Despite the circumstance that made the gathering necessary, there was a decidedly celebratory air yesterday as more than a thousand people filled every niche, corner, bench and Mount Olympus Stake Center cultural hall folding chair for funeral services honoring Robert L. "Bob" Rice, who passed away from cancer last week at the age of 78.
The bad thing about funerals is that a person died.
The good thing about funerals is you get to hear about how they lived.
The story of Bob Rice's life is one of those timeless examples that you can get here from there and a long line of speakers took turns telling parts of that story yesterday; how a skinny kid raised on a farm in Farmington who barely made it out of high school selfmade himself into a fitness guru who not only stopped getting sand kicked in his face but along the way helped pioneer the workout/health-care industry, became a multimillionaire and donated enough money to the University of Utah to get the football (and Olympic) stadium named after him.
His eulogy read like Horatio Alger meets Bill Gates. It almost sounded as if somebody made it up.
As is usually the case, his children, most of whom spoke, did their dad the most proud.
They told entertaining stories, like one from the early days when Bob Rice helped make ends meet as a professional wrestler — "the fake kind." He was the guy who got pummeled by Man Mountain Dean on local cards.
One time, Mitch Rice said, Bob's father, LeGrande, came to watch the match and, seeing his son being mauled unmercifully and not realizing the whole thing was rigged, finally had had enough and got out of his seat to give him a hand.
Bob met LeGrande at the edge of the ring and whispered to him conspiratorially, "Man Mountain Dean is only toying with me, Dad, but he will kill you."
They quoted notable people who praised their father, including University of Utah President Michael Young, who told Rice recently as he fought the ravages of cancer: "You're probably the best friend the University of Utah ever had," and LDS Church President Gordon B. Hinckley, who once lauded the fitness fiend in his inimitable way: "Bob Rice has taken more flab off more men and women than anyone I know."
They told about him once water skiing in Lake Powell from Wahweap Marina to Rainbow Bridge — about 50 miles. All in one trip.
And they dusted off the rags-to-riches stories that turned Bob Rice into a genuine local legend — a kid born in 1929 on the precipice of the Great Depression who managed to turn what he loved — exercise — into his life's work and fortune.
Mitch noted how much times have changed. When Bob Rice first opened his weightlifting and exercise gym in downtown Salt Lake City in the early 1950s, Cactus Jack Curtis, the football coach at the University of Utah, cautioned his players "not to go down to Rice's gym. Your muscles will get big and you won't be able to move."
Who could foresee that a mere two decades later, Bob Rice's gym would have turned into European Health Spas, one of the world's largest health club chains — the forerunner to Gold's Gym and 24-Hour Fitness and all the rest — and that in 1972 Rice would donate $1 million to the U. to renovate its football stadium and update its sorely lacking conditioning program?
For that donation, the stadium became "Rice Stadium" and, as Bob's son Jay noted in his talk, "After that we no longer sat in the cheap seats."
The $1 million was just the start of charitable giving that would make Bob Rice much better known to later generations for his philanthropy than for his physical fitness.
His passing leaves a sizable void; his living leaves an even more sizable model to follow.
Lee Benson's column runs Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Please send e-mail to benson@desnews.com and faxes to 801-237-2527.