I met Chip Hooper in August 1980 on the fourth floor of the Freudenberger dormitory on the campus of Southwest Missouri State University. I was from small town Missouri, Chip, Chicago. I listen to Neil Young, Chip; Judas Priest. I drank health smoothies (before their time), Chip ate Honey Buns. I was laid back, Chip was intense. We had much to learn from each other. Those that can teach you the most can come in challenging packages. I learned so much from Chip. Passionate, fearless, driven, and, yes, sometimes overbearing and pushy. I tried to throw him out of my dorm room more than once, but Chip Hooper was simply indomitable.

Chip ran a leaf raking business over the pay phone in our dorm hallway. In short order, several of us were raking and Chip, of course, was negotiating on our behalf. A sign of things to come.

We stayed in touch through the now infamous Chip Hooper phone calls. He made sure I had a “proper” bachelor party. Me, Chip, Steve, and a case of cheap beer in my empty first apartment. These were days long before fine wine and the big time. We attended

Photography brought Chip and I together in 2000 as he became an artist at Edward Carter Gallery in New York where I was the director.

I didn’t know much about his involvement in the music world, so that never got in the way of really connecting with him as one artist spirit to another. I sold a lot of his photographs in the short time that I was there.  But this was just the beginning of our wild ride of friendship over the next 16 years.  He was a devoted friend and my biggest advocate.  Missing him isn’t even close to how I feel now.

But with all this sadness, I want to remember one of many highlights of my life with him.  As you know, Chip was incredibly competitive, always wanting to be the best.  Jim Glancy and I cooked up this imaginary photographer named “Jemma Chansel” and even put out a press release stating that he was the best ocean photographer in the world!  That really got to him (in a wonderfully teasing way).  Chip’s debut exhibition at the Robert Mann Gallery in New York was weeks away and I thought Jemma Chansel should

I knew Chip well when he was a teenager. I owned a skateboard shop and we were on a skateboard team together. Chip was fun, upbeat, adventurous, friendly and a really great guy. When I asked him to be on our team, I did it not only because he was a terrific skateboarder, but also because I knew there could be no better ambassador to skateboarding, or our store.

Chip was a true friend. I ended up in a drug rehab at 16 years old…and when I came out and stayed clean and sober, I lost most of my friends. Not Chip.

We rode together in many contests around the Midwest and he won a bunch of them. Everyone loved him. It’s funny too (and I spoke to him about it later) that he used a song by Aerosmith as the music in his freestyle routine. Apparently he told this to the band later.

My store was called “Wheels of Progress”. This is where we used to hang, talk shop, fix boards and plan our next road trip or contest.

We didn’t live near each other, but every week we got together to skate. He was

I met Chip while I coached at St Johns University.  I really enjoyed coaching his son Max. An incredibly dedicated and wonderful young man. When Max decided to transfer from St Johns, Chip and I had several discussions . I was hoping Max would stay. Chip had great concern for his son’s decision, wanting him to be very happy and enjoy his college and basketball experience.

During this time I knew Chip was fighting cancer, I didn’t know how severe it was but he looked remarkably well. Two months after Max transferred, my little brother Sean  was diagnosed with brain cancer. Our whole family was devastated. I contacted Chip for advice. I knew he looked at experimental treatment and would be helpful getting information. His insight, his compassion were amazing!  We had many conversations, it was so helpful and positive. I remember Chip immediately sent me information on how to beat the odds and how it helped him in  his fight against cancer.  Out of the blue, I would get a phone call or a text message from him just checking in , seeing if he can help me out. Wondering how Sean was doing.

We didn’t know how much our lives would be touched by the big guy who came in to our shop to speak with us about framing his photography.  Though it wasn’t long that we began to think of him as our friend as well as our customer,  almost all of the time we had with Chip over the years had to do with meeting to discuss framing, and signing his large prints.  

Chips’s beautiful large silver prints were carefully printed and mounted by Steve Rifkin and his team, then crated and sent to us.  Then we’d wait for Chip to propose a day or time that worked for him.  Given Chip’s busy life, these dates almost always took place outside of regular business hours, a late afternoon on a Sunday or in the evening after our crew had cleared out.  Often he’d combine it with other reasons to be in the city, plans with Max or Val, business, or passing through on his way to his escape and photograph on the way to Sea Ranch.  It was kind of an inside joke with Reinhold and I:  if Chip said he’d make it Sterling

I met Chip during a whirlwind year of success with The Lumineers.  We went to breakfast with my team, prepared to meet one of the biggest legends in the game.  I was warned ahead of time:  “PLEASE DO NOT TALK BASKETBALL WITH HIM – it’ll derail the whole conversation”  But I couldn’t help myself.  Having played college ball and hearing of his son’s successes I found a gap in industry talk, leaned in and asked about Max.  Game over.  Next thing I know I was watching practice footage, talking triangle offense and more.  It was hilarious and glorious and it was a situation that would repeat itself over the next few years when one of us was tried of the industry talk.  Our own little private joke and meeting escape. 🙂  I feel so privileged and lucky to have ever been in a room with Chip – let alone learn from him.  What a special, kind, big-hearted man.  RIP friend.

When word of my own cancer diagnosis reached Facebook in 2012, Chip was the first to call, seemingly within minutes. At that point we had worked in the same office for three years but I didn’t really know him, other than to say “hi” in passing. We certainly didn’t travel in the same social circles. So I was really surprised — and incredibly honored — that one of the most powerful people in the music business would take the time to call and express concern and support, especially to someone at the opposite end of the spectrum.

And that, as I came to learn, was simply how Chip was.

With neuroendocrine forms of cancer as our common denominator, I suddenly found myself more comfortable talking with him, asking his advice or offering mine. Sometimes we’d talk about cancer, other times about music (though the timing never worked out, he was kind enough to patiently entertain my repeated requests for my then-girlfriend to meet Dave Matthews!) or some other topic. No matter the subject, he was always animated, enthusiastic and, most of all, positive. He showed me that a positive attitude goes further than anything in this

When I was director of Weston Gallery Chip would enter the room with a smile that would melt you!  He was like a big kid full of laughs, kind words and he had a way of just making my day much better when he walked through the door.  I hadn’t seen Chip in a while and it had been many moons since I stepped down as director of Weston Gallery, but last year I had my first exhibition and opening at Weston Gallery and then in walks Chip!  A true friend after so many years to come and support me!

He was the light on the pacific just like the print I have of his (a generous gift he gave me).

I will always be reminded of his talent, kindness and friendship when I gaze into my print of “Light over the Pacific”.  Thank you Chip for sharing your kindness and talents with the rest of the world.  You will be truly missed.  

With loving memories, Cara

This hit like a ton of bricks. So young and so much good work.

Like many I went back to the 80’s with Chip when he was still at Good Music. I was buying from him from the moment he started at Monterey. And  we connected immediately over photography– his and others. I own one of his prints that I like to think I did him the honor of buying from his gallery. Chip had used the image I bought (Pines in Fog) for a gallery  invite  and sent me 100 blank note cards and envelopes of the same in recognition. In  a spooky turn I used them for every condolence card I sent for 20 years. He sourced an Edward Weston print for me from the Weston Gallery which also represented him and sent back the first one they offered him because it was not up to his technical standards. When you are Chip you get to do that.

He talked to me at length when vetting Phish before signing them  and signed Strangefolk at a Somerville show of mine. But for all the Jam bands, for all the  Melissa Etheridge/Bonnie Raitt/Lyle whatever , the

Chip took me under his wing when I was a young Midwestern twenty something photographer who knew a lot about digital imaging, and not so much about a whole lot else. We worked together as he was beginning to exhibit his photographs to produce digital portfolios for his galleries. His influence on my understanding of photography was profound. In everything he did, he was a giant among giants. 

One of the times I’ll always remember was photographing on Big Sur, sometime around 1998 or 1999. It was just after sunset, in the fading twilight. After climbing up some steep rock face to get back to the car, we realized the gas gauge on his Suburban was way below empty. That part of Big Sur is pretty desolate. No cell service, few cars passing, and the nearest gas was a long way away. We gave each other that look of, “Oh Crap, what do we do now?”  We had no choice but to try and make it back. As we drove up each hill, we saw the gas gauge go lower, and on the downhills we watched to see if it would move higher. It barely did.