Name: Rachel Sherman Pauta
E-mail address: mrsrsp [at] gmail [dot] com
Location: New York, NY

Comment (Tue Jan 23, 2007):
I was always paranoid that Oliver thought I was a moron when I worked at Hirsch & Associates. I
thought my mother was lying when she told me that he had nothing but amazing things to say about me
when he and Marcia visited her book store in Woodstock. While initmidated at the time, I can now
look back and say that it was mostly due to the fact that he was simply an amazing man that held
life in high regard and was truly wise. I learned something new about him everyday especially his
most interesting background!! I never guessed he was born in Versaille!
I am honored to have known Oliver and I send my love to Marcia and the family and to my girls,
Janelle and Nicole.
Rachel Sherman Pauta[raw][/raw]

Name: mike ely
E-mail address: mike_ely [at] revcom [dot] us
Location: chicago

Comment (Tue Jan 23, 2007):
Since I heard of his death, I keep remembering the first time I met Ollie as a young man thirty
years ago -- tall, incredibly lanky, in a room wreathed in cigarette smoke, all denim and flannel,
with eyes that locked on you with intelligence and wit.

That great tsunami of the 1960s had brought him into the West Virginia coal fields in the 1970s . He
was a young military resistor maturing into a Red Book communist -- spreading revolutionary dreams
and stirring wildcats strikes, challenging the old-time religions of Jesus and rank patriotism.

I have this vivid memory of driving along him through an early spring day -- in a car caravan
winding miles through the hollers of Logan county, with a blaring loudspeaker on the top of a pickup
truck, stopping in each coal camp to distribute the revolutionary press house-to-house, and announce
loudly the plans for gathering on May First under revolutionary banners.

Ollie was a man of talents. Songs tumbled out when he strummed a guitar. Clever drawings and
sketches when he touched a pen. I hear he made a career out of the art of displaying art.

But most of all I remember his stories, told with a drole simplicity that masked their careful
crafting. Stories of deer hunting, of secret acts of military rebellion, of insanities while growing
up, of drinking too much beer and about that bar fight that flattened his nose.

The story I’ve run over in my mind for years, was one he told about his political awakening in the
Air Force. Of realizing that he just could no longer be complicit in any that – not just the
invasion and air war on Vietnam, but also the nuclear threat to humanity that the U.S. Air Force
represents, and the mindless yes-siring demanded by the war machinery.

If I remember the details correctly, he said he stripped himself naked and confronted his asshole
commander in the officer’s mess. And he escalated the confrontation until he was bundled off for
mental testing and possible discharge.

And, as I remember it, the story took an ominous turn. Ollie told about being administered thorazine
in the military hospital – that mind-robbing psychiatric drug that turns people into drooling
zombies shuffling hallways in their slippers.

When his mind returned to him a couple of days later, Ollie said he realized that if he didn’t find
some way to escape, he could imagine himself trapped in this place for ever, mindless and numbed.

There was a point to the telling of course – a point about the importance of being wide awake and
conscious, of risking everything to get on the right side, of mocking respectability and vile
authority – and a warning about the danger of letting this system to numb you and steal your ability
to both act and live.

Ollie worked to free captives from that numbing, including himself. And it was wonderful when he
turned loose that sharp sharp tongue on those defend oppression.

Everyone knows Ollie was an utterly charming man to spend a hour with.

But I remember best how good it was to be along with him in a righteous fight.

Name: Sarah Kunstler
E-mail address: sarah [at] off-center [dot] com
Location:

Comment (Tue Jan 23, 2007):
While I didn't know Oliver, I am an old friend of his daughter, Annie. I am sure that some of
her intelligence, passion and wit must have come from him.

My thoughts go out to Annie, and to Oliver's family and extended family, who, judging from the
previous posts on this site, are many.

With love,

Sarah Kunstler

Name: John Hartley
E-mail address: johndhartley [at] msn [dot] com
Location: Hillsborough, NC

Comment (Tue Jan 23, 2007):
The time, 1961, 46 years ago... The scene, Friday night Sock Hop, North Bethesda Jr High School
cafeteria. Ollie "The Duke of Earl" Hirsch, first on the dance floor and last to leave
had all the smooth moves. All the girls wanted to take his hand and dance! "Cool" also.
Not in an arrogant detached way, the opposite, fun, welcoming, inclusive. Ollie was the one we
looked to on how to be "Cool". Shirtsleeves three turns up only, sleeveless sweater vests
unbuttoned, thinnest black tie possible! Silly stuff now, very important then. Ollie was the kind
of guy one remembers for 46 years. The kind of guy we all wanted to be around. In those
uncomfortable early teen years Ollie's jokes, lastest song lyrics, news, and party plans made
one feel comfortable and included. Walking away to the next class with a smile from something Ollie
may have said made me feel better about myself and others. I lost touch with Ollie after High
School. Thanks to Drucie Ramey, a mutual friend, I found out about Ollie's passing. Reading
the obituary informed me of some of the many wonderful gifts he brought into his enthusiastic life.
To his family and freinds, please accept my heart felt condolences in your loss. To Oliver,
congratulations on a life lived in principal, passion, excellence, and love.

Name: Sylvia Herskowitz
E-mail address: sherskowitz [at] yum [dot] cjh [dot] org
Location: New York, New York

Comment (Tue Jan 23, 2007):
On behalf of all of us at Yeshiva University Museum, I want to express our sadness on Oliver’s
passing. We had worked with Oliver on several exhibitions and all of us admired him and his work.
The understated but meticulous manner that characterized Oliver’s style –his profound and expert
attention to every detail, no matter how small, and his gentle bearing, endeared him to all of us.
We knew that if Oliver was the designer, the exhibition would be First Class!

Certainly it is a great loss to the museum world, and most of all to you, his family. We hope you
will find solace in memories of happier times spent together, and that you will be spared further
sorrows for many years to come.

Sincerely,
Sylvia A. Herskowitz
Museum Director