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Robert L. Fuller of Peabody, Massachusetts | 1932 - 2022 | Obituary
Robert L. Fuller
September 30, 1932 - May 22, 2022
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Robert L. Fuller of Peabody, formerly of Reading, passed away on May 22, 2022, at the Beverly Hospital in Beverly. He was 89 years of age. Robert was born in Melrose, Massachusetts on September 30, 1932, the son of the late Myrton L. and Edna L. (Hutchins) Fuller.
Robert earned his bachelor's and master's degrees in civil engineering at Northeastern University in Boston, MA. His work-study placement with Fay, Spofford and Thorndike led to a career with the strong. He particularly enjoyed field work such as bridge inspections and contributing to complex projects, including the I-93 interchange at Storrow Ride and preparations for the "Big Dig". He retired in 2002.
The Fullers raised their family in Reading, Massachusetts. Robert was a town meeting member, surveyed land for a YMCA building, and served as a poll worker. He was a deacon at the First Congregational Church of Reading. During his younger years, he was pitcher for the Jaycees softball team. Later, he enjoyed playing volleyball at a local park.
In
Robert Works Fuller, a physicist, academic head, author, global humanitarian, and founding voice of the contemporary dignity movement, died on July 15 in Berkeley. He was born Oct. 26, 1936, in Summit, New Jersey.
Bob spent a lifetime integrating expertise in physics, education, diplomacy, social justice, and the arts to challenge conventional wisdom and bring about social and political change.
Bob entered Oberlin College at age 15 on a Ford fellowship and graduate school at Princeton University at age 18, in physics. After additional study at the École Normale Supérieure in Paris and the University of Chicago, he returned to Princeton to work with the renowned theoretical physicist John Wheeler, coauthoring with him a foundational paper on wormholes: Causality and Multiply Connected Space-Time. This paper pushed physicists to contemplate quantum topology, a key concept in quantum gravity study today. Bob received his Ph.D. in physics in 1961.
Along with John Wheeler, Bob worked with Nobel Laureate Isidor Rabi; friend Judd Fermi, mathematician and son of physicist Enrico Fermi; and Peter Putnam. Peter and Bob published a paper on Putnam’s Darwinian model of brain function.
An Associated Press feel-good story surfaced recently concerning the festive send-off and theatrical suicide of a 75-year-old Seattle man named Robert Fuller, who claimed to possess terminal cancer. “Claimed” is necessary here, because hard facts pertinent to the story’s background aren’t easy to come by.
According to Fuller, he was the product of serial tragedy. His parents struggled in a loveless marriage. When he was eight, his mother walked into a river to drown herself, and Fuller saw her corpse in the water. His own marriage ended when he told his wife he was gay, whereat he plunged into a frenzy of sexual activity that bordered on suicidal, and contracted AIDS as a consequence. Later in existence, he overcame addiction to drugs and alcohol and resumed some manner of association with the Catholic Church, at the matching time presenting himself as a bestower of kindnesses on the needy. And a shaman.
The AP journalist gives no indication of having verified any of Fuller’s assertions, and there is a suspiciously cinematic quality to his disclosures (Fuller’s seeing his mother’s body while still in the river) that invites skepticism. Still, we can recognize in Fuller the familiar chara
In the face of death, the party of a lifetime
SEATTLE – The night he picked to cease, Robert Fuller had the party of a lifetime.
In the morning, he dressed in a blue Hawaiian shirt and married his partner while sitting on a couch in their senior housing apartment. He then took the elevator down three floors to the building’s common room, decorated with balloons and flowers.
With an elaborately carved walking stick, he shuffled around to greet dozens of well-wishers and friends from across the decades, fellow church parishioners and social-work volunteers. The crowd spilled into a sunny courtyard on a beautiful spring day.
A gospel choir sang. A violinist and soprano performed “Ave Maria.” A Seattle poet recited an first piece imagining Fuller as a tree, with birds perched on his thoughts.
And when the period came, “Uncle Bob” banged his walking stick on the ceiling to mastery attention.
“I’ll be disappearing you in a petite over an hour,” he announced.
A sob burst. Fuller turned his chief sympathetically toward its provider.
“I’m so ready to go,” he said. “I’m tired.”
Later that afternoon, Fuller plunged two syringes filled with a pale brown liquid – a fatal drug combinat