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Issue 3 Nonfiction

Pieta and Bob

My introduction I completely rewrote in order to more blatantly hint at the death of Bob. I also included more thorough descriptions of Lazlo and Bob in comparison.

The glistening marble of the Pieta, a Michelangelo masterpiece, depicts the story of Jesus Christ’s death and the sorrow of the Virgin Mary. But below the skillfully crafted surface of Pieta lies a hidden history – a history of heroism and tragedy – a story of a man living and dying for what he loved.

Bob Cassily was a rugged, red-blooded community organizer who invigorated his Missouri hometown with creative projects. Bob was a cement-based sculptor who focused on depictions of animals; hippos, seals, and giraffes were his staples. Bob was commissioned to make a number of sculptures that just nearly reached the threshold of Pieta’s beauty.

He was a man who lived off doing what he loved – a man who worked at his passions and gave back to his community in the form of enormous cement zoo animals. His story seems humble. Heartwarming but humble.

Let’s compare Bob to a man nobody would have thought he’d intersect with: Lazlo Toth. Born in Hungary, Lazlo isn’t all that different from Bob. A man from a small town. He worked hard for what he earned. Lazlo’s degree in geology shows their shared interest in rocks. Their actions towards rocks, though, differ pretty vastly. While Bob would create not only sculptures but memories from rocks, Lazlo set out to destroy them.

In May of 1972 Bob and his current wife, Cecelia, had just gotten married and flew to Rome for their honeymoon. Like any tourist would, they visited St. Peter’s Basilica, home of the Pieta. This same month, Lazlo had also traveled to Rome. He had also decided he was Jesus Christ and that Pope Paul VI must recognize that.

It was at the same moment that Bob and Cecelia had been enjoying the beauty of the Pieta that Lazlo Toth entered St. Peter’s Basilica armed with his trusty geologist’s hammer, ready to wreak havoc on Jesus and his virgin mom. The Deranged Toth attacked the Pieta while shouting “I am Jesus Christ — risen from the dead!” He was lying. Although, he did kind of resemble Jesus.

Toth got away with 15 blows to the sculpture, taking off Mary’s nose, hand, and chipping her eyelids. It’s impossible to know if the Pieta could have survived if Bob Cassilly hadn’t stepped up. Before his hammer could strike again, Bob had yanked Lazlo down from the masterpiece and subdued him in a seemingly impossible intersection of lives. What a fulfilling experience — to save the legacy of the most famous piece of art within your field of work. It’d be a story he could tell for a long time, but not too long of a time.

After creating a magnificent portfolio of sculptures and architecture, Bob Cassilly passed away under tragic circumstances. Bob was halfway finished with a luxurious and cozy theme park titled Cementland – his magnum opus. But in September of 2011, Bob was found dead in his bulldozer after it had slipped down a hill. His friends, family, and community were devastated. It makes you wonder – if God does exist, why does he deliver such an abrupt ending to his child’s life? Well the answer is quite simple. Bob’s death was no plan of God but rather a murder riddled with sin.

It was a long 5 years after Bob’s death when further investigation discovered that his death was no accident. After investigators noticed the “defensive injuries” on Bob’s hands and the discovery of a bloodied rock nearby which matched the lacerations on our hero’s head; it was concluded that Bob Cassilly was murdered.

I won’t lie to you, I scoured the internet to find some connection between Bob’s death and Laszlo Toth, the destroyer of pure beauty, but there are unfortunately no connections. But Bob knows we are on the lookout for his murderer, and in his death, he gave us a clue. The murder scene is shown in the St. Louis Riverfront Times with a picture of Bob deceased in the bulldozer. Bob lays with his arm hanging down from the vehicle, draped in the same fashion as Jesus in the arms of the Virgin Mary, as seen in Michelangelo’s Pieta.


George Murphy is a sophomore at DePaul University studying philosophy and screen-writing. He has a focus on comedic writing and has edited for The Literate (a comedy magazine out of Fordham University). He has a blister that he thought would go away but it’s getting worse. He is now writing and producing for The Funny Talking Laughing Everybody Friends Show on Radio DePaul.