Barb Utter: Taking a Moment to Reflect on a Legacy
By Slater Shroyer, Shroyer Auto Parts, Vice President, Automotive Recyclers of Michigan
In December we lost a dear friend and mentor with the passing of Barb Utter. For decades Barb was a fixture in the automotive recycling industry and as the Executive Director of the Automotive Recyclers of Michigan, she created her own legacy and helped guide some of the best and brightest in our industry and beyond.
Many years ago, she told me that whenever someone dies the world turns them into a saint, the best we can do is try to actually be deserving of the title. Most of the people I spoke with after Barb’s death described her as a confidante and mentor, and many of us considered her a second mom. She naturally gravitated to the role because she saw every person as deserving of grace, and she truly cared about our lives. She knew the names of everyone’s children and grandchildren. She sent handwritten cards on birthdays and after every event. When any of us got short with one another, she would remind us that most people are fighting battles we will never know about. Whenever we got full of ourselves, she reminded us where we all started. Barb was a treasure trove of experiences and guidance, and she had the ability to walk into a room full of strangers and walk out with fifty new best friends.
Barb hadn’t set out to become the face of ARM. She attended Michigan State and started off as a teacher. In the early 1960s women were expected to stop working when they got married and have children, so while raising four sons she joined volunteer organizations to stay engaged. At some point her husband, Kent Jr, needed a secretary at his salvage yard business and “wives came cheap” so she went to work. After they sold their business, Kent became the Executive Director for ARM and Barb moderated the long-line. They were a team in the truest sense of the word.
Kent died unexpectedly at an ARM event in 1995 at the age of 58. Barb stayed to help with the transition, but the new person lasted barely a year. She found herself in an emergency board meeting to discuss what to do and one of the members pointed out that the solution was “right under their noses.” Barb didn’t believe she was qualified. “The only thing I know about accounting is that you can’t spend more than you take in,” she told them. “You’re hired!” someone shouted across the room.
Barb threw herself into running the association. She joined MSAE to network with other administrators and attended ARA functions. She was the chair of the ARA Affiliate Chapters Committee for a period. Several of the state affiliate executive directors began a tradition of slipping off to lunch for informal conversations which allowed them to trade ideas and collaborate on projects.
By the time Barb convinced me to become a board member, she was well established in her own right. She had a philosophy that it is better to be at the table than to not have a voice, and when looking for volunteers she focused on people who were busy… “Busy people are the ones who get things done.” She told me to put my money where my mouth was and get involved rather than grousing from the sidelines.
I later learned the inside joke at ARM: it was useless telling her “no” and once you’re in the Rolodex, no one ever really gets away.
I was lucky enough to travel extensively with Barb to ARM and ARA events all over the place. She would insist that we do something interesting everywhere we went because you never know when you’ll be back there.
It’s one of those first trips that taught me who Barb was, how she carried herself, and how she could be effective. We went to Quebec City for the International Roundtable on Automotive Recycling. At the hotel we agreed to meet at the bar because Barb believed you learn as much from talking to people as you do from seminars. When we walked in, members of ARA’s Executive Committee were huddled together working on something. They all stopped what they were doing to stand up and talk to Barb. She asked after them and their families, she knew names and details, she cared about them as people.
Sitting alone at a table was a person recently ostracized from the group. Barb and I both knew that feelings were strong in the room. Being young and naïve, I asked her what we should do. “I don’t play politics,” Barb announced firmly and she went and sat down next to the outcast person and started talking. I followed her lead and as people trickled in, everyone in the room gravitated to Barb’s inclusive circle. Maybe it came from mediating four kids, but in that moment I understood her ability to transcend politics and gamesmanship. I didn’t know it at the time, but I would go back to Barb for advice on avoiding politics time and time again.
Kathy Cooper came to ARM in 2009, and I believe this kept Barb in the office for several more years. Barb grew up before personal computers, and now she was navigating a digital world. Kathy was her trusted confidante who could wade through things together when technology became overwhelming. Kathy joined so many of us who looked to Barb as a second mom. Even during her own health crises, she was our rock of stability.
Kathy found it amusing when Kent III, “the keeper of the parents” perpetually caught Barb indulging in a Filet-o-Fish and Shamrock Shake during Lent. For us she was a mentor and an independent force of nature, to her kids she was mom and they worried about her. Barb spoke very lovingly about all of her family: sons and daughters-in-law, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. She still spent time with her siblings and their families. She was an active member of her church and several volunteer organizations. Whenever we spoke about her retirement, she looked forward to spending time with family and friends, but she also prized her relationships with her work family. After she left the office, many of us kept calling her to catch up. She talked to her successor, Jackie, every other week. The day after she died, a handwritten Christmas card showed up in my mailbox.
Barb is the person who taught me how to talk to politicians and lobbyists because we went to meetings together. She knew so many people in and around the industry, but she also learned the names of every waitstaff and desk clerk along the way. I miss being able to call or email her for advice or just to chat. On behalf of the industry, I want to thank Barb’s family for sharing her with us all of these years, and to acknowledge that they probably had very little say in the matter- did I mention she was an independent woman with a mind of her own?
So many of us have shared our sorrow at losing our friend and mentor while also being thankful to have known her. As Martha Cowell said to me, “To aspire to touch half as many lives as she did would be ambitious.”
We will miss you and try to carry on your work.
