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December 12, 1979 Samuel Lincoln Gordon
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Samuel Lincoln Gordon
December 12, 1979
Ladies and gentlemen,Friends;I have come to celebrate our friend, Samuel
Lincoln Gordon:Samuel for the ProPhet,Lincoln for justice,Gordon from the man who brought his name
tothis country and gave us allthe familywe so
love and cherish, and to whom all our hearts,
as with one mind, go out to soothe and
comfort. Celebrating Sam is in one way easy
and in another difficult. lt is difficult because
he was, himself, matchless at celebrating'Though we now sit hushed in grief, there is
not one of us who cannot remember ano
who will not long cherish the remembranceof one of Sam's loving celebrations' For each
of us, there is some special experience shared
with him which long after, perhaps, we our-
selves had forgotten it, took on a wonderf ul
new life on the lips of this great celebrator' ltis not only that we always felt that in Sam's
company we were making history. we did, of
cour;e, find that in our moments with him,
€xtraordinary things happened. But more
imoortant is the fact that we really were
making history. We were furnishing Sam withother tlhemes for his celebrated celebrations'I keenly feel how lack-lustre must be this
celebraiion of mine when I consider the
wealth of wit and warmth he invariablybrought to his. In only this way is it easy .toceleb-rate him. For I have something that.he
seldom had: A great story to celebrate' He
iould light up even the smallest event and
hand it io us as a torch, emblematic of our
friendship. Though I could never match him
in this, my shorl-comings in handling are
more than overcome by the brightness of his
f lame.Mv theme is Samuel Gordon's Youth; I
cannot say his lif e. His unique ability to make
history th;ough his celebrations was but the
seed of that lreater history that would have
been his life. I can see Samuel, full o{ years
;;; *hlt; of h"it lik" his namesake the
o*rJoh"t,looting back over his long life' And I
i"""il"'rti. gathering up those years that
Jestinv has confined us to, as but the season
t*o,itr"t una search. At times, I believe l.can
t"""'J.t" Jtt e succeeding chapters. of his
historv. For certain, it is a wise man's hlstory
-i"i itrtJ.. was his only goal' Let not his
humor or his manner deceive you on tnls
JJi"t]irt.t"'*t'. do not see his lif e as a search
i"r tft" *itaot of Solomon either do not well
r!t"tn".fti., or have not recently read his
irruiiriout kinsmen' To be sure, he was no
cloistered Academician; his laboratory was
irlu-*otfa, and to leave any pa.rt ol.jt un:
.t"f "*O
was to abuse philosophy' Life not
ii"!a io irt" trrr"st was, for him, something far
less than life.Yet, lest I stare into the face of even one
*to-*iii not take this torch from me' this
iigtti, "t
.r""t as day before my eyes' of what
he was to be, let me celebrate then not his
uoritt, f rt *tt"t death has made his life' For
in"itt" it dead, our choked voices and tear-
stained faces bear more eloquent.witne.ssthan our insensible words' So be it then: Hls
iit". ft "t,,oo,
*us a stirringtheme' Those that
;;;;k;i;;" know not what he achieved'
ihose that question his wisdom never put a
"r"rA."-a. hi.. Thot" that do not recall his
iulii* n"u"t tought his judgment' Thosethat
bitu hirn remember not his hard-forged ctrcte
5ii;;;iiii"nat. rhose that talk of traged'v
i","i'i 6u, little of the jov he brought us all'-l;"; as I search out the courageous faces
"t ti" pur"ntt he loved, I remember that his
;i#;;i';tilate had told me that sam had
f,e;-;; ;;; irrePlaceable friend' we all
;;;;;" insight into what he means and
J"t rt" i""rt, tirough none of us can touch
;'; c;;.Ji'ief. B-ut if sam is irreplaceable'
iie it eqrattv l,nforgettable' The lineaments
of his spirit are indelibly etched in my m!19'
i"i'*t'"rgft f,it inimitable imitations and his
l"[riui"8 ."r"brations, each one of us takes
ir.r rtli"" "
trr";a for life' For the love of cod'I pray you, also celebrate his love'
--William Altman
Sam's passing has shocked us all. At the very
least, ii is a gr-im reminder of our own mortal-
itv, of the fiailty of the flesh and blood that
carries us through the world. In a much larger
sense, it is the overwhelming. and ineplace-
able loss of a son, a brother, a dear f riend' Sam
was mv best friend. In his death I find much
coursg for grief and despair. Why, I keep
askinq, should so important a person De
i"niet tne remainder of the life he had
besun in such a spectacular fashion? WhyshJuld Sam have been cut short of com-
pleting his life's work? lf the great artists live
bn ln ltre works they pass on to succeeding
eenerations, then Sam's work must surely be
iiving with all of us. But what was Sam's work?
It wis not weighty paper volumns left toeather dust and iobwebs on a library shelf' ltivas something bigger and more exciting' ltwas words, buiit was more than words' lt was
a language. But it was even more than that' To
.e.',It wis an entirely new and different way
of lookins at the world-'?Ite Worlil Acmrding
fo So "iVou might say. Sam's world was one
that *"s-tittea with all manner of interesting
itrinesr stuna birds, plootnee beans, schmoe
ii""!. .o nut" only i few. lt was a world filled
*ittr ttt" voices of presidents, Rastafarians
and sodfathers, all complete with gestures
"nJ i.."ntt. Sam invented this world partly
io i.rt" himself, but mainly to amuse those
he loved. We can only dream of what he
ri*ttt ttu"" done with tllis world in the "real"*o;iJ of entertainment that was just coming
*itttin ttit grasp in New York' But then again'
i;;;l;tt;t p"rrpbte, at best, to inspire others?
iir'i *oira certainly inspired all those lucky
unouett to meet and know him' All of us have
ul"n'intpit"A by his unique and original
"n"rsv. W" can never forget his words' ttls
voicJi, his sense of f un and of the absurd' we'his friends and family who loved him' cannot
""J ttiii ""t
forget this warm and impish
figrt" ""a
his infiuence on us' Twenty-three
vears mav be only part of a lifetime' but for
i;; ii ;;;tough time to create a world'
n"J *itil" Sam hai left our world' he has left
;il ;;;h oi us a Part of his world' we will
never forget him.
--Carrett Jewett
)
)
l'm really at a loss for words' This is the
seiond brother that l've lost, lost at a time in
his tife when you aren't supposed to lose;
you're only supposed to gain' l'm very un-
happy.' '-K tt"pp"nt at times like these, a team of
p"opte rj.jtts together in order to help each
btttit ttttorgtt, I guess to be modern we
ihould call iia "task force"' You can tell a lot
"Uouiftoww"ttwe're goingto go on from the
oualitv of our people here' Sam was a sweet
euv, a good brother. The people we have here"mrilrning him are the best. Hard as it is, we'regoins to Pull through.- t don;t believe in Cod, rnyself' I don't
, believe that justice comes f rom outside like a
catered meal. I do believe that we create our
own conditions for living, for care, for sym-
oathv. That's what we're going to have to do'
foe're traveling by night through a vast
wooded space. Wild beasts snatch members
of ow p"hy, without logic, without justice'
without reprieve. There's only one kind ofpower in the darkness: We build up our fire,we keep tabs on each other, we hold our-selves together and get on with our journey.So lef s stick together, and we'll make it.
--Daniel Cordon
l've lost my best friend. I can't just buryhim withouttryingto make some sense outofhis brief but teeming tife. All I could sayatfirstwhen I heard that Sam was dead was, "God, itfeels as if l've lost a brother." But he was so
much more than that. We were as close as
t\,vo people could be. Our thoughts 'richo-
cheted off of each other in a tacit shorthand.Our voices and intonations were so alike thatfor fun we'd fool people on the telephone bytrading ottthe receiverwhen we weretired oftalking to a friend. We had a mutual admira-tion society; we shared each othe/s successes
with joy, and we were supportive as hellwhen one of us failed.
Sam's life was joy. His seeming surenessand aloofness was a cover for the deepsensitivity he had for people in need' His
compulsive need to make people laugh was
not merely a vain conceit- it was his ownspecial way of probing for the truth, his ownway of dealing with the vagaries of life. His
love for people was expressed by conceivinga world the way he wanted it to be, and thendrawing everybody along into it for the f un ofthe ride. He hadawonderful nonsenseworld,full of a nonsense language which railedagainst the pomposity and pretentiousnessof everyday life. This language is an indeliblepart of our lives. There was a simple, direct,often naive quality to his world: He told me,when he was a teenager, that he often wishedthat people would approach each other witha "thumb-up" or "thumb-down"- to showwhether or not they wanted to get to knoweach other. His dreams swept people alongwith a contagious joy. He had the mostcurious mix of spiritualism and materialismthat I have ever seen. And vet, with Sam, itwas all so believable- he had the charismaand the talent to make the irrational rational,
the incongruous reasonable.Sam could certainly win people with his
humor, but he was also a serious man. His
deep conviction that there is more to life than
whai he called - in his mock Far Eastern
".iJnt - the "material plane" - was some'
itrins f,e made me believe. He celebrated life
"r "'t"r." that cannot die' "Why not b-e-lieve
tiii", n" would say, "in the absence of better
evidence?"- -lu Coa, I will miss Sam on l&rs plane of
.*ittLnie-out daily lives-more deeply
irr"n I ."n say. To bury such a lover of life is
i't "
tt"J"tt tt ing I have ever done' But I feel
iu.tt i*"ttn,*aim glowfrom him' He bright-
ened my life as no one else has, and no one
else can.Eleven Years ago I wrote:
A bloodshot heaven castsits serPents eye
On those whom no one thoughtcould die.
Sam never feared death, and it is this couragewhich runs so powerfully through me rightnow. He loved big parties, so we wish wecould just have a bash. But we are all heretogether, all of his friends, as one. And this is
the deepest tribute we can pay to Sam.
--Jeremy Cordon
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