Having just now (more than ten years later) read Scott's obituary for the first time, I am overcome with various memories of this remarkable and wonderful man.
I was very fortunate to have been taken into the Darroch household for about five months (August 1968 - January 1969) and given a room of my own while there (which belonged, I think, to his older brother Lynn, then away at college).
Though we didn't initially know each other well, Scott with his outgoing, demonstrative, brash personality kind of took my under his wing. We clicked musically, politically, and our shared strong interest in girls.
He actively stood up for me at the very start of our senior year when the CHS administration wanted to suspend me for some bogus "dress code" violation because for several days I wore a cape (wow - imagine!) to school.
Among the many adventurous things we did together was Scott over the 1968 Labor Day weekend driving me (I didn't drive then) in one of his parents' cars all the way to and from San Francisco to visit Robin Mix, a 1968 CHS graduate and fellow thespian friend of ours who was just starting her freshman year at the San Francisco Art Institute. As a shy, timid, introverted guy, it was exhilarating to me to taste what life might be like if I weren't so tied down with so much trepidation and so many hang-ups.
Scott was a role model in so many ways, and though I completely lost touch with him after high school, I was forever grateful for his kindness, consideration, and generosity to me - and for sharing his free spirit!
One additional humorous anecdote associated with the cape contretemps and imbroglio: because I had to deal mostly with associate principal Charles Kipper (as opposed to head principal Max McKinney) my dear friend and classmate Dave Johnson (at whose house I was spending a lot of time) crafted a blues- based (fun-poking) song (including lyrics) which he entitled The Ballad of Charlie Kipper!! Its beginning (in a minor key) was something like, "Ahh, Charlie Kipper. Won't you please come home?")
Light Bryant (Bryant)
Having just now (more than ten years later) read Scott's obituary for the first time, I am overcome with various memories of this remarkable and wonderful man.I was very fortunate to have been taken into the Darroch household for about five months (August 1968 - January 1969) and given a room of my own while there (which belonged, I think, to his older brother Lynn, then away at college).
Though we didn't initially know each other well, Scott with his outgoing, demonstrative, brash personality kind of took my under his wing. We clicked musically, politically, and our shared strong interest in girls.
He actively stood up for me at the very start of our senior year when the CHS administration wanted to suspend me for some bogus "dress code" violation because for several days I wore a cape (wow - imagine!) to school.
Among the many adventurous things we did together was Scott over the 1968 Labor Day weekend driving me (I didn't drive then) in one of his parents' cars all the way to and from San Francisco to visit Robin Mix, a 1968 CHS graduate and fellow thespian friend of ours who was just starting her freshman year at the San Francisco Art Institute. As a shy, timid, introverted guy, it was exhilarating to me to taste what life might be like if I weren't so tied down with so much trepidation and so many hang-ups.
Scott was a role model in so many ways, and though I completely lost touch with him after high school, I was forever grateful for his kindness, consideration,
and generosity to me - and for sharing his free spirit!
One additional humorous anecdote associated with the cape contretemps and imbroglio: because I had to deal mostly with associate principal Charles Kipper (as opposed to head principal Max McKinney) my dear friend and classmate Dave Johnson (at whose house I was spending a lot of time) crafted a blues-
based (fun-poking) song (including lyrics) which he entitled The Ballad of Charlie Kipper!! Its beginning (in a minor key) was something like, "Ahh, Charlie Kipper. Won't you please come home?")