NJ.com story by Brendan Prunty/Star-Ledger (Nov. 14, 2012)

Tuesday night, after he returned to his home in North Andover, Mass. after practice, Greg Herenda's first stop was to the attic. All day he had been thinking about one of his former co-workers and close friends, Kenny Williamson and wanted to touch the memories once again. Williamson had died early that morning — it was cancer — and Herenda needed to think about the things that made him smile.

He dug through dusty old boxes until he found them: Black and white photos from his wedding 17 years ago and his bachelor party before that. That was the way Herenda wanted to remember his friend. Laughing. Smiling. The life of the party.

"He was one of a kind," recalled Herenda.

The way Herenda, now the head coach at UMass-Lowell, wanted to feel was how the entire basketball community wanted to feel Tuesday. When word circulated about Williamson's death early in the day, it ignited an out-pouring of emotion from all corners of the sport. The 65-year old with the nickname "Eggman" — given to him by his grandmother growing up in Harlem, because he would sell eggs door-to-door in a laundry basket — knew virtually everyone.

From his beginnings as one of the movers-and-shakers at famed Rucker Park to his stops in the college ranks at Seton Hall, St. John's and Iona; to finally his jump to the NBA scouting and executive ranks with the Knicks and most recently, the Memphis Grizzlies at the assistant general manager. Williamson knew virtually everyone.

From Kentucky's John Calipari to former Nets star Kenny Anderson to Golden State Warriors head coach Mark Jackson. All of them tweeted remembrances throughout the day Tuesday.

Williamson's stop in South Orange with the Pirates was only for three seasons as a part of George Blaney's staff, but it was long enough to form lasting relationships. From those like Herenda, who shared the bench with him to players who played for him.

"He was a great guy who worked hard," said current Seton Hall associate head coach Shaheen Holloway, who played under Williamson his freshman year with the Pirates. "He had a lot of ties to the community. He was a guy that knew a lot of people from working so many jobs. Great basketball mind."

Even when he moved onto the NBA, Williamson never forgot his roots in college.

When Holloway graduated and tried out for the NBA with the Knicks, it was Williamson who helped get him workouts with the Knicks. He would check in on head coaches and assistants who he didn't work with, but who worked at places he did.

"He always kept up with me," Florida State head coach Leonard Hamilton said by phone yesterday. "Even when I was with Miami. And then when I was with Florida State, he would always touch base. That's just the kind of guy he was. You'd go for a while and hear from Kenny and he was always watching. And when you talked to him, you realized he'd been following you because he knew everything that was going on with your team."

Even when those around him found out Williamson was battling cancer a few years ago, the phone calls and text messages kept coming. The Eggman always wanted to talk basketball, even in the face of a disease taking time off his life.

Herenda would see him occasionally, most recently at the Final Four last April in New Orleans. He took his 10-year old son, Trey, with him and introduced him to one of his closest people he ever got to know on the job.

"He signed my son's hat in the lobby and the next thing you know, there's like 30 coaches wanting to talk to him because he stopped," Herenda said. "Everybody knew the Eggman and his stories. He was just one of those people in life. He was everything."

Brendan Prunty: bprunty@starledger.com; Twitter: @BrendanPrunty

No matter where he traveled domestic to international, from Rochester to Russia his Harlem, USA, 7th Avenue, New York City swagger never left him.  He integrated the rules/code of the streets into corporate into culture without losing his "unique" sense of self.