MEMORIAL SERVICE 12 JANUARY 2001
Bob Harris Honoring David Gulassa

Twenty-two years ago, in the old Moroccan town of Chefchoen, my wife and I were sitting in a teahouse. In walks this strong, stocky 18-year-old American with a full head of black hair. He was David Gulassa. Immediately his tremendous energy and good humor affected us.

We learned he was planning to travel with a tiny load of clothes and provisions, and no map, up into the high Atlas Mountains --cycling up and down thousands of feet, on a lightweight bicycle. The Atlas consists of three immense ranges cut by deep valleys. Water sources are scarce. In its few villages, the inhabitants are fierce and unfriendly. Plentiful stories tell of tourists venturing into the Atlas who are never heard of again. Although innocent, David was fearless.

We listened to David’s story of travels in Ireland followed by cycling across Spain and into Morocco. With that background, we knew he could make it through the vast Atlas wasteland alone. But, we asked, somewhat timidly, would he be interested in putting his bike inside our traveling camper? Would he like to try a little easier journey? We shuddered at the thought of a bicycle on very steep roads. We feared those forbidding mountains.

He agreed to go with us. On the first day we fell in love with him. He cheered our days with his happy energy and enthusiasm. Together we traveled though Algiers, through Tunisia, by ferry to Sicily and on up the boot of Italy. David’s busy eyes missed nothing. As we drove along, he drew and drew, filling every scrap of blank paper. Once he presented a finely detailed sketch of small marble pieces in an ancient Roman floor mosaic. Another time it was an excellent portrait, in profile, as I was driving. From a piece of driftwood, he carved a beautiful lion’s head for a missing handle on one of Megan’s cooking pots. Every day he presented new marvels of things we’d missed seeing.

David was an incredible artist, possibly the finest we’d ever met. From his physical and spiritual build we’d come into the presence of a talent and personality close to that of the restless, fiercely independent Michelangelo.

We asked would he come to Florence with us? It was only right to return him to his roots at the birthplace of the Renaissance. Not that he would imitate or even repeat the qualities of those fabulous artists, but without doubt here was a Renaissance man of our time. We wondered where he would find 20th century patrons for his work? Which giants of modern America would stand in for his Medicis and Popes? Only later was it obvious that a boisterous place like Seattle could furnish the well-heeled and discriminating clients he needed.

We left him in the great city of Florence where he stayed for some months making a living as a sidewalk artist. That in itself was an astounding feat, since Florence is the home of one of the most ancient and jealously guarded guilds of such men. For them to have accepted a non-Florentine, and even worse, a non-Italian, speaks loudly of their recognition of his talent and spirit.

A couple of years later he rejoined us in Colorado where I was assembling a group of Architects and draftsmen to design and build a second campus for the Aspen Institute. David fit in perfectly. He was not trained as either draftsman or architect; nevertheless he became a valuable member of the team. By now I realized he could do anything he conceived of within the world of design and art.

Over the years, one questions what guides such a fine man as David. I knew David’s spiritual path had led him away from organized religions. And yet his life echoed the message of all great spiritual guides -- he honored the Divine that dwells in all of us. He was in no way articulate about his beliefs. Yet a couple of years ago, he told me something that explained his deepest faith and trust in the indwelling Spirit.

I had been talking with the large staff at Gulassa and Company. I was astonished at the talent and devoted craftsmanship found among them. After remarking to David that any company in the country would grab at the chance to hire even one of these fine people, I asked, "How in the world did you find not one but a whole staff of these astounding people? What background or training did you look for?"

In one of those rare moments when David grew serious, he answered. "I never asked them about schooling or experience. Nor for references. I only wanted to discover if they had retained their passion for living. With passion a person can learn and do anything!" Today we gather to honor that special man who called to all of us to fully live out our passion.