Birds of a Feather

Below is something Mark wrote about his friend from the UK at a symposium in his honor. Like Mark, he died too soon and with much left undone. I met Tony at a meeting in Spain that I went to with Mark about twenty years ago. It was a raucous time with the most fun people I had ever been around. While having lunch outside one afternoon, Mark and I walked up to a table that Tony was at and were chatting with some people. After a few minutes, Tony said, “Fish, can you move your fat ass? You’re blocking the sun.” In the years that followed, Mark and I would repeat that line a thousand times. Tony was a pied piper and Mark a most willing follower. The unabashed laughter of the two of these complex, brilliant, down-to-earth guys could get you into some trouble but the memories would be worth it. So much of what Mark wrote last year about Tony applies to him in so many ways.

I first met Tony at a SF conference. As we crossed paths, he looked at my name tag and immediately launched into our mutual initial work in the chaperonin field. I looked at his name tag and wondered “Who the F**k is Neil Ranson”. It turned out Tony was wearing Neil’s name tag to avoid paying the conference fees. From there, we instantly became great friends because of our mutual “working man/blue collar scientist” demeanors. I was a roofer in a former life and he certainly possessed a working man’s attitude and style. This meant we said F**k a lot, even calmly intertwining that language style into our scientific discussions. He would refer to me henceforth as “The F**king Fish”.  I had spent an adventurous three weeks in Bristol living with Binx, Kate, and Tony to attend numerous conferences on Prions and Chaperone Proteins, just in time for the Mad Cow Scare. It was a stimulating visit to say the least. There was literally never a dull moment. We spent an inordinate amount of time trying to make each other blow tea or beer though our noses with our silly little antics (imitating the pompous) or stories (my past adventures in roofing and his summaries of general science faux pas). On the flip side, Tony had an intensely serious and strong empathetic streak that would often emerge throughout the course of the day. When he would make it to the US colonies, we would sometimes go on long early morning hikes to go bird watching, hardly the habit you would expect from such a boisterous fellow since you had to be quiet for long periods of time. Tony was a keen kineticist and enzymologist who relished in uncovering the allosteric complexity of the chaperonin machine in his most thorough manner. He avoided experimental fishing expeditions, or as he called them…. “Strolling along the chemical shelf”. He was, without a doubt, a brilliant and accomplished scientist. He was an extremely complex man who enjoyed life to its fullest. I will miss my friend. His full-throated unabashed laughter will reverberate in my brain for the rest of my days.