Memorial to Otto Bieber, 1942 - 2007.

This site is dedicated to the memory of Otto Bieber.

Otto Bieber was born in Bad Hersfeld, Germany on March 08, 1942. He was much loved and is deeply missed by all his friends and family.

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The Life Story of Otto Bieber
The Timeline of Otto Bieber
The Journal of Bieber

About Dad

Dad was born in Bad Hersfeld Germany, March 8 1942. He was the youngest of 7 children, born during WWII.
His eldest brother, Hans, was 10 years older than him, followed by Alfred, Wilhelm, Horst, Helga then Ute, who was 3 years older than him.
Dad told us so many great stories about his childhood, that I can't begin to try to tell them all, but I know he was very happy, and had so many good times with his family growing up. He became an apprentice to a painter starting around age 15.
At age 16 he immigrated to the US with his sister Ute. His brother Hans and his sister Helga, as well as an Aunt and Uncle were already in the states, specifically, Colorado. Dad didn't speak a word of english at the time, and I can only imagine how scary that would have been to leave everything you know for a new place, and not even be able to speak the language. The plan was for his parents to follow and move to the US as well in the following years, but health problems prevented that from happening.
Dad continued painting in Denver, and learned english quickly by watching tv and listening to talk radio- a habit that stuck with him always.
He married his first wife, Dolores, in 1963 and their first daughter Joyce Ute Bieber was born that year, followed by their second child, Robert Henry in 1965. They bought their first house in Denver, on Washington St.
Dad married his second wife, Gail, in 1973 and their first daughter, Amie Blythe was born in 1975. In 1977, they moved to Englewood, where their second daughter Erica Lyn was born. They lived in Englewood until 1986, when Gail and Otto were divorced. Otto lived in Parker for a couple of years, before settling in Aurora.
Otto gave his first daughter away at her wedding in 1986 to Ron Westerberg. He became a proud Opa (german for grandpa) for the first time in 1988 when Jenna Chelsea was born. I was with him the day Jenna was born, and I remember how giddy he was- the smile never left his face, and he could not wait to get to the hospital to meet his grandaughter. Robby was born 2 years later, followed by Danny in 1993. The Westerberg family bought a house in Aurora, down the street from Otto's apartment and lived there for several years, which allowed him to spend a lot of time with his grandkids. Robert was married in 1993 to Dawn Harrison, and Otto was his best man. Their first son Austin was born in 1995, followed by David in 1997. Dad gave his youngest daughter, Erica away at her wedding to Piers Daniell in 2005.

Otto made a name for himself in the painting buisness and always kept busy without ever having to do any advertising. He got work through word of mouth, due to his stellar reputation. He was the most skilled painter, as well as being honest and friendly, people really enjoyed welcoming him into their homes, and his customers often became friends.
Otto loved to travel, and especially had a love for nature. Utah, and Moab in particular, held a special place in his heart. His favorite thing to do was to float down the slow parts of the Colorado River in his inflatable boat, "The Fish Hunter" and marvel at the surrounding beauty. This was a trip he made several times, and all of his family members accompanied him at least once. He loved camping and hiking, and going on road trips. One of his hobbies and talents was photography. He left us with so many beautiful photos documenting his travels.
He remained close to his relatives in Germany, and went back to visit many times.
He was all about his family, and spent most of his free time just hanging out with his kids and grandkids. He was always there to help when anybody needed him.
He was the kind of person who people liked immediately and felt comfortable talking with. He had a great sense of humor, which he kept until the very last day.
This is only a drop in the bucket, please help me fill in the gaps...

Christmas 2003 Gail, Erica, Amie and Otto

Opa, Robby, Austin, David, Danny and Jenna, Christmas 1997

American Citizen! (Dad top right corner)

My Dad the Painter

My Dad, the Painter, by Robert Bieber

My Dad was a painter. His career began the moment he left middle school and continued through his last year. It was a fifty year career with most of it in the Denver Metro area. It was not just a job for him, but a vocation—an art form. I grew up watching him at work, and I was fascinated by his effortless skill.

In his lifetime he worked on many Denver landmarks such as Craig Hospital, Children’s Hospital, and the downtown Broker. He painted for the movers and shakers of this community: Philip Anshutz, Bill and Lee Ambrose, Governor Roy Romer and many others. When my sister Amie was born he painted a giant sign on the side of the Lanai Apartments that read “Welcome Amie”. It was visible for miles. His outgoing personality opened the door to hundreds of homes in Denver. For those homeowners they received not just a fresh coat of paint, but a friend they could lean on. Otto could be found baby-sitting their children, fixing a broken faucet, mending a fence, or playing with the family dog. But always, he was someone you could chat with while he rolled a ceiling or cut in a corner.

This is how I remember him; paintbrush in hand, white paint-specked T-shirt and pants, standing on a white canvas drop cloth and singing German folks songs of his childhood. He was a wonderful singer, and he sang loud and proud. At a younger age he sang with a choir that at one time performed at the Governor’s Mansion. I can still hear his songs echoing in the empty halls of a freshly painted home. Sometimes he had an audience—one or two children, or maybe just the family dog. I used to sit in the corner and watch his fluid motion and listen to his beautiful melody. I couldn’t understand the words—I didn’t have to.

To the many children bored with Sesame Street reruns or the twentieth reading of Green Eggs and Ham, Otto was a novelty, a sideshow performer of their own amusement. He gave them a paintbrush and simple instructions and put them to work. They’d apply a stroke here and there and then watch in amazement at the speed and fluidity of Dad’s effortless motion. Then began their discussions, usually talks of colors and paint, and how to hide the painted fingerprints on Mom’s new lamp. But the discussions gravitated to talks of adventures, the future, and the reality of dreams. After a time the children moved on to their own creative ventures but they never walked away without a smile on their face and a dot of paint on their nose. I was the one child who never walked away. I never tired of sharing ideas with my father—and dreaming.

It was on the white canvas drop cloth that my father and I planned our future. Adventures down the Colorado and Mississippi rivers were carefully thought out. Trips were planned to the Grand Canyon, Moab, and Lake Powell, and all began with a paintbrush in hand. My father was a true lover of nature, always saying “I’d rather hunt with a camera, than a gun.” He had a genuine adoration for the American West, and he wasn’t afraid to share it. Every time we traveled together he would see tourists from other countries talking in restaurants, on hiking trails, or taking family portraits in front of a stone monument. Dad would suggest to them an item on the menu, a prevention for foot blisters, or, with their camera in hand he’d snap the family portrait. Then he’d start up a conversation that led to the beautiful places in America—a must see guided tour. He was the self-appointed ambassador for the U.S., sometimes taking complete strangers on tours of National landmarks. A few years back he took a carload of German tourists on a trip to Yellowstone Park—in an old Volkswagen Van. My love for the world of the American West is directly connected to my father’s own passion for this land.

As I grew older our discussions grew political, social and religious. I found a voice in myself that rang with conviction, not musical like my father’s, but purposeful. On the painter’s drop cloth we debated the worlds problems and solved them—simply.

Then one day I married and began a family of my own. My career took root and the drop cloth discussions became fewer and fewer. There wasn’t time anymore for watching the master at work, but to my surprise, every once in a while I found myself sitting in the corner and watching. I was a child again, my memories aroused by the odor of fresh paint and my Dad’s masculine singing voice. And once again we talked, and we dreamed. In fact, I was with my Dad on his last job.

There was something he always told me—in my long forgotten yesterdays and not so long ago’s—he said:

“When I die, it will be with a paintbrush in one hand and a beer in the other.”

I love you Dad,
Robert

“In Heaven there is no beer. That’s why we drink it here.”
An old German Folk song

From Big Sis

My little brother was born doing World War 2.Our Mom was hospitalized for a long time and I being the oldest girl was given the baby to take care of.
I loved my little red haired baby brother from day one, even I dropped him out of the baby buggy, I was lucky he was not injured.( when he at times did not behave I was blamed that the fall had caused this)
In 1958 he and our sister joined us here in Denver. Since our Father did not get the visa to come to the USA because of the discovery that he to had lung cancer. Mom & Dad stayed behind. They let Ute & Otto come because they wanted their children to have it better. I was a young married woman and found my self raising two teenagers along with our 2 boys
We had a lot of fun with Otto & Ute our boys adored them and U Otto is to this day their favorite uncle. Otto surprised us one day when he stuck his head out of the car window and all his red curls were gone. He got himself a butch:-)
We moved from Denver and saw all the Biebers only occasional.
But in 2004 we moved here to Parker and our relationship was refreshed. Otto came almost every week to our home for dinner he always brought me a bouquet of flowers and a smile. Since then I called him my “Blumen Junge”
It was very sad when he told me of his illness. We both shed a few tears but then decided to make the best of the time we would have together. We treasured the get- together with all his family. His children all loved him so and took so great care of him. Thank You Robert ,Joyce, Amie & Erica The Lord will always bless you for all you did for your Dad. You all are very special.
We all will miss you Otto, but we have many great memories to treasure.
Well done great servant you will always have a special place in our hearts. Love you your SIS

MEMORIAL SERVICE INFO - 24 June 2007

A memorial service in honor of Otto Bieber will be held at 10am, at the "chapel" at Beaver Ranch in Conifer, Colorado (www.beaverranch.org)
In honor of dad's request, we will all toast him with Appel Schnapps, and have a lunch reception following the service at the main lodge.
All are welcome to attend and join us in celebrating Otto's life.
For more information, or to submit a photo for our memorial slide show, please email us at bieberfamily@yahoo.com

Riches

There is no financial estate to be devided. There are no assets, and no items of redeemable value. But what Dad left us with, will last throughout generations. The wealth of knowledge, values, dignity, and happiness are invaluable. Dad gave all that he had to us kids. He spent all that he could on his children and grandchildren. His time, his talent, his love, were ours; and we knew it. Nope, there was no estate. Dad gave us everything he had BEFORE he left us, there was nothing left. My only inheritance lies in my brother and sisters. They are priceless. Lucky me, my Dad left me a very, very wealthy person. I love you and miss you so much Dad!