Rif Hutton

A friend

David Cowgill

Friend

I just wanted to include some of the photos that I had in my speech and a couple that weren’t included. Thought they would be fun to look at.

Mark A Hutton

My brother

How Do I Say Goodbye to My Brother, Rif? In Loving Celebration of Wallace "Wally" "Rif" Hutton How do I say goodbye to my brother, Rif? A man who made every burden seem just a little less stiff. A friend, a protector, a confidant so true, With a heart big enough to make room for me and you. To the world, he was Rif. To our family, he was Wally. A Jersey kid from 26th Avenue, Whose love was deep, whose laughter always rang true. When Wally headed off to Seton Hall, I'd sneak in his room—that was my favorite heist of all. I'd borrow his Richard Pryor albums, maybe Bill Cosby too... Now don't judge me too hard—I know some of y'all did things like that too! If he knew I was in there? He probably did. But that's the kind of brother he was... He'd shake his head, smile, and say, "That's my little brother... what am I gonna do with this kid?" He loved me through my "good trouble," Through every laugh and every stumble. Never keeping score, Always opening one more door. Rif didn't just walk into a room... He brought the room to life. He could throw a party that would make the neighbors jealous, With music, dancing, food, laughter, And enough love to last us for years. If you left Rif's house hungry, That was your own fault. Because somehow he'd convince you You needed one more plate... And then one more piece of cake! When I think of him, I don't think of sadness. I think of that smile. That little wink. That quiet confidence. That heart that never seemed to run out of kindness. Yes, today our hearts are heavy. But today isn't about saying, "What we've lost." It's about standing together and saying, "Look what we were blessed to have." Because men like Rif don't really leave us. They live in every lesson. Every family gathering. Every joke that makes us laugh a little too hard. Every hug that lasts a little longer. And somewhere today, I can almost hear him saying, "Why y'all crying? Turn the music up! Somebody start the grill! Who's making the potato salad?" That's my brother. Today he's reunited with our mother and father. I can picture all three of them smiling, Watching over us, Probably laughing at us right now. So no... I won't remember my brother with tears. I'll remember him with laughter. With music. With family. With stories. With love. Because that's the way Rif lived. And if he could stand here today, I believe he'd tell every one of us... "Love each other. Take care of one another. Laugh often. Forgive quickly. Eat well. Dance when you can. And never miss a chance to tell someone you love them." So how do I say goodbye to my brother, Rif? Maybe I don't. Maybe I simply say... Thank you. Thank you for the memories. Thank you for the laughter. Thank you for the love. Thank you for showing all of us what a good man looks like. Until we meet again, my brother... Save me a seat. And don't start the party without me. I love you, Rif. Always have. Always will.

Mark A Hutton

Paul Pape

Friend

It is a long time ago and I don’t remember where we were now, but Rif and I just happened to be sitting by ourselves having lunch, while we were on a break from an ADR job. He mentioned how he had been broke at one point and was living on top of a movie theater. It came out in a rather matter-of-fact way, but I could totally relate to what he was he was saying. His comment jump-started a heart-to-heart conversation between us. I told him how I had basically been a squatter in my first apartment in New York when I had stayed in some guy’s place that I didn’t even know after he’d been evicted - making it work for two months before I got caught. Pretty soon, we were sharing the struggles we had both experienced – some funny, some not – as well as the ones that had changed us or deeply impacted us. We had both started with no money and few connections and yet, here we were, doing okay now. Once the conversation was finished, it was obvious that our bond was deeper. We were going to be more than just colleagues from that point forward. But that’s the way it was with Rif. Once you were friends, you were really friends. We shared a lot in our work and lives over the years – good times and bad. We also had a mutual love of good tequila – although, like everything else he did, he eventually took that interest into true aficionado territory. Like many people that he came to know well, Rif gave me a nickname - “Hammer King”, which he did after he saw me do a five-minute improvisation for a golf club commercial that was playing in the background on an episode of “JAG”. The producers had forgotten to write one themselves. I just happened to be having a pretty good day, so I stood up and somehow did it off the top of my head. It was one of those things you do in the ADR world from time to time but, for some reason, Rif always remembered it. From that day forward, he never called me anything else. Getting a nickname from Rif was just his way of saying, “I see you, brother”. I knew Bridget before I knew Rif. She and I literally grew up in the business together. We have experienced a lot together over the years and I will always feel the same about her also. I have always felt very protective of Bridget – almost like a brother is of a sister. She is a good soul and I’m glad she and Rif found each other. Wolfy…I’ll say this directly to you - watching the young man you have become is something you can be very proud of. You are indeed your father and mother’s son in so many ways. And that’s saying a lot. Whether we grew up in the business or not - and most of us did not - we all know just how tough this business is. How hard it is to do what you love doing. Yet rarely have any of us seen anyone work harder at their career than Rif did. I think that’s one thing that we will always remember about him - that and the fact that the challenges that he faced (and sought out) only made him that much more distinctive. They forged a considerable amount of character, which included his generosity, integrity, humility and his great empathy for others. Life can bring you down for sure, or you can choose to become the better for it. Rif chose to be…well…Rif…and WE are the better for it. People like Rif don’t come along every day. They really don’t. I’ve only known a few that are truly like him. They show us the best of what we are capable of as human beings - and just being around them makes you want to be a better person yourself. If Rif could do it, you think, maybe I can also. Rest well, my friend. You were special and everyone knew it. We hope you do, too, even though you would probably be the last to say you were anything other than just one of the gang.

ROBERT CLOTWORTHY

Friend

KMPC Radio Theater at The Gene Autry Museum

Jackson Bloszies

Friend

Many years of memories from the once upon a canyon night productions.

Rif's Family

A few of our favorite photos of Rif.

David Cowgill

Friend