, and in the structure of society and my place in it, all developed at Yale. I have known for years that Yale’s decision to let me transfer saved me in many ways, and I will remain grateful for the rest of my life.”
And we are grateful to have had him as one of our number.