He ingratiated himself with the American officers the only way he knew how: by painting portraits of them and their family members. He ended up serving on both the Eastern and Western Fronts, was wounded in action, and eventually found himself in an American POW camp in France. Bill had had no desire to join the military, but the Nazi war machine mandated the service of everyone who could fight-including a carefree, wandering artist like he was at the time. He had already had more than his share of the dark, witnessed firsthand on the killing fields of Europe. His motto, in life as in painting, was that you can’t have the light without the dark. He was incredibly warm, gave out hugs like candy, and was often generous to a fault. He was laser-focused, detail-oriented, and driven to excel.īill, on the other hand, was a short, stocky German immigrant with a neck like a linebacker’s, fingers like sausages, and about as much energy as the sun. Bob was a tall, lanky, all-American, red-blooded military man who drove fast cars, loved fast women, drank scotch on the rocks, and smoked Salem Greens and Marlboro Reds. On paper, the two might have seemed like an odd couple. Bob was a few years shy of retirement from the military, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do next: apprentice for Bill. Not only was it a chance to learn from the master himself, it was also a job opportunity. That’s how he found himself attending his first workshop on the Alexander technique. Luck would have it that Bill was teaching a seminar less than an hour from Bob’s post.
It was all made even more bizarre by the plaintiff who filed suit: Bob’s very own son Steve Ross, a long-standing superstar in the sub-universe of Bob Ross fandom who had largely dropped off the face of the Earth after his father’s death-and was even rumored to have met his own demise some years earlier. The details, on the other hand, resided in the land of the unbelievable-incorporating deathbed marriages, last-minute estate changes, CIA-style tape recordings, and even a real-life former CIA agent. The broad contours of the case revolved around the nuances of intellectual property law and were nothing new in the world of legal bickering over celebrity estates. Now run by the daughter of Bob’s original business partners-Annette and Walt Kowalski-Bob Ross, Inc., was defending itself against claims that it had made millions of dollars by illegally licensing Bob’s image over the last decade, expanding far beyond the company’s original core business of selling Bob Ross-themed paints and paint supplies. Or, to be more precise, his eponymous company Bob Ross, Inc., was.
Yes, Bob Ross is a beacon of light in an ever-darkening world-an endless stream of soothing bon mots perfectly at home in the meme-and-merchandise internet era.
If that weren’t enough, he’s hawking Mountain Dew in a new CGI commercial that’s right on the edge of the uncanny valley, and Netflix has a feature-length documentary about him due this summer by the prolific actor-producer Melissa McCarthy. He’s been satirized by the comic-book anti-hero Deadpool, the world-infamous street artist Banksy, and even Jim Carrey as Joe Biden on Saturday Night Live. His official YouTube page has logged close to half a billion views. He’s also a smash hit on social media, where he feels more like a Gen-Z influencer than a once semi-obscure PBS celebrity who rose to fame in the 1980s on the back of his bouffant hairdo, hypnotic singsong baritone, and a timeless message about the beauty of the world around us. Bob Ross is everywhere these days: bobbleheads, Chia Pets, waffle makers, underwear emblazoned with his shining face, even energy drinks “packed with the joy and positivity of Bob Ross!” Whatever merchandising opportunity is out there, kitsch or otherwise, it’s a safe bet his brand-management company is on it-despite his having shuffled off the mortal coil more than 25 years ago.
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