Bob turned a passion for collecting into a way of life. Among his many collections were objects of interest, histories of humans and the natural world, soup recipes, resources for local non-profits, and warm, lasting relationships.
He was working on a book that would help people navigate collections they inherit from their family. Inspired by his interests and teachings, those who love him are curating photos and stories about Bob to build this memorial exhibit. If you would like to contribute, use the "Add Your Story" button at the top of the page. Bob's collection of family & friends would love to read your memories!
Please share this link with people who remember Bob. This website will remain available until July 2027. Let's see how extensive and inclusive we can make it.
Marianne Pickering
My first night with Bob Pickering was filled with anticipation, passion and fun.
“A Night in the Field” was advertised in Chicago, January 1983.
Camp out inside the Field Museum.
Let museum staff introduce you to the Wonders of the World!
Snacks & breakfast included.
Ages 9 -10
Saturday 6:30pm to Sunday 9am
Members $22 Non-members $25
Over twenty years before “Night at the Museum” thrilled moviegoers, a plucky team of Education department programming staff came up with an unconventional idea. A sleepover in the hallowed exhibit halls of one of the largest and most respected Natural History museums in the world.
At the time, I was developing educational programs for families. Bob oversaw non-credit adult classes & workshops. We were both part of a carpool that traveled scenic Lake Shore Drive to and from work. I knew Bob, but I didn’t really know him.
To be honest, most of us (including myself), pursued this idea with vigor because WE wanted to sleep over in the museum. The participating kids were the vehicle and, as turned out, a welcome bonus. After months of negotiating with The Field’s Administration and Security, we got approval and put out a quiet call for “helpers.” Bob was one of the first to respond, “I’m in!”
If you are unfamiliar with 9- and 10-year-old children, they are physically strong by size and have notable endurance. They may show early signs of puberty, both physically and emotionally. They begin to think more abstractly and can follow a timeline. They desire more autonomy and may resist adult direction. They are more likely to be influenced by peers. They may struggle to focus on tasks that are not self-selected.
As families arrived to deliver their children, we recognized these childhood attributes and those of their parents. Some parents were dressed for a night-on-the-town and quickly dropped their child, pajamas & sleeping bag at the curb. Others lingered, giving their child detailed descriptions of the night’s activities and instructions on expected behaviors. For some kids, this would be their first night away from family. For others, they were ready to rock n roll!
Note: Field Museum still offers an overnight experience called “Dozin’ with the Dinos.” Wisely, they have adapted it to families and parents must attend.
For the initial offering, we limited the group size to 30. Six staff members were responsible for five children each. We would sleep with our 5, go to the bathroom with our 5 and “explore” with our 5. While the second two activities happened with frequency, I’m not sure anyone slept. I was busily engaged with five charming girls, but could also observe Bob with five active boys. Bob listened to each of them with kindness and attention. Flashlights in hand, he took them to visit the Ancient Egypt exhibit. In addition to the thrill of mummies at night, Bob asked the kids thoughtful questions and shared age-appropriate information about archaeology and burial practices. He told them corny jokes and laughed at theirs. He comforted a boy who had wet his sleeping bag and seamlessly solved the problem so others wouldn’t notice. He took the boys upstairs to observe the bones of dinosaurs, modern mammals and birds. He introduced Japanese samurai culture and the importance of biodiversity. His passions became theirs. Bob had many research interests, and with over 480,000 square feet of exhibit space, there was a lot to explore! After a very long night, Bob bundled up his 5 and took them to the roof to view the Chicago skyline and sunrise on Lake Michigan. By breakfast, he and the boys had become a family.
After A Night in the Field, I looked differently at Bob. I think I fell in love with him that night. Seeing him in action prepared me to embrace his charm, humor, genuine kindness and intellect. Bob found interest in everything and everyone, including me. When we married the following year, Bob told me, “We may never be rich, but we will never be bored.” Bob always kept his promises.
Evie Pickering
In an early anthropology class, I was introduced to the term altruism—a concept that is often hard to illustrate. Within anthropology, altruism is understood as culturally patterned behaviors and social practices that prioritize the welfare of others over the self, executed without expectation of material reward. In our house, this was how my dad expressed his love. He would wake up every morning to make my mom coffee, despite not being a coffee drinker himself. He would slice a banana into rounds and carefully place a dollop of peanut butter on each one, because that is how I liked it. I never scraped a windshield until after moving from Wyoming to Arizona, because he would scrape mine every morning before he went to work, so I wouldn’t have to before driving to high school. These examples cannot illustrate the depth of his love, but they do demonstrate the ways in which he made daily choices to prioritize the comfort and happiness of others. I know his ethos of selfless and consistent care extended beyond the walls of our home. He was a dedicated, decades-long blood donor—never needing any in return. His proudest professional accomplishments were not moments where he was in the spotlight, but rather those where he was able to champion others in ways he knew they deserved.
I cannot distill my lifetime of memories into a single story, but there is a throughline. He was a teacher and a listener, observant and endlessly curious; characteristics that enabled him to find meaningful ways to attend to others. Anthropologists study altruism to better understand kinship, community ties, and reciprocity. I am the person I am because of his unconditional love. Actions that were normalized as a child but lessons as an adult. In recent weeks, I have further witnessed the impact of his altruism. Only hearts so full can feel so broken. I raise a cup of Earl Grey in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other to cheers as we carry on and share his traditions.
Kate (Pickering) Berry
In every office of his I remember, and probably you do, too, Dad had a cross-stitch that read, "In Dirt, there is Truth." His decades of work in archaeology and anthropology imbued the ground with both a sense of possibility-what might be in there?- and familiarity. Many of my memories are of him digging in the dirt, though more often as a gardener, with my sister, Evie and I, collecting bugs or catching reptiles nearby. Wherever we lived, often in places far less verdant than his childhood southern Illinois, Dad grew tomatoes, tomatillos, peppers, and anything else that might take root and taste good.
As a gardener and a researcher, Dad payed careful attention to the world under his feet. On hikes, he frequently found fossils, cool minerals, or even human-made objects the rest of us stepped over without noticing. He was also infuriatingly good at finding money on the street and remains the only person I've met who has found more than one 20 dollar bill.
Dad knew how to observe the world around him in a way that uncovered treasures and created meaning. This power of observation, really a combination of various skills, experience, and temperament, made him such a good teacher, father, and person. He was occasionally forgetful about dates and he probably wouldn't clock a new haircut, but he was watchful and perceptive and helped the people around him learn to notice small, important things as well. He noticed and nurtured and brought out what was true and interesting about the world and people around him, this was especially true for his daughters. He not only taught me to look at the ground, he is the ground which grew me.
Phoebe Stubblefield
Bob, Angela, Jen the grad student and I were in the lab cleaning and organizing the bones from one of the recovered individuals [1921 Tulsa Race Massacre Investigation]. The lab was in a shiny new trailer positioned on the north edge of the cemetery. We had been working since morning. Sometime in the early afternoon Bob said, “I’m tired.” He was speaking to the room, and we acknowledged that it was after lunch, a generally sleepy time. The room wasn’t hot because we had air conditioning, so it had to be the meal. Later Bob said it again, and he clearly wasn’t expecting an answer. I got to thinking that Bob had mentioned being tired at least twice, yet we hadn’t done anything exertive, and he wasn’t acting tired, he didn’t pause working, nor was he addressing anyone when he said it, just the room. My brain clicked and I said, “We’re going for a walk. Open all the windows and let’s go, we need to de-gas this new trailer and get some air!” We went on a cemetery tour, me guiding us through locating the marked graves from the sections bordering the corners of colored potter’s field, and Bob commenting on the Woodmen, Mason, and Oddfellow markers. Thereafter we opened the windows every morning, and we didn’t have any repeats of afternoon weariness.
Bob would invite us to go to Nothing’s Left, a microbrewery, after we finished for the day. I appreciated the window into afterwork culture, something I didn’t experience on the usual. We would meet Mari there and talk about anything, life in Tulsa, events happening, school getting ready to start, the TU library, meeting at the flea market, whatever. Those evening meetings were a gentle way to end the day, and I appreciate Bob introducing them to me.
Justin Williams
I have so many wonderful memories of my dear friend, Bob Pickering, that it is hard to just write about one, or maybe two, but here goes.
Our trip to Egypt was wonderful. Cindy and I spent 15 days with Bob and Marianne and traveled from one end of the Nile to the other, stopping at all the fascinating places in between that we had only seen on TV and dreamed of visiting in person. One particular stop was in Aswan. We were staying in an excellent hotel on the river and had been celebrating our tour guides, a delightful fellow named Aboudy’s birthday. The five of us, Aboudy, Bob, Marianne, my wife Cindy and me, were on the elevator heading down to the 1st floor. The elevator had only gone down one floor when it stopped and the doors opened. In walked a belly dancer, a very, very skimpily dressed belly dancer I might add. She was looking at her phone and just walked straight in. I also would like to add that she was extremely well endowed, if you catch my drift. Now what made this event all the more memorable, was that her entrance caught all of us off guard, especially Aboudy. You see, he was about 5’6” maybe 5’ 8”. Either way, it put him about eyelevel to her “endowment”. Everybody’s eyes went wide open I almost said holy s*#t out loud. That’s when I looked over at Bob. He had the same holy s*#t look on his face that I had and then displayed a sheepish grin of his that said, “We will remember this moment and talk about it forever.” The embarrassment turned into awkwardness, then everyone, including the belly dancer, were giggling and laughing. You were absolutely right, my friend, it will be remembered and talked about forever.
Bob liked to fish. Marianne had bought Bob a guided fishing package for his birthday one year and he had asked me to join him. We had a very knowledgeable and accomplished guide and through his expertise, caught a lot of stripers up on Skiatook Lake. Of course, Bob caught more than I did. He also enjoyed traveling over to Cushing with me to our family farm for a day of pond farm fishing with an occasional period of target practice with whatever firearm we happened to bring that day. Bob’s catch phrase, which I can still hear and will always remember, “What great fun” always ended our trips.
Dorothy (Thompson) Fish
Bob and I went to high school together and attended church and the same youth group together. One summer when we were about 14 years old, our youth group went on a weekend summer trip to Cumberland Falls in Kentucky. We all camped out in tents. Every time Bob had to go to the restroom, he would say he was going to see a horse about a blanket. It was funny then. Bob was always a nice person. We had a lot of fun in our church youth group.
Alexander Bratton
I am lucky to be able to call Bob a teacher, a provider, and a friend. I still remember when I had one of my first snow days and my driveway was covered in snow. I saw what a great job Bob did with his driveway and clearing it, so I felt I should do the same. Bob saw me outside shoveling snow and came over and gave me some tricks of the trade that he had picked up throughout his life. Another time, when I was sick with COVID, Bob brought some gazpacho to my back door and left it there for me. That cold gazpacho was exactly what I needed when I was struggling in a new town, away from all my family, and sick with COVID. When it comes to being a great friend, there are too many stories, but one I'll never forget is when I came upon some ground venison. I reached out to Bob about cooking something up with it, and he mentioned he had a great recipe for some venison chili. We enjoyed some warm venison chili on a cold Sunday in January. I'll always remember Bob as one of the kindest friends I've ever had.
Zachary Qualls
Let me tell you about the time Bob changed my life.
As a younger man, I was working hard, hustling to make ends meet, yet convinced there was something more waiting for me. I will always remember the first time I spoke with Bob. I was sitting on the phone in the muggy courtyard of the Mabee-Gerrer Museum of Art. He convinced me to come to Tulsa for a campus and museum visit. Even though I had already accepted an invitation from another school, I decided to go.
The rest, as they say, is history.
That visit set in motion a new life. Not long afterward, I received an unexpected call from Diana Folsom, facilitated by Bob, offering me the opportunity to begin work at Gilcrease Museum almost immediately. That position led to an assistantship that carried me through my first graduate degree and established roots in Tulsa that would shape the next chapter of my life.
After earning that degree with Bob as my advisor and spending the next year working for Lisa Rebori, another of his long-term friends, at the Houston Museum of Natural Science, I found myself seeking his guidance yet again. During that call, he agreed to chair my PhD in Anthropology at the University of Tulsa. More than anything over the next few years, he taught me that intellectual curiosity was something to be embraced rather than narrowed, and he instilled in me a deep appreciation for the power of anthropology to connect people, stories, and ideas.
Over the years, our relationship evolved. What began as advisor and student, mentor and mentee, gradually became a friendship. Bob became someone I could call whenever I needed advice, guidance, or simply reassurance. I will always cherish the hours we spent with our office doors open across from one another in Harwell Hall, talking through life's challenges and him sharing practical wisdom.
As the years passed, Bob became part of my chosen family in Tulsa. He welcomed me into his home, whether that meant caring for the family pets while they were away or joining them for dinner around the table. His generosity made Tulsa feel less like a place I had moved to and more like home.
I am profoundly grateful to have known Bob and to have called him my friend. It is difficult to fully explain what Bob meant to me during a period when I was taking enormous risks and building a life from what felt like the start. Somehow, he made those risks feel manageable. He made it seem acceptable to dream bigger than I thought I could.
Bob was one of those rare people who changed lives not with grand gestures, but with quiet belief. Looking back after twelve years, I see just how much grew from that conversation in the museum courtyard: a new beginning in Tulsa, two graduate degrees, including a PhD, meeting my partner Robert that has now spanned ten years, countless friendships that became family, meaningful conversations, heartaches and triumphs, more Thai meals with Bob than I can remember, and enough stories to last a lifetime. None of those things would have unfolded in quite the same way without the man who was voted "Nicest Guy" in his high school class, the man who took a chance on an ambitious young person with an unconventional dream and, by believing in me, helped change the course of my life.
Thank you and I love you.
Richard Hoe
Not Robert. Bob. At board meetings, jokingly, I sometimes called him Bison Bob. Before he came to Tulsa, he was Deputy Director of the Buffalo Bill Historical Center, now called the Buffalo Bill Center of the West, in Cody Wyoming, and simultaneously the director of the Cody Institute for Western American Studies. And the Bison Bob moniker worked too because he loved Oklahoma’s Tallgrass Prairie Preserve and its bison herd, now roughly 2,500 strong.
After working at Buffalo Bill, he came here as curator and administrator at the Gilcrease Museum. Bob’s work as senior curator at Gilcrease stemmed from the partnership between the City of Tulsa and the University of Tulsa to jointly manage the Gilcrease art collections. He went on to create and direct Tulsa University’s Museum Science and Management (MSM) graduate program and then left Gilcrease to join the faculty as a professor of anthropology.
Anthropology? How about forensic anthropology? One of Bob’s forensic anthropology books was featured on an episode of the TV show, CSI. Yes, Dr. Robert B. Pickering’s” The Use of Forensic Anthropology,” co-authored with David Bachman, was featured as a reference for the show’s forensic team.
Bob was one of three anthropologists sent to Thailand by the U.S. Army to recover and identify soldiers killed during the Vietnam war. He was the last physical anthropologist in Thailand—the program transitioned during Bob’s service from Thailand to Hawaii.
We had lunch together two months ago. He said that he and Mari (his wife’s Bob-only nickname—the rest of the world called her Marianne) loved a Thai restaurant and he recommended it. I mentioned that Thai restaurants often included a spice I’m allergic to, and we wound up at a nearby hamburger joint. As it happens, the hamburger restaurant is called Ty’s, and so, in a sense, Bob got us to a Ty restaurant, anyway.
Bob and Marianne were members of our family. We spent countless holidays together, name the holiday: Christmas, Thanksgiving, Independence Day and more, sharing book ideas, corny jokes and love and respect. Last year, he said to my wife Lynne, after borrowing a stepstool to help with this or that, after practically tripping over it next to the fridge and scratching his head about where he found it, after he finished the job, “Let me put this back where it should go.”
Lynne responded drily: “It goes next to the fridge, Bob, where you almost tripped over it.”
He tried to retire a few years ago, but before you could say “Bob’s your uncle,” he became Dean of the Library at TU, a job he clearly loved. TU administration, Starship Technologies and Bob, during his tenure as Dean of TU’s McFarlin Library, installed an enormously popular Starbuck’s on campus, in the library, and introduced robotic coffee delivery. Visit TU’s McFarlin Library today, and, on the way in, you’ll see delivery robots whizzing about, coming and going from the library’s Starbucks, delivering coffee and food to students and staff all over the campus.
I could write more about Bob’s accomplishments—I didn’t mention until now his latest book, “Luck is a Fortune,” a historical epic about two mismatched soldiers, both assigned to Fort Gibson, Oklahoma in 1841. But I could go on with Bob’s accomplishments and fill more pages.
The main and most important thing is that he and Marianne loved each other and together built a wonderful family with daughters Evie and Kate, one that now includes greatly loved grandchildren. And from meeting Bob’s students here and there, I can tell you that he helped them enormously—I could always feel the love and respect radiating back and forth. Bob made you know that he was 100 percent interested in you!
Bob!
Tony Pfeiffer
A Dearest Friend
Bob and I met 1979 and immediately bonded over loss and pain. He had divorced and I had just separated from my wife and child. Bob kept it mostly inside while I acted out, so we complimented each other nicely. He was a grad student at the time and one of my all-time best teacher hires. We both admired another teacher, Don McVicker, who seemed to inflate with energy when he walked into a large lecture hall.
I started running as part of quitting smoking, and Bob decided to join me along with an accomplished runner friend of his. Bob had not been training. His friend suggested we try a six minute 30 second mile pace for a bit. Bob and I both strained. This was 1982 or so and I don’t think Bob ever recovered from overdoing it this once—-stubborn and determined fellow he was!
When I left Field Museum, Bob slid seamlessly into my role. We kept in touch over the years. He was wonderfully eclectic and accomplished. There was seemingly no discipline he hadn’t touched. We eventually bonded further over an interest in Japanese swords. I moved to Denver to take a job. He recommended me, although he warned me that it wouldn’t be like the good old days. Sure enough, one fine day he, anthropology department head, the head of zoology, and I stood in the museum parking lot, debating who would be first to leave its employ.
Bob went to take a job in Cody, a step up. I asked him once what is like to be vice president after being department head. He hesitated quite a bit and finally answered, "The view is different." I often quoted that lesson in bureaucracy and middle management. Bob had balance and perspective another time on a visit to Cody. We ended up at some high mucky muck‘s ranch. The guy made some critical remark about things where Bob worked. Bob just smiled and said la la la la and put his fingers to his ears as if not to hear.
Conversations with Bob were really a deep pleasure. We discussed everything: Always our children. He was very proud and loving of them both. Our last conversation ended with us agreeing to be in touch more often. Alas.
To die with unfinished business is to have led a rich life. May we all be so fortunate. As for me, even this brief remembrance fills me with gratitude for having known him. Celebration and sorrow will always go hand-in-hand and reaching for the phone will never be the same.
Cindy Williams
Bob was my boss when I worked at the Zarrow Art Center. I realized he was fair, kind and incredibly smart right away. Zarrow was a hybrid art center owned by the University of Tulsa and managed by Gilcrease Museum. I had just come from Philbrook Museum, so Bob and I were both museum people. Zarrow was always caught between TU politics and museum ethics. We had a huge meeting with TU staff once over rules for the gallery space at Zarrow. Bob had been out of town and had just gotten back a few hours before the meeting. Not knowing anything about the problem he showed up to the meeting at the last minute and had my back through the entire meeting. Had he not been there I would have definitely had a tough time explaining my position. That’s when I realized how great it was to have a boss who supported his staff like that. I am extremely grateful to have had the opportunity to work with him during my years at Gilcrease. My husband and I are so blessed to have had Bob in our lives as our close friend and traveling companion. We will always cherish our time together and laughter we shared.
David Bachman
We were friends and my respect for him was total. I enjoyed working with him over a long time and on several different things. I became involved with Bob when we were both members of the Colorado Coroners Association and we discovered we had both been working in Chicago at prior times. And then I moved to Denver from Ouray County and worked with him at the Denver Museum as a volunteer. He taught me pretty much all I know about forensic anthropology.
Virginia Berland
Bob Pickering had an impressive academic resume, though never quite same-ole-stuff... or boring.
He had an instinctive sense for survival and exaltation through the ordinary exigencies of ordinary people... living and dead.
He successfully "practiced" anthropology and archeology amongst academics, cowboys, and Oklahoma Baptists …..and digging the “long since dead” in southern Illinois.
He enriched the academic archive, but also demonstrated that academic success does not diminish obligation, grace and imagination... and joy … and laughter.
Bob had a great laugh, punctuated by a twinkle…..
It is the responsibility of his multitudinous and varied “survivors” to make sure future generations know about, and practice, and forward, the “twinkle.”
THAT is his legacy.
Sheila Moore
My first memory of Bob was when he was 9 months old and in diapers. He was a sweet, calm baby, and I loved carrying him around (I'm 9 years older than he is).
Wally Johnson
Bob and I first crossed paths in Cody as we both settled into town and discovered we shared a passion for books. Must have been about 25 or so years ago as he assumed duties as Deputy Director at the Buffalo Bill Center.
We were both collectors and share an interest in the settlement of the American West and Egypt. Actually, Bob had renaissance interests and we just clicked becoming lifelong friends. We worked together on many BBC matters and he hosted my activities relating to Native American history at his Tulsa museum.
The fun remembrance has to do with his published work, Seeing the White Buffalo. He loved bison! He was happily nicknamed Buffalo Bob. Together, we decided to produce a limited 5 copy special buffalo-binding copy of White Buffalo. Bob has volume 1 and I hold volume 2. I do wonder who has 3-5?
We had great fun producing this limited edition. Found a binder in Billings. Searched out beautiful skins. Bob numbered and signed the finished product.
And this was the first of his very intriguing many publications.
Marilyn Wagner
Bob and I went to school together for many years. We went to Lincoln grade school, then Parkview Junior High, and graduated together in 1968 from Lawrenceville Township High School.
Bob was voted friendliest of our class. This was so true. He was a friend to everyone.
I remember him participating in track in high school, but no other sports. He participated in choir for one year. I don’t think it really interested him. He got too busy with other things. He was involved heavily in our Student Council. I am not certain what year this was, but he ran for President but lost to his good friend, Charlie Gore.
Bob was also on a committee to raise funds for a new teen center for our town. He and a group of teens tried to come up with ideas to raise money. Some of the ideas were actually fun things that we did. We sold light bulbs door to door! We would have several groups, divide the town, and take off each Thursday night selling those light bulbs. We ended up selling 500 BAGS of bulbs! That’s a lot of light bulbs!
Bob was well known for collecting artifacts. He and his friend, Steve Lathrop, would go to an area near Lawrenceville and search. Bob had been collecting artifacts since the 7th grade! By the time he reached high school, he had something like 350 arrowheads, 6 axes, various pendants, and a skull. Did he still have the skull? He would enter science shows in school and win! He also tutored other students. When I would say, “Gee, you are so much smarter than me. He would say, “No, I am not!”