Final Recollections On The Amazing and Unforgettable Rufus Bellamy My last column touched on a few of Rufus Bellamy's lapses into forgetfulness, but I'd like to focus here on some of the other Rufus recollections that I'm sure many of his faithful admirers might enjoy. This remembered statement sums up his attitude about foods that might or might not be safe to eat. “My God Gene, anything that tastes this good can't possibly be bad for you!” That remark, about a particularly juicy roast duck drumstick, I found hard to quibble with. But his relying solely on taste to govern his diet may well have lead to Rufus' fatal heart attack. Being a gourmet at heart, he loved to scoff at many of the standard warnings about foods to avoid. He did believe in the Greek golden mean: “moderation in all things,” but he applied that to exercise too and that left him fairly out of shape for any heavy work. When his mother, Virginia Woods Bellamy, died she left him quite a financial windfall, but rather than investing in a nice practical new home, Rufus seized the opportunity to reach for one of his dreams. He invested in that huge barn that still stands at the river end of 12th ave. in south Moorehead, Minn. Many of his friends, including myself thought that to be a huge mistake. But Rufus stood his ground and so the legend of “Bellamy's barn” was born. The dream was simply to convert that barn and its ample grounds into a Mecca for lovers of the arts,with concerts in the hayloft, apartments on the ground floor, and a park-like back yard with unique trees and gardens connected by lovely flowered paths winding down to the river. I think Ben Jonson's poem, “To Penshurst,” was the model for that dream. That poem celebrates a beautiful English estate owned by Lord Penshurst who epitomized the gracious noble host-- embracing all classes, not just the “elite” nobility. It was a place where “all who came might enter, and no one was denied.” All visitors were treated like royalty: sumptuous feasts, gorgeous grounds teeming with all manner of flora and fauna, and a place to hear great literature or enjoy fine music in the company of loving friends. The transition of the barn from dream to reality progressed slowly but steadily. Rufus lived in the spacious apartment on the west end of the building. It had two bedrooms and fireplace giving ambiance to a joined living room/ dining room and kitchen all looking out of wide bay windows opening toward the river and its sunsets. The aroma of that apartment, just as his previous one, was unmistakably lovely: a combination of spices, herbs, and wood smoke which I've experienced nowhere else. It was, in a word, unique. The barn came also with a huge workshop filled with tools for woodworking, carpentry, and gardening. Rufus was not really adept at using most of his stuff, but with no dependents and a lucrative job at MSC (MSUniversity, Moorhead), he could afford to hire carpenters to add on new rooms as the years went by. He could also afford too pay landscapers and students to add trees, shrubs and garden plots in his huge back yard. And he planted a few himself. He loved showing me around to look at new plantings just as he used to do in Maine-- calling each by its Latin name. Little by little, year by year, the Bellamy vision of a Penshurst in Moorehead was taking shape. The hayloft was another story; Lots of musty hay residue and pigeon droppings, the accumulations of years, had to be dealt with. Sadly, these took a serious toll on Rufus' health. He contracted some serious breathing issues and often needed breathalyzers to fend off asthma. But step by step, things got done. He added a fine music room where he installed a grand piano and later a harpsichord. He also added a couple of guest bedrooms and a reading room stocked with his immense collection of books, periodicals, and scholarly journals. When I retired to Wahpeton in 2001, I lost contact with Rufus for a while, seeing him only once or twice a year, but he was always the same wonderful host, full of enthusiasm for whatever new development in the arts he had chosen to look into. He seemed to stay forever young and full of life. Then came the shocking news that he had suffered a fatal heart attack in the parking lot of a local store. In an instant the dream was ended, and one of the brightest lights in all academia was snuffed out. On a trip to Moorehead two years ago, I stopped at the big barn to see if the new owners had any news about Rufus. The nice lady living there told me that one thing had not changed. Nearly every month an ex-student or acquaintance comes by asking for Mr. Bellamy. “He had to be a man many people loved.” “He was,” I said; “and I was one of them.” “What will I do for uplifting talk/ now my dear friend is dead?” Gene Pinkney - For the Daily News – 6/25/21 html uploaded 09-03-2021