Bunny Hudak (Moore)

In memoriam for Tom Utne

August 22, 1949–July 7, 1984

Utne Reader, October/November 1984

The inscription that introduced our summer issue read, “In loving memory of Thomas Carl Utne, a.k.a. Swami Dhyan Nirvesh.” The words were rushed to our printer as the plates were being prepared for the presses. It was too late to do anything more than acknowledge that my brother had died. I still don’t know what more to say but I feel I owe him and you a try.

Tom’s death apparently was the result of an acute asthmatic reaction to peanuts—his lifelong allergy and nemesis—which he ate while attending a spiritual festival at Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh’s ashram near Antelope, Oregon. Our feelings of loss, grief, and anger about his death are sometimes relieved and sometimes exacerbated by a statement from Rajneesh’s ashram that Tom “achieved enlightenment in his death by virtue of dying within 24 miles of a realized Master –Rajneesh.” We were also told that Tom had decided just a day or two before his death, and after years of ambivalence, to move to the ashram. We buried his ashes there, in a ceremony attended by thousands of his fellow devotees. His gravestone does not bear our family’s name.

Tom was tall and thin—a youthful Max von Sydow. He would probably most like to be remembered for his paintings. He was a gifted and inspired water-colorist whose portraits and landscapes always looked too easy to me—almost slapdash. He made his living as the principal writer for Wilson Learning, a management and sales training company. He was a proud and conscientious father to his son Christian (7) and daughter Emily (4). Among the things people say they will remember about him are his idealism, his ironic, silly, absurdist sense of humor, his passion for politics, his unself-conscious commitment to his spiritual beliefs, his patient, dogged, stick-to-itivity in work and in friendships.

Tom was my collaborator and friend. Each of us chose the other as the one male friend we liked most to be with. We could hang out for hours without talking or having heated arguments about how we should live our lives and other dumb little things. In some ways I felt like I was just beginning to get to know him. We worked together at East-West journal, where he was the art director in the early 70s, and later at New Age Journal, where he was the senior editor. He was a member of the Utne Reader Alternative Press Reading & Dining Salon—the group that helps decide what we excerpt and review in each issue. More than anyone else I placed stock in Tom’s judgment about everything having to do with the Utne Reader. On the day after his death, on the flight to Oregon to attend his funeral, I opened an envelope containing the blueprints for the Summer issue. My thought was, “I can hardly wait for Tom to see these.”

Wherever you are, Tom, I miss you.

—Eric Utne

Chris Godin (Adams)

I remember Tom fondly.  For some reason there were several classes where we sat next to each other.  I remember him as being such a gentle soul.  His doodling during class of course was always such fun.  

Eric Lee

I remember Tom still.  A good guy gone way too early.  Hope he had found the spiritual eternal peace.

Kristine Holmgren

Eric-- the strangest piece in the puzzle is this -- I don't know a single U High member of the class of '67 who would have predicted Tom's 'conversion' to the radical faith-system to which he was fatally attracted. He seemed so 'physical,' so 'rational.'  My memories of him are scattered and few --- but none of them are slanted with a 'search for meaning'  or anything deeper, wilder than his interest in athletics and an occasional dark-haired girl friend!! I was blown away by his early, unnecessary and tragic end. I can't imagine the pain it brought your family.  Tom had little time for egg-heads or literary types --- and he was nothing like the socially awkward kids who hung in my crowd. Like so many of us however, he deserved so much more than he sought for himself.  A strange and ugly surprise, his death.  I join you in remembering him well --- and wondering always. 

Laurie Johnson (Larsen)

I didn't know Tom well, but he was my date to a dance in the 8th grade (?).  I remember him as a dreamy, good looking and kind boy. I am not surprised at your description of him as an artist, with watercolor as his medium. May his soul rest in peace. 

Caroline Christian (Dunn)

I remember hearing about Tom's death after the Class of 1964's twenty year reunion. The reunion must have occurred very shortly after Tom's July death. His brother Ric was so grief stricken and unable to even talk about his brother, but many of us are related to '64ers and they passed the news around. It was the first time I remember hearing about such a dangerous food allergy death. And I had lots of food allergies.

David Wilson

I remember Tom as smart, funny and puckish (if that can mean mischievous in a smart and funny way).  He could also play basketball, and my family was his ride home after practice, but Tom needed to get home in time to watch the Adam West Batman tv series.  He ended up quitting the team, and I always suspected it might have something to do with our often defective delivery system.  Thinking about him now brings two thoughts - I live in Oregon and wish I'd somehow connected here with him; and that line in A River Runs Through It, after the younger brother has been killed, and the older brother tells their father he didn't really know anything about the younger brother, and the father corrects him:  " You know he was beautiful."  That actually seems like a lot.

Jeffrey Walsh

Tom and I had lockers next to each other for 5 years and he was always someone with a kind word but pretty shy.  We got to know each other through sports and classes and I saw an individual who cared about what he was doing.  He seemed to be one who gave his best effort and in sports was a super teammate and supporter. I was sadden when I heard that he had passed away but good memories remain and I still remember his very graceful smile and attitude of always doing your best.  TTFN

Caroline Christian (Dunn)

This needs a tenor or a baritone: uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuht-neh.