In Good Company

BY ANDREW SMAHA, TUFTS STUDENT 1995-1999, PRODUCER, WILLIAMSBURG, VA
To this day, I remember the first time I met Tony and I can’t help but think it set the tone for our entire relationship. Early in my days at Tufts, I found myself aimlessly looking over the call board just outside the Balch Arena Theater when I decided to take a peek inside and see if anyone was around. At the exact moment I was trying to get inside the theater, he was trying to get out. It was a stand-off for the ages, leading to a disastrous conclusion.

The next image I remember was Tony flat on his ass, looking up at me as if I had just sealed my fate for the next four years. He was covered with coffee and his papers were dumped all around him. Without missing a beat, he looks up at me, extends his hand, and promptly declares in that voice that catches everyone off guard when heard for the first time, “I’m Anthony Cornish and I believe you owe me a cup of coffee.” I laughed out loud; I couldn’t help it…

Tony wasn’t content with this being a funny side note in my life at Tufts. A few days later, he caught me out of the corner of his eye and came right up to me, asking me for that cup I owed. We ended up spending 2 hours together down in Davis Square, having lunch and talking about everything from theater to politics to our own lives before our seemingly scripted meeting. To this day, it astonishes me that this man had no understanding of who I was, but was aware enough to know that I was sheepishly roaming around the theater and maybe needed a little push to get involved. Nearly every single time we met in the four years that followed, we would go out of our way to engage in conversation or share a fun story.

This was my relationship with Tony. He never treated me like a student. He never looked down on me. He was always interested in what I had to say. Most importantly, he was good company. He and I did end up working together on a few projects and I was witness to many of those wonderfully ridiculous Tony moments we all know and love. Yet my warmest memories of Tony were those times we would simply sit side-by-side and watch others share their craft. He was out in support of every event, every production, every social gathering hosted at the theater. Each time, he and I could relax as if we were old friends sitting in the corner, providing commentary for the
evening. It was especially a treat when he would ask me to stand with him during a show that he directed so he could simply share with me how he felt things were going.

For a man with so many credentials, he had every reason to be detached and above it all. What amazes me about Tony is that, at the end of the day, he was just one of the guys. For all of the small moments…the hundreds of times we would sit together and experience life at the same moment…the quiet times when it was just two guys sharing a common interest…I will miss him terribly.