He will be lovingly missed by his wife, Pamela Ann Jamieson Price; his children: Katherine Marie Price Ranft (Joe), Penelope Anne Price Bichi (Mita), Allen Coleman Price (Ana), Rebecca Lynn Price Marks (Tony), Bonnie Elaine Price; grandchildren: Patsy Culpepper Bichi, Henry Ranft Price, Wesley Ranft Price, Mateo Price-Otero, Coleman Avery Marks; and great-granddaughter Lindsay Abigail Bichi.
He was predeceased by his siblings: Richard Woods Price, Ronald Fullerton Price, Rosemary Price Asfour, Nancy Price Minor; and his parents, Robert Coleman and Gertrude Marie Feikus Price.
Bob was a true original, a rare mix of fierce iconoclast who led a quiet simple life; a fiery independent spirit who was also humble and altruistic; an introvert who cherished family and could talk for hours with the people he trusted; a loner who flew planes and traveled the world; a robust, brilliant scientist with a refined esthetic sensibility, who played Andre Segovia on his guitar and made beautiful paintings in his spare time.
He was born in 1934 in Chicago, IL, and grew up in Belleville, IL. The oldest son of a southern gentleman and his beautiful German bride, young tow-headed Bobby, Jr. was charged with pulling his little red wagon each day to the butcher’s, then storing that night’s dinner in the “ice box.” He was, by his own estimation, an un-motivated inferior student, and found true meaning working as a ranch hand in the cattle farms out West.
He spoke with endless rapture about his cowboy years, when he had the privilege of working on roundups as a wrangler for the Moffitt Cattle Company and other outfits in Nevada, Colorado and Nebraska. It was the last gasp of the open range, and he spent the rest of his life telling stories about sleeping out under the unfettered Milky Way and eating fire-cooked stews from the roving chuck wagon.
These years came to an end when his father paid him a special visit to deliver a message: “It’s time to go to college.” Bob’s education began at Colorado A&M and ended at University of Illinois, with a Doctorate in Veterinary Medicine. He parlayed that into a job in St. Louis working with the Budweiser Clydesdales—perhaps not coincidentally his beer of choice. The Clydesdales were followed by the police dogs in Korea and Mississippi, where he was stationed as an enlisted captain and veterinarian for the U.S. Airforce.
His journey continued with another sharp turn, this time to medical school at the University of Tennessee. When he wasn’t studying his chosen discipline of pathology, he was performing autopsies on zoo animals, including one memorable episode with a deceased rhinoceros that involved ladders and chainsaws. “There was no precedent,” he explained. “We were improvising.”
At U.T. he met his first wife, Ann Culpepper, a fellow medical student. The two bonded through fishing, beer, and pathology. The marriage produced three children over six years and a life-long friendship.
In Boston, he worked for the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute and Boston Children’s Hospital as a pediatric neuropathologist, then onto Memphis at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, where he contributed ground-breaking work in the field of childhood leukemia. His research found that the disease manifested differently in children than had been assumed, emerging directly in the brain, central nervous system and spinal cord. From this important discovery, new prophylactic treatments were developed that prolonged the life of affected children. His work was recognized internationally and he was invited to present his findings in Italy and England, among other places.
At St. Jude, he met the love of his life, Pamela Jamieson, a young medical student and soon-to-be radiologist. Their marriage of close to fifty years produced two daughters and a long lineage of cats.
He held his interests in passionate focus: fishing, SCUBA diving, painting, writing, and reading. About once a year he would trot out some dog-eared copy from the complete works of Bertrand Russell, and give it a re-read. He hated cities, and preferred nature. He always said if he could be airlifted into the Metropolitan Museum of Art, that’s all he needed to see of New York. He found his happy place on a picturesque lake outside Memphis, where he and Pamela lived for close to fifty years. He passed away peacefully, at home, of natural causes, after his long and fruitful life.
The family wishes to thank the compassionate caregivers of Methodist Healthcare-Alliance Hospice.
Per Bob’s wishes there will be no services, and his ashes will be spread at a later date.
Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be shared at www.MemphisFuneralPoplar.com for the Price family.
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