Bob passed away on June 19, 2020 in New Orleans, LA.

Link to the Legacy Obituary

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~Marc Pullman

 My Friend Bob Sloan

We are at the stage in life where we have all experienced the painful loss of close friends and family. But for me, Bob’s passing is not only painful but outright incomprehensible. Just last year when I last visited with him he was the picture of health and vitality. I simply cannot reconcile that he has been taken away from us when he had so much more to offer. 

My first contact with Bob was of course at Bowen, where he was a genuine scholar-athlete. He was on both the tennis and basketball teams. We would often play pick-up ball at the JCC on 91st and Jeffery. In fact, I was indebted to Bob for my varsity letter as he worked out with me and helped me train for the basketball team tryout at Bowen. He was a really good player. Junior year he and Ferry Williams carried the point load for a very competitive team. He and Poochie were the big guns senior year. Bob’s personality belied it, but he was also physically tough. As the star player our senior year, he was physically challenged and targeted in our practices without the benefit of any special protection from the coach. When he set a pick at practice, my bones rattled. 

Those who had the privilege of knowing Bob knew him as a quality human being who was accomplished both as a family man and in his career. Despite his incredible professional accomplishments, Bob was always modest and humble. It was not easy to stay in touch with Bob over the years, particularly in the pre-internet and pre-cell phone eras because Bob was true world traveler who on one day might be living in a European capital and the next day on a month long journey in Africa with his family. When Bob met the lovely Dauphine, their language of communication was French, in which Bob was fluent since high school. When their kids were growing up French was the primary language in the household. 

I always looked forward to our class reunions because Bob made it a point to attend them no matter what part of the world he happened to be living in. On one visit to Chicago Bob and Dauphine came to our house and meticulously laid out an awesome travelogue that helped Esther and me prepare for our first trip to France. On a business trip to Washington D.C. in the late 1980s I stayed with Bob and Dauphine. At that time he had just formed a boutique international law firm with 3 other amazing partners and they already had some high profile clients. Quite frankly, as a lawyer Bob had the most fascinating career out of anyone I ever met in my life. Some of the highlights included: 

• In the 1970s when many of us novice lawyers were confined to rather mundane tasks, Bob was in charge of international debt swaps for the First National Bank of Chicago (now Chase Bank). So if the government of Mexico borrowed several million dollars from the U.S. to finance an infrastructure program and was late in repayment, Bob would negotiate a deal with another country to buy the loan at a discount. In the course of doing that, Bob might converse in one of 4 possible languages. In contrast, I was happy if I could just find the correct path to the courthouse. 

• When Egypt and Israel struck the historic peace treaty in 1979 the agreement required the formation of a multi-national force that placed troops in the Sinai. The Multinational Force and Observers was established in 1981 to implement the peace treaty and Bob was appointed as the legal counsel of the MFO. For that position he was stationed in Rome, Italy. And this job was not without risk—Bob’s boss was actually assassinated on the streets of Rome on the way to work one day. 

• In the 1990s Bob served as legal counsel for a firm in Belgium where he and Dauphine lived for many years 

• In recent years, Bob became General Counsel for an energy company in New Orleans. That eventually led to a teaching position at the law school of Louisiana State University. When the daily ride from New Orleans to Baton Rouge became tiresome, Bob switched to Tulane University. But at Tulane Bob did not simply step into a traditional law curriculum. Rather, he created a new course of study that blended the classics of English literature into ordinary law courses. That was a byproduct of Bob’s creative genius. 

In addition to his teaching chores, Bob was often retained by the prestigious law firm of Sidley and Austin in Chicago to work on special projects. On those trips to Chicago I had to work hard to steal an hour of his time to catch up with him over coffee in the Loop. One once such trip I asked Bob about the merits of the nuclear treaty then being proposed for Iran, and he explained the complexities of the deal in the most understandable way. It was only later that I learned that Bob was an expert in nuclear energy and had in fact been an adviser to the U.S. State Department. So typical of Bob that he would never promote his credentials.

Another subject of our meetings was Bob’s open invitation for Esther and me to visit him either in France where he and Dauphine had property or in New Orleans. We weren’t able to connect on this occasion, but on a 2017 a trip to Normandy Bob invited us to stay with them in Brittany. Last year we took him up on his offer to host us in New Orleans. I just found an email from Bob informing me that they took a family vote to decide if we could visit them and Dauphine outvoted him. When I insisted that he and Dauphine would be out dinner guests, Bob said he would work hard to find a clean shirt. Harvey and Shirl Lindenberg joined us and we all stayed at the Sloan’s wonderful house. Bob and Dauphine were both working full time so Bob simply said don’t worry about us, just use our house as a hotel. It was a truly wonderful trip that rekindled fond memories of our high school years. Harvey brought a reunion book and we spent hours laughing and reminiscing about old times. Good natured Bob took every dig in stride. 

That was a truly wonderful trip and, as much as his loss hurts deeply, I am thankful that we got to spend quality time with Bob. The touching eulogies about Bob were so heartwarming and reflective of what a truly unique and wonderful person he was. As well as I thought I knew Bob, he was so modest and understated that there were many incredible facets about his life and accomplishments I simply didn’t know. 

This is my personal story. I appreciate that the volume of other people who had meaningful relationships with Bob is vast and global. And while each relationship was unique in its own way, the common factor we all share is that we were blessed and enriched for knowing him. Yes, he left us way to soon and we will miss him deeply, but the many fond memories Bob provided will give us comfort. Au revoir my friend. 

~Joel Rubenstein

BOB AND I AND DR. SLOAN

             (or, How being with someone every day for 5 years can change your life)

SEPTEMBER 5, 1961

I met Bob Sloan as we sat in our first class as freshmen at Bowen High, Chicago. Bob, as became his habit, had been assigned to the top honors level called "Century" (which was followed by "Star", Regular Honors, Peasant and Future Dropout levels, I believe). We were probably all flattered at being chosen based on grammar school testing (which really only predicted testing ability). The flip side of that was that each of us would have to compete for grades with the smartest people in a class of 450. Luckily for me, we sat alphabetically near each other and chatted frequently. We were to be in almost all the same classes for the next 4 years, and together daily for 1 more.

Our novice year meant adaptation to pranks ("Elevator Passes" were available for purchase from seniors, without our knowing that the 5-floor building had only stairs). Bob never fell for this, maybe because he was astute. Or probably because he was cheap. I assumed he was cheap because of the clothes he wore; it was only later I learned (from anonymous family members) that he had no taste in clothes. Even 60 years later I saw a picture of him with LSU Law Worldwide (next to 3 dapper men in suits) wearing a blue shirt, brown belt and gaudy green pants. He looked like he had just stumbled into the wrong room. Some things never changed but he was still a good guy, one of the best I’ve ever known. https://sites.law.lsu.edu/worldwide/files/2018/09/Reception-2018.09.182.jpg

BOB'S FAVORITE SUBJECTS 1961-1965

Of course, Bob was best known in school for his basketball prowess. Even without the personality that would earn him “Most Likable” senior in the class of 1965, his fame on the court gained him notoriety. Our school was more successful in football (maybe because Serbian kids avoided basketball?), but Bob made a school-wide name for himself. He had a great mid-range shot and a will that was as strong as his legs. He attended summer basketball camp to refine his skills but he was never satisfied. His life of achievements was probably born on the court (and on the tennis court where he also starred). His friends in the Jewish club Southeast AZA (like B’nai B’rith) were appropriately sad we were barred from having varsity players on the sports teams. People probably would have thought he was a “ringer” anyway; neither his face nor his name seemed Jewish (as was pointed out to us in college).

Bob sacrificed a lot of study time to compete in basketball. His grades, nonetheless, caught up enough by senior year to propel him into the #10 academic rank in our class of 450, no mean feat. It was always impressive to hear his prepared discussions in class, even the day after he had traveled to another school while the rest of us were hitting the books. He had a great recall and very effective study habits to overcome the sports distractions.     

Our freshman year together began a wonderful relationship with someone who became a role model as well as a good friend.  This novice year also meant adaptation to pranks ("Elevator Passes" were available for purchase from seniors, without our knowing that the 5-floor building had only stairs). Bob never fell for this but I personally shopped around for the best price.

With enthusiasm for most topics (not so much science), Bob really came alive in English and French classes.   He must have had ESP for his future life and romance. We were once assigned to do a mini-play reenacting part of “School for Scandal” by Richard Sheridan. This 1777 piece could have seemed outdated. But Bob brought it to life with his love of language and double entendres. He continuously giggled at the original "Malapropisms" of the character Mrs. Malaprop:

     "She's as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of Nile."

     "He is the very pineapple of politeness."

Our play went well, but more importantly, I got to meet the Sloan Family while rehearsing at their house. Now, that was an experience. Everyone trying to top each other in making jokes or making fun of each other. Everyone reaching for food at the same time at dinner---their meals were like Olympic events. You'd think they were competing for gold medals. It was always exciting. And on top of that, current events came up and there were as many strenuous opinions (with full mouths) as there were jabbing forks. I learned a bit about politics there, almost as much as I learned about keeping my hands away from forks. And I discovered a probable source of Bob’s sports aggressiveness.

We continued together in English classes for 4 fulfilling years. One of his very favorite instructors was Jerome O'Mara. He affected Bob so much that at our 20th Reunion in 1985, Bob approached Mr. O'Mara who was fortunately in attendance. He told him how appreciative he was for his introduction to such great literature: Heart of Darkness, The Jungle and many others. Bob wore his heart on his sleeve when it came to showing his gratitude to people. His teachers were no exception to that.

Among the impressions that Mr. O’Mara made on Bob was our trip to the neighborhood where The Jungle happened in South Chicago near Bowen. The book was of the muck-raking type that Bob loved: scandals of rat hair and filth ending up in people's hamburger meat around 1900. We walked over to 92nd Street to see the 18-inch high curbs that were designed to handle the flowing cow blood coming from the meat-packing "houses of horror". The images created by Upton Sinclair were seered in our brains. And Bob told his teacher that he was so inspired that he (Bob) went on to take further literature classes at Harvard even while a full-time law student. (Maybe flowing blood was a more tolerable image than the endless pages of Contract Law books.)

French class! Ah, La Francaise! Mais oui. Bob had an adorable French accent even though he did a lot of the guttural "Oh, ho, ho, ma cherie“ like Maurice Chevalier and once brought a beret to class. He looked like he would totally fit in at a sidewalk cafe on the Left Bank. He excelled at pronouncing every French teacher's name with a French accent, which was no mean task when your teacher was Patricia Rosenthal. Madame Aimée Rupert was possibly his favorite, as she was everyone's. (Coincidentally, she had taught my father 30 years before at a different school). 

We also joined the French Club together with Madame Rupert, absorbing French culture—as much as naive Chicagoans can.

Bob quickly learned to love French culture and music. He loved singing/shouting (he was a bit tone-deaf) La Marseillaise and would launch into another French ditty at times:

   Sur le pont d’Avignon

   On y danse, on y danse

   Sur le pont d’Avignon

   On y danse tous en rond.

We listened to Edith Piaf singing "La Vie En Rose" and various accordion music in class and Club. It was a labor of love for him that obviously lasted his lifetime. He loved French as much as he did books and political science.

Blending those two topics—politics and literature—happened in a tragic way for Bob and me in November 1963. We walked up the stairs from the lunchroom to Mrs. Deuter's English class, stopping to hear another teacher announce that President Kennedy had been shot. Bob seemed to idolize JFK and maybe had political ambitions of his own at that time. As we reached our class stunned, the teacher announced that we would proceed with Macbeth to "take your minds off" what had just happened. We were appalled but were too polite to protest. Bob was not one for conflict. The class proceeded and one student, Bob Roseta, acted the scene where Macbeth laments, "We have scotch'd the snake, not killed it." A few years after that, the school had grown more dangerous and we heard that Mrs. Deuter had been attacked by a student with a knife. At least he only scotch’d her.

BOB AS A ROOMMATE 1965-1966

This is a touchy subject. Bob was a bit of a prima donna but I didn't know that when I broached the idea of rooming together after we had both decided to go to University of Michigan. Actually, I didn't decide as such--I had only applied to one school after seeing my cousin living in a cool house with a beautiful woman when I visited the school a year prior. Deep down I was really superficial. That settled it for me, and my non-college-educated parents had no objections--or opinions. 

Bob, on the other hand, told me he was sad because he hadn't gotten in to Brown University, which I had never heard of. I didn't know that schools came in colors, for that matter. But with a doctor as father, Bob knew of a wide variety of high-class choices. Luckily, colleges were not high-cost choices: Michigan was $900 plus $300 for dormitory (achievable even for a butcher like my dad). Dr. Sloan probably figured he got off cheaply at UM but would have to fork out more later. He was right.

So, we arrived in Ann Arbor in August 1965. Because of the Baby Boom that overloaded our grammar and high school classes, East Quad dormitory had several 3-person rooms in spaces designed for 2 people. Immediately we decided who got the single bed, not the bunk: Dauphin (no wonder he married Dauphine) Robert. At that moment he resembled our high school book hero Le Petit Prince. He was special, he was royalty. It turned out Prince Robert, the tough jock, was afraid of the bunk bed. He really didn't want to share that bed--he said he would either fall out the top or get stepped on in the bottom. OK, we agreed (Bill Sheridan and I). We'll honor your neurosis. Ironically, he spent so much time studying that year that the bed discussion was moot.

Bob was Mr. Organized. He had his books and (newly-invented) yellow Highlighters and off he went, like clockwork, even if he had no class. I guess the structure of high school sports really shaped him. Every Sunday morning would find him at the Michigan Union carrying the NY Times (most of us were still into Mad Magazine.) In the evenings he would sometimes head to the library. More often, he would camp out in the dorm break-room down the hall on the 1st floor. Only on Wednesday nights was he chased out by the throngs who needed the TV—“Batman” was on. Bob wasn't into such frivolity. He also wasn't that into girls.

BOB AND GIRLS (A VERY SHORT SECTION)

Yes, he had dates. They were rare and he wouldn't talk about them. In freshman year, he asked out a high school friend, Leslie Simon (future professor of Women's Studies, so also a serious person). God knows what they talked about: the war, the civil rights movement, probably not The Beatles. Leslie told me recently that Bob asked her out once at the start of college and once at the start of high school. That probably seemed like a continuous relationship to Bob.

College men had a tradition of neckties on the doorknob--if you had a female in the room, roommates beware! "Go find another place to hang out or even sleep”, since the tie may be there a while. I think I had one evening (not night) of using a tie. Bill Sheridan, the 3rd roommate, repeatedly had his "sweetheart" (a term Bob and I would be loathe to use) visit several times. Bill used a lot of ties, or maybe used 1 tie a lot. Bob had no ties, so to speak. He had a limited wardrobe as it was, reusing clothes for weeks at a time, since aesthetics meant less to him than politics. He may have borrowed a tie for Young Democrats events. But no female caught his fancy, although they tried. Girls wanted to be with him; guys wanted to be him.

He probably could have had girlfriends everywhere he went, but that wasn’t his priority. It was hard to figure out his motivation--or lack of it. He was friendly to everyone and a potential “chick magnet”. I was told by his older daughter that his family was surprised he ever married. I always thought that it would take a real assertive woman who knew what she wanted, to convince Bob to take the plunge. Eventually, she did and he did.

Another thing his mom pointed out was his lack of interest/taste in clothes. His clothes in college were of no import; studying trumped them. Eventually he would become a prominent lawyer and businessman and the tasteful outfits would follow, right? Well, judge for yourself in the LSU photo of Bob with his well-dressed colleagues; green pants should go with anything, right? https://sites.law.lsu.edu/worldwide/2018/09/25/ll-m-class-of-2019/ 

BOB IN COLLEGE

Speaking of our roommate Bill Sheridan, now there was a culture clash. Bill was a bit of a farm boy/small town kid without desire to visit other countries or venture beyond his long-time girlfriend. The last thing Bob would have considered was staying with a high school "sweetheart" into college and then marriage. He still wasn't the commitment type then, and he had a whole world ahead of him to explore. 

Culture clashes were among the best lessons Bob (and I) gained from college. There were actually small-town Michiganders who had never met a Jew before Bob and me. A couple of guys from the small town of Saugatuck (pop. 925) said they had been taught that Jews actually had horns! Maybe they still believe that, because Bob told them he just combed over them. 

One guy from a town so small that the newspaper headline was "New stop light on Main Street" said that his town had only 1 Jew, a Goldberg. Mr. Goldberg owned a general store, then bought the shoe store followed by the hardware store. The student said that the town's only Jew eventually owned the whole place. That was the kind of preconceptions that we lived with (ignoring the fundamentalists who had other views of what WE did to you-know-who). It was an education in its own right. 

Our freshman year proceeded quickly. Despite being together all the time he wasn't studying, we never had a fight. Bob was too charming (or evasive) to get into one. He never got into deep personal discussions despite his vigorous political discussions. People would come to our room and discuss world events since he had so much information and opinion to share. It was easier for me to listen to him than to read a book, but I read some that he recommended anyway. I know I was a better person for being around him. I saw a lovely person who was even-keeled and saw others with rose-colored glasses. It was refreshing to see that kind of optimism.

Halfway through the year we both decided to rush fraternities. There were frats for every kind of person in those days before the disillusionment with the war and institutions destroyed many fraternities. Bob stated that we should go our separate ways, which was tougher for me than him but a good choice. We picked different Jewish fraternities which were probably duplicates of each other. I joined the one (AEPi) with the highest GPA on campus while I got the lowest; Bob went to Phi Epsilon Pi (Phi Ep) which was also quite academic and maybe more athletic (certainly after he got there). We saw each other on occasion from the 2nd year onward. He was into political groups and playing basketball at the Intramural Building against other former high school athletes. He could hold his own in both environments.

During the year, Bob's dad Dr. Noah Sloan would visit; Chicago was only a 4-hour drive. Dr. Sloan was well known to me and made sure to check on my college grades. He never pulled punches. "You're never going to get into med school with those C's, Joel." No kidding. I didn't know how to get B's, I told him. He had a lot invested in me, he said, because Bob and his siblings wouldn’t choose medicine. Because of that, he acerbically labelled them “duds”. So someone else would have to fulfill Dr. Sloan's dreams. Why me? But why not try to aim high like all the Sloan kids did in their own way?

DR. SLOAN

It was while preparing our School fo Scandal performance at the Sloan home that I was introduced to Belle and Noah Sloan and their brood. No other Jewish family had 4 kids so I was impressed right away. Then I got to know them and wondered how such different people were genetically related. Nonetheless, I always enjoyed myself with them, unless I was really hungry and couldn’t grab enough food before it was rapidly gone.

Dr. Sloan learned of my interest in medicine and glommed on to me. He said he had thought about starting a Pre-Med club for high schoolers. He got started right away. Before we knew it we had Mike Katz, Rusty Yale, Dennis Kaplan and Jerry Wittert sitting in the Sloan living room. We had a speaker every month who was in medical training or medical practice. One of them, I think, was sister Barbara’s boyfriend (Bob Hochfeld?), but a little nepotism was fine with us. I learned how vast a field medicine was, in thought processes and personalities. Of course, I had only known my family pediatricians who were usually soft-spoken and never brash. Dr. Sloan was somewhat the opposite. He had, in his own term, “a very sharp tongue that you don’t need to copy, Joel”. I thought he was hysterical. Always entertaining and opinionated, I quickly identified with him. Sarcasm was my major during high school, after all.

   Even though his own 4 children went in non-medical directions, to his dismay, his Pre-Med efforts were a success. Of the 5 club members that I can recall, Dr. Sloan helped create 2 radiologists, a psychiatrist and an ENT. That is literally over a million patients helped in the last 50 years (and some of us are still working). He would be quite proud. And the Sloan children are obviously relieved of the pressures they felt (but thankfully a grandchild became a doctor, too).

As I told Dr. Sloan’s grandchild Alexandra, her grandpa gave me the career I have today. On top of the Pre-Med Club, he advised me in college. Then after my first year at Michigan I called him for help: I needed a summer job. I started a heavy labor job soon after minor surgery but couldn’t handle it. He immediately called a contact at his hospital, Michael Reese (where coincidentally I was born). I got a job as a surgical orderly for those 4 months in 1966. Moreover, I was then trained as a Surgical Scrub Nurse, serving as one for the next 3 summers. That really cemented my connection to medicine. All because of Dr. Sloan (and indirectly because of studying Mrs. Malaprop with Bob).

   The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Bob went on to inspire a great number of young lawyers to follow in his footsteps like his father did for me and my friends. 

I’m sure his parents inspired a caring for others in their everyday contact with their kids. I remember one day during my summer job that I ran into Dr. Sloan in the Michael Reese Hospital parking lot. As we walked across the street, à propos of nothing, he spouted, “I bet you wonder why a doctor like me doesn’t have a fancier car?” No, actually I wasn’t thinking about that at all, but he wanted to impart a lesson. “I could drive a big Cadillac if I wanted,” he continued, “but I don’t want to rub it in the patients’ faces, the fact that I’ve done well because of their suffering.”

It was a strong lesson. Medicine is a mission for doctors, not just a career. He was the first of many to tell me how vulnerable and fragile humans are. During their times of needing us, we should never take advantage of that trust. Now, 46 years after getting my M.D., the vision of Noah Sloan in that parking lot is as intense as ever.

BOB THE BUILDE

My memory of Bob is a sweet one. His cheerful view of the world was inspiring. He saw a little good in everyone (sometimes “very little” as he once said). He made everyone relaxed and more likable as they tried to be like him. He bridged differences between people. He became a “bridge” between countries in his negotiations, between companies and individuals in his law practice and between cultures in his French Connection.

But in his early years, without even trying, he was a major bridge in our high school community. As a rare scholar athlete, he was a bridge between athletes and non-athletes, between whites and the tiny (3%) Black population, between Jews and everyone else. It was just his nature to reach out and minimize differences. All the while he could jokingly belittle himself while ingratiating himself to others. The twinkle in his eye was infectious.

TO ADULTHOOD AND BEYOND

Bob and I had much less contact beyond Michigan. He went on to Harvard with the 3rd Michigan man from our Bowen class, Steve Goldberg. I kept track of his Senate and governmental activities, while hoping he would return to his hometown and run for the Senate himself, as many of us expected from childhood. I was fully prepared to join his campaign.

Bob and I reconnected at our 20th Reunion in 1985. He was still the same guy, in my eyes: happy, inquisitive, unassuming. I returned a few months later to Chicago to meet him, Dauphine and baby Alexandra for dinner at their apartment.

I belatedly understood the wisdom of Bob’s noncommittal attitude toward women: he had waited until some of us were already getting divorced to launch his first marriage! Smart guy, as always (or, finally, as his parents thought). He met the right woman, she held on through his ups and downs, and they had a life.

We talked occasionally after that, very occasionally. But he called me to reconnect just before we were to meet in Chicago for our 45th reunion. He talked about his general counsel work at Energy and said, “Sometimes I leave at the end of the day and wonder if I’ve really accomplished anything.” Who could imagine such a high-powered job could feel empty? It told me that he was ready for another challenge. Maybe the job had been fulfilling for a while, but not anymore. Just a bit meaningless. Most of the world feels that at times or maybe most of the time. But Bob needed more meaning. So he moved on.

We met for the last time at the 2015 reunion. We went, with 2 long-time friends Marc Pullman and Randy Sherow, to the famous Chicago deli, Manny’s. Marc asked him what he thought of the new Iran Nuclear Deal. Bob responded, “You’ll have to ask an expert on that. But since we can’t find one, here’s what I think…” As accomplished and expert as he was, his self-deprecation still took center stage. He never wanted to lord his knowledge over someone else. That reminded me of the same inner kindness of Dr. Sloan: “I don’t want to rub it in their faces.” Just as the dad wanted to protect the feelings of his patients, the son would never hurt the feelings of others by being condescending. Even when he had every right to lord it over them.

We talked for the last time in February, 4 months before he left us. He called from out of the blue. He had visited old friends in Chicago and then was visited by one in New Orleans. The most vital thing he wanted to tell me was, “We were raised with the most wonderful people! That was a group of such nice, nice people.” He didn’t have to look beyond his mirror to see one of those nice, nice people. But despite the thousands of people he encountered in our 55 years since high school, that still impressed him. That naivete that we loved in him persisted. The color of his rose-colored glasses never changed.

Bob’s influence on me had one last moment. I heard on a Monday that he was grievously ill. That Friday I found out that he had died. By one week later, I had submitted by notice of resignation from my medical practice after 42 years. Even though I had endured cancer surgery and radiation in 2019 and a bike concussion in 2018, this news struck me especially deeply.

Bob’s dad had started me on a path, preaching about the fragility of people. Bob himself had now reminded me of that fragility. I plan to stop work on the last day of 2020—the year Bob left us.