Most of you won’t have heard of him; he and I collaborated on research on zebrafish goosecoid about 20 years ago, and were good friends at the University of Utah, although we drifted out of contact during the usual academic wanderings since. I’ve just now learned that he died on his boat while living in the Dominican Republic.
That’s Scott all over — he was fractious, opinionated, and never satisfied with settling down in just one place. My wife and I knew him as a wonderful story-teller, who’d had a life of spectacular travel. When we were expecting our daughter, he was the first to know about it, and toasted the happy event with a glass of his best wine (and he did know his wines). But I don’t think he ever had a calm relationship with anyone, including his post-doctoral mentor, me, random colleagues everywhere, his wife, or quite possibly anyone he bumped into on the street.
Except, probably, his kids. He was crazy about them.
But it’s sad to learn that he was gone. He was a creative turbulence that burbled through my life for about five years.