A Story of a Young and Old Entomologist

[exoticimports]

I first met Bob when I was perhaps eleven years old.

My parents took me to a science expo, and Bob was the bug guy. What an heap of stuff Bob had! Piles and piles of papered bugs, mostly butterflies, from all over the world! I left that day probably the happiest kid in the world, with my bag of butterflies.

They took me back the following two years. Always, there was Bob. Enthusiastic, more energy than a kid with ADD, and those brilliant grey eyes that seemed so deep and burned with intelligence and energy. And those bad European teeth...like mine. Bob. He was out of this world to a young kid who loved bugs. We'd talk about bugs, we had a passion for bugs. He told me about the first T. brookiana he bought for $25. Bob belonged to the Lep Soc too! He was out of this world.

But sadly the expo didn't do a fourth year, or any after. When I was about 20 I attended some lame insect discussion at the local arboretum and ran into Bob. Hello, how are you, that's about it. I was more focused on the young lady that was with me.

Through college, then early employment, and great parties I remembered Bob. Every two years I'd receive the Lep Soc member's directory and look up Bob. Yep, still there. But I didn't contact him- I didn't have time.

Through a marriage, then incredible international travel and collecting bugs in fabulous jungles and frozen tundra, I'd check every two years, and yup, Bob was still listed. I was in Samoa and Fiji, weeks in Ecuador, months in Solomon Islands...bugs, bugs BUGS! I was a bug fanatic, living in jungles searching for new bugs, new records...and always thinking about Bob, who was such an influence. Of course, I didn't contact him, I was too busy. But he was, as always, in the Lep Soc membership directory. And I thought about contacting him, but again, I was too busy.

Some thirty (!!) years after I met Bob, Bob who was always on my mind but whom I didn't contact, I sent him a letter. I told him what a profound impact he'd had on my entomological studies, and, in fact, my entire life.

Bob wrote back right away. He was amazed! He said he remembered me, though that may have been more polite than memory. In any event, we met soon after at his workplace. We met in the parking lot and there was no mistaking him- his eyes burned the fire of a man possessed and with limitless energy. Same guy for sure, same bad teeth, same ripping smile, same hair- albeit a bit white. And he took me around to show me what was effectively his legacy. "BOB"! there was nobody like him. Bob was loved by all, annoyed by most, that perfectionist and energetic super man.

We caught up the 30 missing years. He'd attended Lep Soc meetings (which I don't) and all of his family vacations centered around what neat butterflies might be available. He'd gone "micro crazy" (which would make Charlie Covell happy) and had perfected collecting Catocala. Bob looked forward to next year's "family" (kids were now 30+ years old and gone) collecting trip and the next Lep Soc meeting.

But two years after we re-united things went to ###. Bob suffered a perhaps temporary medical condition that knocked the peanuts out of him. I visited him in the hospital, and he couldn't wait to get out, get better, go travelling, and go to the Lep Soc meeting.

Bob didn't get much better. He was borderline infuriated that his body was doing this to him. And that his mind wasn't the same. The drive was there, but not the guy I knew. He fought hard against that enemy, that conqueror, age. He didn't want it to get the best of him. He WAS going to bounce back!

I brought Bob boxes and boxes of specimens from Ecuador, USA, and Solomon Islands. Take what you want, I said. And he did, a bit. He set some, put some in his private collection, some in his displays for educational presentations.

Bob hated his condition. He didn't get "all better". He despised what had happened, and questioned if he'd travel again. I drove us four hours to a unique collecting/ study spot, and we spent a total of an hour outside of the vehicle. I ran around and grabbed specimens, Bob complained he couldn't even negotiate the trails. He just didn't have it in him anymore.

Last year I visited Bob, and he was tired. Still the same energy in his voice, but not in the body. Bob said it was time to donate his fabulous collection (fabulous scientifically, not commercially) so I put him in touch with Smithsonian, which was enthusiastic to assume his collection. I told Bob that I needed return of some beetles which were of interest to European collectors (and $1000 according to them) but he couldn't find that box.

Last week I called Bob. Hey, I have a day free finally! Bob said come on over, and I found that bag of beetles and have your books. So I drove out to see Bob, after some 16 months.

A stooped old man met me at the door. It was Bob, but not "my" Bob. He moved very slowly and said that after side-swiping several cars he was self-revoking his auto driving. His email and computer was a mess because he'd inadvertently clicked on ads that loaded his computer with viruses. I fixed that.

We went down to his bug room, despite his wife's complaints that he's not to do stairs. It was a sad mess. There were leps on the boards that he said had been there "a few day" but clearly they'd been there for months and the mice ate them. His softening container was pure mold, and the specimens within were unidentifiable. I went through his 100 drawer collection and doused PDB into the drawers that were being destroyed by dermestids.

Bob said he didn't want to donate his collection to AMNH, he wanted it local, so intended to donate it to the local college, his alma mata. I know they have little interest and no ability to maintain it, but that's now what he wants. He hasn't arranged such a disposition, so he's hoping they take it "some time."

The rare beetles the Italians wanted were, again, no where to be found.

I departed, Bob was exhausted and confused, yet I have a profound love for him that he will never recognize.

I don't know if I will see Bob again.

[steve]

What an amazing story. I guess we all have people in our lives that have been inspirational.

Thank you for sharing that with us.

Steve

[nomad]

Terrific story - with a tragic ending . Years of passion destroyed by old age.

[exoticimports]

I think there are lessons here:

1. Those projects you save for after retirement may well not get done. Publishing your notes, photographing your collection or providing records for USGS, etc. you may not have the capability to do.

2. Donate your collection while sound of mind and body. At some point you will not be able to care for it. Your children won't want it or know what to do with it. It may be damaged or infested to the point museums will not want it.

3. (for me) Don't hand off, wholesale, thousands of specimens. Let friends & colleagues identify or select particular specimens. Things get lost, damaged, etc.

4. Do it today. Get out in the field now. Don't wait till you have time and are older. There are things I did 10 years ago- hardships and physical exertion- that enabled me to penetrate and thrive in tough conditions. I couldn't do that today.

5. Reach out to those entomologists who imprinted on your mind. As a young adult I read a steady stream of obituaries for world-famous entomologists who'd just died- and I'd assumed they were already dead! A number of those 1930s-1950s famous researchers lived within a couple hours of me and I never knew it. The father of the blues music lived within 20 minutes and I never knew it. There are famous WWII veterans still alive who live within an hour of me. Whoever it is that you hold in awe or respect, reach out to them, send them a letter- do it today.

[wingedwishes]

I read a similar passion in the story teller as in the subject of the story. I am most fortunate to have three daughters who all want to continue my hobby.

[exoticimports]

An update to the story.

I do continue to see Bob, about every six months I make the drive to his place.

Last year Bob finally admitted- he won't be making any more Lep Soc meetings. In fact, he hasn't been able to collect anything- even in the back yard- for a couple years.

He donated his collection to his alma mater, a local university. I'm working with them to stop the pest infestation. While they have no experience housing such an insect collection, they are eager to do so.

I appraised Bob's collection for tax purposes. 140 USNM drawers plus Schmitt boxes. Over 13,000 specimens, many of them micros. That took many, many hours. First we photographed the collection one drawer at a time. This was done at the university, since he'd already donated it. The photos are of poor quality- lighting was bad, and we were in a hurry. Over then next two months I sat at the computer and drawer by drawer counted the specimens, and assigned a value.

We had the university director take one last photo- of me and Bob. I have greying hair, but still seem in shape. Bob looks old- frail, hunched over, tired. It is so hard (and painful) to see that blazing Type A bug-crazed man look like this. He's none too happy either.

Returning to his home I looked at the family photos covering fifty years. OK, must be more than fifty years. I remarked on how beautiful his wife was; Bob responded that when he looks at her he still sees her that way, behind all the wrinkles.

Bob is done driving. After probably half dozen auto accidents in the last five years- a couple which landed him in the hospital- the last two finished off his car.

He's been scammed by phone and email a few times. His email account is compromised. I cleaned the viruses off his computer, but within a couple months it was re-infected.

The county is forcing him and his wife into assisted living. I've never met the children or grandchildren. They come around, and seem to be communicative with their parents, but aren't "there".

My parents I keep updated, as they met Bob too more than forty years ago. They say there is a BIG difference between 70 and 80. That sucks because now it doesn't seem all that far off on my schedule.

Bob keeps thanking me for appraising his collection. I keep thinking how hard it must have been to let it go. He wants to pay me. I say no.

A silver lining is that when going through his collection four specimens from two locations caught my eye. All are in groups I study. AND they had MY labels on them! Somehow I missed them before I passed on the papered surplus for Bob to pick through. So they've come home where they belong.

The whole thing sucks. It's like one of those sad movies your wife watches. I've lost a lot of friends and deal with it. This though is almost like looking at myself, and who wants to watch an autobiographical movie about the crappy last years of their own life?

[jtaylor]

I'm sure Bob has a idea of what a profound impact he has had on your life but if you haven't already done so it sounds like it's time to swallow the "man pride" we all have when it comes to the mushy stuff and tell him. Bob deserves to hear it from you. Then you won't have to wonder if he really knew in the years to come. You will know he did.

[foxxdoc]

I have a similar story.

I met a naturalist from mid west Ohio he kept his very large and varied collection in his home. mainly local specimens. beautifully maintained.  Well known at that time inthr region 1960's. He gave me a cecropia; which I still have.

after he died his small town decided to take over the collection and moved it to a closed 7-11 for tourism.

I visited the collection years later and it was in very poor shapes; large amount of mold and pest damage it was obvious that little or no upkeep was performed. I suggested they turn the remaining materials over to Ohio State University. they didn't

tom

[nomad]

I believe that many will have to face the fact that unless you have large specialized collection and a larger museum wants it, many smaller museums do not always want your collection. If they do accept it, in a few years it may be dust pins, and data labels. It is one thing valuing a collection and quite another thing selling it for that price. I guess there are those that will see little change in their retirement with work related pensions and those that will be at the thin end of the wedge.

[leptraps]

My life's avocation has been Lepidoptera. I have a very large collection, along with a larger library of books on Lepidoptera. I have made arrangments (In my Will) with the McGuire Center (In writing) to take my collection and Library. The specimens are to be deposited into the McGuire Center collection. The drawers, cabinets and Library are to be sold, the money from the sale to pay for the removal and relocation to the McGuire Center. Any funds remaining will be used to fund the collection.

I want my collection to be used and to further our knowledge of the Lepidoptera of North America and the world.

If you do not make the arrangements now, someone else will make them for you and your collection may well become dust, dermestid frass, pins and labels.

[exoticimports]

Well, Bob is now in the retirement home. His collection is housed at the local university. The university did throw a very nice recognition event for him, and the president personally attended and spoke of his donation.

I'll stay clear of most of the pain of aging, except to note that Bob knows he's not going home, yet thinks things are "missing". Undoubtedly, his "stuff" - retirement awards, signs, various collecting bottles, even the spreading boards I could not accommodate- was trashed by his kids when they cleared out the house. At the last minute, I talked Bob out of his educational displays (life-cycle, etc.) which he was clinging to thinking he's use them again.

Note what Leroy (Leptraps) said: make arrangements now. Some of Bob's collection was damaged by dermestids. In his condition the last couple years Bob couldn't care for his collection and was shocked when I told him that there was damage. Luckily the university froze everything and now has an entomologist on staff.

And then today...Bob called me. Another local collector, a bit aged, is in very bad shape. His wife called Bob and wants to sell her husband's collection to pay for anticipated funeral expenses.

[exoticimports]

Here's the frustrating update if you've followed my story.

Bob has pretty much lost it. He can still talk, but I have to remind him who I am. He can't be trusted to take care of finances, cooking, or anything else.

But I have to now turn my attention back to myself.

I'd previously mentioned how I loaned Bob my thousands of papered specimens and told him to take what he liked. And how a box of expensive beetles (xixuthrus costatus) had gone missing. Before they forced Bob into the old folks home I went through his house four times looking for those beetles- no such luck.

But now there's more to the story. I finally needed to look at some of the papered material for Ecuador 1998 so pulled out the boxes. Empty. Well, the ziplocs into which I'd separated into family were there- but they were empty. Not a single specimen. Not one. Zero. Probably three thousand specimens gone.

Now remember, I had appraised Bob's collection before it was donated, so I know what is in it. And aside from maybe fifty of "my" specimens he'd taken out, the missing material isn't there.

So I started sorting through all my material. Odd...all of the Attacus Atlas I'd raised are gone as well.

My thought- Bob let somebody look at my material, and they took it. I have an idea who it might be, but could be wrong. Bob's memory isn't well enough to even bother asking.

As you can imagine, I'm rather frustrated- particularly, annoyed, since somebody did a wholesale take rather than pick-through.

And I'm wondering what else "went missing" that I haven't discovered yet.

Chuck

[luehdorf]

Hey Chuck, that is just sad to hear and also so very much frustrating I can imagine.
I know Prof. Klaus Rose very well, he is 93 years old, and he probably has the largest private collection of palearctic butterflies in Europe at the moment, around 75000 specimens, all of them in A1, and a lot of type material. Everything is just in impeccable state, extremely extremely perfect. He lives alone, his only joy is to spread butterflies and perfectionise the collection. He showed my how to spread butterflies and he did it faster and with a steadier hand than me, and I am 27....
He still smokes two packs of cigarettes per day, and being in his house made me feel completely dizzy after four hours, he also stores killing jars with cyanide several of them just in the collection room where he was also chain smoking, but I guess all the poison and nicotine helped to keep the collection completely dermistide free.
He already signed an agreement with the one of the best museums in Germany for butterflies and after his funeral as he said, the butterflies will be allowed to leave his house.
A truly remarkable man, clearer than anyone else I have ever met, still at that age.
This is how life stories can be different. Let’s just all hope we can make it till the end like Prof. Rose.
Best wishes to all

[exoticimports]

You're right about how lives can be different.

Bob was a Type A non-stop mover, involved in many activities. Then his body hit a brick wall and with it his mind. From there it was a hard decline. It took him five years to realize he wasn't going to bounce back.

Life is like an auto race. We all start at the same place, run up to speed. But then there are the unpredictable events like equipment failures and crashes. Over the course of my life I've seen people spin off into alcoholism, cancer, and just give up. It's hard to predict who is going to bounce back, and who is going to fade off; who is going to be sharp at 90 and who isn't going to make it until 70.

Chuck

[collector]

That's pretty sad.
We all had a "Bob" in our lives, I know I did; his name was Edward.
And sooner or later we will be a "Bob" ourselves.
One thing I would like to add, that your friend Bob was lucky to have a friend like you.
Bedros

[jshuey]

Jan 10, 2018 16:23:05 GMT -8 collector said:

That's pretty sad.
We all had a "Bob" in our lives, I know I did; his name was Edward.
And sooner or later we will be a "Bob" ourselves.
One thing I would like to add, that your friend Bob was lucky to have a friend like you.
Bedros

I totally agree with Bedros' sentiment. We give and we get.

John

[exoticimports]

The thing I noted about Bob's life changes is decay. It's not like he keeled over one day. It was a steady decline. First, he couldn't make the Lep Soc meeting. Then he stopped sugaring. A dropped drawer on the way into a scholastic display destroyed the contents. He was setting some of the material I gave him, and with specimens still on the board that effort ended, and the specimens sat long enough the be destroyed by dermestids. By the time he donated his collection several drawers had suffered infestation, which he was shocked at when I later told him.

I pulled some stuff out of his basement after he donated the collection. Before the house sold I was contacted by his family to get some last "stuff", drove over there right away, but nobody was home. It all went into the trash. Spreading boards, publications, etc. Even his prized hand made wall hanging. Trashed, thrown away with no effort on the part of family to place the materials with another collector or university.

The moral of the story is to divest a collection before it's too late. The dilemma is not recognizing when it's time. Certainly, make sure your family has a SPECIALIST they know how to contact in case something happens. For example, I have a box of small (non insect) parts of another collection that look like nothing and sell for $25 each; nobody except a specialist would know what they are, and I'm certain the family would just toss them out.

I've already indicated in my will where my collection goes. Everyone should. Don't expect your family to be interested in Ebay or shipping individual specimens either- in my case the collection goes wholesale to the recipient.

Chuck

[depalma]

We look before and after,
And pine for what is not:
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

(Percy Bysshe Shelley)

[exoticimports]

Well, almost seven years after my first post/ story, here's an update. If you've not read from the beginning (or even if you had years ago) please do read from the beginning.

Bob has bounced from nursing home to nursing home. I believe that as his retirement funds dwindled, they booted him out to a lesser (quality and cost) home. I'm still trying to track him down. I messaged his son's phone, and got a curt reply that it's the wrong number- I suspect it is indeed his son's phone, but they seemed to have a cold relationship and I think his son just wants to be left out.

Recently, I needed to refer to his collection for a research project, so went to the university to which he'd donated the collection. I did get the data I needed, but noted a serious dermestid infestation. I've now been contracted by the university to save the collection.

Bob's collection has some great material. The more showy (and impressive to the buyer-type collector) are the specimens one could buy in the 1960s, but are difficult to obtain today. Impressive to me are the thousands of small moths, yet to be thoroughly researched and cataloged.

But you know what really hit me? The dozen or so drawers arranged for public display. There's nothing rare or exotic; rather, they are drawers with specimens set with extra attention, well spaced, and labeled. Unlike his other drawers, often packed, setting quality often hurried, and not always well collated, these drawers were meant to accent the unique and beautiful lepidoptera. Labeled "Exotic Butterflies", "Butterflies at Flowers", "Underwings", etc they stand out and present the topic in the most spectacular manner.

I imagine the time and effort that Bob expended, all with the intent to educate and impress youths. I think back to the days when Bob was the front man at local science events in the 1970s. In fact, Bob continued to do so until after 2010. And while few, if any, of the impressed youths (aside from me) went on to study Leps, I imagine that Bob's displays left a lasting impression on many.

Chuck



ETA: The rare specimens that went MIA are still MIA, I wonder where they went. I did find a Cornell Drawer of interest; I'd previously ignored it because it was empty. This time I noticed that it has my name on the label, with "Solomon Islands". And it's empty. Hmmm....

And, I did find dozen of specimens of moths I'd brought back from Solomon Islands, none of which are in my collection, and I am uncertain if they are identified.


One for the rarities fanatics (date 1963):




Bob's Educational Underwing drawer:




Two of my moths:

[leptraps]

I am probably the last person who should respond to this thread. I am 75 years of age. I still have all of my facalties, at least I think I do.

I have made all the arrangements for my collection, all of the Drawers and Cabinets as well as the Schmidt Boxes and other containers of pinned and papered material and a small chest type freezer full of papered material.

I recently acquired two more 24 drawer cabinets.

Very few Lepidopterists have seen my collection. I will start to spread out my collection with the new cabinets. The past 20 years has seen a huge growth in Erebidae and Noctuidae moths in my collection. And this AM I spread 26 moths which I collected this AM.

[trehopr1]

Your image of that Catocala drawer is especially nice. I think it shows well the "passion" that your friend had for his beloved hobby. He prepared his specimens up quite nicely.

Was this drawer and the other display drawers (you mentioned) pulled together by the University staff to highlight various topics or were these pulled together by Bob many years ago for his educational teachings?

Did you happen to take photos of any of his other display drawers? Would not mind seeing those if you have any...

Sorry, to bother about photos but, I enjoy seeing how others display their specimens and label them.

Naturally, my eye for detail has found a couple of misnomers in the drawer -- maybe the university's fault !

In the first column and the (third specimen down) it is labeled as nebulosa when it is in fact another neogama. That species is variable. Also, in the same column further down (near the bottom) the two specimens labeled as Euparthenos nubilis (i.e. Locust underwing) though correctly labeled are not true Catocala underwings. Euparthenos is a monotypic genus unique to itself. One other one which I feel is misidentified is in the third column right underneath C. relicta. I feel that large black one is Catocala maestosa and not Catocala viduata as it is labeled...

The rest of the eastern North American material looks correct to me however, I cannot speak for any of the western species as I have never had opportunity to collect or own any of them.

Once again, thank you for showing your friend's specimen drawer here. Wonderful compilation of the genus which many of us are passionate about. Your friends preparation skills help convey the "passion" which he had for these creatures he so embraced the better part of his life!

By the way what papilionid rarity is that in the above photograph ? Is there a story behind it ?

[exoticimports]

Hopr,

These are Bob's drawers, as he left them. There is actually another "display" case of Catocala- and many drawers of Catocala, Noctuidae, etc.

I took photos of each drawer shortly after they were donated four years ago. However, it was a rush job (with 144 storage cases) and Bob waiting for me, and the lighting was poor in the Uni facility. As I work on restoring and collating the collection I plan to take a better photo of each drawer.

Papilio caiguanabus, I believe, endemic to Cuba. It caught my eye because I did not recognize it (not that I'm any sort of Papilio expert.) I had to look it up and it appears that it's considered rare. In fact, Bob has a label on the pin "rare", and that no doubt is 40-50 years old!

Chuck

[bobw]

The Papilionid is actually Battus devilliersi, not Papilio caiguanabus.

Nice drawer of Catocala!

[trehopr1]

It is a pity to hear that your friends collection has seen another serious infestation. Bad enough, you say to contract you to save it...

You know our member Yorky has mentioned several times in various posts that smaller universities and or museums who take on collections like this are often ill-fitted to care for them. Too few staff (often just 1 or 2), two little money for needed supplies or maintenance cost, and general neglect unfortunately...

It all ends up with decent well intentioned collections fading away with time.

[kevinkk]

A great story.
From personal experience with my father, old age isn't always what you expect.Enjoy the present while you can, for
tomorrow may never come. A difficult thing for anyone to grasp, and unlikely. A life well lived is it's own reward,
even if you can't remember it.