Remembrances from Marc Pullman
Reflections of an Old Guy: Walking with Giants in the Halls of Bowen High
I recently attended memorials for two of our cherished classmates who sadly left us way to soon. Bob Sloan was living in New Orleans where, after serving as General Counsel for an energy corporation, he settled into a professor’s chair first at Louisiana State University and then at Tulane Law School. Elliott Delman, a linguist and professional musician, settled in Lake Forest surrounded by an adoring clan of musicians.
Bob and Elliott, both masters of wit, were intellectuals who enriched so many people. While they took different career paths, what struck me at their services was that they shared an extraordinary commonality--a special magnetism that instantly drew people to them. We recognized their charming personalities way back in high school when, at the senior party, Bob was voted “class cutest” and Elliot “class wittiest.”
After college, life brought each of them to Europe. Bob, a specialist in nuclear disarmament and international relations was stationed in Rome, where he played an important role in the 1979 peace treaty between Israel and Egypt. At his memorial, an Israeli government official spoke glowingly about Bob’s ability to work with counterparts from both Israel and Egypt to assure that the fragile negotiated peace could be maintained. It was music that brought Elliott to Europe. Just weeks shy of getting a master’s degree at the University of Illinois, the opportunity to play with a rock band in France was too enticing for Elliott to resist. Bob became fluent in French at Bowen; Elliott came to Bowen already fluent in Spanish. He had a magic ear that enabled him to perform as a musician without formal music training. And once he heard someone speak in French, in Portuguese or other languages, he became instantly conversant in that language.
Putting aside their professional accomplishments, the most striking commonality between Bob and Elliott was their extraordinary humanity. Their generosity was simply unbounded. They were each human magnets who touched so many different people in the most meaningful way. Grown men at each of their memorials were reduced to tears when recounting how Bob and Elliott impacted not only their friends, but complete strangers who later became lifetime friends.
The Pastors at the Lake Forest church where Elliott played an important role were amazed how a Jewish guy from the Southside of Chicago fit in so well with a Christian congregation in Lake Forest. Elliott, they said, generated a beam of light as soon as he waddled into a room, baseball cap on backwards, bearing a wide smile on his face. Nervous singers felt an immediate calm that Elliott brought to them just before their performances began. His creative Zoom backgrounds and videos were legendary and something his audience of musicians and congregants always looked forward to.
I was fortunate to have had friendships with both Bob and Elliott. As I reflect back on our shared experiences, I now appreciate the great lesson they were teaching us by example: that the importance of life is moored in our personal relationships rather than in material things. Though they are gone, their fond memories will be our companions.