An event last Saturday to celebrate the life of Eric Lassen was wonderful. Eric was a dynamic community activist who gave years of dedicated service to the Summer Solstice Celebration and to the massive, 20-year-plus renovation of the Santa Barbara Bowl. Once known to all as the County Bowl, the Bowl in its present brilliant and beautiful incarnation was certainly the appropriate place fo this occasion.
After earning his Master’s Degree in Architecture, Eric worked for Sasaki Architects in San Francisco, a large, highly respected firm. Eric designed the Del Mar Fairgrounds and several buildings at UCSB. In short, he was a very capable and experienced architect. But Eric had no interest in speaking about his high profile architectural career for as long as I knew him on the Solstice Board of Directors.
As is often the case at memorials, the sadness of Eric’s passing was softened somewhat by the wonderful group of people who came to pay him tribute. It was a wonderful reunion for many of us, and impressive in the large and wide-ranging group that held Eric in high regard.
Everyone who spoke acknowledged, and appreciated, Eric’s expertise, as well as his dogged determination, especially in regard to the Bowl, to persist in seeing what started as a $14 million project through to its fruition as a $52 million, world-class performance venue. Yet, without fail, each person gave equal attention to what an extraordinarily kind, caring, positive person Eric was, and how important those qualities were in the success of his efforts.
Laurie Lewis spoke of Eric’s wonderful hugs, and joyful waves he shared with everyone he encountered. The thing I especially remember is what a great smile he had, and how he almost always was wearing it, seeming to be having too much fun even as he was wrestling with daunting challenges.
On the micro level, Eric’s personal kindness was quiet and private. About 25 years ago, my life found me living in a bus in an industrial storage yard in Santa Barbara. It was at the distinctive address of Q and Q, that is, the corner of Quinientos and Quarantina, two streets with interesting connections to Santa Barbara history.
Quienientos, or “five hundred” in Spanish, refers to the $500 required from the town’s residents, as I believe I heard it, in compensation for two cannon that were stolen (as in Canon Perdido) from the Presidio. Quarantina refers to the fact that this part of town was once a swampy bog, invested with a variety of infectious bugs (hence, quarantine). Furthering this theme, just one block to the west is the street formerly known as Salsipuedes (get out if you can) Street. A deluxe location if ever there was one.
At this time, I saw Eric with some regularity. I was actually quite happy living in my bus. My major deficiency was the lack of bathing facilities. When Eric became aware of this situation, he gave me a key to the granny flat in his back yard, and invited me to use it whenever I needed to take a shower, which I did for a few years.
I’m confident I was not the only beneficiary of Eric’s personal kindnesses.
It’s hard to assess which of Eric’s many qualities was more important in his work; in concert, they represented a formidable combination that inspired people to strive to create important change in the community he loved.
After leaving the event, I found myself wondering if some area of the Bowl might be named in Eric’s memory. The Bowl Foundation has created a true jewel among Santa Barbara’s many diverse performing arts venues, and I think having Eric’s name attached to some piece of it would be most appropriate.
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