Kennedy. Belushi. Olpin. I still mourn. Those of us who are senior enough remember where we were when we heard about the shots in Dallas. I remember when I first heard the news of John Belushi’s death and I’m still not sure if I’m sad or mad at him. It was the afternoon of October 21, 2005 when I received a call on my cell phone from Tom Rugh, then executive director of MUAH. He told me that Bob had suffered a massive stroke. I was in shock immediately, of course, but, probably as a defense mechanism, I told Tom that Bob had been through other health issues and had regained his life before. My wife and I were at Nordstrom’s and I told her that I needed to leave immediately to see Bob at the hospital. She understood. When I arrived at LDS Hospital, I met, for the first time, Bob’s cute wife, Mary. I had heard a lot about her from Bob over the years—that she was active in the LDS Church, a Democrat—things that Bob wasn’t.
I embraced Mary, heard the chain of events, and realized that the outcome of Bob’s stroke was not going to be a positive one. The doctors had restricted visits and I complied. Over the next few days I became acquainted with Bob’s family. Bob’s terrible struggles for life ended on November 5th. The viewing, funeral and abundance of Bob stories sustained us all while we came to grips with the awful truth. How would we survive without him?
By the end of December, the family had asked if I would help them with the task of cleaning out Bob’s campus office. I was flattered to be a part of that process, and also grateful to accept, on behalf of MUAH, the donation of Bob’s expansive library. On a cold Friday night, the family and I waded through thousands of books, articles, tapes and other memorabilia, trying to decide what to keep and what to discard. The daunting task of cleaning out his office required many hours, a number of family members, and multiple trips back and forth to the museum. As we pulled neatly-placed books from his shelves, I couldn’t help but notice the order in which Bob had placed certain books. Gerdts’ Art Across America, was situated next to a copy of The Book of Mormon and Plato’s Republic. A Ronald Reagan biography was located next to some comic books. His shelving system escaped us.
I learned that Bob had another storage room in the basement and as we began to sift through a few files I quickly realized that Bob kept everything: old blue books, his grade school report cards from 1952, some scouting awards, letters, and check registers. The family acknowledged my help and said that they would tackle the balance of this other job after the new year.
On the occasion of the anniversary of Bob’s passing, I visited Mary and asked about the past year. Specifically, I asked what the family had discovered in cleaning out all of Bob’s personal effects. She immediately replied with an inventory: “Seven coffee pots, none of them worked; Four TVs, three did not work; His Boy Scout compass; a Brownie camera.” Most unusual to me was the other thing that she included. “Oh, also a bale of pine needles.” I could only laugh. Dr. Elizabeth Peterson, U of U Department Chair of Art History, told Mary she thought the bale had been part of an art exhibit some years ago. I had never seen a bale of pine needles. I wondered what Bob was planning to do with it.
Mary also offered a story that, had it been reported from someone else I would have characterized as folklore. Bob attended the U in the 60s, including some art classes where he had produced some charcoals, watercolors, oils, and sketches. When he and Mary traveled to Boston for Bob’s graduate work, he packed the artworks, but insisted that they not be hung. Each time the Olpins moved, the art stayed with them, Bob never allowing them to be discarded. “When I cleaned and threw out garbage, Bob would go out and bring it back in,” Mary noted. She added that after Bob passed away, she found an old pillow in the trunk of his car that she had thrown out some months before. When Bob landed in the hospital several years ago for an extended stay, Mary boxed his collection of art that they had been carting around for years and donated it to Deseret Industries. One day after Bob had returned from the hospital, he said, “Guess what happened today? Someone was at the DI and found my art and brought them to me. They’re at my office now.” Even though Bob committed to cleaning out his office, he never started. When the family was going through his personal effects at his office, they didn’t see the art, and even though they discovered 28 more filing cabinets loaded with Bob’s stuff, the art was not there. Two days after everything had been cleared out of his office and storage room, Dr. Peterson called and left a message that she had discovered an additional closet that contained a graduate gown, a jacket and some paintings. “I have carefully boxed up the paintings and will get them out to you,” her message said. Mary confided to me that, “If those come back to me, I’ll cry!” As a matter of fact, that same lot of artworks will be available for auction on November 9th at the UMFA Auditorium, along with some early Utah art that has been donated for the benefit of Bob’s foundation.
Mary was advised to wait until this past spring to install a headstone at Bob’s gravesite at the Murray City Cemetery. She wanted the stone to be “Ute red,” and so it had to be specially ordered from China. Somehow, the mortuary thought Mary wanted the stone to be carved into the familiar double “U” (for University of Utah), though she had only wanted it to be carved on the face. She had hoped that the headstone would be ready for Memorial Day, but then she received a call from the mason’s shop in Pleasant Grove — the headstone had been stolen. She then hoped the replacement would be ready for Father’s Day, which also didn’t happen. Finally, on July 29th, the beautiful red granite headstone was installed.
Tom Alder with Mary Olpin
“It’s the small things that are hard for me,” Mary says. “The kids miss Bob’s sense of humor—particularly with the election coming up.” She said that Bob used to refer to several of his daughters as his “minions” because they were all Democrats. The family misses Bob’s ability to recite lines verbatim from a number of movies, especially “Young Frankenstein,” and “Princess Bride.” “At Christmas, Bob loved to watch ‘The Bells of St. Mary’s’ and ‘Boys Town.’ At Easter, it was ‘Ben Hur’ all the way. He used to jump up and down and cheer loudly during the chariot scene,” she said.
I asked if there were anything else that she discovered that was unusual, to which Mary replied, “Yes, we opened his wallet and found all of Rob’s doctor and dentist appointment cards for the past three years.” I think that Bob left little humorous packets for us to discover so that it would be easier to deal with his passing.
Mary has received over sixty letters addressed to Bob, since his death. Some requesting him to guest lecture somewhere, others asking if he would serve as a reference for a pending position at a major museum. Most are astonished to learn the news of his passing. At the May 9th graduation ceremonies at the U, Robert Spencer Olpin was named a Distinguished Emeritus Faculty member. The family accepted the award on his behalf. Mary commented that Dr. Peterson had a major role in promoting that honor. “No one has been kinder, more considerate or helpful than Elizabeth through this period of loss,” she added.
“The most incredible thing since Bob left us is the letters, phone calls and visits about how much Bob has meant to them.” Mary added that former students, grad students, many of whom teach outside Utah now, have told her about the impact that Bob had on them. His personal counseling, encouraging them to finish their degrees when they were ready to drop out, his mentoring, and his friendship have been repeated numerous times to Mary in the last year. I asked Mary what she thinks Bob is doing right now. “I think Bob is probably with Michaelangelo, Leonardo and Van Eyck,” she said. “Bob is probably raising trouble with Al Gittins.”
The great void created by Bob Olpin’s death will never be filled. No one possessed as much knowledge about art, especially Utah art, than he did. His legacy remains in his charming family, his remarkable Art Life of Utah class and TV program, the numerous books and articles that he authored, and his foundation that supports artists. Just as the great artists of the world trained others who trained still others for generations, Bob will be remembered as setting a high standard for all of us and his art history expertise as well as all of his personal traits of integrity, humor, compassion and empathy will flow with all of us who knew him. Some day I may be able to delete his phone number from my cell phone, but it is still too early for me.
Tom Alder, a Salt Lake City native, left a 30-year mortgage banking career in 2009 to open Alderwood Fine Art, specializing in early Utah art. He held an MA in Art History, taught at the University of Utah, and served on various boards in the cultural community. He died in 2018.
Categories: Alder's Accounts | Visual Arts
