On 4/23/2024, San Francisco lost Randy Scott, Jr. 80. Randy was a dutiful husband, attentive father, cherished grandfather, and beloved brother. Professionally, he amassed an impressive 30-year resume in HR and years in public service and philanthropy. Recently, was President and Commissioner for the San Francisco Health Service. To many, Randy was a Trustee, Commissioner, Emeritus Archon, President, but to his family and friends, Randy was simply the family rock and source of unwavering strength.
During a chance encounter in Newark Airport, Randy met the love of his life, Bette Davis. After introducing themselves, they realized, with amusement, they shared the names of two movie stars. When it became clear they were taking the same plane, Randy, ever the gentleman, reached down, picked up Bette’s luggage and escorted her onto the plane. The spark they ignited in that moment became the foundation of fifty years of laughs, love, and devoted marriage. Their flame burned bright, we remember clearing the dance floor as Randy danced with Bette, wheeling her wheelchair around the floor during his granddaughter’s wedding.
Randy inherited a passion from his mother, a chef. A Julia Child protégé, he was happiest preparing gourmet meals for his family. Randy laughed uproariously at these dinners. A patron of fine arts, Randy loved classic literature, cinema, opera, and playing orchestral music in his car. He loved time with his grandchildren, imparting his wisdom and the list of a gentleman’s essentials. To his family, Randy was Santa Claus in an apron, with a cocked red hat, wineglass in hand, serving an expertly baked beef Wellington, with hollandaise-covered asparagus spears.
Randy was a great story teller—a passionate historian. Randy could tell you why sea lions lounge on Pier 39, the origins of Lombard Street, and the history of Alcatraz. He whispered little secrets about love, life, and living, with warmth, and a wit as dry as Napa Valley Chardonnay.
Randy was always respectful of others, giving all a voice and the space to feel important and loved. Randy’s presence was a gift that death cannot reclaim. We will miss him fiercely.