George Rawling Evans
April 30, 1969 - January 11, 2023
Everyone should be lucky enough to have a friend like George Evans. I’ve been fortunate to call him a friend for more than two-thirds of my life.
We met in August 1987 at the start of our freshman year at the University of South Carolina, where we were pledge brothers in the same fraternity. One of the early requirements was learning every member’s full name and hometown. It didn’t take long for me to realize that George Rawling Evans of Charleston, South Carolina, was someone who would be a lifelong friend.
George had a quick mind and could find comedy or irony in almost any situation. His laugh was easy and infectious. From joking about our middle names during those first weeks of college (“All right, Francis!”) to hatching an ill-conceived plan to euthanize a terminally ill, hypoglycemic hamster our senior year (don’t ask!), we spent a lot of time laughing.
Despite his intelligence and many talents, George was unfailingly kind and utterly without pretension. He was also a passionate music fan. During our sophomore year, he insisted we go hear some solo acoustic act I’d never heard of at a small club near campus. I’ve been a John Prine fan ever since.
In our senior year, we worked as pages in the Lieutenant Governor’s office. When we weren’t in class or at work, we’d drag some giant mid-’80s stereo speakers to the front windows of our house on Gladden Street, blast R.E.M., Willie Nelson, or John Prine — artists our neighbors probably didn’t want to hear mid-afternoon — and throw a football or baseball around in the street. Along with our roommate Tee Miller, we’d watch Andy Griffith reruns and Atlanta Braves games. And when it was time to eat, we occasionally stuck to our novel (though now fully discredited) all-carb diet.
George was one of those rare people about whom no one ever had a bad word to say. The Atlantic just published a piece on the Harvard Study of Adult Development, the longest-running study on human happiness. Its main takeaway — after 85 years — is the strong link between deep relationships and well-being. One reason George had so many close friends, I think, is that he was genuinely curious about other people. And he lacked the ego or emotional armor that can make it hard for others to really connect. I’m confident that the lives of everyone who called George a friend are better for it. Mine certainly is. And I’m going to miss him.
My heart goes out to Laura, Caroline, and his parents, Shay and George. I’ll be supporting Joe Riley’s fundraising for LLS in George’s honor and look forward to helping however I can in the weeks, months, and years to come.
Rest in peace, George.
– John Leary
January 22, 2023
