Last Friday my wife and I attended Robert (Bobo) White’s funeral in Mapleton, Utah. It was April 8, 2022.
I met Bobo in 1972 when he first attended one of my classes at the Wilmington, California Institute of Religion of the Church Education System of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, serving the Latter Day Saint students attending Harbor Junior College. (A mouth full I know.)
I was told that he would be attending my class by one of his friends. He said his name was Bobo and that he had the reputation of fighting a lot.
I created a picture of Bobo in my mind. First, he had to be tough with a name like Bobo. Next, he had to be big and rough to have gained a reputation of being a street brawler in a city known for its street violence.
When he walked into the classroom, I was a little bit taken aback. He looked more like the famous actor Richard Dreyfus in the movie American Graffiti than a street tough. He was a Californian through and through. Beach shirt, baggy khaki pants and tennis shoes. Average height and a sense of humor marked by dry humor.
I immediately took a liking to Bobo. A guy who can crack jokes in a religion class is always a welcomed relief. And Bobo could do it with the best of them.
Bobo ran with a bunch of Mormon studs at the institute. There were surfers, future professional athletes, guys with cool souped up cars, budding intellectuals (yes), and of course guys who could take care of themselves in the street. It was a fascinating time in history back then. Mormon kids flocked to the institute of religion which at the time was a renovated house and garage next to the college.
The garage was madeover into a big recreation room with a ping pong table. The favorite ping pong game was six to eight guys running around the table trying to eliminate one another by making them hit the ball out of play. To say it was rough moving around the table was accurate. I know, I was constantly getting bruised from the speed of others running into me. But guess who was always in at least the final three? Bobo.
Football games over at the college and in the street in front of the institute were Bobo’s favorite. He was either catching a pass or throwing blocks. Hard blocks.
One time I asked the guys what attracted so many of them to attend the institute. Bobo was the first to answer. Girls.
And he was right. A lot of girls did attend. They were (pardon me) very cute and could handle the give and take of banter with guys like Bobo. He loved to hear them laugh. We all did.
A couple of years after this, and we all started going our different ways, Bobo wrote me a letter saying he was going on a Mormon mission to South Dakota. He said he was all in “unless the snow and low temperatures get to me. Then I’ll transfer to Palm Springs.” Southern California humor at its best.
Many years later, he contacted me again, and told me he had just been made a Mormon bishop. It no longer was Bobo: it was Bishop Robert (Bobo) White. He had matured into a fine person, and I think he wanted me to know that he had become very serious about his personal progress.
Then, many years after that, two of the girls and one of the guys who were his friends at the institute contacted me, and told me Bobo had died. I was stunned. Guys like Bobo live on in the here and now. He not only was good, he was great about his devotion to his God. He was 69.
Last Friday, I walked past his open casket. There he was. Did I recognize him after so many years? Yes. He was serene and at peace. Indeed, a life well lived.
As the casket was closed and the attendants started rolling the casket toward the chapel, some people started coming toward my wife and me. I recognized all of them. They were the wonderful kids of the days of Camelot at the Wilmington Institute of Religion. Yes, those were the days. And now, we were in Mapleton, Utah saying goodbye to our friend Bobo.