Dong Keun "DK" Chang

Dong Keun "DK" Chang, Ph.D., P.E., a distinguished civil engineer and dedicated educator, passed away on April 28, 2026, at the age of 65. Born on January 4, 1961, Dr. Chang devoted his life to advancing the field of civil engineering and inspiring generations of students.

Dr. Chang’s academic achievements were marked by his rigorous pursuit of knowledge. He earned both his Bachelor of Engineering in 1984 and his Master of Engineering in 1985 from The Cooper Union, an institution with which he maintained a lifelong connection. Furthering his expertise, he obtained a Ph.D. from Columbia University in 1991, solidifying his place among the leading professionals in his field.

Throughout his career, he contributed significantly to the construction industry, applying his expertise over the course of his career at Tutor Perini and MRCE. His commitment to excellence was matched by his passion for education; for over two decades, he enriched the academic environment as an adjunct professor at The Cooper Union. His dedication to teaching and mentorship left an indelible mark on countless students, many of whom continue to benefit from his guidance and knowledge.

Dr. Chang is survived by his beloved wife, Esther Chang (nee Pak), their two sons, Gilbert Chang and Siwol Chang, and his daughter-in-law Alessandra Corriveau, as well as a granddaughter on the way in May. Their family was a source of great pride, love, and joy to him, and his legacy lives on in their memories and achievements. He loved playing golf and teeing it up with his sons or following them during tournaments. He was also a true New Yorker and loved watching his teams (St. John's Basketball, NY Knicks, NY Mets), as well as any soccer games featuring Korean players (mainly Son Heung Min).

Friends and loved ones are invited to honor and remember Dong Keun Chang during the visitation on May 3, 2026, from 2:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. at the Frank Patti & Kenneth Mikatarian Funeral Home, located at 327 Main Street, Fort Lee, New Jersey. A Mass will be held the following day, May 4, 2026, beginning at 10:30 a.m. at Madonna R.C. Church, 340 Main Street, Fort Lee, New Jersey, concluding at approximately 11:30 a.m.

In lieu of flowers, the family is establishing a fund in memory of Dong Keun "DK" Chang at The Cooper Union. Teaching was one of the great joys of his life, and we hope to create a lasting tribute that reflects his passion for education and students. If you would like to contribute, please visit the link to The Cooper Union giving site in memory of Professor Chang below:

https://connect.cooper.edu/register/gift-imo-dongchang

Dong Keun Chang’s life was one of great accomplishment and dedication, marked by a profound commitment to both his profession and those around him. He will be remembered with deep respect and affection by all who had the privilege of knowing him.

Eulogy shared by Siwol Chang:

'Thank you everyone for coming today to celebrate my Dad’s wonderful legacy. For those who traveled a great distance, it is an unbelievable gesture and we really appreciate your presence. Gilbert and I wrote these words together, so here it goes.

I was looking through my dad’s phone while helping Gilbert collect photos for the obituary. One of the pictures I came across was of my dad and my mom at the Hoover Dam.

My dad had a conference in Las Vegas, and they went together. And of course, instead of spending time at the casino, my dad wanted to go see an engineering marvel.

I learned that Herbert Hoover was actually an engineer. He was part of the first few graduating classes at Stanford, and his brother went on to become the dean of the engineering school. While Hoover is often remembered as the president during the Great Depression, it turns out he felt deeply about the role of engineers in society.

He wrote in an engineering publication something I’d like to share:

“Engineering is a great profession. There is the fascination of watching a figment of the imagination emerge through the aid of science to a plan on paper. Then it moves to realization in stone or metal or energy. Then it brings jobs and homes to men. Then it elevates the standards of living and adds to the comforts of life. That is the engineer’s high privilege.

The great liability of the engineer compared to other professions is that his works are out in the open where all can see them. He cannot bury his mistakes in the grave like the doctors. He cannot argue them into thin air or blame the judge like the lawyers. He cannot, like the architects, cover his failures with trees and vines. He cannot, like the politicians, screen his shortcomings by blaming his opponents and hope that the people will forget. The engineer simply cannot deny that he did it. If his works do not work… He comes from the job at the end of the day resolved to calculate it again…

... To the engineer falls the job of clothing the bare bones of science with life, comfort, and hope. No doubt as years go by people forget which engineer did it... Or some politician puts his name on it. Or they credit it to some promoter who used other people’s money with which to finance it. But the engineer himself looks back at the unending stream of goodness which flows from his successes with satisfactions that few professions may know.”

If you can bear with me for one more moment, I have another story—this one from American history. I apologize… I was a history major, and my dad was a professor, after all.

Nearly all Koreans in America can trace their roots here back to June 25, 1950—the start of the Korean War. At the time, Harry Truman was president, and General Douglas MacArthur was leading U.S. forces.

Truman was concerned about the lives being lost and preferred not to expand the war. MacArthur, on the other hand, wanted to push further into China to contain communism. After MacArthur publicly opposed the president, Truman ultimately relieved him of his command.

At the time, this was a deeply unpopular decision. Public support was behind MacArthur, and he returned home to a ticker-tape parade in New York.

My dad had a quote written on a large index card pinned to his bulletin board. It read:

“There is no limit to what you can do or where you can go, as long as you don’t mind who gets the credit.”

Harry Truman said that.

Over time, history has been kinder to Truman’s decision.

But more importantly, that quote carries a message that fully embodies my dad.

It teaches us to let go of our ego. To be selfless. To elevate others and care more about the whole than about personal recognition. To let go of resentment. To detach from external validation. And maybe most importantly—to love unconditionally, without keeping score.

This was my dad.

He was consistent in this way.

He was consistent in the way he approached his work. He rarely missed a day. And beyond that, he rarely missed a semester at his beloved Cooper Union. He immigrated to America in 1978, became a citizen, got three degrees, had a long career, and raised a family. What a way to add to the fabric of the American Dream.

He was consistent in the way he loved my mom—whether in sickness or in health. He loved her the same, always. Deeply. Their love set the example for me and my brother.

He was consistent in the way he loved his family. He loved his nieces and nephews as if they were his own children. He showed up—to graduations, to weddings where he gave speeches, to moments big and small. He doted on their kids and told the silliest jokes.

He was consistent in the way he loved his sons.

He rarely missed a milestone. He showed up with humor, intellect, and quiet wisdom. He was a professional spectator watching me or Gilbert in tournaments. And his ability to find golf balls in the woods probably saved me a lot of strokes over the years.

In his loving way, he used to joke: “If I had invested all the money I spent on you two into myself, I’d be playing on the PGA Tour… instead, I have two sons who make zero money playing golf.”

He was such a great dad.

I am very sad about my father’s passing.

I’m sad he won’t get to meet his first grandchild, who is just a month away. I’m sad for my brother, Gilbert. And I’m sad for my mom.

But eventually… let’s not be sad.

Everyone here today is a reflection of the impact he had. An impact he never sought credit for. An impact he believed was simply his duty.

His Catholic foundation shaped the way he lived— as a husband, as a father and uncle, as a professor, and as a human being.

So if there’s one message to take away today, let it be this:

“There’s no limit to what you can do or where you can go, as long as you don’t mind who gets the credit.”'