Paul Hollenbeck

Paul Richard Hollenbeck “The Dad” March 3, 1946 - January 29, 2026 Three days ago, Paul Hollenbeck died peacefully at home surrounded by family and, as he put it, “more love than I can even absorb.” Paul’s last weeks of life were filled with visitors, handwritten cards, lengthy text messages, carefully crafted emails, and tearful phone calls from loved ones letting him know how much he meant to them. His staggeringly intergenerational fanbase of four-year-olds to 90-year-olds and every age in between is a testament to his legacy as a husband, community builder, mentor, colleague, friend, and a defining example of what it means to be a good man and a father so iconic that he signed his cards simply, “The Dad.” Seventy-nine years ago, Paul Hollenbeck was born in Detroit, Michigan to Tanya and Leroy Hollenbeck Jr. He was only nine years old when his parents divorced and he became the head of household, taking care of his little brothers Leroy and John while his mom was at work. Sixty-seven years ago (age 12) he got his first job: a paper route for the Daily Telegram in Adrian, Michigan. After delivering papers every morning, he would load his baby brother John into the basket of his bicycle to take him to preschool. Occasionally, the cops would stop the brothers for their reckless behavior. Paul would lift John out of the basket and wait until the cops were out of sight, before loading him back in, and continuing on their way. Sixty-six years ago, Paul’s eighth grade teacher assigned the class an essay on what they wanted to be when they grew up. Paul had no idea. Wandering around the house rifling through old papers, he found his dad’s own eighth grade essay and learned that his dad had wanted to be an architect. Paul didn’t know what that was but thought the essay sounded pretty good so he “plagiarized the whole thing, 100%” and got an F. Sixty-two years ago, (age 17), the girl with the locker next to him, Pamela Hodapp, asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance. He was the shy boy on the swim team. She was the popular girl on the homecoming court. He said yes. The rest is a love story they both loved to tell. But what Pam never knew and Paul’s daughters only learned recently is that another girl had asked Paul to the dance two days earlier. He had been so stunned, he said no. Today, Paul’s daughters are grateful to that first girl for asking and getting his jitters out so he was prepared to say yes to Pam and make their lives possible. Before going to the dance, Paul and Pam had their first date: hot chocolate at Bummies. Shy Paul barely spoke. Fifty-seven years ago, Paul and Pam were married in June of ‘68. When Paul talked about how his marriage transformed him, he would point to his signature. “When we first got married my signature was like this,” he’d say, grabbing a stray napkin and writing his name in small, timid, cursive, each letter defined — “But after Pam,” he’d dash a bold, firm, giant, vertical leap of a signature across the page, “I was somebody.” Paul started his college career at Michigan State, and graduated in 1970 from Miami University with a Bachelor’s in Architecture. Although he’d plagiarized the idea from his Dad’s eighth grade essay, he did become an architect. “It was a combination of art, building things, and working with people. It was a good fit because you didn’t do the same thing day after day.” His first architecture job would be at SSOE in Toledo, Ohio. Toledo is also where Paul and Pam would start a family with their first daughter Corey, born in 1972. Paul loved to tell how Corey’s birth was so quick and easy that she was already in Pam’s arms before he’d made it inside the hospital after parking the car. The sweet, little family and Brandywine, their big Irish Setter, moved to Ithaca New York where Paul worked towards his Master's at Cornell University. The Hollenbecks would return to Toledo for good as Paul joined a small firm called The Collaborative, making Toledo the birthplace for three more daughters, Emily, Annie, and Sarah, all raised in their beloved family home on Drummond Road. In 1984 Paul became a Partner at The Collaborative working on many of the firm’s defining projects, with a focus on master plans, space planning and facility design for dozens of colleges, universities, and churches throughout the Midwest and East Coast. In 1988, Paul became the President of the Toledo chapter of the American Institute of Architects (AIA). In 2004, he was named Architect of the Year by the Toledo chapter of the AIA. In 2009, he became AIA President of Ohio. That same year, Paul chose to sell back his shares at The Collaborative, but stayed on in a ‘Principal Emeritus’ role. In 2012, AIA Ohio awarded him the Public Service Award, citing his work at The Toledo Design Center, the Downtown Toledo Development Corp, Vice President of the Aurora Project, Inc for homeless women and children, and President of Camp Courageous for kids with disabilities. Family lore has it that while accepting one of these prestigious awards from the AIA, Paul got the idea to play the Tina Turner song “Simply the Best” as the walk-up music for his speech. But then as he walked to the stage, the lyrics began, and it occurred to Paul that his song choice might be misconstrued as an ego trip. Embarrassed, he began wildly pointing at the audience, yelling, “You! You are the best!!” That was Paul, humble even when he deserved the spotlight. When Paul talked about his career with his daughters, he talked a lot about the AIA holiday parties. “Your mom and I used to tear up the dance floor,” he’d say grinning. Awed and so proud that he, that shy kid who barely spoke on their first date, fearlessly took center stage in front of all of his colleagues as soon as he heard the opening chords to Bruce Springsteen’s "Dancing in the Dark" or Bob Seeger’s "Old Time Rock n Roll." Throughout his career, Paul was an ever-present father. He packed lunches, decorating each brown paper sack with his signature drawings, illustrating some significant project or aspect of each daughter’s day or week ahead. He was always paying attention. Every February 14th, he’d come home with a stack of homemade valentines drawn on scraps of foam-core for Corey, Emily, Annie, and Sarah or mailing them off when each girl went to college. He built the club house in the backyard with Annie and her best friend Brian. He went to every single one of Emily’s basketball and soccer games. He rented a full gorilla suit and dressed up as Koko for Sarah’s third grade class project on animal communication. Every night at almost 8 p.m., he would pull into the driveway on Drummond Road blasting Sinead O’Connor through the sunroof of his Volkswagen, just in time for dinner around the dining room table with candles lit. He instigated epic wrestling matches with Emily and Annie. Everyone always assumed it was Pam, the storyteller, who read the girls books before bedtime. But it was The Dad, every night. He attended every Father-Daughter Dance at St. Ursula Academy. He drove each girl to college every year, so proud that both Emily and Corey attended his alma mater. After he retired, he didn’t retire. He continued to work with the Toledo Design Collective, mentoring young architects and designers. He and Pam started to split their time between Toledo and Oak Park to be near their grandkids Matt, Josie, and Alice with frequent trips to Charleson, South Carolina to see his eldest grandchild Lena. He was always cheering them on – at volleyball tournaments, soccer and flag football games, tennis matches, and plays. When Pam died in 2018, he showed us what it was to have a broken heart. If you met him for dinner or a glass of wine, he never tried to hide how much he missed her. He showed the world how to be sad and alive at once and how the two made life whole. And just when his daughters began to worry that his broken heart may be too much, Lila arrived in August of 2021. He moved into the second floor of the two-flat in Chicago with the sounds of Lila’s stomping, running feet greeting him each day below. He became her best playmate, teaching her about load-bearing walls with her MagnaTiles and burying her in leaf piles. Of Lila, he told his daughter Sarah, “When I hear her footsteps on the stairs, it’s like hearing your mom’s car pull into the driveway again. My heart beats that fast.” A year ago, he built a staff kitchen and renovated the back-of-house area of Sarah’s bookstore, Women & Children First, and continued his role as handyman there, often stopping by to repair a shelf or paint or just haul out the cardboard. Six months ago, he marched with his grandkids in the No Kings rally in downtown Chicago, a sign that he had drawn in sharpie, demanding “ENOUGH.” Three months ago, he sat at his dining room table with the sun pouring through the window, writing long, personal Christmas cards to more than seventy family and friends. Keeping the tradition alive, still using up the cards and stamps that Pam had collected over decades. Three months ago, he spoke in front of 300 people in the black box theatre of Toledo School for the Arts, welcoming them to an evening of poetry sponsored by the Pam Hollenbeck Visiting Artist Fund. Two months ago, he walked down the halls of St. Thomas of Canterbury School, high-fiving and bear hugging each of the five kids that he tutored weekly. A month and a half ago, he walked to the Edgewater Athletic Club to go swimming, like he always did, twice a week. Six weeks ago, he took a two-mile walk on Folly Beach holding hands with his eldest daughter, Corey. Five weeks ago, he played Scrabble, beating his daughter Emily by one point. Five weeks ago, he jumped into a giant ball pit at the Balloon Museum, Lila squealing with delight. Three weeks ago, he sat in his living room next to his daughter Annie with sheets of tracing paper, redesigning the floor plan for a family cottage in Saugatuck. Three weeks ago, Lila climbed in bed beside “Papa” and read him 18 get well soon cards from every kid in her preschool class. Anyone who knew Paul Hollenbeck knows he hated talking about his health–or for that matter, yours. He wanted to talk about life. What was the next building to design, project around the house to tackle, birthday card to write, mile to walk, lap to swim, grandkid’s soccer game or play to attend, book to read, crossword puzzle to solve (in pen!), community forum to join, kid to mentor, protest to march in, daughter to hug. Paul is survived by a loving family including his four daughters: Corey (JD) Hollenbeck, Emily (Ken) Novak, Annie (Matthew) Osborn, and Sarah (Andrew) Hollenbeck. And his grandchildren: Lena Dubick, Matt, Josie, and Alice Novak, and Lila Marikis. In lieu of flowers, build–full lives, welcoming spaces, loving relationships, communities, conversations, collaborations, solutions, neighborhoods, democracies, families, the world, the future. The family has chosen green cremation. A private celebration of life is being planned. Donations to Compass Harbor: https://givebutter.com/CompassHarborSC, the Pam Hollenbeck Fund at Toledo School for the Arts: https://ts4arts.org/give-back/donors/ or any organization that does good in your community are welcome. Arrangements by Inclusive Funeral Care, 773-318-1305 or www.InclusiveFuneralCare.com.