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In Memoriam to Keith W. Fowler
by Evelyn Lamprey (May 2007)
Just shy of 20 years ago I met Keith on a Thursday night at Hall Street
in Concord, NH. I was a grubby runner; he was cute, pompous, and smug.
I couldn’t stand him. He of course sensed that and made it a point to
talk to me. For months he made a nuisance of himself at auctions until
he finally won me over. When he started his own auction company and asked
me to work for him, I did. It was the beginning of a long, stormy friendship
and spirited sibling rivalry that ended with his death last week.
Keith was a private person, but I could talk to him about anything
and get an honest, well-thought response. I relied on him for advice about
antiques, auction law, good novels and off-color jokes. He was my big brother:
annoying, hilarious and always there if I got in a jam or needed someone
to talk to.
It’s hard to describe someone who was such a dichotomy. You either
loved or hated Keith, but if you were a fan, you were one forever. He
could be a challenge yet he seemed to attract people who were equally intelligent,
complex and intractable, who became lifelong friends. If I had to write
a book about Keith, many chapters would be devoted to anecdotes about such
things as auction set up, when the staff diligently arranges the sale according
to Keith’s precise instructions, only to have him come in and move every
object 3 inches to the left, complaining the entire time. However, the
remaining and largest part would be about his kindness and loyalty to clients
and friends, sharp wit and high principles.
Speaking of intractable people, my mother, notoriously difficult and
outspoken in her own right, absolutely loved Keith. She worked for him
as a cashier for several years, verbally sparring with him, bossing him
around, and making jambalaya for him and the rest of the staff after summer
auctions. Even after she stopped working for him, he sent her cards ?
not just Christmas, birthday and Mother’s Day but cards for the most obscure
holidays, right up until she passed away. When Keith spoke at her memorial
service, he described her so eloquently and with a humor and sensitivity
I will never forget. Keith would complain about how his own mother would
drive him crazy, yet he called her after every auction without fail and
after he became sick he spoke with her every day.
I talked to Keith quite a bit by phone the last few months. He always
greeted me with a cheery “Eee Bee Dee Bee!” no matter how bad things were
going. I didn’t think that there was much I could do for him, except help
with the mundane aspects of life: buying gourmet cat food that his finicky
feline Maggie wouldn’t eat, books and lunch. I suppose if I were in his
place, a kind friend lending an ear and buying cat treats would be better
than anything.
Though often pessimistic about life, Keith was very upbeat and committed
to fighting his disease to the end. He talked about how well the Lahey
Clinic treatments were going and was looking forward to playing golf over
the summer. Maybe it was denial, but better to go out that way then in
despair or resignation. I can only hope to have his strength and determination
if I ever face the same prognosis.
Keith was very devoted to the auction trade gave his time to the NHAA
as a director and president. For those who would like to do something to
remember him, his family would like donations to the NHAA scholarship fund
in Keith’s name.