Sunday, August 17, 2008

JOAN HARVEY The Oregonian Staff

Eric Sundholm loved the Rose Festival. He loved the tradition, the pomp and ceremony, the community connection. And, he loved the roses.

He made his first parade float when he was 7. It was a tank fashioned around a little red wagon that he pulled along the Junior Rose Festival Parade route.

Later, as an adult, he built tremendous, elaborate floats for the Grand Floral Parade. In one year, he had 14 floats in the parade, including a famous one of "Swan Lake" with a 55-foot orchid and an open lace-work canopy that floated over the top of the lake. No one has been able to duplicate it.

Through the years, Eric took home sweepstakes and most of the other awards for his creations. His floats traveled to other festivals and represented Portland in the Pasadena Tournament of Roses parade.

He was born in Seaside but moved to Portland soon after, and was a Portlander through and through. He grew up in a series of homes his father remodeled in the Grant neighborhood.

At Grant High School, the wiry, energetic teenager sang in the chorus and was the band's drum major, leading the school in the Rose Festival parade. Princess selections were a big event, and Eric made it even bigger at Grant. He led a committee to fund a tiara for the princess. He built an extravagant stage presentation -- a giant rose -- that revealed the selection.

He went on to Lewis & Clark College, was sophomore class president and was on the rally squad. He helped decorate the Lewis & Clark float for the Rose Festival. He planned to be a high school teacher, but dropped out just 15 credits shy of graduation.

He slogged through a series of bank jobs for which he was totally unsuited, but which took him to New York City, where he had his first taste of Broadway. He fell victim to a hepatitis epidemic and came home to recover.

Serendipity and his own innate gregariousness gave him his next break. He was having a pre-dinner drink with his parents at the Embers Restaurant in Seaside when he overheard a woman and her daughter talking in French, and he joined in. They turned out to be the wife and daughter of J.J. Parker. An instant friendship developed, and eventually the Parker family offered him the management of the Broadway Theater.

It was the early 1960s, and movies were still high glamour. Eric carried the glitz to a new level. Premiers at the Broadway (and later Off-Broadway) Theater were full-fledged extravaganzas, complete with red carpets, Klieg lights and brass bands. He outfitted his little sister Nancy in a formal gown, and he wore white tie and tails.

He started ShowCraft in 1966 after the Parkers sold the theaters. In addition to parade floats, the company also designed other event decorating, such as elaborate bank lobbies at Christmas. Eric also worked as a designer for Erv Lind Florist and bought the company in 1976.

Anything that Eric could do for the festival, he did. He furnished the bouquets presented to the princesses and queens at the coronations, was a Royal Rosarian and was knighted by the festival.

He was active in the Scandinavian Men's Club and, as chairman of its Lucia Festival, made it a big event. He was active in the chambers of commerce in Portland and Oregon City, where he owned the House of Flowers for a few years.

A natty dresser, he always wore a suit coat and tie. He loved to cook and entertain friends. Holidays, of course, were important to him, and tradition had to be observed. He called his mother at 1 p.m. every day.

He indulged a series of little dogs, the pugs Tony and Maria (for the "West Side Story" lovers), the miniature schnauzer Toby and a white miniature poodle, Gaylord. He loved good things, good clothes, good restaurants and good friends and was enjoying them all.

Then, in 1985, Eric's life shattered.

Without warning, his business and personal partner of 25 years flew off to Las Vegas and married a woman.

Eric never fully recovered from the shock. He lost interest in everything, sold his businesses and became a recluse. Gone forever were the days of bright lights and roses.

It took him more than 20 years, but this year he was slowly climbing out of the depression. He walked every day to the Lloyd Center for drinks or lunch at Stanford's or Newport Seafood Grill. He sent a dozen red roses to Em Lind on her 100th birthday. He was renewing old friendships.

Years of heavy smoking caught up with him and he was diagnosed with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. And then it was one thing after another, after it was discovered his body was riddled with cancer. He went to the doctor June 21 and died July 3, 2008.

In his happy days, he was able to shrug off all the small crises of life. Beauty would cure anything, he believed. When the carpentry went bad on a float, when a set turned out lopsided, he knew the roses would obscure the little mishaps. He always said, "Don't worry, it'll all come out in the flowering."

Joan Harvey: 503-221-4355; joanharvey@news.oregonian.com