The Justice

To sit under the bright yellow lights of Levin Ballroom on Sunday afternoon, to listen to countless stories about the late Tony Williams and his contributions to the University, it would seem that a knowledge of his term as director of the Transitional Year Program would be necessary to understand the affect he had on his students and colleagues.

Certainly, the details matter: When Williams accepted the position in 1978, TYP-an admissions program that accepts students whose talent and passion exceeds the resources of their home community and engages them in a full year of preparation for immersion into Brandeis-was in danger of being eliminated. But Williams, refusing to see the end of the program under his jurisdiction, announced that he would take charge as director for no less than three years.

In January of that year, student members of the Brandeis Afro-American Society took over Ford Hall and presented the administration with a list of ten demands for better minority representation on campus. The demonstration, which had students marching around Ford Hall to prevent police from entering, ended ten days later with a promise from University President Morris Abrams to honor many of their demands. The list, which was published in the January 14, 1969 issue of the Justice, included a demand for the creation of an African-American Studies department with the power to hire and fire, the establishment of an Afro-American studies center designed by black students, and immediate action to add black professors to various departments. 1975, a similar takeover took place at Pearlman Hall, with 30 students demanding the University drop its plans to dismantle TYP.

On Sunday, the speakers at Williams' memorial service addressed the audience of about 150 somber students and staff ensured the crowd that Tony Williams-who died at 68 after a two-year battle with lung cancer on Oct. 10-was staunch in his behavior and beliefs, no matter what events surrounded him. Whether faced with passionate demands for political action or a student who seemed to care more for partying on weekends than preparing for exams, Williams was solid in his convictions.

"As a student, Tony Williams was a pain in the ass," Kenneth Still '72 says. Now with short graying hair and a raspy voice, Still recalls his college days of "acting foolish" and drinking with his friends.

"We had to face Tony when we got in trouble. We're looking at him like, 'You're a brother, you're supposed to help us out.' But he wouldn't. He always did the right thing," Still says.

Continued...

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