Sanford "Sandy" Cohen

My husband Sean and I met Sandy and Gail in 1998, on a nine-day nature expedition in Peru. It was one hell of an adventure! We took an antiquated bus 200 km overland from high-elevation Cusco down to the Madre de Dios River, a major tributary of the great Amazon. Within a very short time, a warm and lively bond evolved with Sandy and Gail--intrepid, compassionate citizens of the world with a bottomless well of worldly experiences. The four of us journeyed by canoe downriver through Manu National Park, with two indigenous boatmen and our incredible guide, Romero. We experienced a stunning variety of plant life and a virtually endless parade of exotic wildlife: monkeys, caimans, tapirs, giant river otters, jaguars, a spectacular array of rainforest birds, and more. The many trials of the trip (biblical-scale rains, nonstop insects, boot-sucking mud) were tempered by the sauce of Sandy’s wit and the rich evening group conversations. I can still hear Sandy rolling his r’s when he spoke to (and later, of) Romero!

Despite living on opposite coasts, our friendship continued. When I made a work-related trip to D.C., Gail invited me to stay at their house in McLean. They gave me a tour of the capitol and many hours of deep, wide-ranging exchanges that revealed Sandy’s intellect, humor, and social concerns, particularly over nuclear proliferation. He and Gail both were so sincerely interested in the lives of individuals, as well as cultures—a sentiment that shone through in the many, keen-eyed videos of their trips in Africa, Asia, Australia, and elsewhere. They were clearly exemplary ambassadors of good will and generosity to people everywhere they touched down.

We cheered when, after retiring, Sandy and Gail were able to finally relocate to the West Coast, to be closer to family and enjoy the beautiful Monterey Bay area. Visits to their home there renewed our appreciation for this special friendship. We’re saddened by Sandy’s death and our hearts go out to Gail, David, Shelly, Reid, Tom, Amanda, and Quinn. Yet, when I reflect on Sandy, I am reminded of this wise passage by the Dalai Lama:

“We are visitors on this planet. We are here for ninety or one hundred years, at the very most. During that period, we must try to do something good, something useful with our lives. If you contribute to other people’s happiness, you will find the true goal, the true meaning of life.

I do believe that Sandy found the true meaning of life!
Noreen Parks, Port Townsend, WA

I met Sandy in 1994, when I joined SC&A right out of college, as “the baby of the company” as Sandy once referred to me in a birthday card. I appreciated Sandy as an intelligent, kind, and honorable person, someone who asked how you’re doing and actually listened to and remembered the answer. I admired his continued energy and curiosity as he and Gail jetted off to all sorts of places even as they got older, going off the beaten path, taking the time to get to know a culture, and sharing their experiences with others. I consider Sandy to be a role model for a life well lived. Gail and family, you are in my thoughts!

I am deeply saddened and offer my condolences to Gail and family. My years with Sandy and SC&A were The Best.

In 1988 I was an Operations Manager responsible for three SAIC Divisions. I was also in midst of a deep, clinical, debilitating depression. I quit SAIC. A mutual great friend (since deceased) introduced Sandy and me; Sandy hired me as a program manager. Some guilt on my part as I never told Sandy about my depression. In any event, I called SC&A home until I returned to SAIC in 1998. It was a great home. Sandy and Gail were a successful team; and they cared very much about everyone’s well being. I am indebted beyond words.

Sandy and I suited-up countless times for meetings with US EPA and DOE senior executives. Sandy was always the sharpest science and technology intellect around the table. And he was an entrepreneural government contractor “politician-of-sorts” – senior bureaucrats listened to and paid attention to Sandy’s recommendations. His demeanor and image projected absolute professionalism and continual ethical performance. Clients knew they would receive competence and value when they contracted with SC&A.

Sandy’s business model was highly efficient and effective. When SC&A needed to “bulk up” a bit for contract bidding purposes, he asked if I would be executive vice president. How could anyone refuse Sandy? Sandy was my unofficial mentor. During conversations over lunches in McLean, in the car to and from downtown DC, at SC&A holiday parties, etc – Sandy vacillated from serious to humorous to philosophical and back again. I enjoyed those chats immensely – and learned a lot.

Bottom line: Sandy was an all around Good Guy, and smarter than most scientific business leaders. Thank you Sandy.

Although we live on different continents, we have been travelling together since 2001. It all started by co-incidence in 2001 on Madagascar, where we had to share transport due to fuel shortages. The contact has continued since and we have made several more trips together: Azores, Costa Rica, Yosemite, visits at each others homes and the almost trip to Benin and Togo. It was always nice to spend some time together. We remember it fondly.
We read that Sandy liked a good glass of whiskey and a glass of beer. We tried to add a nice espresso to that, but didn't quite manage.

I was so sad to hear about Sandy’s passing. I worked for Sandy and Gail at SC&A for 24 years. They were so much more than bosses. They welcomed John and me into their home for dinners broadening our horizons with such things as Sandy’s homemade beer and exotic foods like the durian. We shared their love of travel and marveled at their adventures off the beaten trail which Sandy brought to life through pictures and stories.

Long before work from home and flexible schedules were a thing, Sandy organized SC&A around those principles. I am truly grateful to Sandy as this allowed me to continue working while raising four children. Seeing how good this was for our family, John gave a lot of flexibility to his employees and often talked about how Sandy was his inspiration.

It was a joy to see the love between Sandy & Gail – working closely together, arguing, making up and always having a little bit of fun.

Holding you close in prayer.

Sandy and my late husband, Carlos, knew each other long before I met Sandy and Gail.
Gail and I became close friends while Sandy was the serious side of the friendship. Yet, moving to Monterey softened him, I think.
Sad to know he is gone but he leaves fond memories!
Karin

I am saddened with the passing of Sandy. He hired me in 2004, and I became fond of his sincerity, smartness, fairness, and honesty. In a nutshell, he was dear to my heart because of those qualities. One thing that resides in my memory from our many discussions is that he and I would meet in heaven one day and smoke a cigar at the edge of a peaceful running stream. His smile and laugh still ring my ears. I have cherished our discussions and continuous support. He loved his family and was always proud of them. His love to Gail is showing in this beautiful photo that I kept for the memory. Rest in Peace my friend.

Sandy was my uncle. I initially thought of Uncle Sandy as a somewhat serious type of person based on what I was told about his education and what job he had.

I was amazed to find out that Uncle Sandy had a humorous side to him. This came to light one time while I was visiting and he put on a pair of glasses, that looked like they were from the late 1700s or early 1800s, and then lit up a very long thin white pipe. With a half serious / half humorous tone, while puffing on the pipe, he began to talk philosophically about something.

I was too busy laughing at what he looked like and his mannerisms to pay attention to what he was saying.

After that, I had a totally different perspective of my uncle.

Uncle Sandy, you will be missed.

Jonathan Hirsch

I met Sandy when he hired me 33 years ago. Although I did not live here, Sandy and one other person were my main contacts with the company and we communicated regularly, I was fortunate in having the president of the company as my main contact. I came to know Sandy outside of work and we developed an enduring, close professional and personal relationship.
Sandy was clearly the most ethical person with whom I interacted in the business world. He was the true north of my internal moral compass.
Sandy probably had forgotten more about nuclear criticality than most people on earth, including nuclear scientists like me, ever knew. I would ask him about some detail needed for one of my projects and he would provide a detailed, in-depth explanation with the appropriate constants and correction factors completely from his head as he sat there without any notes or outside information.

Sandy and I discussed everything - politics, religion, relationships, fears, family and more, nothing was off limits. Sandy possessed a rare quality, he listened to you. He genuinely wanted to know what you thought, especially if you disagreed with him, an attribute that is hard to find, especially in someone who runs a company. And he valued your input, irrespective of whether it supported his perspective. We disagreed about several topics and we continued our discussions, sometimes over weeks, until eventually coming to some agreement. I learned a great deal from these discussions, mainly about true curiosity and really listening to others.He was a great role model for me.

I feel lucky to have known Sandy. He made more of a genuine difference in this world than anyone I know. I will miss him and think of him often. I mourn his passing with Gail, their boys and grandchildren, and I wish them comfort as they adjust to a life without him. As I trust will be true of many others, his memory will be a blessing to me.

Just last weekend, I was randomly reminded of something he said 40 years ago that made me laugh. He was showing us a new pocket memo recorder he had purchased because, as he put it, "I'll be walking around and think of an idea, and this is a great way to remember it. But the problem is, ever since I got it, I stopped having ideas!"
Or another one I had thought of recently: We were all out somewhere (maybe an O's game?), and he bought my meal. I tried to pay him back. He said, "I know, when you're this age, everyone thinks you have no money. But the truth is, you have it better than anyone, because everyone keeps buying you stuff." Of course he wouldn't hear of accepting payment, so he ended up just giving me another laugh on top of my meal.
Those are examples...my point is that it is a real testament to someone when you can just be walking around and remember something they said decades ago. Always warm and generous. Nothing but fond memories of him.

I am deeply saddened and offer my heartfelt condolences. I will miss Sandy so much. He was my first friend when I moved to San Diego in 1963. He was one of my three friends at my wedding in 1965. He and I both played the violin in a string quartet until he moved to Virginia around 1970. We had so many good times together from the time we met. I will always miss him so much.

I worked closely with Sandy since 1988 until his retirement. I can't begin to tell you of the incredible memories I have, not only related to work but more so related to my staying at Sandy and Gail's home dozens of times. Sandy would mediate the heated political arguments I had with Gail, which often went into 3:00 am in the morning. I miss those days.

You all probably realize the incredible culture and work ethic Sandy created and passed on to Greg. To this day, the amazing people we all work with reflects Sandy kind and generous legacy. May it go on forever.

John Mauro.

Sandy was one of my husband, Terry's, dearest friends, who helped him through some of his hardest personal times, with his sincerity, wisdom, insight, humor and genuine friendship. Terry had deep respect for Sandy's work, although had to tease him about being a "Beltway Bandit". Sandy and Gail were Terry's port in the storm, and he treasured the guidance and "family life" they provided. Later, when I met them about 35+ years ago, they welcomed me with joy. I vividly recall many wonderful conversations with Sandy, whose wit and intelligence always awed me. We shared a love of photography and wildlife and I always loved his slide show travelogues and narrations. Our last visit together was about 8 years ago, as Terry himself declined due to Alzheimer's. The two old friends walked, talked, laughed and shared memories. Sandy's friendship again provided Terry with comfort and support. I will treasure many fond memories and send my sincere condolences and love to Gail, David & Tom.

I met Sandy in an engineering course at University of Michigan in 1961. Was impressed by his command of the Norwegian language, so we decided to share the rent and cooking at the exclusive estate at Ayrshire Drive 2281 until we graduated early 1964. Since we kept in touch by letter, visits and notably a joint long vacation during the summer of 2005 when Sandy, Gail, Myriam and I went to Norway, Hurtigruten, Lofoten, Lapland to Kirkenes. I have fond memories of Sandy, his broad knowledge and interests, witt and the ability to exteriorlize. I could even share some of the many memories as late as this August during our last Skype encounter.
Kgs. Lyngby, Denmark

I met Sandy in 2001 when I decided to find a company I could join where I could make a difference after having been at CH2M HILL for 16 years. I could not help but be impressed with Sandy and the company he had built 20 years prior to that. Sandy was a very caring and smart person who not only was a great engineer but also a great communicator which is rare. It was a very easy decision for me to join the firm after spending time talking to Sandy and the staff he had hired. Sandy was a great mentor to me and I feel lucky and privileged to have had the chance to work with him for 15+ years. I also feel fortunate to have spent time with his family through the years and will never forget the principles he lived by and those wonderful trips he and Gail captured through his video camera and her camera. I will miss him and will do the best I can in carrying on his name in his wonderful firm.

This is hard. Sandy and I first met at the beginning of the school year in 1945. It was fifth grade. We kept in touch over the years, lunches, visit to Sandy and Gail in California etc. There was an interesting conversation recently with Gail about care giving. A calling we jointly share.

Gail is a saint-like figure. I want to write this before calling her. Rarely do I feel this emotional.

I have told Sandy and Gail and my dear wife Susan that I learned more from Sandy than any other friend.

For instance, Sandy introduced me to classical music. One night, Fred Freeman and Sandy and I unrolled a blanket in front of the “band shell” in Grant Park, on Chicago’s fabulous front lawn, in Grant Park. It probably was in the early 1950s. It was Sandy’s idea. I was hooked. Of course, I’d listened to Sandy playing the violin for years in school, but never heard a full throated symphony orchestra in real life.

I went along with Sandy when his father was teaching him to drive. His dad and my dad were equally harsh with their sons about the way they handled their feet. The first time I heard my dad swear was while teaching us to drive. My dad would say, as he feared for his life, “Step on the brake, dammit, STEP ON THE BRAKE.” Sandy’s dad’s problem was how his son handled the accelerator. I sat in the back seat cowering.

His mom and my mom would sit together in the audience at the shows we participated in during our Kilmer grammar school and Sullivan High School days.

It is early experiences that, often unrealized, tend to shape our lives as much as DNA and how our parents brought us up, because of how their parents brought them up.

Sandy, Fred and I were among the same relatively small clique in high school. I forget who got the idea first but we nerds and wusses, and definitely non-macho types, were feeling left out in the era of high school fraternities and sororities…not getting the attention of the girls who were attracted to the studs’ and jocks’ school fraternities. So we decided to form The Syndicate, even bought jackets with our jacked up name (Syndicate) on the back. Al Capone’s mob was called The Syndicate.

It didn’t work.

Meanwhile, Sandy, Fred, Ronnie Ruther and I were among a group of high schoolers who were members of The Stage Crew, chaperoned by a Science Teacher named Mrs. Huck. We set up slide projectors in classrooms, handled lighting for stage performances and because we were shy and terrible dancers, pulled the shifts to play music in the auditorium at lunchtime. The kids who could dance would do so after eating and waiting for the bell to go to their next class.

One summer Sandy, Fred, Ronnie and I went up to Mrs. Huck’s farm in Wisconsin. My most vivid memory was Mr. Huck, with his fifth or sixth beer in hand arguing with a tree. Sandy kept up a relationship with Mrs. Huck over several years and it was touching.

As a member of Mrs. Huck’s Stage Crew, Sandy snuck up into the room where the stage lights were controlled, hidden from the stage. There he saw some female classmates changing costumes at a rehearsal and discovered the joys of viewing the other sexes’ bodies. Well, maybe that was after we went to the strip shows on South State Street to see Madam Scarbalinie. Years later it dawned on me that the somewhat obese Scarbalinie’s scar probably was from a C- Section.

That was when there still were vaudeville sketches between the strip acts.

But music and show biz were in his blood at that time. Sandy, Fred, and a couple of other friends, at Sandy’s suggestion, became occasional ushers at performances in Chicago’s prime performance venue, the Civic Opera House. We would dress up, grab a flashlight and take the EL and subway downtown to sign in as volunteers. Because we did so, we were allowed to find unoccupied seats and view the shows. Like a revival of Porgy and Bess. We sat down in front by the orchestra pit and reveled in the experience.

I think it was at that performance someone of us (there were maybe four) decided it would be appropriate on the way home to usher riders of the EL and subway to their seats. What a hoot in that somewhat “simpler” time.

We also ushered at several Jazz At the Philharmonic shows. I remember Sandy telling me, as I was clapping along with some riff or other, that I was out of rhythm. Or more to the point, and he was really on point, I didn’t have rhythm. He, of course, was right.

Skipping a few years, Sandy was interning, or something like that, at the Argonne National Laboratories outside of Chicago. It was a nuclear research facility. He invited me for a personalized tour. That was the first nuclear facility I visited and two things stuck in my mind. First was his pushing a button and my standing in awe as two immense white or steel doors opened-up to the impressive inside, as spic and span as a modern operating suite in any major hospital. And second, as I realized later, it was super quiet compared to the mind bending cacophony in a nuclear plant that produces electricity.

I am not a scientist, but a mere press agent, journalist, public servant and consultant who had scientific clients, among others. But his science experience also hooked me.

There is ever so much more in my life that was influenced by Sandy, who I miss. When we met over the many years as adults we could unburden ourselves of the inner thoughts that were meant to only be unburdened to old and trusted dear friends.

We shared a few friends from the last century who wandered in and out of our lives, like Fred Freeman and Harvey Meyerson. Every conversation with them asked what have you heard from Sandy?